Returning Home
Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe or any of its characters. I just play with them.
Rating: M for future smuttiness
Notes: This is my very first fan fiction I've written by myself so reviews are much appreciated. It's unbetaed so I claim responsibility for all the mistakes.
We start with Peter's dream in the beginning of season 4, but I've changed it a bit.
"You know what this is, don't you?"
"The perfect day."
Olivia leaned forward to press her lips against Peter's, her left hand coming up to stroke the side of his face. God, he was perfect. When she was with him this emptiness she'd felt her whole life was gone. She didn't know what in the universes she had done to deserve him, but she was damn glad she'd done it.
But all these beautiful feelings she was having, these beautiful moments shared with this perfect man on this perfect day, faded abruptly. The sun was becoming brighter, much, much brighter. Olivia was completely blinded. It was as if the blazing giant was falling from the heavens, intent on consuming her. She felt inexplicably hot, sweat pouring off her body…
Olivia Dunham bolted upright in her bed, drenched in a cold sweat and shaking all over. What was happening to her? How could this man, this stranger, just waltz into her dreams and make her feel as if she had known him, loved him, for years? She had to know.
Olivia glanced at the clock. 3:14 a.m. She reached for her pajama pants and started to pull them on when her brain snapped back to reality. She couldn't go knocking on Peter Bishop's door at 3 o'clock in the morning, now could she? Despite how he seemed to feel about her, she wasn't his Olivia. And having his boss show up at his house in the middle of the night surely wasn't something Bishop would appreciate.
"Oh, the hell with it," she muttered under her breath. Olivia grabbed her keys and ran out the door before she had the chance to change her mind.
When she arrived at the house she quickly rapped on the door.
"What am I even doing here?" she said aloud. The words came out as soft clouds in the cold night air. Boston was unforgiving in November and she was standing outside in the dead of night in nothing but sweat pants and her old Northwestern t-shirt.
"What are you evening going to say to him? Hi, I know it's 3:30 in the morning but I -" She stopped suddenly as the door opened. Peter, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, his hair mussed from sleep, gave her a quizzical look.
"Olivia? What…what's wrong?" His tone quickly changed from confused to concerned. He could no doubt see the dark circles under her eyes, despite the fact that she couldn't look at him.
"I - I'm sorry to wake you I just…" She searched for the right words but they were nowhere to be found. Peter gently touched her arm.
"Come inside. You must be freezing."
"A bit," she lied. She couldn't even feel her toes anymore.
Peter directed her to the couch. "Sit down here. I'll be right back."
He returned a few moments later with a steaming cup and a big blanket. Peter handed Olivia the cup and pulled the blanket around her.
"It's green tea. Decaf, don't worry." He offered her a lopsided smile and her stomach fluttered. She gave him a smile in return as he sat next to her.
"Olivia," Peter said softly. He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up so he could look into her eyes.
"Please, tell me what's wrong."
"I – I feel," she started and then tried again. "You know how I said you were coming into my dreams before you showed up in the lake?" Peter nodded. "Well, it - it hasn't stopped. I see you, us, in this way and I feel like…" She hesitated, anger bubbling up inside her. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how I feel. How dare you! How dare you invade my dreams? What makes you think you have the right? You don't even know me! You barge into my dreams and make me fall in lo-"
They were both silent for too many heartbeats. And then Olivia did something even she didn't see coming. She kissed him. Hard. Drinking him in like her life depended on it.
At first Peter was still, adjusting to her impulsive attack on his lips, but it only took a moment for him to react. He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and pulled her flush against him, her up on her knees now. Her tongue was insistent, begging for entrance and he opened lips eagerly to let her in. A small moan escaped him as the tip of her tongue touched his. He'd dreamt of her for so long; of holding her again, waking up in bed next to her. It almost didn't seem real.
But as quick as it had started, it stopped. Olivia's mouth had stilled. And then she went limp in his arms. His heart skipped a beat.
"Olivia? Olivia no, come on. Open your eyes. Open your eyes!"
He laid her back on the couch and made sure she was still breathing. The second he saw she was Olivia started to seize violently.
"Oh God, no. No no no no no." Peter grabbed the phone and called 911. As soon as he hung up he went back and held her head as still as he could.
"Please Olivia," he whispered, a tear silently running down his cheek. "Please don't leave me again."
