Time

She felt like crap. Her joints ached and her body was damp with sweat. She coughed dryly, her throat feeling like someone had scraped it out with sandpaper. She finally pulled into the driveway and made her way slowly into the house. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.

If it was possible, despite the sleep, she felt so much worse. Her clothes clung to her, the sheets damp with sweat. She wanted to shower but everything was too painful. Her body ached and her joints protested with every movement, her stomach twisting She groaned and shifted slightly in the bed, trying to get more comfortable. She thought she was dreaming when she heard the movement in the kitchen. She just closed her eyes and drifted with the fever that was storming through her body.

"Liv?"

She was dreaming about Peter again. She smiled to herself and snuggled deeper into the blankets.

"Oh sweetie, you are sick."

She sighed happily as something cool touched forehead before drifting over her face and neck.

"You need to get out of those clothes. Let's get you up."

She made no effort to help him as he lifted her easily into a sitting position on the bed. He sighed and half carried her to the bathroom. He started running her a bath, making sure that the hot water came first so that the steam was heavy before he got her undressed. She felt completely useless as he pushed and pulled her clothes off. Her stomach lurched and she felt the impending vomit as it worked it's way up her throat. She slipped from her position on the side of the tub, falling to her knees in front of the toilet. What little she had eaten came exploding forth, the stomach acid painfully burning her throat. Peter pulled back her hair from her face, his hand making gentle circles on her back. When there was nothing left, she sat back on her heels, her head thumping painfully. Peter helped her stand, getting her into the water. She kept her eyes closed as Peter ran the wash cloth over her back, down her arms and across her legs. After a while she felt a little more human and finally found her voice.

"You shouldn't be here."

Her voice was scratchy and strange. He cocked his head as he concentrated on soaping her shoulders.

"Sorry?"

"I said you shouldn't be here. You're going to get sick."

He chuckled and gently lifted her arm. She frowned as her joint screamed at the movement.

"Ow."

"Sorry Liv. And someone needs to look after you."

Liv leaned forward as he went from her arms back to her neck, resting her forehead on her knees. She could almost feel her muscles unwinding as the hot water seeped through her skin, assisted by Peter's gentle touch. She felt better in his presence, despite being sick.

"I feel like crap."

"The flu would do that too you."

"But I hardly ever get sick."

Peter shook his head as he washed the soap from her skin.

"The great Olivia Dunham brought down by the flu. Now I've seen it all."

She tried to laugh but her throat throbbed and she simply could not find the energy. She tried to lose herself in the haze of steam and soap. Peter pulled the plug and helped her stand. She leaned against him, her head spinning as he dried her off and pulled a robe over her shoulders. At some point he had left the bathroom and in her fever, she didn't even notice. Gone were the damp, twisted sheets replaced with fresh, crisp ones. He had even changed the pillowcases. He handed her a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and helped her change. She sighed happily as she slid under the sheets, cool and soft on her skin. Instead of letting her rest, he helped her sit up against her pillows.

"I want to sleep."

She ignored the fact that she sounded like a whining child. She was to sore to care.

"You need something for your throat, Liv. It must be killing you. I'm going to make you a lemon tea, that should help."

He left and she closed her eyes against the spinning world and swallowed, trying to ease the dryness. She had no idea how long he had been gone, in her fever it could have been minutes or hours, but when he did reappear, he had a tray in his hands. He handed her a large mug, watching as she sipped carefully. The heat was great, the lemon and honey soothing her throat almost instantly. He watched in silence until the tea was gone before he handed her a tall glass of water.

"Drink some of this. You need to stay hydrated."

She gulped it down greedily, almost feeling the instant absorption into her body, the chill numbing her throat and making her shiver. He tucked her in and she felt the cool kiss on her temple, his fingers pushing her hair behind her ear. He said something but she missed it, the fever carrying her into a deep sleep.

She must not have slept that long. It was pitch black in the room, aside from a thin sliver of light where Peter had left the door open slightly. Olivia stretched, her body still aching but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been earlier. Even her throat felt less like sandpaper. She took a large drink of water from the glass beside the bed, downing some aspirin that sat beside it. She could hear the soft hum of the TV and Peter's light footsteps as he moved around the kitchen. His shadow came into the doorway as he stepped in quietly.

"Liv?"

"I'm alive."

Peter flicked on the beside lamp and Olivia blinked against the offending light. She frowned as she looked at the bed.

"When did you change the sheets again?"

"When you were half unconscious. You went through two sets before your fever broke."

Olivia shook her head with a small smile.

"No I didn't. I've only been asleep a few hours."

"No, try two days. You've been in an out. That fever kicked your ass."

Olivia frowned, trying to remember something, anything from the last two days. The only thing that her mind could come up with is the bath.

"Two days? I've been out two days?"

"Yup. I've been having to wake you up to make sure you kept drinking water."

Olivia pushed back the blankets, swinging her legs over the side. She stood and immediately regretted the sudden movement. The world spun wildly and Peter steadied her as she stumbled, easing her back onto the bed.

"Easy does it. You've been laying down for two days, give yourself a chance."

Olivia took a few deep breaths, waiting for the world to realign.

"What about work?"

Peter shook his head and offered her the water.

"Liv, I was going to take you to the hospital tonight if you didn't get any better. Work, not going to happen. You were really sick. You still are."

Olivia didn't have the energy to argue. Peter was right, the flu had definitely kicked her ass. Peter pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, his face serious.

"Your fever's gone at least."

"You can tell that with the back of your hand?"

"Definitely. Much better then any thermometer."

She tried standing again and this time the world stayed still but Peter was still beside her, a hand on the small of her back.

"You need something to eat too."

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat. I'll make you some toast."

"Ok. Let me brush my teeth. If what you're saying is true, I need too."

Peter laughed but she could feel his eyes on her back as she went into the bathroom. She was feeling better with each passing moment. When she came out, her mouth watered when the smell of toast filled her nose. She went into the living room and sat on the sofa, placing a blanket over her lap. She smiled as she saw a few of her spare blankets stacked neatly on the arm of the sofa. Peter had slept on the sofa to look after her.

"Drink this."

She took the water that Peter offered without argument and watched as he continued making toast. He already had four slices of thick toast on the plate but he popped down four more and started to butter the others. She tried to focus on the TV, giving up and just watching the screen.

"Lift your feet."

She did as she was told and rested her feet on his lap. He gave her a napkin and placed the plate of toast between them. Despite the fact that she didn't feel hungry, she ate six pieces easily.

"That's impressive for a woman claiming not to be hungry. I hope that stays down."

"It should. I feel much better."

"Good."

Their simple meal done, Peter opened his arms and she gratefully fell into them, curling in close. He stroked her hair, following it down her back before going back to the crown of her head again, the action soothing and sweet.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For looking after me. I see you slept on the sofa."

"I had too. That fever made you some sort of odd kung fu artist. And I had to look after you. If I had left you with Walter, God knows what he would have shot you up with."

Olivia laughed, Peter joining in, the rumble vibrating his chest.

"Plus, that's what boyfriends are for right?."

Olivia nodded against his chest and let the comment slide. She couldn't remember him ever saying that to her before. She liked it. Olivia fingered his shirt, rolling the soft fabric between her fingers, enjoying the time of closeness and intimacy.

"So was I completely monstrous? Rachel always hated it on the rare occasions when I got sick."

She felt Peter shake his head, the smile in his voice.

"There was something oddly reassuring about it actually. I forget sometimes that you are merely human. Plus, I liked looking after you. It made me feel useful. Up until the point where I thought I would need to take you to the hospital of course. That was a little scary."

"It was just the flu."

"The flu still kills people, Liv. Hard enough kick and you do stay down."

"I'm fine."

"Good. How's the toast treating you?"

Olivia concentrated on her stomach for a moment.

"Staying down. I'm exhausted."

"Bed?"

"Definitely."

Peter took her hand and pulled her off the sofa. The bed felt just as welcoming as it had when she had first sunk into it. She could not believe that despite sleeping for two days, she felt like she hadn't slept at all.

"So, I developed a skill for kung fu?"

Peter laughed.

"Yup. And I wasn't even in the bed. I sat down to wake you and you just started kicking."

"I don't kick normally?"

"Not that I know of. I have yet to wake up with unexplained bruising."

Olivia laughed and sighed, breathing in the familiar scent of Peter.

"I'm glad you were here."

Peter pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"So am I. It was nice to look after you. You hardly ever let me do it normally."

"I know. It's a matter of pride."

"Well, now you have me. And I'm not going anywhere."

Olivia smiled against his chest and closed her eyes. She would be more then happy to get sick again if Peter was there. As she started to drift to sleep, she again felt him press a kiss to her temple but this time she heard the words that accompanied her into slumber.

"I love you, Olivia Dunham."