No, it's not POlivia. Something different for me, I know. But we all know how plot bunnies work, so... here it is.
As you step across that line to stand on the other side, to stand next to her, a thousand things flash through your thoughts- the people you never got to say good-bye to, the things you're leaving behind, the places you'll see again only in a different light, but, most importantly, the hope that she won't reject you the way that her mirror did. No, it wasn't intentional, but knowing that you were beginning to build something with her only to have it ripped away by memories of another timeline, and to see the way that she looks at Peter... Well. It's not easy, to say the least.
So no one could blame you for wanting to stay away, and your alternate's death gave you an all-too-convenient excuse for staying on the other side. And you tried to convince yourself that it was only because you wanted to catch the person responsible for your alternate's death, and Robert's, that it wasn't because of this woman who looks so much like her but isn't, this woman that you are drawn to like a moth to the fire.
You might have almost believed that, might have almost actually convinced yourself of it, until now.
It has occurred to you that the line you have stepped over is a figurative one, that no one, least of all yourself, is really completely sure of what will happen when the bridge closes. It is entirely possible that despite where you stand, you will still be left in the universe where you physically belong, even if it's no longer the one that you want to call home. That you might be forced to leave her by herself, even if it's the last thing that you want to do.
You can see that you're not the only one having these thoughts, either, taking note of the way that Peter's eyes linger on his Olivia. But maybe... just maybe... the universes will play nice just this once, and accept this trade- you for him, so he can stay with her, where he belongs, and you can have this chance with the woman who is so like her, and yet isn't.
You see her, from the corner of your eye, look at you in surprise as you take your place at her side, then look away, and then try not to look at you, and in that moment it's all you can do not to take ahold of her hand. You settle for leaning closer to her instead, hoping your words will set her mind at ease.
"I'm gonna need your help finding an apartment."
Some part of you is afraid that you're jumping into this headfirst, that while she's seemed to be thankful for your help so far it'll cause her too much pain for her to know that she's stuck with you, that there is no going back. Some part of you is afraid that you're doomed to repeat history, that Olivia Dunham, in either iteration, is just someone that fate has decided you shouldn't be with. But you hold on to Peter's words- home is where the heart is- and know that this is the only decision that you can possibly make, because when you're with her, you feel like you belong. And when the countdown ends and the others disappear while you're left standing next to her, her smile is all the answer you need.
The next few weeks pass in a blur as you work to get settled into your new life. You were afraid, at first, that any proof of your identity would come from him, seeing that you are- were- basically the same person, that it would cause her even more pain if you were to basically replace him... But thankfully, those fears are allayed and your identity remains your own. After a few days of staying at a hotel, Liv insists that you stay in her guest room until you can find a suitable apartment, since your free time is limited, due to your status as Fringe agents, and finding one could possibly take weeks. And no one wants to spend that long in a hotel room, even one with a kitchen in it, so you readily agree. Not that that's the only reason.
You're aware of the gradual shift between the two of you, the slow change from stepping carefully around each other to relying on each other, and not just while you're on cases. The way you stop seeing her as just a different version of her alternate, quicker to smile or crack a joke, usually at your expense; the way the she stops seeing you as just a different mirror of yours, not quite as assertive and with a drier sense of humor. The way you both start seeing the other as an individual person, completely set apart from others who just happen to look identical to you.
And so those few weeks of staying with her stretch into a month, and then two, and then three. She does take you to look at apartments, but one of you always finds some flimsy excuse as to why they're not suitable, and you find that the two of you have fallen into a comfortable camaraderie in the interim... one that's underlined by something just a little more than friendship, though you still haven't found the courage to act on it.
Saturday nights become your night away from the world, when you order Chinese take-out and sit down on the couch together to watch one action movie or another. Tonight it's Revenge of the Sith, and though you've mourned the loss of some of your favorite movies due to differences of casting choices on this side, you're glad to have found that this one is the exception rather than the rule.
"You're really telling me that they cast Hayden Christensen as Anakin?" Liv asks for the third time in disbelief, her nose wrinkling as she does that adorable scrunching thing that she does when she has a hard time believing something, and you can't help but laugh.
"I swear! Believe me, I wouldn't make something like this up." You use the moment of distraction that her mirth has provided you to your advantage, leaning over and stealing a piece of chicken from her plate before she can stop you.
"Hey!" She smacks your arm playfully, still laughing. "That was mine, give it back!"
"Oh, yeah?" Her laughter is contagious, and you swallow it quickly, before your laughter causes you to choke on it. "What are you gonna do about it?"
And your heart almost stops in shock when her grin turns into a smirk, and she leans over and presses her mouth to yours.
You have the impression that your eyes are as wide as saucers when it ends, though she doesn't pull away, and somehow she's biting her lip and smiling at the same time. "I have a confession to make," she whispers, and all you can do is quirk up an eyebrow in response. "I haven't shown you any of the good apartments because I didn't want you to find one."
That makes you smile, and you whisper back. "Well then... I have a confession of my own to make." She lifts an eyebrow of her own in silent imitation of you, and you forge onward before you lose your nerve. "I didn't want to find one." And this time you take the initiative, and you slip a hand to the nape of her neck and kiss her again.
You don't sleep in the guest room that night. And somewhere amidst the kisses and the slow exploration of each other, I love you slips out of your mouth, and you freeze in something akin to fear for a moment before you hear her chuckle softly and whisper it back, and it bolsters you. You feel any indecision you had left evaporate, and you take control, making love to her in earnest.
You don't remember falling asleep, but when you wake up her head is pillowed on your shoulder and the sun is streaming in through the window, and nothing has ever felt more right to you, though it doesn't take much thinking at all to know why.
She's your tether. The reason you left the universe that you were from to come here, the reason why you hadn't gone out of your way to find an apartment, the reason you call this place home.
And now it's home in more ways than one.