"Agent Bishop... Agent Bishop!"
Peter turned to see who was addressing him in this unusual way when something exploded, and the next thing he knew the man approaching him had tackled him to the ground, covering him protectively as they both fell.
The impact drove the breath out of Peter's lungs, and when he inhaled sharply he felt a stab of pain in his side. With a grunt and some help from his unknown savior, Peter tried to sit up. That's when he saw the logo stitched on the sleeve he was clinging to.
"Fringe division…," Peter muttered, but before he could ask the obvious question he heard shots being fired behind him, and he gasped with pain again as the soldier pulled him a little further into the shelter behind the concrete block encasing the memorial plaque for the Freedom Tower that in this timeline had obviously been completed in 2021.
"Where the hell am I?" Peter managed to say, but the soldier ignored him.
"Sir, you've been hit," he stated matter-of-factly, before turning and calling over his shoulder, "Medic! I need a medic now!"
The scene of destruction with its burning car wrecks and scattered debris started to swim before Peter's eyes, and he could feel blackness encroaching on his mind when a familiar voice pulled him back from the brink.
"Peter?" A cool pair of hands steadied his drooping head. "Peter - look at me. Stay with me."
Blinking his eyes to clear his vision, he managed to focus on Olivia's familiar face. Only - it wasn't as familiar as usual. Small wrinkles radiated from the green eyes he knew so well, and her skin had lost some of its former luster. But her smile was as gentle as ever as she smoothed a hand over his forehead.
"There you are. Where did they get you?"
"He took a bullet in his side," the soldier reported. "I've already called for a medic."
Olivia pushed Peter's jacket aside to inspect the wound.
"There's no telling how long it will take until a medic is available. It's complete carnage up there." She held out her hand. "Give me your med kit, I need to stop the bleeding."
Her voice left no room for argument, and the soldier fished a small box from his tac vest.
"Will you need my assistance, Agent?" he asked. "I'd like to look for more survivors."
"I'll be fine, go," Olivia replied, already breaking the seal on the kit and selecting a pair of latex gloves that she pulled over her hands.
The soldier nodded. "Good luck," he called as he disappeared.
"What... what happened?" Peter managed to say through the pain that throbbed in his side.
"The usual," Olivia replied as she produced a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut open his t-shirt.
"And what's that?" Peter hissed as she pulled the material away from the wound.
Olivia stopped in her ministrations and cast him a worried look.
"Did you hit your head as well?"
"Humor... me," Peter gasped. Now that the fabric was no longer absorbing it, he could feel blood trickling down his side.
"Agents from Over There, trying to stop us yet again from plugging another vortex."
Olivia returned to the task at hand, pulling the right side of Peter's ruined shirt from his pants to check his back.
"Guess you were lucky. The bullet went right through, and it doesn't seem to have hit any organs or arteries."
"Lucky... me," Peter managed to get out, his breath hitching as Olivia probed the wound at his back. Pain lanced through his belly and down his right leg. He couldn't stop tears from welling up, and when her eyes found his, her gaze softened.
"I'm not going to sterilize the wound here. The pain could send you into shock. I'll just irrigate it and wrap it up. Okay?"
Peter nodded, not trusting his voice. As Olivia reached for a bottle of saline solution, he noticed something blinking on her left hand. It took his sluggish brain a moment to realize what it was. Without even thinking about it, his thumb checked his own ring finger, and found a wedding band there as well.
When Olivia turned back towards him, she saw Peter's gaze fixed on her ring finger. She couldn't quite read the expression on his face, so she covered his left hand with her own and said, "This is no time for superstition - even if our last anniversary was the 13th."
As if to contradict her, a whistling sound filled the air, and a moment later a grenade exploded not far from where they were crouched behind the concrete block.
"Dammit," Olivia swore. "I thought we had them contained." She grabbed the saline bottle again. "We have to get out of here. Our people have set up a field hospital only a few blocks away. But I need to patch you up first. You've lost enough blood."
The stream of liquid that flowed over his open wounds burned like acid, and Peter almost bit through his tongue in his attemt to stifle a scream. The treatment seemed to go on forever, but in reality only lasted a few seconds. It still left him breathless and faint. Olivia saw his eyes rolling back in his head and lightly slapped her husband's cheek.
"You gotta stay with me, Peter. I can't carry you that far."
With an effort Peter raised his heavy lids and locked eyes with her. The intensity of her gaze was like a surge of energy, and he was able to hang on to consciousness once more.
When he nodded at her, Olivia quickly unpacked two sterile pads and after covering them with a thick layer of antibiotic ointment she placed them over Peter's wounds and taped them down.
Closing the med kit and shoving it into an inside pocket of her jacket, Olivia gave Peter a small smile.
"Ready to get out of here?"
Was he ever! Wherever and whenever 'here' was. But as she stood and held out her hand to help him up, Peter felt a familiar feeling of trust and confidence rise inside him, and it dawned on him that some things don't change, no matter where you are.