Things that Never Were

She wonders if it feels just as strange there, too.

She feels the weather changing. Not literally, of course, but figuratively. She can see it changing, physically. The wind has become cooler, darker, and the fog stays well into the afternoon before burning off into high thick clouds and heartbreakingly blue skies. The nights are much colder, harsher and there is a small frost on the windows when she wakes up. She wonders if the weather is different there, too.

It's been months. Months. She doesn't know how many months, but enough months to have it change from spring to summer to fall. It's fall now. The leaves on the patio are dark orange, nearly brown and have made a small pile underneath its branches. She watches them through the house windows, through her prison, and wonders if they ever really knew she was gone in the first place. Because no one has come for her yet, not one single person from her home has tried to come back to see her. Their plan has been working all this time and she wonders if she'll ever know if they knew she wasn't her. If the other Olivia fulfills her lifestyle and takes everything away from her, Olivia must take her place in this world. But she doesn't want to. It's not what's supposed to be. Even the observers know this.

She knows because she sees them. Everyday there is one that sits in a car a cross the street from her prison, the other Walter's home. From her bedroom's window she sees them, doing exactly what they are supposed to do, observe. She knows they know she watches them because the moment their eyes make contact she can feel them in her mind, trying to read it. But her freakish cortexiphan disease blocks them out. But she watches them, waiting for them to tell her when there is a change in time. But she's been waiting for months.

Someone else comes to see her as well. She feels like an animal on display when he comes, watching her through his narrow eyes. She doesn't know this man, she's never seen him, but he looks at her like she's known him for her whole life, as if they've been together. His face is angular and handsome, a toned body and blonde hair. There is confusion written across his eyes along with knowledge as he watches her watch him, her own eyes intent on reading every thought she could grasp, every word that his eyes would leak. She figures he knows her, the other her, and that they are together in some way but she hates to watch him watch her. Because it reminds her that over there, Peter has yet to realize the truth, and that punches a whole through her heart, causing her to shake and shiver in a feeling of alone that she's not used to, a feeling that she's never known.

She figures Walternate is trying to make her someone she's not, trying to force her into realizing and accepting her role over here, but she doesn't know why. She figures the only reason she's alive and staying that way is because Peter will figure it out eventually and demanded for her. She was Walternates leverage over the other universe. As much as she hated it, she realized it must be the truth. She wonders if the other Olivia knows this too. Probably, she figures, because she's still on mission, in her world, with her Peter.

It shouldn't taste so foreign in her mouth but it does. Peter isn't hers, although she wishes it, but rather he belongs here. She belongs there. She wonders idly if the other Peter Bishop, the one from her world had lived, then she would have him. But he didn't and this Peter Bishop took his place and she had him, but no longer does. She wants him, deathly, but she won't get him back. If he hasn't realized the switch now, he may never, and she'll be stuck here until someone else figures it out. Peter will hate himself for literally sleeping with the enemy and he'll never touch her again. Ever. It's heartbreaking. The one man she wants to touch her skin will never do it because he's scared. It makes her cry at night.

Her favorite window overlooks the river. Often, she sees Elizabeth outside her cage of glass, sitting on the terrace and drinking coffee. She doesn't say anything to Olivia, ever, even when they are the only ones in the house. But she certainly feels Elizabeth. She feels her in a way that is strange. Elizabeth is strong, a presence of a woman married to a hardworking man and she feels little in the room next to her. It's not that she's a better woman than Olivia, but a different woman. Her glances are full of misplaced hatred and Olivia knows that feeling. She hates her because she doesn't know what to think, this woman that holds a power over her son that she never could have held. Jealousy. Maybe. But Olivia hates her eyes watching her it is uncomforting and bothersome. It makes her think of Peter and that makes her ache for the world she belongs in.

She thought she was bluffing, a tactic she used to return him to her world. It was cruel? Yes, knowing what he wanted from her and giving it to get him back. Selfish? Most certainly, and that's what makes her question her feelings. Maybe she liked Peter more than she let herself believe. Maybe he was more than a friend. But maybe wasn't good enough anymore. She threw it all out the window. She had to know. But she'll never know. Not now. Not ever.

The room she stays in must have been Peters. The feeling that he was there at one point, lingers around her all night. Once, when she opened the closet, she found it full of his clothes, adult clothes, some tags still on, others off. In the corner was a dirty clothes hamper and in it was his shirt. She stared at it the first time she saw it, watching it, hoping tat maybe he'd suddenly grow out of it and save her. But she got angry with herself and slammed the closet shut, not opening since then. She hates herself for looking for him because it makes her hurt. It scares her into realizing Peter had always been much more than a friend.

The weather is changing. She wonders if she is changing as well. Can she feel her emotions like she used too? Is she scared more? Angry more? She can't tell. Frustration seems to rein over her body for the days, the months and she is beginning to hate herself. She is begging to hate being forgotten. She hates all the things she's never done, the time she never got to spend with Ella, the wedding she never got to have, the days of growing old freely that won't be hers. She begins to feel only numbness and hatred and she wonders, is this part of the plan? Why is she still here? Questions rack her body, shaking her like a wind shakes a branch. She wants to feel the emotions that have long since slipped away. Happiness. Joy. She wants to smile again. That's all she wants. A simple smile. She wants to feel a simple smile.

She can see the weather changing. The air is becoming crisp, a wind is blowing and the scent of rain lingers in the fog that stays until midday until it burns off into crisp heartbreakingly blue skies. She used to be able to feel it change.

But lately, all she feels is cold.