CHAPTER ONE - A Card For A Daughter

It was nearing the end of the day. The sun had set long ago, and the lab was all but empty. Olivia gathered her coat and bag from behind the desk and made her way towards the double doors that led to the lab. She sighed deeply. For the first time today she was calm. She had woken that morning wondering, 'would it be there?', panic stricken that the card would arrive, she had spent the day worried. But as she prepared to leave for the night, she felt relived.

"Are you going home?" a voice called out.

It made Olivia jump, she turned to find Peter walking towards her, coat in hand.

"Yeah," she answered, "Do you want a lift?"

He nodded. "Walter wanted ice cream but I still needed to finish up here, so Astrid offered to take him."

Olivia drove in silence towards the Bishop's apartment. Sensing the tension Peter spoke first.

"Did you get it?"

Olivia breathed in deeply, "No." The silence of the trip had built on her nerves. Remembering last years card, she had gone the whole day, no sign of the card. But when she returned home that evening, there it was. Having been slipped under the door.

A blank birthday card.

As Peter opened the car door, he turned back to face Olivia. He leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek, "Happy Birthday." he smiled and got out of the car.

Had he really just kissed her? Or was she so desperate to tell him how she felt, that she was imagining it?

She touched the cheek he had kissed. His lips had felt warm and soft. She closed her eyes, imagining what they would feel like on her own. She sighed. She knew he didn't feel the same way.

Olivia unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside. Flicking the light switch on, she looked at the wooden floor under her feet. No card. She felt calm again.

The apartment was silent. Rachel and Ella had gone out to dinner with some of Rachel's friends. Olivia had been invited, but she was working late, so she politely declined.

She headed for her bedroom. She placed her gun, still holstered on the drawer and walking into the kitchen. She needed wine, she needed to relax.

It wasn't until she had opened the cupboard that hid the wine did she realise that was wasn't alone.

Her father sat comfortably on her couch. He held her gun. Admiring it.

"I couldn't find a birthday card for you,"

It was what her father sent her, every year, to remind her that he was still alive, and he knew where she lived.

But he had never entered her apartment before, simply slipping it under the door and leaving.

Her father continued, "I thought, I would pay you a visit instead."

Olivia remained calm. She refused to let him know that he scared her. She poured a glass of wine, sculling it.

"I wouldn't mind a glass, darling."

Olivia reluctantly poured another glass of wine, sliding it across the bench top to her father. He sipped at her, his eyes never leaving hers.

He returned to the couch, and continued to admire her weapon.

"Bullet. A funny word. They tear through the flesh, shredding whatever is behind it and leaving it's victim near death." he looked back at her, "Have you been shot?"

Olivia looked at him, his eyes glaring down at her from across the room. She still refused to give him anything that would give him the upper hand.

He clicked off the safety.

The rest was a blur. Olivia had lunged for the gun. The two wrestled on the floor, both desperately griping for the weapon as it skidded across the floor of Olivia's apartment.

And then a shot rang out. Echoing, slipping under her front door, echoing down the hallway outside.

Olivia leaned against the wall, arms smeared with the slightest trace of blood, her eyes glued on the motionless figure slumped over on the floor. The blood pooled around his chest. But she knew he wasn't dead. He would wake up in the hospital and walk right out, again. Olivia found herself silently crying, the tears dripping off her chin onto the floorboards. She knew that he would never leave her alone. He would always taunt her for what she did to him when she was nine.

The police arrived moments later. One of Olivia's neighbours must have heard something, nosy as they were, the distinct sound of a gunshot would have drawn them out.

Olivia watched them take her father outside, as she gave her statement to the police officer next to her.

20 minutes later, Olivia found herself opening the doors to the lab. A small bag hung over her shoulder. It had been filled with a change of clothing and other essentials. She wasn't planning on returning to her apartment anytime soon.

She didn't turn the light on, despite everything, Olivia always felt safest in the dark (if she can't see them, they can't see her. It was a flawed theory but it was her safe guard) Olivia sat down on the couch that had been moved there after Peter found her sleeping at her desk several times. Wrapping the old woollen blanket around her arms and legs, settling into the soft cushions, she still felt like someone was watching her.

She found herself crying silently, pulling the blanket tighter she cried herself to sleep.

Olivia woke later that night. She swore she heard the double doors or the lab swing open. She slowly upholstered her gun, which had been placed under the cushion she was using for a pillow. She got up, scanning the room intently, before walking out into the lab. She turned away from the door, her eyes sweeping across the area around the tank.

"Olivia!"

She swung around, nearly shooting Peter, who had ducked for cover.

"Peter? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Rachel called, she was worried when the police called her, saying you had shot your father." he approached her, "She went over to your apartment but called me when she couldn't find you. She thought you might be with me."

"I took up residence on the couch." she pointed to the office, where the blanket had crumpled on the floor.

"You can't stay here. Come on." Peter went to the office, picking up the bag she had brought with her.

Walter was wide awake, despite the fact it was well after 2 in the morning. He was in the kitchen formulating some 'drink' with cordials and wines, and everything else he could find.

"Walter! What the hell are you doing?" Peter exclaimed when they walked into the apartment. The smell that had been 'created' by Walter's experimental drink caused Olivia and Peter to gag and hold their hands over their mouth and nose.

"Why Peter, I just remembered an drink I use to make!" he said it with an enthusiasm which Peter and Olivia did not reciprocate. "I remembered it contained exactly twelve ingredients. Wine, strawberry cordial, sliced lemons and orange juice. But I don't remember the last seven. So I'm re-creating it." he began opening a packet of chocolate icing from a cake mix.

They made a mad dash to the hallway leading to the bedrooms, closing the door to the lounge room, blocking out the revolting smell.

Peter led her down the hallway to a closed door at the end.

"This is the spare room." he opened the door. A bed, a bedside table and several large boxes were all the occupied it. Dust had settled on the windowsill causing Olivia to wonder how long since anyone had been in the room.

"We didn't need the room when we moved in, so its home to most of Walters old things. I can move them out, but I'll do that in the morning. I'm sure you're tired."

Olivia nodded in agreement.

"Could I shower first?" she asked softly.

He rummaged through a drawer in his own room, which was next to hers. He found a clean towel and showed her where the bathroom was.

Olivia let the warm water wash over her, to out it literally, wash away her worries and stress. Turning up the hot water she sat on the floor of the shower, against the tiled wall.

Olivia wasn't one to show her emotions. Not purposely or consciously. She kept them bottled up in the furthest corner of her mind, locked inside a thick vault, hidden behind barriers she had built to keep them there. Barriers that allowed her to detach from cases that would bring a normal person to tears or for them to scream and run away.

But as she sat on the shower floor, the hot water running over her skin, she could feel those barriers falling.

They had failed her.