"Cold Showers" was Peter's point of view; now it's Olivia's turn. Many thanks to OConnellAboo, beta extraordinaire, for editing, reassurance, and tough love as needed. I couldn't do without her, her brains, and her friendship!

Fringe and its fascinating characters are the property of Bad Robot, Fox, and Warner Brothers.

Chapter 1 – Late in Season 3

Olivia tossed her suit into the dry cleaning bag in her closet and the rest of her clothes in the hamper. When she re-entered the bathroom, the air was fragrant with the lemongrass bombe she'd dropped in the tub earlier. After checking the water level, she donned her robe and walked into the kitchen.

She poured two fingers of Black Bush in a rocks glass and walked back to the bathroom, swirling the amber liquid and appreciating the wafting aroma of the Irish whisky blending with the steamy, citrusy air. After placing her glass in the wire soap basket hanging over the side of her claw foot tub, she lit a few candles scattered around the bathtub, hung her robe on the back of the door, and eased into the scented water.

Soaking in a hot bath was not only physically soothing to her aching body after a long, active week; it was her only concession to her femininity, and a luxury she looked forward to after an exhausting case. Tonight was no exception; they'd spent two weeks on their latest one, a seemingly random set of disappearances in the New England area, and the last 3 days on surveillance in a sparsely populated office park outside of Boston, culminating in a 10 pm raid when the next victim was brought in.

They couldn't determine how Vernachiaddio, the apparent leader of the operation, had secured the office park, so once in the van, they were unable to alternate surveillance duties with other agents. Even though she and Peter had taken turns sleeping and monitoring the building, Olivia was drained from the tension. By the end of the second day, Peter had renamed their suspect 'Baddio'; they were punch drunk with exhaustion, too tired to think of him as anything else.

Olivia groaned as she sank into the hot water. She inspected a particularly nasty bruise on her wrist; Baddio had grabbed her and drug her up a flight of stairs, where Peter met them and almost took Baddio's head off with a fire extinguisher he'd snagged on the way to the roof.

Three days of sitting in a cramped van had put kinks in muscles she didn't even know she had. She stretched full length in the tub, sinking into it until the water lapped her shoulders. After a few minutes, the tension between her shoulder blades had diminished and she leaned up to sip her Black Bush. Feeling the satisfying burn of the liquor, she sunk back into the fragrant water and closed her eyes. Her hands had finally stopped shaking.

ooo

When the EMTs had arrived, she managed to maintain her composure long enough for them to shine a flashlight into her eyes, ask her a few inane questions, and to wrap her in a blanket, all while Peter stood a few feet away, going through the same routine with his own set of EMTs and glaring at her. Glaring at HER for taking the same risks that he had; but she forgave him when she noticed his hands, as unsteady as hers, just before he shoved them into the pockets of his coat while the EMTs examined him.

They'd almost lost each other during the chase. They'd split up, clearing the facility one room at a time. They found room after room of comatose bodies – all the people reported as missing and a few more. Baddio had doubled back on them and grabbed Olivia passing through one of the main corridors. When she didn't answer her radio, Peter broke protocol and ran through the darkened offices, trying to spot her.

Baddio was dragging a nearly unconscious Olivia up a metal staircase leading to the roof, his hand circling her wrist like a handcuff clenched too tightly. Peter found another staircase and met them as they exited the stairwell, swinging a 50 lb fire extinguisher at Baddio's head with such force it threw the perp against the HVAC units on the roof. Before Peter could pull Olivia to her feet, Baddio's gang rounded the corner; one yanked Peter's arms behind him, while another took a couple of swings at him to settle him down. Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia spotted another guy headed toward them with a small satchel. Judging by the confidence with which he approached them, whatever he was carrying was bound to be unpleasant.

He opened his satchel and pulled out a syringe and a vial of yellow liquid. He headed towards Olivia, still in a crumpled heap where she'd been 'playing possum', waiting for her opportunity to catch their captors off guard. She glanced at Peter, who was hanging limply between the two guys that had been beating on him just a few minutes before.

Almost as if he felt her gaze on him, he raised his head slightly and caught her eye, then winked. The man with the syringe was standing directly in front of Olivia now, nudging her with his toe. When she offered no resistance, he rolled her to her back, then turned his attention to filling the syringe.

"Now!" Olivia yelled, and did a barrel roll that knocked her guy off his feet; the syringe and vial went flying. At Olivia's shout, Peter jerked away from Thug #1 and swung Thug #2 into him. He scooped up the vial and the satchel, then grabbed Olivia's arm as she scrambled to her feet. They ran towards the stairwell Peter had used earlier, near the back of the building, and entered just as the thugs were untangling themselves. One came after them, while the other two tried to revive Baddio, still unconscious from his encounter with the fire extinguisher.

As they passed through the stairwell door, Peter kicked viciously at the locking mechanism. "Maybe that will slow them down a little" he said as they heard the thugs approaching. They ran down the staircase and re-entered the office space. Agents were stationed in each area and EMTs were checking the victims and loading them on gurneys for transport to the hospital.

Olivia radioed the SWAT unit to let them know they were off the roof, so their team could pick up Vernachiaddio and his gang. She leaned against the wall, radio still in hand, and looked at Peter, propped against the stairwell door and breathing heavily.

"Don't ever…" they both spoke in unison. Peter pulled her into an embrace and pressed his lips against the top of her head. "Are you ok?"

She winced as he examined her wrist. Even though she insisted she was "fine", Broyles instructed the EMTs to examine both of them. After their usual back-and-forth about being admitted to the hospital for observation, they were released AMA and Broyles instructed someone to take them home.

"Dr. Bishop is at the lab, with Agent Farnsworth," Broyles told them. "I'm sending over the satchel and the lab results for the victims will be forwarded from the hospital when they're available. " As they collapsed into the back seat of the SUV, Broyles leaned in. "I don't want to see either of you for a couple of days. That's a direct order, Dunham."

Peter directed the agent to drop him off at the Harvard Lab, since it was on the way to Olivia's. "I don't want Walter getting any ideas about driving home," he wisecracked.

Olivia grasped his shaking hands in hers, no steadier. "Are you sure you should be driving?"

He gently pushed up the sleeve of Olivia's FBI jacket. "Are you sure you shouldn't be having that X-rayed?" he asked softly.

She shrugged in acquiescence, and leaned against him as he wrapped his arm around her trembling frame. She nestled her head on his shoulder; at this point, she didn't care what the agent driving thought. This was as much for Peter's comfort as for hers, and they both needed the reassurance of physical contact.

He didn't release her until they pulled up outside the Kresge building. He gave her another squeeze and said quietly, "I'll be over later, 'k?". When Olivia nodded, he spoke in a louder voice so the driver could hear. "Straight home, right? You heard Broyles – do not pass go, do not pick up case files." He touched her shoulder once more and smirked at her before shutting the door.

ooo

Olivia smiled to herself, thinking of Peter's smart ass attitude even in the face of danger. She took another sip of Black Bush and sank back into the still-steamy water. Even though the hot water was beginning to ease the ache in her body, and the burn of the whisky had stopped her trembling hands, she still felt a chill as she remembered their narrow escape earlier that evening. Concern for her own safety had never been an issue, but now that Peter was a part of her life, she needed him close, close enough to feel the warmth of his body next to her, before she would truly be able to relax.