Title: Broken Hearted
Summary: Following Marionette, Olivia goes to the bar to get a drink and Peter shortly after finds her there. Will they be able to make amends after all the damage and heartache that's been done?
This was not how she imagined things to be when she got home. Here she was, sitting at the bar, drowning herself in whiskey. She'd told Peter the one thing she wasn't even sure she believed, "I don't want to be with you anymore." She knew it would hurt him but in all honesty she was in pain, not understanding how he couldn't tell them apart-maybe not physically but something deeper. She loved him and to think he slept with the other Olivia because he couldn't even see it wasn't her—stung more than anything, more than John's betrayal and that had cut her deep. How did he not know? Especially when he confessed that there were tiny differences that he saw and made excuses for each and every one of them.
She didn't want to go home. There was nothing for her there except a constant reminder of a life that felt invaded, no longer hers. Moving was an option but her lease wasn't up for several months and she hated packing boxes. She could leave it all behind but where would she go? Each thought just depressed her further.
She ordered another whiskey, drinking it as quickly as the first. It would take her awhile to get drunk but she knew she'd savior the experience tonight. If she couldn't forget her troubles she could certainly bury them for the evening.
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised to find you here," Peter breathed coming up to the bar beside her. He gestured the bartender over, ordering himself a scotch and Olivia ordered herself another whiskey.
"Can't say the same," she didn't so much as turn to face him. "Following me?"
"No." He could feel the tension aimed directly at him. "I dropped Walter off at home and thought I could use to go out, clear my head." Peter told her.
"So it's just a coincidence you're here?" She didn't buy it and wasn't backing down, this time she shifted in her seat, eyes narrowing waiting for his answer.
Peter sighed, "you really want to know? This is where we first danced together."
"Excuse me?" Olivia retorted, having no recollection of what he was talking about and even wondering if he was referring to her or the other Olivia. Either way she wasn't in the best of moods and the liquor wasn't exactly calming her down either.
"The other-forget it." He sat down on the stool beside her, finishing the scotch the bartender brought over and ordering another.
"So let me guess, you're grieving the fact you lost your girlfriend and I'm back." She was bitter though more because she felt as though she lost everything and the only way to deal with it was to close herself up and fight back.
He stared at her, not believing she didn't get it. "I was deceived Olivia. Don't think this is any easier for me either. I thought she was you."
Olivia turned on the stool, facing him, her knees touching his legs. "Maybe you wanted her to be me." It wasn't a question more of an accusation.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Peter quickly shot back.
"Oh come on!" She was louder now, getting more upset by the second. "Telling me how she was less intense and quicker with a smile. Do you really think I wanted to hear that? What are you planning on doing next, telling me how you fell in love with her and how I'm just a shell of an existence to the woman you really want, the one you fucked?"
Peter's eyes narrowed shaking his head, "you know what, you're right Olivia. We did fuck." He watched her eyes widen, pulling back slightly from him, hurt by his words. "To her that's all I was, a mission that had to be completed. She didn't love me and all along the feelings I've had, were for you. I'm sorry I screwed up but you know what, you're not the only one hurting in all of this."
"You have no idea," she stood up, digging into her pocket to settle her bar tab. Peter watched her and quickly did the same following her towards the front door.
"I really hope you're not planning on driving home after this." He warned her. He'd had one drink and he could see she'd had more than a few. He quickly snatched the keys from her hands, preparing for a right hook to his face but she didn't fight him at least not physically.
"Are you really going to start this now?" She held out her hand wanting her keys.
Peter stared at her, "apparently I am because you are not driving home."
"You're right, I'm not. I'm going to a hotel." There was no way she could deal with her apartment tonight, seeing everything was a painful reminder of what had transpired over the past two months. Finding his MIT shirt in the wash had been the catalyst for her.
He glanced around, not seeing any nearby cabs. "Then at least let me drive you."
"Fine but don't think this in any way makes up for you fucking the alternate version of myself."
Peter sighed, "clearly noted."