Peter buries his face against her neck, taking in the smell of her; puts his arms around her and holds her close and can tell without a doubt that it's Olivia, and just now that's the only thing that matters. "Better. I'm much better."

For one awful moment Steve almost hates them both, and then it's replaced by a sledgehammer of guilt and shame. He can't begrudge Olivia this reunion - he just doesn't need to be witness to it. So he rounds the corner of the big tank in the middle of the room and slips out the door to the hall, standing there and trying not to think.

Olivia got to his world, and from that one to this. There's a way to get himself home - he just needs to find it.

Home. It's strange to think of the mansion and New York of the twenty-first century that way, but every so often he catches himself doing it. And really, what choice does he have.