A/N: Not quite sure where this came from, but I kind of like it. Set in the future but not really a specified time. Thanks a lot to the amazing Ambre (Elialys) for giving her opinion on this, and I hope you like it.
They have to do it. They don't have a choice, not really. When it comes down to it, he knows he can't leave, despite how he so often acts, expressing his disapproval through sarcastic comments and witty remarks. But somewhere along the line even those had gotten lost, and they had formed this little make-shift family of their own, dysfunctional as it was.
And he knows he could never leave her.
As they prepare themselves, their shining metal guns sliding in holsters and solemn stares exchanged, the air in the room is heavy, betraying just how dangerous and risky this is going to be. They have a plan, yes. A big, elaborate plan with every turn discussed, every risk weighed and every strategy tested, but that would never be enough. In real life, things rarely go according to plan. As slowly the other agents start to leave, one by one trickling out of her office without saying a single word, he moves closer to her. Her face is expressionless, a blank stare out of the window showing the setting sun. It's almost time.
He moves toward the corner, her eyes now settling on his and his hand lifting to her cheek in a caress that sends shivers down her spine. Her eyes are dark in the fading light, and he can see she's worried. She's got one hell of a poker face, but even Olivia Dunham -or perhaps especially Olivia Dunham- has no secrets when Peter Bishop looks into her eyes.
She doesn't speak as he steps even closer to her, their bodies almost touching and his other hand settling on her hip as she leans into his touch. He can feel her despair, the silent fear that's cousing through her body, burdening her every movement like it does his, and he shakes his head.
"It's gonna be fine." And though he doesn't believe it, knows she doesn't either, it feels good, like a small relief to a neverending ache; it isn't fixed but, just for a moment, it hurts less.
She nods, and her lip quivers, something that seems like such a small thing, but in their crazy world everything is big and important and he knows that little quiver is the only indication of how worried she is he's going to get. She wants to cry. So does he.
But he can't stand the sight of her upset, and quickly kisses it away, thinking of how lovely she looks, despite everything. Her hair, that long, blonde hair he dreams of at night is falling around her shoulders, and suddenly he wonders what it'd look like covered in blood, but quickly shakes away the image; she's standing right before him, alive and well and in a few hours everything will be okay.
His eyes close, and he can feel her arms slipping around him, eveloping him in something he knows he's supposed to call a hug, but it feels like so much more; their bodies are pressed together and he holds her close to him, pressing his lips into her hair like he did so many years ago.
They're interrupted when the door opens, revealing a shabby-clothed Walter, his eyes red-rimmed and posture slumped. He isn't joyful as he notices their position, but rather it adds a sort of melancholy to his eyes, the sadness in them stirring Peter to the core.
It shouldn't, but it feels like goodbye.
He steps away from Olivia, his hand lingering on hers for a second and to Walter, each tear that slips from the old man's eyes like a stab through his heart.
"Son." He says before his voice breaks, small sobs escaping him as he lifts a wrinkled hand to his face. Peter just takes evelops him in an embrace, his own eyes stinging with tears.
When he opens them Astrid is there as well, her hand on Walter's shoulder as they shared a small smile that says more than words can.
Olivia still stands in the corner, her lip no longer quivering and her expression stone cold. She looks at him, and he recognizes nothing of the Olivia he's spent so long uncovering. She's put on her mask now, mind focussed at one thing and one thing only.
He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, the irony of the situation not lost on him; she's the hero, has always been. He's just the sidekick.
They hear the chuch bells ringing in the distance, its sound bringing the feared truth- it's time. The doors of the lab come closer in sight, a miserable-looking Walter and a teary-eyed Astrid following behind them, every step bringing them closer to uncertainty. When they reach the worn-out, ever so familliar double doors, they take one look behind them, at the place that has become their home in so many ways, where so much has happened.
The smallest of smiles crosses her face for a fleeting second, giving away a glimpse of the woman underneath before the solemn expression returns and they turn around again; two equals, shoulder to shoulder stepping into the unknown.
A/N: Writing this kind of made me sad, cheer me up with some reviews? Please?