so basically that last episode= saddening all over again. It's like, let's just kick Olivia when she's down, over and over and over again. This story is a bit of Dark!Olivia because in all honesty, you can only kick a woman so much before she decides to kick back. I hope that time is soon for us.

I like to think of this as word throw up, because it's been floating around in my head since Saturday morning, whenI watched the episode again. It's really short actually, but i think it gets the point across somewhat well.

Rated T for language

Spoilers for 3.12 (maybe 3.14)

disclaimer: Own nothing but the typos and grammatical errors.


The letter is curled up at the bottom of a lit oil barrel. She is burning it, along with many other items including her sheets and his clothes and her mail and anything that arrived while she was over there. She'd burn the back of her neck as well if it would rid her of the tattoo on her skin, but it won't. But she may welcome the pain it brings.

She's tired. She's sick. Mostly she is just tired, horrified and ill that she is yet again second to her double. She's like her, but better. And it makes her sick that it is that way. There should be no comparision. She should be the only one. There should just be one of her. And Peter Bishop surely shouldn't have had both of her. If anything, he didn't even deserve one of her. But you know how things go, they never go how they should. In all honesty she should be home with John, because at least John would have seen the differences. She wished she hadn't locked away his engagement ring.

In the bitter cold of the Boston night, Olivia stood near the burning barrel with her fingers tucked in her coat and her chin nestled into her scarf. She was so tired, and it wasn't very late. She is mentally exhausted. She is just so tired of being told that she was less than her alter-self. She is tired of believing it too. The tattoo on the back of her neck burned her, it scalded her skin as she stood tall in the winter. They are around her is a circling drain of ice cold but her inside turned a white hot heat.

She knew what she needed to do.

She flirts a little more. She smiles a little more. Here and there, there is eyeliner under her emerald eyes and a clear gloss that adores her lips. She swings her hips a bit more. She laughs a little louder. She's just a little better than she used to be. And it pays off too, because he notices it. They all notice it. But they all notice it because they think that somehow, in the middle of the night, they have switched again, and our Olivia is gone.

It's like a double standard in her mind, she thinks one day as she's in the lab's office. It's a double standard because she's allowed to be carefree and no one noticed or even cared, but when it's actually her it's like everyone is constantly asking her questions she'd only know the answer to. Walter has learned more about the tests he ran on her as a child within the last hour than he'd ever remember if he were to relive them. It's not fair, she wants to whine, but she remembers harshly that life isn't fair and she certainly doesn't deserve fairness.

But she won't go back to her old ways. She refuses to be seen as inferior Olivia because she is not, she is the original, and as much as she tells herself this, she is finding it increasingly hard to believe. Peter thinks about her as if she were the original and Olivia was a faulty replacement. And even as she is convinced he is wrong, there are things he will do, actions she won't recognize that are just plain wrong and remind her, rudely remind her that she really is the faulty defect of Peter's mind.

And that thought burns in the back of her mind.

"Stop lying to me Peter!"

"I'm not!"

She is upset, face pressed nearly to his on her tiptoes as they fight, her hands little tiny fists that are shaking at her sides. She has tried and tried and tried again and again to capture his attention but he ignores her, refuses her, as if she weren't there to begin with. Finally she has exploded, cracks in her icy façade that she will no longer be second best and she is fuming little puffs of steam from those vents to him, eager to tell him he is wrong.

"You think about her," she accuses and his is glaring angrily at her.

"I don't want to talk about this," he says as he turns his back to her. Olivia is violently angry. She just wants a straight answer.

"I do," she answers and he spins, his face contorted into an ugly look that she hasn't seen she since she retrieved him from Iraq so many years ago.

"What do you want to hear Olivia? I don't know what to say! I've told you everything! God I hate myself so much, just thinking about what happened!"

"But you think about her-"

"All the time," he returned, " Because she is the only memory I have of what would have been our time! I don't miss her, I really don't, I miss the time we had together, I miss the things we did-"

"Like sex," Olivia said flatly. Peter sighed.

"Of course, Livia," he said, dropping to her nickname in defeat, "I miss waking up with you. I miss touching your hair. I miss walking around in your kitchen, laughing with you when we make pancakes. Those are the moments I miss. And I will forever miss them because they will always be with her."

"I'm tired Peter," she admits finally, feeling defeated once again, "I'm tired of being inferior to myself."

"It's all right sweetheart, I know."

But he doesn't know.

And it's not all right.


reviews? thoughts? Theories? Crictisim? Love? :D :D