CHAPTER 3

"Walter... I know its the weekend, and you don't have to be working, but could you please put on some pants?" She pleads, shielding her eyes as she walks into his bedroom/office in the lab.

"Agent Dunham, dear! How wonderful it is to see you. I am just conducting some personal experiments," he responds with a smile and a wink.

She raises her eye brows, her hand falls away from her face but her eyes are still not making contact with him... any of him. "I can see that," she says.

"Oh! Nothing like that dear.. just not Fringe related. I think more clearly when my mind and body are free," he says as he shuffles around the pull-out couch to find a pair of pants.

"Thank you for that explanation, Walter," she replies, finally able to make eye contact with him as he walks back toward her, "but that's not why I came here today."

"Yes! Of course! What can I do for you dear?" He asks enthusiastically.

"I need your scientific opinion," she starts, staying vague for this request, "umm, how plausible do you actually think it is that Peter is from another timeline?"

"What? Why? Has something happened?" He asks, concerned.

"No, no... just wondering. I know the two of you have been working to get him back to his timeline.. using the machine. And I just wanted your opinion... on that."

"But.. but why? Did he say something...?" he asks again, "did he say something about me?"

"No... no, Walter. He just really wants to get home. He didn't say anything to me, I can just tell he wants to get home." She says solemnly.

"Oh. Ok," he responds, still quite confused at her sudden appearance on a Saturday morning.

"So, I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help. Or... if I could talk with you about how likely it is that he'll actually be able to get home... to the other timeline. If it even exists."

"Who's to say it doesn't exist, dear?" he asks.

She looks at him trying to stay as neutral as possible, "I don't know. I get that there are other universes, because there are other people over there. But isn't a different timeline with different events just a giant sum of "what if" scenarios? How do we know that it actually exists? What if this happened instead of that.. it just plays with our futures, not necessarily our consciousness or existence," she finishes.

"Nothing is impossible, dear... but I see your point -" He is cut off by the sound of the lab door opening. They look at each other, wondering who else might be coming to the lab on a Saturday. But in reality, Olivia knows it's Peter... and she's not quite sure how he is going to react to this plan of hers.

...

"Olivia?" He calls into the empty lab.

She tries to hide the fact that she is well aware of the reason behind his appearance, but she is with Walter after all, so he doesn't even begin to connect the dots.

"In here," she says, grimacing and closing her eyes, preparing for this very awkward conversation.

She can hear footsteps coming closer and then the door swings open. Her back is to him and she doesn't turn around to greet him, but she knows he's entered the room by the look on Walter's face.

"Peter!" excitement spews from Walters every pore, "Agent Dunham and I were just talking about you!"

Perfect... thank you for that Walter... she thinks, giving him a forced smile as she turns around to face Peter. She has to stop him from spilling all the details before he assumes Walter knows everything and then just opens his mouth.

"You were what?" he asks, clearly directed at Olivia. But Walter being Walter, he doesn't sense the tension in the room and answers again, "talking about you, of course! And your timeline -"

Olivia cuts him off before he can continue, "Can I talk to you Peter?" and then she mouths "Alone?" with her back to Walter. Her eyebrows raise to emphasize the fact that Walter should not and cannot be involved in this conversation.

She turns back toward Walter to give him a distracting task, "hey Walter, why don't you work on your personal experiment a little more?"

"Oh, we're done already?" He says back as he reaches toward his belt buckle.

"WITH your pants on," Olivia interrupts before he can get to undoing the button and zipper. The innocent look on Walters face fades and he looks up in defeat, but once he can see the looks on Peter and Olivia's faces he immediately acknowledges that he probably should keep his pants on.

Olivia starts walking toward the door and Peter is still just standing there. She's walking toward him with haste and he looks exactly how he has for the last 12 hours - dazed and confused. She gets about a foot away from him and flicks her hands at him so he turns around toward the door. He turns and starts walking, just in time before she runs into him and physically pushes him out the door. Olivia on a mission cannot be stopped, and he knows that.

She passes him as soon as they exit Walter's office and she heads toward the other office across the lab. She closes the door behind him and turns around, thinking she'll see him still standing right in front of her. Instead, he heads over to the chair at the table and has a seat. Its quite obvious he is still tired from his grand total of two hours of sleep in the last 12, but clearly he has given up caring about trying to hide that. He's given up on trying to hide... really anything... from her in the last 12 hours.

She starts to talk, but he starts at the same time and cuts her off "Liv -"

He pauses to let her talk, but she motions for him to continue. "Liv," he sighs and shakes his head, "why?"

"Peter, I didn't tell him anything," she responds quickly, "I just wanted someone to brainstorm with, and he happens to be quite the subject matter expert on multiple universes and timelines."

"HA," he chokes out a fake laugh, "if subject matter expert is someone who wrongly crosses the line between universes, then yes. He's your man."

"Look, Peter," she starts again with new determination, "I asked him if I could help get you back home... to your timeline. Ok?"

He looks up at her and meets her eyes, he can't pull away, "you... did what?" he asks in shock.

She gives him a look that says you know exactly what I did, I just told you.

"Liv... I thought you wanted me to stay..." he says, quite sadly.

"I do," she looks down and trails her hand over her hair, which is pulled into a loose pony tail, "I do... I just... If this isn't where you're meant to be, then I don't want to keep you from where you are supposed to be."

He looks at her, unable to respond.

She continues, "I already screwed this up once by not telling you where you were from. And not letting you decide or have all the information available to you. If I had told you back then... maybe you would have stayed and maybe you would have gone. I don't know. But I can't be selfish again... that only led us to one giant shit show after another."

When she finishes, he looks at her and lets a soft smile escape his serious fa?ade.

"Thanks," is all he says in return. She expects him to have something more to say, and feels over-invested for having said so much, for having laid out all her emotions, feelings, and regrets.

He looks like he is at peace with himself once again, but maybe this time he is actually ok with the situation. I mean, there couldn't be two exact, identical versions of his Olivia in all universes or timelines - and this one, she just had to be his Olivia. How could she not be when she says something like that?

"Oh... Ok. So... you want to go back and talk to Walter?" She asks.

"No," he says confidently, much to her surprise, "I'm not ready to talk to Walter yet," he repeats, just like earlier.

As he is sitting, he leans his elbows on his knees, and plays with his hands which are held together in the space between his knees, fingers intertwined in front of him.

"Ok..." she says, questioning what is going through his mind at this very moment, "so... what do you want to do?"

He fiddles with his fingers, tucking and untucking them between his hands. Then he stands and walks toward her, he reaches out his hand as an invitation. She looks at him suspiciously, but still takes his hand and he starts to pull her across the room toward the couch. She trails behind him utterly confused and overwhelmed, probably similar to how he felt last night. Her mind is racing and her skin is tingling where his fingers have interlaced between hers.

He sits down on the couch looking up at her, "you coming?" he asks playfully.

"Uh," she stutters, "yeah... sure," she says as she sits awkwardly next to him. Carefully leaving two inches of space between them.

He looks far more relaxed than he has since this whole ordeal started, "I want to hear more about what you remember," he says softly, looking over to her. She can feel his eyes on her cheek, and it takes all of her will power to not look back at him, noses two inches apart, breath on each others faces.

"Ok.. um, what do you want to hear about?" she asks hesitantly, "you have to ask for something specific because its still all mixed up in there," she says as she lightly taps her temple.

He laughs slightly, just enough to hear the breath come out of his nose. She doesn't have to see his face to know his lips are pressed tightly across his mouth, a small smile spreading. He looks forward again and leans his torso against the back of the couch, reaching his arm up over her and onto the back of the couch cushion. She knows he's truly not trying to make a move, but she can't help but feel like she's on a date with her high school crush. Her stomach fluttering every time his skin gets close to hers.

"Earlier, you said I was acting like I did after I found out about my family, and the other side. And just now you talked about not telling me the truth. How much do you remember?" He asks, gently.

"Umm, by now... more than I did this morning," she laughs awkwardly, "I remember the day in the hospital, when you checked yourself out." She pulls herself all the way back on the couch, leaning into his arm and resting her feet on floor. There is still space between them, but behind her, she can just barely feel his forearm along the back of the couch.

She continues, "and I remember being disappointed, obviously... but it felt like more than disappointment," she looks to him, "we weren't together before you left though, right? I know that."

"No," he shakes his head. "We weren't," he confirms.

She closes her eyes, searching through her brain for the memories, forcing her neurological pathways to connect and put these puzzle pieces together, "ok, well... I know you left. And that sucked," she opens her eyes again, looking forward now, "and then you ran off to another state, and then to another universe, and I knew I had to come get you... because of the machine. That I remember. Probably because the machine is still so prominent in my every day life."

She pauses, thinking about that machine and what it means. How it could or should send Peter back to his original timeline. She tries to bring herself back to focus on their conversation and pulling back her memories, "so I came and got you and told you that you belonged with me." She makes eye contact with him and holds it slightly too long, but neither of them can look away. She blinks and continues, "honestly, a lot of the stuff that happened more recently its a lot more clear. I remember a lot about coming back, and how hard that was... for both of us."

He looks down, ashamed that she remembers the worst part of their relationship so vividly, "yeah, I know," he affirms.

She can sense his change in tone, "but that's not what you asked me about... so let me think back more," she hesitates, focusing her mind on the subject, "I saw you in the hospital... and I definitely I knew, about the kidnapping, beforehand. But I don't really know why I didn't tell you there... I guess that's why I said I regretted it earlier. Because I really don't know why I didn't tell you. It seems like such an easy, obvious thing to do now."

He laughs, "well yeah, that's because you can only remember the recent stuff... you should have met you when I tried to take you out on a date, before all of this."

She looks at him, confused, "hmmm? A date?"

"Nothing," he says smiling, "keep going."

She shakes the confusion off her face and continues, "so I knew about you and where you were from... and I knew I didn't want to tell you. I can deduce that its because I thought you would leave and I didn't want you to. Seems like I was right," she adds cheekily.

"So," she starts again, "I don't know specifically what happened before then. I think we both knew, about how we felt, but we never addressed it. And I just know that I felt comfortable around you... before I felt things for you. I don't know its hard to explain. It seems like either way... either set of early memories I dig into, I never had a place or person I could fully relax around. I always had to be on edge as a kid, and Rachel is the closest thing I have even now, but I'm still so protective over her, and John... we were just always hiding it... and it wasn't even real."

He's looking at her, listening intently. He starts to shift his body so he is facing her more, instead of just craning his neck to look at her.

She leans further back, resting her neck on his forearm, "So, I don't know... it just feels like I didn't have to have my guard up all the time - which I realize was actually exhausting, even though I never let that feeling come through," she takes a breath, "I felt like I could be afraid, like I could be weak, like I could be my full self around you. Which let's be fair, I needed both in and out of work," she smiles, acknowledging her inability to let things go when the work day is over.

He smiles back, but she continues speaking, "So I don't know why I messed this up... why I didn't tell you. I just remember being on the other side in your apartment - knowing that I had to tell you then. And really, I'm struggling to even remember how I found out that you were from the other side."

He breaks his silence, quietly adding, "you didn't mess this up."

Her breath catches, but she is able to keep going through her previous train of thought, "I guess I just have this overwhelming feeling of belonging, now," she looks at him again, "and I just know that I missed the opportunity before, for probably some stupid fatal flaw like 'Olivia can't admit how she really feels about Peter'" she mimics herself mockingly, "and I don't want to do that again. Because I know it has to be your decision, and just need to tell you how I feel. That's all I can do," she shrugs.

He smiles and curls his wrist so his fingers can graze the skin on her outside shoulder. His finger tips lightly touch her, moving back and forth, silently thanking and comforting her. After a few moments, he pulls his hand back away, re-establishing the boundaries they had unknowingly set, "Do you remember getting drinks together? After we came back from Jacksonville and New York?"

"So we did go on a date before all that mess?" She asks, slightly surprised.

He chuckles, "I'm not sure if I would call it a date... but yeah, sure."

She looks at him blankly, confirming that she doesn't quite remember the details. He starts to fill them in, hoping to spark a memory, "We had that case, where a building swapped universes because Newton was trying to perfect the technology... ultimately to use it to bring over Walter... the other Walter..." his voice softens, "...and then bring me back."

Her face lights up as if a new memory has entered her mind, "because that's how you found out you were from over there, on that bridge... when Newton brought Walternate over here," she confirms.

He nods, "yeah, and back when it was just the building, we were trying to figure out how to detect if another swap was going to happen. So we flew down to Jacksonville because when you were a little girl, Walter had -"

"I saw the glimmer... when I was a girl" she interrupts him, eyes wide with realization.

"Mmhhm," he confirms, "and Walter wanted to see if we could do that again. But it didn't really work because you needed to be emotionally vulnerable."

She is lost in thought now, "because I wasn't afraid of anything anymore," she says, the look on her face a sinking realization of what Peter had admitted to her back then.

I've never met anyone who can do the things that you do...

"Yeah," he says, bringing her out of her vivid memory.

She looks at him with deep longing in her eyes, "but I felt comfortable around you, I felt safe. So I allowed myself to be afraid..." She closes her eyes, trying to remember all the details, "and then I saw the building glimmer," she opens her eyes again, "and then I saw you glimmer."

They both look at each other, the force of the world pushing them into each other. Both wanting so badly to be comforted, or to comfort the other, but still unsure how to proceed.

She looks forward again, pulling her mind away from him, focusing on the memories, "I saw you glimmer and Walter asked me not to tell you..."

She is still looking straight ahead, her eyes unfocused and her awareness slipping as all of these memories come flooding in.

He lets her soak in the memories, and then she just turns to him and says, "I'm sorry." Sadness fills her facial features and she whispers, "I should have told you."

"It's ok," he says back simply. He seems content just in the fact that she is remembering all of this. And not only remembering it, but remembering it with him, together. This is exactly what she had wanted to do back in her apartment, but she realizes now how fast this is all happened for him. It goes to show just how much they belong together though, she thinks, because they are both seeking the same thing. Connection through their memories, together.

"God, I was so awkward that night," she says sheepishly, breaking the apologetic silence. He laughs, he actually laughs for the first time in a day, "Yeah... you were."

She is laughing too now, "I can't believe you still spoke to me after that night. I just kept averting eye contact. It was so not subtle"

"Yeah," he chuckles, "and you were literally an emotionless brick on the walk to the bar," he laughs more now, "you held onto my arm as we walked out of the house, and I could tell Walter had said something to you. Because you interlinked your arm in mine comfortably, almost like relief... or an escape from Walter. And then about 30 seconds later you literally froze - it was like walking with a statue that didn't want to touch me."

They are both laughing loudly now, reminiscing on their first attempt at a date.

"And," she takes a breath between laughs, "I think I lasted for like 2 beers. And every time you leaned closer to me, I leaned away."

"Yeah, I took you back to the house and invited you in out of courtesy, honestly in my head I was dreading the outcome if you had said yes."

Her body is loose now, her torso turned fully toward him, legs freely dangling off the edge of the couch, feet barely touching the floor, "Ugh, and the hug goodnight," she fakes shivers, "so bad. I probably should have just gone for a hand shake, that would have been better."

"Or a high-five," he adds, still laughing.

"Anything would have been better," she says as she reaches her hand out onto his inner thigh and leans back into his arm and chest to laugh. Their bodies move together, synchronizing back into their familiar ease of being with each other. But soon the laughter fades as they realize the situation they are still in. He looks down at her hand gently placed across his khaki pant leg, he feels the warm outline of her palm and fingers; she simply sits there, frozen in place. Suddenly, she pulls her hand away, almost too abruptly, and then looks down at her hands in her own lap. She rubs the skin on her thumbs and knuckles, fidgeting with uncertainty.

Then, unexpectedly, she feels something warm pressing up against her chin. His arm extended, finger curled into his hand as he uses his knuckle to bring her chin up to his eye level. Light is coming through the window behind him and it meets his eyes in such a way that they practically glow while he looks at her. She can see the contemplation in his face, mentally picking petals off a flower... he loves her... he loves her not.

They look at each other silently, with so much yearning, yet so much hesitation. Both wondering what the other is thinking, but also wanting to simply sit in this moment of comfortable silence, finally, just looking into each others' eyes.

He smiles slightly, letting out an awkward laugh, "You know... I was scared back then because I thought I fucked everything up."

He pauses, his hand coming off her face, "I thought I finally had a chance with you, and literally the first night it went south."

She looks down as her eyes stay on his hand, following its path as it left her face and went back down toward his lap. She can't look at him when she admits this: "If I had known..." she says quietly.

He interrupts, "if you had known what? That another version of my father would come take me away to another universe, for the second time in my life..." He asks sarcastically, "How could you ever know that?" his tone gentle once again.

She shrugs, "I don't know. I just feel like I should have."

They look at each other in silence for a moment, then she starts again, "I think all of this would have gone differently if I had just... I don't know."

His skin burns because he wants to touch her so badly, to console her, "if you had just what?" He asks.

She looks down at her own hands in her lap again, twiddling her thumbs, "just sat down and talked with you about it... like were doing now. I feel like everything would have spilled out if we just opened up even a little bit. And we could have figured it out," she shrugs, "and... I mean that's mostly my fault because I am obviously the one who is closed off."

He laughs again, still resisting reaching out toward her, "that is so you," he smiles, tilting his head while he looks at her, "I mean you think the negative outcome of any situation should be your responsibility."

"Yeah, but," she retorts, "even back in New York, when I told you I was scared. That was all you. I never would have initiated anything..." she laughs shyly, "and then even when you did, I ran off... I'm telling you, I would have closed off," she says as factually as she can.

His eyebrows raise in concern, "that was for a different reason though, wasn't it? You ran to go find the building... to see the shimmer," he asks, genuinely interested.

"At first, yes," she responds, "but, I don't know, the more I think about it the more I wonder if I would have run, regardless. Even if it was a completely different situation or different circumstances. It's not like either of us were subtle by the time we got to Jacksonville," she smiles, "so I can't lie and say I wasn't expecting something like that to happen... eventually."

"So, what," he asks, "if I had just asked you out on a regular date at another time, you would have said no?"

"I don't know," she says, looking up at him again now, "I think you're the one who taught me not to be afraid about this kind of stuff. So I would have needed you before you tried to do anything," she laughs, thinking of how ridiculous she sounds, "which isn't really possible."

"Nah, I think you would have been fine," he says confidently, "I think I would have swooped you off your feet... you wouldn't have been able to resist me," he says, smiling widely now, his cheeks the perfect shade of subtle pink.

She shakes her head, laughing, "I think I would have been completely silent until I had at least a shot of whiskey. You would have thought I was mute, or just left because it was that awkward," she says, exaggerating her insecurities. He's never seen her that way though, and he wishes she could see herself through his eyes.

He laughs, "Well, I think we should test that theory... technically we are strangers, or at least we were 3 months ago. And even though you are talking to me now, you don't have any whiskey at your disposal... so the only way to really test the theory is to go to a bar," he finishes the sentence casually, smiling.

She smiles softly, self-conscious of how much she wants that, "be careful... if you keep saying stuff like that, I won't offer to help Walter with the machine anymore."

They smile at each other, both hesitating to start the conversation again. His eyebrows furrow, and she knows he is about to say something serious. When he looks back up at her, his face becomes more solemn and his words only come out as a whisper, "I don't feel like I should leave" he pauses, before clarifying, "...this place... you."

He continues, "I guess I'm just scared to fuck everything up again, what if this isn't the way its supposed to be?" She wants to interrupt and tell him he's wrong, but she holds her tongue and lets him finish. Then, he adds with emphasis, "but what if this is the way its supposed to be?"

She smiles; the words she has been seeking so intently float lightly in the air after he says them. She basks in the moment as the gentle air caresses her body and soul. She cannot communicate her relief, so she simply nods, unable to speak. Tears start welling in her eyes.

He moves his hand back up to her face and when his skin touches hers, she thinks she might melt. His fingers tickle her jaw line, barely touching her; he then cups her cheek with his palm and his thumb wipes the trace of a tear away, "I guess... I'm really scared," he takes a breath, their noses only inches away now "because... when I look into your eyes, I know its you," he leans in, sighing with relief, and places his forehead on hers.

He brings his left hand up to her other cheek, "I know its you."

...