Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe.
Not sure what this is. A sort of experiment.
Lost
She held his hand to her cheek, foreheads pressed together, as he cried, crying for all they were, all they had been. She couldn't remember him, for everything she was worth, she remembered nothing, and she hated it. Despised her mind for not being able to extract any sort of nostalgia for times gone past; the memories had rotted in her head, gathered cobwebs and dust and had been forgotten. And still, he was forced to see her everyday and live with memories that were only his, and she knew it was slowly killing him. She could see it in his eyes, the loneliness, the wanton longing.
And so, she let him come over. It had begun with drinks, and then, he'd started bringing over pizza, and he'd stay over late, watching old movies and telling her about their old life together. She found it infinitely fascinating, to know that she'd apparently lived such a life, known such a man, and that it had all been ripped away.
Tonight, it had progressed into something more; he wasn't just telling stories anymore, he was spilling out everything, and she felt it too. His pain echoed throughout the room, reverberating in her bones, taking a hold of her heart and turning her blood to ice. He was crying, and she could do nothing about it, could do nothing to soothe his sadness. Were the memories still there, in the back of her mind? Or, had he stumbled into an entirely different universe, still searching for his home?
She held him, because it was all she could do. His breath was warm on her shoulder, his head buried in the slope of her neck, his hands clutching the fabric of her t-shirt. She was his lifeline, keeping him tethered to the earth, to the hope that he'd someday find his place. His nomadic existence had never lent itself to any feeling of belonging to him, and once he'd found what seemed to be home, it had been taken away, and he was again left to search for it.
"My father doesn't remember me," he said, "and neither do you. I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere."
"You must be here for a reason." Their words were whispered, tiny wisps of nothingness in the nighttime air. They could see nothing; their words seemed almost to be sentient beings, searching through the darkness to find each other's ears.
"I haven't found it yet."
Her hand found his; she curled her fingers over his palm, giving it a tight squeeze, hoping to offer some sort of reassurance. Because even if he wasn't convinced that he was in the right place, she knew she could find someplace in her heart for him. If the feeling in the pit of her stomach when she saw him was any indication, then she knew that perhaps, he did belong here. Memories weren't everything. They could start anew, build their own life, separate but just as nice as the one he'd had.
She kissed his forehead.
"I'll help you find it."