It was dark. Their torches did little to illuminate the tunnel they'd followed their suspect into. The man was responsible for infecting over 100 people with some unknown toxin. They hadn't been able to defend against the attacks, as the toxin in every attack was slightly altered. Something that had frustrated Walter greatly. He fell into himself a little more with each attack. It reminded Peter of Walter on the first nights out of Saint Claires. Staring at equations, humming a haunting tune. The ever-evolving toxin also meant that the effects were different. The first attack had caused everyone to scratch at their skin as if there were something crawling under their flesh. The second caused a complete loss of impulse control and a heavy tendency towards violent outbursts. The effects may have differed, but they always proved catastrophic for the ones infected.

The hand on his shoulder caused him to jump. It took a moment for Peter to see Olivia's eyes in the darkness. She wanted to split up, she hadn't said it yet, but he knew. He knew like he knew Olivia was taking this case personally. The last attack had killed 4 children. Olivia always had a soft spot for children. Peter wondered if the Other Olivia shared this or if the protective nature was borne from looking out for the other children in the Cortexiphan trials. Peter sighed and nodded in response to Olivia's instructions. It was amazing the importance of tone. The way she asked him to split up was said hesitantly, uncertainly, basically, without trust.

Trust, he'd taken it for granted. The suspicious glare Walter gave him every time Peter brought him coffee or sweets; the perplexed look Olivia spared him whenever he acted more than a stranger. At times working with Olivia felt so familiar. In some ways she was so similar. Her insights, the things that made her smile, the way she furrowed her brow, the way she ran her hands through her hair. For brief moments he could delude himself into believing he was home, but then he'd make eye contact, and the unfamiliarity in her gaze would shatter his illusion.

Peter aimed his torch to the right, and jumped as Liv appeared a few feet in front of him. Her eyes appraised him in the dark, her auburn hair glinting against the light of the torch. Recent events had led to a joint effort by both universes. The Olivia Dunham from the other universe had been brought into the fold.

It was strange, looking at her with the familiarity of a lover and the baggage of betrayal while she looked on him as an amusing oddity. She acted like she found his knowledge of them and their world to be an amusing parlor trick. He knew better. He'd drowned the betrayal in a bottle of Russian vodka, and he'd replayed every moment, broken down every deception. He could see it on her face now. The way her lip twitched as she joked, she was uncomfortable. His knowledge made her uncomfortable. This was something the two Dunhams had in common.

Liv smiled at his surprise,

"That way pretty boy." Peter looked to the left and found a third tunnel. The tunnels ran for miles under the city. There wasn't a better place for their suspect to run. The next few minutes were uneventful. The air was stale, and the torch only allowed him to see a few feet ahead. The air smelled of rust, and grapefruit of all things. He stopped dead in his tracks. No. It couldn't be. He took off in a run, "Olivia! Liv! We have got to get out of here!"

Olivia appeared in the light moments before Peter crashed into her, sending them both to the ground.

"Peter!" Her voice was loud in his ear. Her body was draped over his in a manner his body new well, and it responded to it. He knew Olivia felt his body become tense and ready beneath her, but she did not remark on it, instead she bolted back to her feet,

"Are you mad? Why are you running around screaming!" Peter's hands were waving in front of him; he stumbled over his words a moment before he found himself,

"We have got to get out of here now. We've been infected." Olivia's gaze narrowed as she took in his face under her torch's glare,

"Are you certain of this?" Peter nodded, his Olivia would not have had to ask,

"Dead certain." He winced slightly at his choice of words, but Olivia didn't comment on it,

"Go find Liv. I've got to make a call. We need to be quarantined."
-

The HAZMAT team arrived in record time, but then again, they had been expecting the call, they just weren't expecting the victims to be FBI. He was pulled out of the tunnel, a man in a suit on each arm. He had lost sight of the Dunhams. Peter felt a sudden jab, and looked down to find a needle in his arm. They were taking his blood. Their only hope was that the effects didn't kill them before Walter could synthesize an antidote. He was being pulled across a field lit up with stadium lights. In the center of the field were a number of trailers, each brazenly marked biohazard in neon.

The door to the trailer slid open and he was pushed inside, it was then slammed shut behind him. The room was sparse. It looked like the inside of a semi truck. The walls were ribbed metal; there was a single metal table in the center of the room above which a lone light hung. The corners of the room were left in shadow, which is why it took a few moments for Peter to realize he was not alone. Liv was leaning against the far wall, and Olivia was pacing by the corner.

Peter walked to the table and sat down. He wondered if the tightness in his chest and the tension in his muscles were due to the stress and adrenaline or the toxin. He watched his companions closely. Olivia was pacing and muttering soundlessness under her breath, probably trying to find the clue she missed that had landed them there. Peter didn't bother. Even if there were one, it would be of little use now. Liv was leaning against the wall, her eyes tracking Olivia's movements as she idly picked at her fingernails.

Peter's gaze flicked down to his hands in his lap. They were coated in dirt from the time he'd spent on the tunnel floor, with Olivia pressed into his chest. He had missed the feeling. It was remarkable how quickly his body responded to her. It didn't matter to his body that Olivia didn't remember him; it remembered her. His hands had automatically landed on her lower back, his back slightly arched so that Olivia pressed just so against him. He missed those mornings he'd find her tucked against his front. He had come to rely on her warmth, literal and emotional. He ran his hand along the scruff on his neck, and smiled, he'd never imagined he'd need someone, but then again he never imagined he was from another universe and would be seduced by an alternate version of his lover.

He looked up to the redhead in question, and found her looking intently at him. At some point when he'd been lost in his musings she and Olivia had both shucked their jackets. Peter felt the heat as well. The metal box they were in wasn't ventilated and the air was getting thick. Peter would have followed suit but he'd lost his jacket at some point on the way to the trailer. He was now just in a white undershirt and jeans. Liv's stare was starting to get to him,

"What are you staring at?" He snapped despite himself. He had been trying not to lash out at Liv since she first showed up; he could hardly blame her for a betrayal she never committed. She had no memory of the nights he'd spent tracing the freckles on her back, the mornings in bed enjoying every moment before their phones inevitably rang to make their worlds just a little darker. Even though this Liv wasn't privy to his memories, she seemed to know there was more to his looks then he let on. Just like Olivia, she saw the emotion behind his eyes, albeit an entirely different emotion.

"Olivia asked you a question twice now and you're just sitting there staring." Liv's voice felt like it was coming from a distance. His felt on edge; his skin was tingling. And oddly enough, he was becoming aroused. The toxin was definitely starting to take effect. He felt himself harden painfully against the seam of his jeans; he crossed his hands over his lap,

"Sorry," He shook his head, "what was the question again." Olivia was staring at him now too,

"I asked how you knew we were infected back in the tunnels." Peter looked down while he answered; he was currently running his fingers across his arms brushing the hairs.

"Grapefruit. The air smelled like grapefruit." He looked up at the sound of Liv's snort,

"And what does that mean? We're not all geniuses." Liv was fidgeting now. She was biting down on her lower lip as she bunched her shirt in her hands. He wasn't the only one feeling the effects of the toxin. He felt like he needed to get out of his skin. Being locked in a metal box didn't help the trapped feeling.

"In my timeline, we had a case dealing with a man that used an airborne toxin to target specific groups like people with brown eyes or Jewish ancestry. There was a close call with Walter in the field. Afterwards he said the air had smelled sweet. For the next two weeks he'd recite different airborne toxins and their corresponding smells. He even made a song of it. Grapefruit was one of them. I don't remember which. But when I smelled it in the tunnel, I knew."

While two pairs of eyes were on him, only one was seeing him. Olivia was looking through him, absently pulling her at her blue button-down shirt to prevent it from clinging to the sweat on her skin. She had undone the first few buttons of her shirt; he could see the sweat sliding across her clavicle and down the valley between her breasts. Peter's eyes darted to Liv; her eyes were now on Olivia too. She looked just as hungry as he felt. Her eyes were following the trail of a bead of sweat as it slid down Olivia's neck. When the trail continued where her eyes could not follow, Peter found her eyes on him again. She switched her focus abruptly, perhaps trying to avoid the lustful thoughts that had so consumed her moments before,

"There's a lot you're not saying isn't there?" She came closer, stopping less than a meter away. She rocked back and forth on the heel of her foot as she appraised him,

"You told your Lincoln that I could be trusted," Liv circled the table he was on, watching him squirm slightly, "but while I've never met you, you've met me." Peter swallowed a lump that was rising in his throat. He did not want to have this conversation, least of all now while he was losing control of himself. He avoided her eyes. He jumped when familiar hands grasped his thighs. He looked up and found himself falling into pale green. He could see it now; the flecks near the pupil were in the wrong place. Liv's face was so close now. Her skin was glistening; her shirt clung to her skin in a way that left little to the imagination. His eyes trailed down her body, only half hearing her next words,

"I've seen the way you look at me. Like I've wronged you. I see that look from Olivia every day; I don't need to see it in your eyes too. Why? I stole her life, what's your reason for hating me?" Liv's nails were cutting painfully into his thighs even through the thick denim. He knew Liv could easily see how turned on he was. She seemed out of breath. Everything was moving strangely. He felt like everything was far away and yet too intense at the same time. The pressure of her hands on him, the heat of Liv's stare, everything was buzzing in his mind.

"I" He stuttered as his eyes met Liv's. He could not read all the emotions dancing behind her eyes, anger and frustration surely, but there was much more. He took too long to answer: Liv's hands came up to grip his shoulders,

"Tell me." Peter leapt off the table. He needed some distance if he was to gather his thoughts. He ran his hands through his hair and looked at his feet. He didn't think he could face either of their faces as he said this,

"You said she hates you because you stole her life. Well, you did the same thing in my timeline, only in my timeline," his eyes darted up to look at Olivia who was now very much paying attention, "I was part of that life. When you took over her life you assumed your role fully. You had assumed that we were together," he looked up at their confused expressions, "we were on the cusp of being together, we had admitted our feelings, I had come back to her universe for her. Only for her. I was a fool." He looked away from the women, turning to place his hands on the cold metal of the wall. He pressed his cheek against it, seeking temporary relief from the heat. It did little use: it felt like the heat was coming from within, threatening to burn him alive. There was this restless energy building within him, but building to what?

"I saw the differences. You made excuses to avoid using your photographic memory; you didn't take coffee the same way; you were much too patient with Walter, but I could rationalize it away so easily." He slammed his hands against the wall in frustration, against his own past stupidity. He would forever remember the pain on Olivia's face that night; it was the first time he'd seen Olivia really cry. He turned around to face Liv,

"You shared my bed and my confidence while carrying out your mission to destroy my universe..." his face broke out in a humourless grin, "So yeah, mixed feelings."

Olivia broke from her spot in the corner and walked up to where Liv sat perched on the table. Olivia's entire body moved in a very abrupt and contained fashion. The toxins were affecting them all. The control they had was dwindling in them all. Liv's open legs hung over the side of the table, and Olivia easily slid into the space in between. Olivia's hands rose to cup Liv's cheeks, and she slowly moved her head side to side, scrutinizing her face,

"It's funny. I see her so differently. I sometimes barely see me at all in her face." Olivia's hands slipped from her face, sliding down to grip the hem of Liv's shirt. Peter watched Liv's eyes widen in surprise as Olivia's hands slipped up under her shirt to stroke the smooth planes of her stomach, "her skin feels different." Olivia leaned in until there was no space left between them, "she even smells different." Even though Olivia was technically still talking to him, her attention was very much on the redhead in front of her. Liv for her part was unnaturally silent. Her eyes were fixed on Olivia's face, lips if Peter had to guess. He felt the pain in his jeans worsen at the sight. Even without a toxin coursing through his system making everything more intense and sexual, the scene in front of him would still be erotic.

Liv was leaning back on the table, gripping the sides with white palms. Olivia stood between Liv's legs, and she was rocking ever so slightly up and down between Liv's thighs, every time she rolled her body up, her face became just a little closer to Liv's and her hips edged ever closer to Liv's center.

Peter felt the damp cotton of her shirt before he realized he had moved from his position on the wall. The time for thinking was ending; his mind was filled only with coiling need and that insatiable fire. Liv was pawing at Olivia's shirt, pulling her ever closer, Olivia bounced back to press purposefully against his front. Peter didn't even recognize the guttural groan that came from his throat.

"What are we doing?" Liv's voice was low and rough, she punctuated the sentence by ripping open Olivia's shirt, the buttons sounded like little gunshots as they bounced throughout the metal trailer and scattered into the shadows. Peter paid the noise no heed, he was preoccupied trying to help Liv remove Olivia's shirt. He needed to touch skin; he needed the sensation of slick bodies sliding in unison. He needed more than he could remember needing anything.

Olivia spun around and faced Peter. He started at the suddenness of both their eyes on him. She backed up until she was sitting on the table between Liv's Legs, pressed back to front. Olivia pulled him in close and made quick work of disposing of his shirt,

"I know very well that this is due to the toxin," she pulled him to her by his belt, "it's ridiculous and we'll regret it if we live to see the antidote, but I don't really care right now. Do you?" Peter looked back and forth between Liv and Olivia. They were both staring at him, their hands moved restlessly over any uncovered skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Peter shook his head,

"No."