A/N: This idea popped into my head and just wouldn't go away! I had to write it before I could continue working on my other Fringe story. Right now this is just a one-shot, but I may add to it depending on what you guys think!

Nothing about Fringe is mine! If it was Peter would always exist!

"Put the gun down!" Olivia Dunham said to the man in front of her. She and Peter had been sent to a house to look for evidence in their latest case. Upon entering they had split up, Peter going to the basement first and Olivia upstairs. They hadn't expected anyone to be there.

Now she was standing face to face with a man who had a gun pointed at her and she had no idea where Peter was. "Put it down." She said again, with her gun pointed at him. He looked frantically around the room and then at her gun. Olivia breathed a sigh of relief as his grip on the weapon loosened and he began to raise is hands, surrendering. "Gun on the floor." She said one last time. He knelt down, laying it on the hardwood floor. "Slide it over here." Olivia responded. The offending weapon slid almost silently across the floor and came to rest at the blonde's feet. Unfortunately, Olivia missed the small smile that played at the corner of the man's lips as she bent over and reached for the gun.

For Olivia the next few minutes went by as if they were in slow motion. With a hard kick to the face she found herself on her back on the floor as the man tried to run past her. She quickly stretched out her arms and grabbed him around the ankle. The sound of his weight hitting the floor echoed throughout the house catching Peter's attention.

"Olivia?" He called out, but he got no answer.

They struggled across the floor. Olivia looked for one of the two guns that had been in her possession moments before, but they had flown out of her hands and were nowhere in sight. Soon, it became apparent to both the FBI agent and the criminal that he had the upper hand. Although Olivia had had extensive training for these types of situations his size and strength were no match to her small frame. He had her pinned to floor with a fist raised high above his head, ready to strike. She tried to fight back, but it was no use. She clenched her jaw and waited for the impact she knew was coming.

"Olivia?" Peter yelled again as he ran up the stairs from the basement and searched frantically around the first floor before going up the next set of stairs with lightning speed. He appeared in the doorway in time to see the third and fourth punches Olivia received. He ran into the room tackling the man off of his partner before throwing punches of his own. Only after seeing a sufficient amount of blood ooze from the other man's nose did Peter stop. He kept a violent grip on the man's wrist, who was sitting on the floor dazed, as he turned to look at Olivia. She was seated on the hardwood floor with her knees raised up towards her chest. He eyes were tightly closed and her hands rested on her head, no doubt fighting off a headache.

"'Livia!" He said sharply, urgently, trying to get her attention. She looked up suddenly looking slightly disoriented. She simply stared blankly at Peter until he spoke again. "Your cuffs 'Livia! I need them!" He said reaching a hand out towards her as she pulled her handcuffs out and tossed them to him. Peter handcuffed the man and pulled out his phone before going to Olivia. Her head was down. She ran a hand through her hair before looking up at Peter.

"Did you two find anything?" Agent Phillip Broyles' voice floated through Peter's phone.

"We need backup and an ambulance." Peter replied evenly as he sat down next to Olivia.

"What happened?" His voice was hard, serious.

"There was a suspect in the house." Was Peter's simple reply.

"We'll be right there." And with that Broyles hung up.

Peter put an arm around Olivia's shoulders. "You ok?" He asked softly. There was bruise already beginning to color her right cheek bone, a cut above her left eye, and her lip was bleeding slightly.

"I feel like I got hit in the head with a sledgehammer." She said, dryly. "How bad is it?"

Anger stirred inside Peter as Olivia looked at him waiting for an answer. He knew he'd never forgive himself for letting her search the house alone. He brought a hand to cup her cheek, lightly tracing her bruise with his thumb. "It's not too bad."

Car doors slammed outside, voices began to fill the house, and footsteps clamored up the stairs. Peter stood and walked to the doorway where he found Broyles making his way to the top of the stairs. "We're in here." He told him.

Olivia rose to her feet. Her face felt as though it was on fire and the pain in her head pounded through her ears. Peter turned around to see her standing.

"What are you doing?" He asked sternly.

Olivia rolled her eyes at his protective nature. "Getting up." She replied plainly. But as she took her first step her balance failed her and she began to sway back and forth on her feet. Peter was quickly at her side wrapping an arm around her, steadying her.

"Maybe that wasn't the best idea." He stated.

"I'm fine." Olivia said.

"Let's go get you checked out anyway." With that Peter led Olivia out of the room and down the stairs as Broyles entered.

The senior agent took one look at the unconscious man handcuffed on the floor. "What did you do to him?" He yelled down the stairs.

"I may have hit him." Peter called back as he walked Olivia out the front door and towards the waiting ambulance.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Olivia's lips. "That's an understatement." She said.