Hi again!! So soon for me to post again... wow! haha
Well, here's something I've been thinking about the last week - I watched the Italian Job (great Mark Whalberg movie!!) and I found these two scenes between Charlie and Stella pretty much scream Bolivia at me, so I had to write something!!! I combined the two scenes and elaborated on my own a bit :) The title is a Blue Rodeo song that i love, they have AMAZING music!
'Til I Gain Control Again
Peter hesitated before knocking on her door. He wasn't sure if disturbing her now was the right thing to do, but he was worried, and, in this case, his concern overcame precaution. He waited for her to answer, but after a second knock and no one came to the door, his worry grew, creasing the line that formed on his brow whenever he knew that something was wrong. Peter didn't want to barge in on her, but what if something really was the matter and she physically couldn't get to the door? His pulse beginning to rise, Peter glanced quickly up and down the hall to check for possible witnesses before he swiftly, silently broke in.
With a quick scan of the room, Peter had no trouble locating Olivia. A sick feeling hit him somewhere in his gut at the sight of her. Olivia was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. Her long hair was messy but still cascaded over her bare shoulders like a golden waterfall. She was struggling with the bandage on her upper left arm in nothing but her bra and a pair of faded grey sweat pants; a previously discarded sweater lay beside her.
Cautiously, and still wondering why she hadn't heard him knock, Peter approached her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. She jumped a fraction of an inch in the air, but recovered herself quickly, turning to face him with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, hastily removing her ear buds. Peter had guessed that she might have been listening to music – something, anything to drown out all the thoughts that were going through her mind after that day. He sat down beside her and glanced down at the iPod screen and smiled.
"Blue Rodeo? Never pegged you for the country type."
"It's stuff I've listened to for years, it just… it's calming for me."
Peter nodded in understanding. She was giving him a bit of a cold shoulder, but there could be many reasons for that.
"Sorry I scared you."
Olivia finally made eye contact with him, emotions swirling around in the tears that pooled in her eyes. "It's ok Peter." After a moment, when Peter thought he was finally starting to connect with her, Olivia broke the connection and looked back down at the semi wrapped bandage.
"Do you need some help with that?" Peter asked. It couldn't hurt to just offer.
"No, I'm fine thanks," Olivia replied quickly and stood up to walk to the bathroom mirror, all the while her eyes never leaving the bandage.
Peter was just about to stand up and follow when she closed the door behind her with a snap and he winced. Maybe it was louder in his ears, but every step she used to distance them was killing him, and it couldn't be doing any good for Olivia herself.
To Peter's surprise, Olivia emerged a moment later, the bandages more askew than ever, and approached him slowly.
"Could… could you?" she asked him sheepishly, holding out her arm.
Peter offered her a small smile and patted the mattress beside him. Olivia sat down and inched herself closer to his side. Peter took one glance at the bandages and deemed them unusable after so many failed attempts to properly arrange them.
"There's more in the box over there," Olivia said quietly, her eyes trained on Peter's expert hands as they danced across her arm, gently removing the useless cloths. Peter frowned when he saw the five-inch burn that ran along her upper arm. Grabbing a few lengths of new gauze, Peter pushed back on the images of Olivia screaming as the blow torch wielded by a madman scorched her. He had been too far away to stop it – he hadn't kept her safe. He'd broken a promise he'd made to himself a long time ago. But he had to stop thinking of himself – this wasn't about him and his issues. This, right here, right now, this was about Olivia and helping her because if he'd just been given a second degree burn by his psychotic step-father, then he'd be looking for someone to lean on. Well, not just anyone; one person in particular.
He wrapped her arm up with as much care as he could muster. Olivia watched his movements closely, her forehead almost touching his as they both bent over the injury. Peter could feel her breath on his neck, hear her ragged breathing, smell the light, fresh scent of whatever shampoo she used, but he concentrated on the task at hand. When he was done, Peter patted the bandages to make sure they stayed put. Olivia glanced up at him again when his hand left her arm, her eyes doe-like and vulnerable. Then they went wide and she wrapped her arms around herself as if to hide her nearly bare torso from him.
"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, her face slowly turning a deep tone of red. Obviously flustered, Olivia reached behind her and grabbed her sweater, pulling it on carefully to avoid moving her left arm too much. "It must be the morphine they gave me, it's making me hazy and… careless."
Peter couldn't help himself. He grinned. She was just do damn cute when she got embarrassed – it wasn't something that she permitted him to see often, so he treasured the smiles and the rosy red cheeks while he could.
"It doesn't matter much anyways, you've seen more of me in tank and…" she looked up at Peter who was hardy able to contain himself from completely cracking up. Olivia's face got redder somehow, if that was even possible, and she laughed nervously. "That… that was –"
"The morphine talking. I know, 'Liv, I know."
"Yeah," she said quietly as her eyes scanned his face for any signs of mockery or ridicule, but Peter supposed that he'd passed when the corners of her mouth curved up ever so slightly. It was enough to reach her eyes, which sparkled in the dim hotel lights.
"How are you doing?" Peter asked softly, almost in a whisper. Her arm might be cleaned and bandaged, but her heart must still be bleeding freely.
"I… I don't know," Olivia looked confused as she stared out into the empty space in front of her. "Running into my step-dad on an away mission just… seems fitting." She glanced at Peter to see if he was going to tell her that she was out of her mind to say such a thing, but his facial expression did not change, and she continued, looking slightly relieved that he was so calm. "I knew I would meet up with him eventually, it was just… something I knew would happen sooner or later."
"He hurt you, 'Liv." Peter was a bit taken aback by her calm approach to the pain that he was sure she must be in.
Olivia nodded in acknowledgement and looked Peter directly in the eye before she spoke again. "He's hurt me before, Peter. That, what you saw earlier today, that was nothing out of the ordinary for him." Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she didn't flinch or betray her emotions in any other way.
"He's locked up now, he can't hurt you anymore," Peter said softly, laying his hand on her back and moving it in slow, easy circles.
She just shrugged the comment off and looked down at her tightly clasped hands.
"Hey…" Peter murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close. His hand automatically traveled to her hair and tangled itself in it. "You're ok 'Liv…" he spoke quietly, placing a kiss on her forehead, in her hair and on her temple. "You're ok now…"
Olivia pulled away after a moment, one, precious moment that Peter would treasure forever, and Peter reached up to stroke her hair. She welcomed his touch and leaned into him again all on her own terms. Peter didn't turn her down and openly welcomed her, wrapping her once again in his arms. He caressed her bare shoulder where the sweater had slipped down, the back of her neck, the thins wisps of hair by her temples. She sighed and Peter felt every muscles in her body relax and loosen up. She was so damn tired; he'd never known how much she really needed to have that shoulder to rest on, but in all probability, neither did she.
An idea popped into Peter's head and he smiled, gently prying Olivia away from him but not too much. It felt good having her this close.
"Hey… do you want to grab a drink with me before it gets too late? Virgin cocktails for you of course, alcohol doesn't mix well with morphine."
Please say yes, 'Liv.
At this, Olivia cracked a smile and she nodded. "I'd like that."
Peter hadn't expect her to say yes, it was a spur of the moment idea, but he was overjoyed when she did.
He stood, offering Olivia his hand, a smile plastered across his handsome features. "Ready to drown your sorrows in Shirley Temples?"
Olivia giggled. He actually made her giggle. "Yes, thank you Peter. I'm not sure what I would do without you."
Peter was sure that that last part was a slip – maybe the morphine was talking again. Olivia glanced at him and he caught and held her gaze for a second. She looked like she was afraid of his reaction to her words, but Peter just smiled, chanced another kiss to her forehead, and led her out of the room, one arm around her shoulders.
That's it, the end!!! This one is a one shot folks, so i hope y'all enjoyed it!!!! Chapter 5 of Every Pebble coming soon!!!!