A/N: A little story I wrote during class about the bullets of Fringe. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I still own nothing.
When Olivia was nine, she shot a man in defense of her mother. How she remembers it and how it happened in the file she's reviewed over and over and over again differ.
How she remembers it is that there was screaming. She remembers being glad Rachel was at a friend's house down the street. She remembers the front door slamming, a car starting. Mostly, she remembers the smell of blood: metallic and cloying, a scent she'll never forget.
Olivia remembers going to check on her mother. Remembers finding her in shock in a pool of her own blood. She remembers the terror and helplessness in Marilyn's eyes. Mostly, she remembers the love and the guilt there. Not for subjecting Olivia to this, but for upsetting him.
There's a car pulling up in the driveway. Olivia sees red. She's too calm as she daintily steps over her mother, into the bedroom. She finds the gun easily, takes it back to her mother. She wants him to see her when she does this. She wants him to know pain.
He storms in, doesn't acknowledge her. His mistake.
He opens his mouth to yell at her mother, bending slightly to pick her up. Before Olivia is entirely sure of what's happening, there's a sharp crack as the bullet is discharged. There's shock on his face as the bullet hits his left shoulder. She missed. He looks at her. She's shaking with adrenaline now. He looks into her eyes and smiles smugly.
He knows she won't kill him. Not today. Not ever.
Olivia will never forgive herself for not finishing him.
It's enough to make up for the pain in his shoulder.
How it happened in the file is different, and Olivia is reminded of this whenever her birthday comes without a smug card.
When he looked at her, she didn't flinch. She shot him in the head. And then the chest, just to be sure. When the cops came, Olivia was in shock. The gun lay abandoned at her side as she lay next to her mother. Rachel had found them and called 911.
Olivia would never forgive herself for making her sister see that.
All while Olivia is pregnant she wears the bullet on its chain around her neck. It's a talisman, a symbol of what she almost lost and a reminder of she had the fortune to gain. Standing in her daughter's nursery, one hand on the bullet, the other on her swollen belly, Olivia reflects on her luck.
Peter is at the lab; he has a case with Astrid. He will be home in half an hour. Olivia has already ordered them Indian. She has an important question to ask him.
She sits in the white rocking chair and rocks gently, back and forth. The baby calms, as does Olivia. She fiddles with the bullet again and smiles at the sleepy kick the baby gives. This is her family, her life. As terrified as she is, Olivia couldn't be happier if she tried.
That's why she's going to ask him to marry her. She's happy, thirty weeks pregnant, with a new house and a boyfriend who loves her as much as she loves him. She almost lost it all, however, and she feels ready for more. Though they've never really discussed marriage, she knows that they're ready to take that final step.
They're already married in all ways but legally. She wants that paper, craves the certainty of being his wife. She will ask tonight, and she knows he will say yes.
She remembers the fight they'd had when he first strung the bullet. How she had told she didn't want that reminder. But the day her daughter first kicked, she knew the bullet was a symbol not only of what she'd almost lost but what she'd gained as well. And so she wore it.
"The bullet that saved the world," Peter often said. As true as it was, it was also the bullet that almost took everything.
She can't-won't-dwell on that now.
She's happy, heavily pregnant and a new homeowner. This is real.
Now she wants to make it official.
When Etta is nineteen months old, she finds her mommy's jewelry box. Of all the things in it, what catches her little eye is a funny brown piece of metal. It's not the prettiest nor the shiniest thing in the box, but Etta instantly knows it's the most special.
She takes it out and pulls it on her neck clumsily. Her chubby little hands close around the pendant and she moves it around.
Mommy comes in then and she walks over to Etta with a big smile on her face. The smile drops quickly into a frown at the sight of her new toy. Mommy rarely raises her voice, but now she does, taking it away. Etta begins to whimper and Mommy picks her up and holds her tight.
"I'm sorry, baby. Shhh. It's okay. I'm sorry. Mommy just doesn't want you to play with that, okay?" Olivia soothes her, her voice breaking off into a soft humming.
Etta never tries to find the bullet again.
There are two versions of how Etta got the bullet again, but she only remembers one. The one she remembers is a vivid memory.
She'd found the bullet in her mom's room while looking for earrings for a party her friend Lily was throwing. At thirteen, Etta was not exceptionally liked or disliked. Tall and thin, Etta was often teased for being sticklike. With her pale complexion, blonde hair, and blue eyes, Etta was the perfect blend of Peter and Olivia.
The bullet was there with the earrings. Etta pulled it out and on instinct placed it around her neck. She had almost forgot about it when her mother caught her with it. Olivia's face furrowed in consternation. But she simply said nothing and let it go.
Three nights later, Olivia came into Etta's room as her daughter sat at the vanity. Wordlessly, Olivia began to brush her child's hair, marveling at how Etta was the perfect mix of Peter and herself. They said nothing for a while.
"The bullet that saved the world," Olivia murmured, breaking the silence, "One day I'll tell you all about it, Etta."
It was a promise Etta intended to make Olivia keep.
The other version, the one Etta doesn't remember, is sad. She's thirteen and she's snuck out of school. Somehow, she ends up at her old house. Predictably, it's been ransacked.
She makes her way to her parents' room. On the floor is an overturned jewelry box. The only thing left in her mother's jewelry box is a bullet on a chain. At thirteen, Etta is no stranger to bullets. In this world, it's impossible not to know what one looks like up close and personal.
Etta puts it on and she feels vaguely connected to her parents. A dim flickering of hope registers. This is the day she vows to find them, no matter what.
Whatever it takes.
Etta is twenty four when she finally gets the story out of Olivia. She is a Fringe agent now. The agency is a big one, and her parents couldn't be more proud.
When the story is told, Etta hugs Olivia tightly. She's never felt so lucky in her entire life.
"It's the bullet that saved the world, but it also gave me the world," Olivia tells her, and Etta doesn't doubt it.
The bullet that saved the world had saved her, too, after all.