Disclaimer: I sadly still do not own anyone or anything. Even though I'm enjoying torturing them all.
Spoilers: THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THE PROMO FOR 3x18 'BLOODLINE'. Turn away now if you haven't seen it.
A/N: Alright guys. Here I come with yet another oneshot, yet another Altlivia story. If you have seen the promo for this week episode, I'm sure you can understand why.
This is my way of copping with things. My angst!muse came back from her fluffy Polivia!sex vacation and decided to be particularly evil. Again, emotional people might need a tissue, I have been told this was sad. Also, what you might think is a plot in there, is actually just a plot bunny written in 4 hours.
I'm rating this story T because there's mention of blood, and childbirth. I don't think it's too graphic, but it's a fair warning. Again, you don't have to like Altlivia to read this. She suffers a lot, you might actually like it :p Plus, there's Olivia in it too!
Enjoy! Kinda XD
AND SHE SHALL BE UNWILLING
Unbelievably, her next scream was even louder than the last one. The agonizing sound resonated between the walls of the empty street, as she lay curled up on the ground. Her instincts were urging her to put her hands where it was hurting the most, but she was so incredibly terrified by it that she refused to touch it. Her hands were gripping her hair instead, and the next time she screamed, the sound was somehow muffled against her arms.
Olivia Dunham was not one to scream when in pain. Not usually, anyway. But at the moment, she seemed unable to do anything but that; scream. She knew it wasn't the pain. Not just the pain. It was the terror.
The terror that crushed her when she felt her insides contracting so forcefully, the fear that grasped her pounding heart whenever she felt it move inside of her, like she felt right now. Twenty hours ago, Olivia had only been twelve weeks pregnant.
She now lay on the ground, well into labor.
But whatever was trying to come out of her, it was not be her baby, it just couldn't be. The thought of what the men had done to her and the way they had forced her to watch as her own stomach extended, rippled and stretched was enough to make her want to scream again, even though most of the pain had subsided at the moment.
None of this made any sense. No sense at all.
If she was honest with herself though, she would admit that her life had stopped making sense the minute she had stood in the Secretary's office, hearing his revelations about another Universe, another world, about how this world was responsible for the pains of their own Universe. In a strange moment of clarity, especially now, Olivia came to the conclusion that she had long ago lost the control of her life. She was nothing but a marionette, and the Walter Bishop from this side was the one pulling her strings.
Honestly, it wouldn't surprise her at all if she someday learned that he was the one responsible for her current agony. Not that it mattered much at the moment. A new wave of pain crashed over her, and the sound coming out of her throat was unbearable even to her own ears.
When her muscles finally relaxed, all that was left were dull aches that ran all through her trembling body. This, plus that very distinct movement within her. Olivia had absolutely no idea what a nine months old fetus moving inside you was supposed to feel like.
The last she had seen of her baby, she had been in the lab on Liberty Island, and what she had seen on the sonogram was only a few inches long. Damn, she even had a freaking picture of it in her car.
She blocked the sob that was now trying to break out of her. She was scared to death and completely lost, but she would not cry, she would not. She was stronger than this, whatever this was, she had done worse, she could do this.
It was lie, of course. She had gone through some shitty situations in her life, but nothing compared to what she was living now.
Sometimes, you just have to lie to yourself, though.
She forced herself to sit up, before pushing herself up. She almost instantly fell back on the ground, overwhelmed by the weight of her belly, which seemed to be bearing her down. She hadn't had to stand yet; whatever the men had done to her earlier, they had done it while she was strapped to a bed. Next thing she knew, they had sedated her again, and she had awoken here in the middle of that street.
As she tried to find her balance, her hands went over her belly before she could stop herself, and her face screwed up with pain, the kind of pain that wasn't caused by contractions. She didn't move them away though, as she started looking around.
By the look of it, it was the middle of the night. All the windows were dark, but she couldn't believe no one had come yet to see who was screaming in the street. This was New York, though; most people just tried to avoid trouble.
The thought died in her mind as she was stricken by blinding pain again, and she bent in half, her fingers digging into her stomach, as if trying to get it out. She tried not to scream, she really did, but all of a sudden, she felt a shift inside of her, and the pain simply became excruciating. She fell to her knees, begging for it to stop, rocking back and forth, as the sound of her scream was blocked by a dry sob.
The contraction stopped but the pain, oh the pain didn't, and she knew she was closer to delivering whatever was inside of her than ever, and the terror running through her veins made it almost impossible for her to breathe. She needed help. She couldn't do this alone, in the middle of the street. She was craving for human contact, for someone to come and get her and make it all stop, to make this disappear and tell her this was not happening.
She forced herself up again, still clenching her belly, because she knew no one would come. She had been out there screaming her lungs out for at least fifteen minutes now, and there was no sign of life around her. She stumbled as she walked, incapable of finding her balance under the weight of her stomach; her body never had the chance to gradually acclimatize to the changes in her. Neither had she; it had all happened so fast.
The abduction. The tests. The injections. And then it had happened.
"Why are you doing this to me," she had moaned to her abductors, her blood so overflowed with endorphins that her body had gone numb.
"You are of no interest to us," he had answered. "But you will serve your purpose soon."
Apparently, whatever purpose they expected her to serve, it had to be done alone in the middle of Chinatown.
She saw light in the distance, and tried to walk faster. Her breathing was shallow and loud, as she tried to ignore the movements she still felt inside of her. She did not even think. She banged her hands against the glass door as soon as she reached it.
"Please, help me!"
She saw a woman come to the door, and then saw nothing else, as pain engulfed her again; all she wanted to do was to curl up once more on the ground and die, just to make it stop.
But she felt hands on her then, warm hands pushing her, supporting her. The contact instantly brought back an ounce of hope in her.
She wasn't alone anymore.
When she was able to open her eyes and focus again, she realized she had been brought inside, and was surrounded by a small group of people, who seemed to hesitate between feeling wary or worried about her.
"Please, help me," she repeated, feeling so desperate and weak and so damn scared.
One of the older women said something then, grabbing her hands and trying to lead her to another room, but Olivia didn't understand a word she was saying.
"I need to go to a hospital," she blurted out, as the woman kept on pulling on her hands.
"She say you're too close, you must stay now."
Olivia turned to look at the woman who had spoken. She spoke with a heavy accent, but it didn't matter. She could understand her. She shook her head vehemently. "No, no, I can't stay here, I need to get help."
The older woman spoke again, and she felt hands push her from behind, forcing her to walk.
"You have no time for hospital, your baby is there."
Anguish was all she could feel at that instant, as she let them lead her to what clearly was a kitchen. The women babbled in Cantonese, and then started to clear the table off. Olivia shook her head again, barely able to breathe as she realized that these strangers would certainly try and deliver it on that table.
This was madness.
She turned to the woman who spoke English. "Please, please, I can't stay here, I need a doctor."
"Mama delivered many babies, she have gift." The woman answered, patting her arm. "She say baby is very low, it is coming now."
"You don't understand, this is not any baby! I need doctors!" She was completely losing it, and it only worsened when the pain came back, and she could do nothing but hug herself in agony.
They used that time to basically force her onto the table, and she was suffering too much to complain. She was beyond petrified now. Nothing was familiar, nothing was comforting, everything was so wrong, and she had to shut her eyes in shame when she felt hands on her, probing her under her filthy gown.
The older woman spoke again, the one who was examining her.
"She ask your name," her daughter translated.
She brought a trembling hand up, pressing her palm against her burning forehead and forcing herself to breathe more deeply. This was madness, but at least, these people seemed genuinely willing to help her, even though she knew they could not. How could she even start to explain that she didn't know what they were about to deliver? But she had no choice.
"Olivia…" she whispered, and she felt tears sting behind her eyelids, and she shut her eyes harder, keeping them in.
She heard her name in the middle of a sentence she could not understand, and even though she had no idea what she was telling her, it somehow made her feel more connected.
"She say you are very very close, only a few more cramp and you will push. No pushing yet, you have to wait."
Of course, as soon as she was told that she could not push, her insides were torn apart with insufferable pain, and she felt that shift again, that pressure, that incredible need to push.
She forced herself not to, though, as the woman had said, and part of her was more than willing to obey. She did not want to push it out, to find out what had been done to her. What if it killed her by coming out?
What if she died, just like her sister had?
As she let the pain take over everything, from her cells to her conscious mind, she felt warm tears roll down her temples, pooling in her ears.
And then there was the first gunshot, followed by a loud thump.
The shot was muffled, and even through the pain, fear and confusion she instantly thought 'silencer'. Then there was a second gunshot, then a third, and as she opened her eyes, she watched in horror as the people around her fell to floor, dead. She sat up so fast she almost fell off the table, instinctively shielding herself, arms around her extended stomach.
Then her green eyes found a pair of brown one. The man standing at the door was pointing the gun at her, a smirk on his face. "Sorry for the rude entrance," he looked behind him. "Jason, come here and get those bodies out; we don't want the kid to be born in such a negative atmosphere." He chuckled as he turned his eyes back on her.
She was too petrified to react, really.
"What do you want from me?" She whispered, her chest heaving.
The second man –Jason, appeared then. He barely glanced at her, as he started dragging the first body out. It was the woman who had been trying to deliver her, and Olivia could do nothing but stare in horror as he casually dragged her out, leaving a trail of blood on the kitchen's floor.
The other man, the one with the gun, came closer then, and she slipped off the table, almost falling on the floor in the process, trying to stay away from him. He ignored her, though, lowering his gun as his eyes roamed around the room, stopping on the fruit bowl. He picked up an apple, and after wiping some blood drops off the skin, he took a big bite of it, staring at her.
"We don't care about you, sweetheart," he said then, all the while chewing obnoxiously. "All we care about is your son."
She had backed off so much that her back was now pressed against the cold door of the fridge. She could do nothing but stare back at this man casually eating an apple while his partner came back and started dragging another body out.
"Why did you kill these people?" she asked, in a voice so low she wondered if he had heard her. He had.
He shrugged. "You weren't supposed to be here. Actually, we were supposed to get you as soon as they sent you over. But it looks like your little one is already showing off; you landed three blocks away from what was planned. We had to track you down."
She didn't understand anything he was saying. Sent her over? Landed?
But mostly, her mind stopped on what he kept saying about what she had been so sure was some kind of alien growing inside of her.
'All we care about is your son, your little one.'
She felt it move again inside of her. Him. And for the first time tonight, the fear she felt was not for herself, as she realized that despite everything, despite the atrocity and abnormality of the situation, it was still her baby.
She shook her head, her arms tightening around herself. "I don't understand."
"Of course you don't," he chuckled humorlessly, taking another loud bite of his apple. "You're not on your side anymore."
She was about to say something, but was stopped by the pain. Her insides contracted so hard that her vision exploded with white dots, her body pushing the baby down; she fell down against the fridge, moaning loudly.
When she could breathe again, she raised her head to look at the man. "I need help," she panted.
New bite. "No, you don't."
Her heart was beating so fast and so loud against her ears, it was almost deafening. She did not want to beg them for help, but she knew the baby would be coming out in a matter of minutes. "I can't do this alone, I need help," she repeated, sounding desperate and hating herself for that, but she was too scared to care.
He dropped the apple's core in the sink. "You can do this alone, and you will do this alone."
She shook her head, breathing incredibly loudly again. "I can't."
He looked at her coldly. "How do you think women used to do this? There wasn't always a staff of nurses around to hold your hand and make sure you had enough painkillers in you so you wouldn't feel a thing. Let your body do the job, sweetheart, that's all we need you to do."
She felt tears invade her eyes again, but these were angry tears. "Why are you doing this to me?" She asked again, her voice low with anger and despair.
He sighed, and pulled a paper out of his pocket; he then started to read, in an over-dramatic tone: "And the child shall be born on the Wrong Side, where his unknowing father resides. And the mother shall deliver him on her own, and the expectation must be that she shall be unwilling."
This did nothing but increase her anger. And if she hadn't been so pregnant and so in pain, she would have broken his neck with her bare hands already. "You're telling me all of this was done to me because of some prophetic bullshit?"
He shook his head, clucking his tongue disapprovingly. "Show some respect for the things you can't understand. This is way bigger than you imagine." He bent down to grab the last body still in the room then, and as he dragged it out, he told her. "We'll leave you alone so you can do your thing. Don't try and escape though, we are tracking you, remember."
And he did leave her there in the kitchen, fully ready to have a child she was indeed more than unwilling to deliver on her own.
To say that she was in a state of deep panic was an understatement. She was feeling so distressed her whole body was shaking, but she did her best to control her breathing, as she desperately looked around the room.
Even if she had wanted to escape, she couldn't have. There was only one door, and it led to the room in which the men must be waiting for her to…do her thing. She could almost have laughed at that, really, if she hadn't been so incredibly horrified by what was happening to her. But she had no time left to feel sorry about herself, her body was deciding for her; the pressure she felt against her pelvis and deep inside was unbearable, and she knew she had no choice.
Still, she sat there on the floor, unmoving, head thrown back against the fridge; she let the tears roll down her face, because it was the only way she knew how to relieve some of this smothering anguish.
Even under normal circumstance, child birth would have scared her to death. It was one of the things always on her mind ever since she had learned about her pregnancy. She knew it had been on her mom's, too. How could they not think about it with dread in their hearts?
Both Rachel and her baby had died during childbirth, and she had been given the best possible care, in a highly rated hospital.
And now, Olivia had to give birth to her abnormally grown child in a kitchen covered with innocent people's blood.
With a sob, she pushed herself up so she would be squatting instead of sitting on the floor, listening to her instinct as this man had told her to do. And as she waited for the next contraction to hit her and help her, she begged for mercy; despite the depth of her mother's faith, she had never believed in God herself.
Right now, though, she was praying to any greater force that might exist in this Universe or in her own.
Please help me do this, please help me do this, please help me do this…
When the pain clutched her entire being once again, she lost track of everything, her mind shutting down as her body took control, ordering her to push, to push push push. And she obeyed, like she always did.
She pushed down through the pain with the last ounce of energy she still had, ignoring her tears and broken screams. She pushed until she felt like everything she had inside was pouring out of her.
It was instinct again that made her reach down just in time to grab the incredibly warm and slippery body that was gliding out.
And just like that, she was holding out her son in front of her.
And she stared at him, in shock, releasing a loud and wobbly breathe she didn't even know she had been holding. She was shaken to her very core.
He was perfect.
He didn't even cry, and yet, she knew he was alright, his eyes already opened, blinking at her.
His blue eyes.
She fell back against the fridge and on the floor, ignoring the pain still coursing through her, as well as the dark pool she was now sitting in, mesmerized by her child and the incredible intensity of his gaze. She took him against her chest, using her bloody gown to cover him up as much as possible, noticing the tremors already shaking his small body.
"Hey, baby…" she whispered in awe.
There was a sudden pain in her neck, then and she felt her whole body go numb.
She didn't lose consciousness right away, though. She was still aware of everything long enough to feel them take her child away from her arms, saw them cut the cord and she even heard him say:
"See, you did it like a pro."
She heard her baby's first cry. The only one she would ever hear.
And then everything went black.
When the haze of the sedative started to fade, the first thing she became aware of was the pain.
It was nothing like the waves of pain that had washed over her so many times only a short while ago, though. This was different. The ache was less overpowering, less acute. But it was also deeper, thumping low. She didn't care.
Because all she was able to feel then was emptiness.
Her body felt broken, and the smell permeating the air was worrisome –it was the strong and acre smell of blood; it was way too present to be only the result of the people who had died here. But the physical aches were nothing compared to how she felt.
And empty. So empty.
She didn't even want to open her eyes. She knew they were long gone. They had left her here, probably hoping she would just bleed out on that kitchen's floor, taking him away from her. After all, she had no use left.
She had served her purpose; she was of no interest anymore.
It had all been for the baby, all for her child; for the son she would certainly never see again. She didn't want to open her eyes.
She could just die here; it's not like anyone would care.
A strange sound resonated in the kitchen, then. Like something was…vibrating.
Olivia opened her eyes.
She had slumped on the floor, one of her cheek pressed against the cold tiles. The room was completely dark, except for some light coming from an unknown source on the floor, a little farther away from her. Her vision was blurry, and it took her a few seconds to focus and understand what she was seeing and hearing. The light was coming from a phone. A cell phone.
She had forgotten where she was.
They still have cell phone Here.
This should not mean anything. It was just a phone, a stupid phone. And yet, as she stared at it buzzing, she couldn't suppress a hopeful thought.
For her baby at least, if not for her. Now that she knew she had a way of contacting help, she couldn't just go back to sleep and let herself go.
And truthfully, Olivia had never been one to give up too easily.
She tried to sit up, and found out she couldn't, as the whole world instantly started swirling sickeningly fast, and her head fell back hard on the floor. She kept her eyes on the spot where the phone lay, though, despite the fact that it had gone dark and silent again.
She crawled, then, forcing her body to move.
She ignored the way the ache immediately intensified within her, ignored what she felt there, too, knowing they had sedated her before she was done delivering everything that needed to be delivered. Her mind was set on one thing and one thing only, and it was that phone.
After what seemed to be hours, she reached it, and grabbed it, pressing the keyboard. She was blinded by the light, but forced herself to keep her eyes open. The screen was splattered with drops of blood –so were her fingers, except that it wasn't really drops, it was more like a layer of dried blood, really.
It must have been one of those poor people's phones. She silently prayed that it was not protected by a password. It was not.
She didn't think twice, before she started dialing one of the few numbers she had learned by heart, during her Mission.
She let her head fall back on the floor then, pressing the phone hard to her ear as her breathing became louder again, following the unsteady rhythm of her racing heart. She knew it wasn't good, because it only made her blood flow faster. Out of her.
But she couldn't help it.
It only rang twice before he picked up. "Hello?"
She couldn't help the tears either. They started to leak out of her eyes as soon as she heard his voice. "Peter…" Her voice sounded just as broken as she felt, even though it was barely louder than a whisper.
"Olivia? What's wrong?" The worry in his voice and his instant recognition felt like a warm hand on her tearstained cheek.
She ignored the fact that he obviously thought she was the other Olivia, and that was why he sounded so concerned. If he knew who she really was, he might just let her die in a pool of her own blood.
She ignored these thoughts like she had always ignored them when she had been busy stealing her Alternate's life and lover.
She was so good at that.
The only answer she could give him was a sob.
"Olivia, sweetheart, please, tell me where you are."
She shook her head even though he could not see her, and forced herself to swallow back another sob. "I don't know…somewhere in Chinatown."
"Don't hang up Liv, we're gonna track your call."
But darkness was already creeping back inside of her, fogging her mind and numbing her limbs. Soon, all that remained was the indescribable ache in her heart.
"I'm sorry, Peter…" she whispered.
And all was dark again.
Olivia couldn't lie. She had imagined quite a few times what it would be like if she ever came face to face with her Alternate again.
She had never thought it would be under these conditions, though, or that she would be…in such a poor state, for lack of better word.
They had been in New York, of course. They always were in New York. Peter had stayed in Massive Dynamics all night to work on the new data about the Machine Bell had provided them with. She had spent most of the night in their hotel room, trying –and failing- to sleep, until she had finally given up and decided to go see what he was doing. She knew she couldn't help; he had made that point pretty clear, despite the fact that his residual guilt for having lied to her for weeks made him shut his mouth about it when she was around.
Mainly, she just liked to be around him, especially since she had gotten full control of her body back.
They had literally ran into each other, as she was about to enter the building, while he was hastily coming out of it with a team of people. The look on his face when he had seen her was almost comical. It was like he was seeing a ghost.
He hadn't taken them long to figure out who had called him.
The sight that had greeted them in that house in Chinatown would haunt her for a very, very long time. First there had been the bodies. Then there had been hers.
She hadn't died, by some miracle; but she could have been dead, lying half naked in her own blood. Her skin had been so pale it was almost translucent, especially in contrast with all that crimson liquid splattered all around and all over her.
Olivia had thought many times about what she would say to her, if they ever met again. Even though her anger had mostly faded away, she knew she would always feel some deep resentment towards her that she would never be able to shake off. The fact that she understood her motives didn't mean she could accept them all.
She thought about what she would ask.
"Why did you do it?"
She didn't want to hear: "Because I had a mission." She knew that. She wanted to know why. And the very tiny selfish part of her wanted to hear her apologize. She knew she deserved that much.
But Olivia had never been very selfish. She was actually too selfless for her own good, most of the time, and she knew it.
That was why she felt nothing but pain at that instant, as she stared at her Alternate. Some of this pain was her own, of course, caused by the news of Peter now having a son with her; but it wasn't what was dominating.
Mostly, she felt her pain.
She had always been empathic, another thing she could not deny. But here and now, there was absolutely nothing easier for her than to put herself in this Olivia's place.
She was awake and more than aware of her presence in her room, but she was purposefully avoiding her gaze. Olivia didn't mind. She understood.
She was a mess.
Thanks to Bell and his advanced knowledge in medicine and technology, the medical crew of Massive Dynamics had been able to save her and heal her extremely quickly. Once she had awoken, though, she had refused any kind of care, even refused the morphine they were gladly offering her. She was only on mild painkillers.
She was also still mostly covered with her own blood, since she refused to let the nurses clean her up. Her hair was tangled and grimy, matted with dried blood. But this was just her physical appearance.
She was a mess inside. Olivia stared and stared at her, and she knew she had been broken.
There would be no more cocky smile.
She was in such a state of shock and desperation that her whole body was shaking slightly. Her face was nothing but a mask of desolation.
She had only accepted to speak with Bell so far, and one of the first things she had said was "Don't let Peter see me."
Well, that was a little too late for that; he had seen her alright, even though she had been unconscious then. In any case, he was out of the building now.
Searching for his son.
Bell had explained to Olivia what happened to her. How she had been pregnant, and how a specific technology he had invented himself had been used on her to accelerate her pregnancy. All they knew after that was that 'they' had sent her Over Here using the harmonic rods still inside of her. She had delivered her child, and they had sedated her, taking him away. Basically leaving her there to die.
Olivia knew that look on her face. She had seen it too many times in her own mirror. She also had a good idea of what she must feeling, even though she couldn't say she had exactly been through the same thing.
Still, she felt the need to talk to her.
"It's not your fault," Olivia said quietly.
For the first since she had entered the room, she turned her head toward her, meeting her eyes. This should not be so painful.
And yet it was.
She managed a smile. Olivia wasn't even surprised. She herself always managed a smile whenever she was crushed by pain and sorrow.
"I thought you would find this rather amusing, as far as payback goes." She said slowly. "You could be cheering right now."
Her voice was hoarse. Just like Olivia's had been Over There, after Walternate had stopped her from going back home again, and had put her back in the Dark Room. She had screamed a lot that night.
Apparently, so had she tonight.
Olivia pursed her lips, and shook her head. "I don't rejoice in other people's pain."
She looked away again. "I know," she whispered; another minute of silence went by before she spoke again. "I just think…I deserved this, I guess. I certainly don't deserve your pity."
Olivia shook her head again, her arms tightly wrapped around herself, as if it would help contain this inexplicable pain. "I don't pity you," she said softly. "I hate to feel pitied just as much as you do, so I try not to pity others."
She chuckled darkly, tiredly, still avoiding her eyes. "Are you here to make a list of everything we have in common?"
"I don't need to," Olivia answered immediately and with equal wit. "I still have your memories in my head. I know everything about you."
Amazingly, her face darkened even more then, and she met her eyes again, shaking her head. "Don't. All you know is who I was a year ago. People change."
Olivia nodded her head. "Yeah, they do," she answered softly. "That's why I could never think of this as payback."
She dropped her eyes, her gaze falling on her hands, still covered with a layer of dried blood, and her face contracted in pain.
After another long stretch of silence, during which Olivia could do nothing but stare at her as she was obviously trying to keep her emotions under control, she spoke again. But she didn't seem to be talking to her, not really.
"You know, two days ago, I was still mostly rejecting the idea of that baby, even though I was doing a good job at pretending I was thrilled. I never wanted this. I never asked to come Here. I never wanted to get pregnant with his child. And so I kept asking myself…'Why me?'" She shook her head, shame and guilt written all over her face. "I never thought about the baby, not really. I only thought of me. Turned out it was never about me. They said the baby was my only purpose. Then they disposed of me like old trash."
She held her hands out in front of her, then, and stared at her trembling fingers, seeing something Olivia could not see.
"I never really thought about him, until he was there, in my hands." The desperation on her face was unbearable. "He was there and he was…perfect. And he was mine." Her voice broke on the last word. As she closed her eyes, tears instantly started pouring down her cheeks. "I was supposed to protect him. And I failed."
Olivia brought a shaky hand to her mouth, forcing herself to breathe deep and slow, as she watched her break down in front of her, her last words resonating within her in a way she could not even begin to explain.
How many times had she uttered those same words?
I failed…I failed…I failed…
She wished she could tell her that she didn't fail. That it was not her fault, she hadn't failed, she hadn't. But she knew it was useless, because whenever she whispered those words herself, every inch of her believed it was the unfathomable truth.
Only one thing so far had ever managed to calm her down. Only one person.
And so she said it. Even though it brought tears into her own eyes. Even though it broke her heart to say the words. She said them because she knew what it felt like, to be treated like 'old trash'.
She knew what it felt like to become disposable once you had served your purpose. She had been valuable for the Cortexiphan in her brain.
She had been valuable for the child in her womb.
And so she said the only words she knew had the power to calm her down.
"Peter will find him."
A/N: I know it's a cruel way to stop this. In a perfect alternate Universe, I would have no work and no school and I could write all day and make a long story out of this. Until then, I'm just gonna keep complaining and writing whenever I should be studying XD
Please, I would love to know what you thought of this :))