MUCHOS APOLOGIES for the delay! My muse had a minor brain fart. I promise, promise promise to have two more chapters up by thursday! It's gotten really angsty and i hope to change that really sooon! So for now, please enjoy this!

P.S. all feedback is so most welcome :)

Chapter Thirteen

It's late at night and the moon is high over the cold water. There is no wind but it is cold and nippy for the August month. The only light emits from the moon high above and the stars. Olivia sees no trace of other human life here and it is strangely comforting to her. She does not feel the need to be with anyone. She feels the need to be with only one person. But that person is not here, he has not been here for nearly a week now and Olivia wonders if he'll ever wake up. She is grateful to be alone because there is no one in the world she would want to see her tears.

The shore is soothing and comforting and she is wrapped in a blanket. Her blonde hair remains un-brushed and waves around as the ocean rolls in a soft breeze and pushes it out. Her eyes are weary from the lack of sleep but her mind is overloaded. She cannot sleep now. If she does it is minimal amounts and she awakes in sweats and with fear-riddled eyes. Sometimes when she wakes so frightened Peter glimmers in the darkness, but she relaxes instantly when she sees him, only to be put into a minimal panic and a whole lot of pain when she realizes he has not woken.

His fits of convulsions have yet to cease and have not diminished. Olivia's worry grows with every morning. She holds his hand as he lies there and the rare moments of sleep she gets, her face never turns away from his. She wakes looking at his ailing form only to cause her more panic, more hurt and more heartbreak. But tonight she's found relief in the cool midnight air and it gives her the chance to clear her mind of its confusion.

She doesn't know what this is because she's never felt this before. She doesn't want to think its love, because she can practically feel that he won't ever feel that way about her. She knows it's not the lust that she felt for John, a sick confusion that she took for love. She wants to know what this is and why she can't place the feeling on anything. So she shakes her head and heads for the rolling waves, dipping her feet into the chilling Atlantic waters, hoping that the sensation will somehow clear her mind.

It's hard to believe Peter was once a little kid that grew up here. She thought of everything she knew about him, everything she thought was the truth about him and she wanted both to smile and cry. She feels his pain as the water hits her toes and she inhales. Now is not the time to show her weakness. She needs him just as he needs her. She needs to know what's happened and where was the other her? Her mind races through a thousand questions as she hears a small movement from the house.

She races with inhuman speed through the glass door. The movement freezes as she does and her heart races. It could be Peter, but he would have called for her. Blood fills her ears as she peers around the dark corner. There's a shadow down in the main hallway and she freezes. Who could it be? She instantly thinks of a list of people that might come, but its short and she felt a new fear rising. What if this someone she does not know? What if this is a complete stranger, stumbling into the wrong place at the wrong time?

She shakes her head at that idea. There was no such thing as concidenses in her eyes anymore and this person clearly was here as a result of something. Olivia grabs the nearest thing she can and it's a picture but she doesn't bother to think of what it could be. She holds her breath and moves silently down the hall towards the shadow. Her steps are near silent but the shadow freezes and Olivia fears she's been caught. She prepares to make her steps quick and strike when the light flicks on and she's revealed into the light.

"Who the hell are you?" asks one of the men in the room. He's in all black and his fingers are held steadily on a trigger of a gun. Olivia sees another man standing not far from him with a box in his grip.

"Olivia Dunham, FBI!" she shouts easily. Both men's eyes go wide and they run. Instinct directs her as she chases them from the house. She doesn't know what she'll do if she catches either one of them, but it doesn't seem to be much of an issue because they turn a corner in the blackness and she loses them. She silently and mental screams at herself for letting them get away before trudging slowly into the house she ran from.

The box they were going through was a box of photos. Family photos. Olivia's eyebrows grew in confusion. What was in the box the man held that was so important to them if it was in this box? She looks at the photos and frowns. Something is wrong. There is no Peter, yet there is a Walter and an Elizabeth. Olivia digs deeper and finds something that confirms her suspicions.

It's an old faded newspaper article depicting the kidnapping of Peter. Olivia literally feels the color draining from her face. The observer hadn't taken them home, just away. But it didn't explain Peter's illness now. She felt even more confused than ever. Her heart ached. All she wanted was to go back to her reality, the reality she's chasing but unsuccessfully closing in on. She sinks to her knees by the box and fights tears in her eyes. She wants everything to be simple, easy. But she knows it's far from that. What did these men want with a box of memories? She held the newspaper gingerly in her fingers and stood up to head back to Peter's room.

She's been silently crying for a while now. She cries silently, sobs are useless, and she remains in the same curled position. She just wants home. She doesn't know why Peter's sick, she doesn't know why he won't wake, she doesn't even know if he's not brain dead or not. She doesn't know why the observer brought them here. She doesn't know who those men where or why they didn't attack her. What was in the box? With her head bowed she curls her face up near Peter's litheless hand and feels the beginnings of sleep coming. It should for the sun's nearly up and she's been up all night. She stares at Peter's lifeless face contorting and twisting from peace to pain in seconds. She breathes in his scent and closes her eyes.

He begins to move. At first she's unsure of it, but she feels it again. Through the thick wool blanket she feels his torso moving. She hears his heartbeat and his breathing become more alive than unconscious. She lifts her head to see him flexing his fingers. His eyes flutter open and then shut, then open again. She's there and he turns to see her.

"Olivia?" he whispers unsure if its' reality or dreams. Her face becomes more real and he sees tracks of tears. He becomes confused, anger and fear mixing in his eyes.

"Olivia?" he repeats and she nods. "Olivia. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Peter," she says with a half smile, "I'm so happy to see you alive."

"Yeah," he answers, "Me too. Hey, welcome home."

She turns her head and bows it and Peter senses something wrong. He sits up but she stands and moves away. There is something she's going to say. She picks up her head and he sees her face has returned to all business.

"We're not home yet, Peter," she whispers.