I hope you're in the mood for a good dose of angst, because here it is. One-shot, short, second person narrative. Just my perception of Olivia's feelings post-The Road Not Taken.
Fringe, is not mine.
Because she knew bad things were coming, she drove faster and farther. Tears threatened to pool over her eye ducts and won. They migrated their way down past the contours of her flushed cheeks, moving slow like melting glaciers, and then picking up speed.
Because nothing ever worked out the way she wanted, she didn't pray, even in times like these. There was no need to pray to an entity that turned its back on you. If, it even faced you to begin with.
Because the only feeling she wanted to feel and direct towards Walter was hatred, she cried. Instead, her true feelings unearthed from within her: frustration, hurt, despair, hate, and grief. After tonight's latest mishaps the feelings surfaced and sullied the only flower of Hope she had left. Despite her attempts to water the Hope with silent platitudes and tender words of comfort, it dried up.
And so she drives while pools of sorrow find home on her now saturated clothing.
What'd you think?