A/n: This story came together in bits and pieces. It was originally shorter, with a different ending. I'm excited to see altLivia/ourLincoln fiction appearcing here and there! Anyways, as always, reviews are appreciated. I'm trying to reach my goal of ten. are there even ten linham shippers out there? I'd love to find out (;

Hello, Goodbye

There came the time when he was standing at the bridge.

He was a drifter, but not by choice. He never stays in one place for very long and always leaves without a trace. Every step he took towards the bridge room, toward the growing hum of the machine that linked them together,grew heavier. The dread of returning to his own universe was more overwhelming than he could have ever imagined. It was suffocating him all while every nerve and muscle in his body screamed at him to turn around, come up with another excuse to stay.

He swallowed hard into his gut. Liv was walking next to him in silence. He suddenly became very aware of how close he was standing to her. The rhythm of her combat boots reverberated in his ear drums and seemed to grow louder.

If he could just bring himself to look at her, maybe his brain and his mouth could connect and he would just say something. They passed the soldier standing guard two rooms away from bridge. Lincoln stuck his hand out to be scanned, the warm, damp skin of his palm coming in contact with the cold surface of the scanner. It was too late to turn back now, he thought.

They're two broken people, bruised and battered from life, but they soldiered on. Their scars never had time to heal. They remained open, gaping woulds that over the past few weeks had kept them apart while bringing them closer together. He had no desire to fix her, and thought of fixing him never even crossed her mind. They were two broken people in a broken universe who happened to find comfort (happiness?) in one another. But that's all they were wasn't it?

By the time they reach the door to the full-body scanner he can barely see anymore. His vision is blurry despite his clean glasses and he thinks he's stumbling. He probably bumps into her a few times.

There comes the time when he has to turn and face her. He wants to make it quick and painless, but when he turns around and finally looks at her, her face is contorted into an expression of pain. There are tears brimming in her eyes and he has to blink twice to make sure she's real. She is. Her hands are stuffed deep into her coat pockets looking like she's about to watch Lincoln leave her again.

He's not her Lincoln, but it doesn't matter anymore because he IS her Lincoln in an entirely different sense. She's barely breathing.

It was a pleasure. Lincoln is whispering. His hands are trembling, his words quiver more than he would have liked them to.

He turns his back on her and the words come tumbling out of her mouth before her rational brain can stop them.

Stay, she says and it's really quite simple. She means stay in her universe, in New York, with the non-secret Fringe division, and with her. She means the last part the most.

Excuse me?

I said 'stay.'

Lincoln is still frozen in his position and she prepares herself for the worst. After all, she is not his Olivia. She closes her eyes and when she opens them he's standing right in front of her and closing in on the distance between them. He's wearing a goofy grin and she thinks she's never been happier to see the craters in his cheeks grace his half-shadowed face.

He wraps her in his arms and her head finds its place on his chest. His chin rests on her head for a moment before he bows down and brushes her auburn bangs aside to drop a chaste, sweet kiss on her forehead that says everything without saying anything. She half expects him to say there's no place else for me to be, but he doesn't. She's the brave one, she always has been, every version of her.

I need you. she mumbles against his chest.

I know. he says. I need you too.