A collection of so called "deleted scenes" form the horribly heartbreaking episode "Marionette." Similar to my fic "Lost moments: Os" only replace the fluff with angst.

Hospitals

Peter pressed the "up" button for the elevator repeatedly, frustrated with waiting. He wanted to be at Olivia's side when she woke up. The elevator finally arrived, and after several doctors brushed past him, Peter entered and pressed 6. He fiddled with the plastic wrap on the white tulips he had bought her, nervous about the things he knew he had to tell her.

She'd been in the hospital for a few days now. Both Walter and Peter pushed her to get several tests and workups done, concerned about the atrocities she may have endured over there. She still hadn't opened up to say exactly what Walternate had done to her.

When he got to her room, a nurse was changing the bag on her IV, and Olivia was picking at the meager hospital grade breakfast. She looked up when Peter entered, a look of relief spreading across her face.

"Peter," she said, putting her utensils down and folding her hands in her lap.

"Miss Dunham," Peter said, smiling as he placed the tulips on the end table next to her bed.

"They're beautiful," she said, looking at the bouquet. "But you really don't have to bring me flowers every time you visit. That's the third bouquet. You know I can't keep plants alive. The pressure you're putting on me.." she teased.

"Well, I'll remind you to change the water." He pushed the overhanging tray with her breakfast aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "If I rumor's are correct, I hear you're getting sprung today."

"Just as soon as the doctor gives me the okay." The color in her cheeks had returned over the past few days, and Peter had been sneaking peeks at her medical chart, ensuring that there was nothing majorly the matter with her.

"When's he due down here?" Peter inquired.

"Any minute actually."

"Good. I was hoping I'd have the honor of chauffeuring you home."

"You don't have to, Peter. I can get a cab." She looked at him, silently hoping he'd ignore this offer.

"Not a chance, Dunham," Peter responded. He leaned over her bed and reached for the tray he'd pushed aside moments earlier, swiping a piece of toast off the plate. As he popped it into his mouth, he noticed Olivia grinning ear to ear.

"Oh, that's disgusting," Peter gagged, chomping on the stale toast.

"Yup," she laughed. "I would have warned you, but.."

Peter chuckled and shook his head. A knock came from the door, and a tall man in a white coat entered.

"Miss Dunham," the doctor said, picking up the chart that hung from the foot of her bed. "Let's get you out of here."

"Yes please," she responded.

The doctor turned to Peter and asked "will you be escorting her home?"

Peter nodded, shaking the hand the doctor had extended for him.

"I want you to make sure she takes it easy for the next week or so," he pulled out a prescription pad and scribbled something quickly. "And you're to take two of these pills every morning, to flush out the rest of the synthetics in your system."

"Yes sir," Olivia said, pushing the blue blankets off her legs and starting to stand. "Astrid stopped by late last night with some clothes for me to change into. I just have to get dressed then we can go."

Peter nodded and turned to the doctor, waiting until Olivia was safely in the restroom before he spoke.

"Is there anything I need to watch out for?" He asked, earnestly. "She's strong but she's stubborn. She wouldn't let on if something were wrong."

"She should be fine," he responded. "Just no over exertion for a few days."

"Thank you," Peter said, shaking the doctor's hand. After the doctor left, Peter gathered the bouquets from her nightstand and the small bag Astrid had brought the night before. Olivia emerged from the bathroom, clad in her Northwestern tee shirt and sweats, briskly walking to the stand next to the door, where her black jacket hung.

"Let me," Peter said, putting the luggage on the bed and running to her aid.

"No, no, its fine Peter," Olivia said, trying to slip the jacket on. But Peter's keen eyes had not missed the scars. He pushed the sleeve of her jacket up, revealing a track of puncture scars where needles had obviously been inserted. He gingerly ran his finger across the healing wounds, and Olivia pulled her arm back, covering the length of her arm with the jacket. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading silence. Peter felt his insides twist and the express desire to vomit. He hated to think of her in harms way.

Blonde Again

Olivia had managed to get Peter to leave her apartment, after much insistence that she was fine. At first she'd been okay acquiescing to his obsessive care for her, hoping desperately that she'd soon be able feel his lips on hers again. At night, when she'd been over there in the padded cell, she fell asleep thinking about the gentle manner in which he pulled them both together, the softness of his tongue tasting hers. But after the moment in the hospital, Olivia knew she couldn't talk about what had happened over there, after Peter had left. He didn't need to know what his birth father had done to her.

When she was finally alone, in the tiny apartment she'd called home for the past few years, Olivia was at a loss for what to do. The strangeness of familiarity was haunting. She'd spend so many nights fighting the mental image of this place, her mind struggling against the drugs Walternate had forced into her. Being home felt eerie, and she immediately grimaced at the thought of her double tainting her safe haven.

But she would need to be strong, she reminded herself. There were more important things than her wellbeing. The fate of two universes rested on her shoulders, and she would not let Colonel Broyle's death be in vain. So in spite of the fatigue that plagued her, Olivia knew the first step to make. She looked in the overnight bag that Astrid had brought her, and found the item she was searching for.

She grabbed a small white box and went to her bathroom, trying her best to ignore the eerie feeling of déjà vu. The box read "Honey Blonde 22". She tore open the top of the dye and slowly began to reclaim her life, strand by blonde strand.

When she was done, she dried her hair, now concentrating on how to hide the bangs her alternate was so fond of. She brushed them back, using hairspray to keep them in place. As she was braiding her hair in one long, yellow pleat, her phone rang.

"Dunham," she said, still looking in her mirror, a sigh of relief escaping when she finally saw herself, the real Olivia, staring back at her.

"'Livia," Peter's gruff voice came from the other end. "How are you doing?"

"Peter, I'm fine, really. You don't need to keep checking in on me."

"I know, 'Livia." His voice sounded pained, and she hated to hear him that way.

"I'm recuperating just fine. I took the meds. I'm resting. I promise Peter. Things will be back to normal sooner than you think."

"I know you're not good at letting people help you, 'Livia. But I'm here, Walter, in his own Walterish way is here, Astrid, Broyles. We all care about you, and it would be perfectly understandable if you needed to take time off."

"I don't, though Peter. I'll be okay."

"Call me if you need anything." His voice grew quiet and Olivia could hear his shallow breaths coming through the receiver.

"Okay, I will," she said. "Bye Peter."

"Bye Olivia."

Olivia stood up, realizing she would have to do a lot of convincing in the next few days. She wanted to put what had happened behind her, and start working to heal both universes.

She laid down in her bed, mentally preparing herself for the manner in which she would approach Broyles in the morning.

Belonging

Peter sat at the desk in his tiny room, running his hands through his hair. Seeing Olivia's scars earlier that day had done something to his insides that he never imagined possible. He wanted to murder, in the worst way possible, anybody involved in her ordeal. His blood be damned. Walternate had breached not only his trust with his intentions for the machine, but he had tortured the one woman in the world who Peter had ever felt close to. And Olivia, of all the people in the universe, this one and the others, never deserved any of it. She was the most genuinely good person he had ever known. He'd spent so much of his adult life around miscreants and liars, when he had met Olivia he was astonished by her earnest sense of right and wrong, her unfleeting desire to help others.

And because of Peter's own anger issues at Walter, Olivia had been forced to cross universes to save him. He'd made the snap judgment all those months ago in Washington State to return to the other side, not thinking about the manner in which it would effect Olivia. He had never imagined she would ask him to come back for her. He knew upon leaving that Walter and Olivia would try to make him come back, but he could not have imagined Olivia's declaration of belonging.

Because in the end, he knew that Olivia was the tether that kept him in one place for the last two years, the only effective one he'd managed to find in his adult years. Growing up he always felt as if he lived on the fringe, unable to connect to the people around him. Now, knowing the reason, he couldn't deny that Olivia made him feel as if he belonged, even if the world separated him by an entire universe. And wherever she was, that's where he would go too.

Those were the thoughts with which Peter returned to this side. But what pained him now, more than his guilt for his role in Olivia's entrapment on the other side, was that he had not been able to tell them apart.

He'd loved the real Olivia almost immediately, remembering the animal attraction he felt, and in typical Peter Bishop fashion, had tried to ignore, when she came to rescue him from Iraq. For that was what she had done, she had pulled him out of a wandering existence and given him reason. She'd given him a sense of stability, of family.

And he had committed an act so heinous, he didn't even know how to put into words. The ultimate betrayal to the one that he loved, the inability to look in her eyes and know who was looking back at him.

He would have to tell her what had happened with the other Olivia. Lying to her, that was something the con man in him would have done. He could remember a time when his own wants and desired overshadowed the needs of others. Years ago he would have lied to the girl, but he also probably would have left the girl far before growing this attached.

But she had made him the man he was today. Her purity had affected him, and despite the certainty that it would destroy that coveted sense of belonging, Peter knew he had to tell Olivia the truth.

He stood up from his desk and plopped down on his single bed, not bothering to get undressed or even go under the covers. As he stared at the ceiling, mulling over the best words to use, to break her heart, and along with it his own, tears gathered at the brim of his eyelashes. He closed his eyes, hoping to stifle them, but they escaped anyway.

Hearts

When Peter had seen Olivia emerge from Broyle's car, his heart stopped. He had not anticipated seeing her at a crime scene for weeks. But then again, he couldn't imagine Olivia spending weeks in bed, either. It wasn't in her nature.

So now, Broyles had sent them to question the doctor who'd prescribed meds to the victim they'd just witnessed lying on an operating table, heartless. Which was ironic, because heartless was exactly how he felt for what he had done.

So Peter sat in the passenger side of Olivia's black SUV, fiddling with the slip of paper Broyles had given him with the doctor's name. He folded it over and over, then unfolded it and repeated.
Olivia drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, taking note of Peter's constant fidgeting.

"You know, Peter, you can talk. I'm not going to break or anything," said Olivia.

"I know," Peter said, glancing over at her. Every time he saw her now, her blond hair brushed back and securely fastened in a pony tail, his stomach lurched. The weight of his secret pulled at his insides, threatening to tear him up from the inside out.

"I'm just not exactly sure what to say," Peter finally stated.

By now, they had reached the hospital where Doctor Ross worked. Olivia pulled into an empty parking space and parked the car.

"Anything, Peter, it's me," she said, turning to face him. "I know everyone is weary around me, and like I've said before, I'm not going to deny the last few months were difficult. But they're over now. I'm here."

Olivia paused, while Peter took her in. He opened his mouth to speak, to tell her the truth but faltered. "C'mon," he finally said, avoiding the issue. "Let's go see what this Doctor Ross has to say about our victim."

They both got out and walked towards the lobby. The hospital was clean and white, reminding Olivia of the one she had just left, less than 24 hours ago. But no matter, she thought to herself. They both kept walking, in silence.

"Coffee stand," Olivia said, motioning to her right, where a vendor was positioned outside the cafeteria.

"Okay, 'Livia. You get some coffee, and I'll go ask the nurses station where we can find Doctor Ross." Peter took the opportunity to separate from her, to momentarily escape from the unbearable pain.

Olivia ordered a coffee, while Peter sauntered off to the desk to ask about the doctor. He could barely form the words when he asked the receptionist, his head still buzzing with guilt. When he returned to Olivia, he found her sitting at a table, sipping a tall coffee.

"Doctor Ross is still in surgery," Peter said.

"Okay, then we'll wait." She seemed cheerful to have the free time to spend with Peter, which only made what he had to say all the more difficult.

"You know, you're drinking swill, right?" Peter said, trying to break the tension in the air. He noticed she'd bought him a cup too, and picked it up to take a sip. Even the little things she did, like this, made his heart ache.

"It's nice to be able to take a cup of coffee for granted," Olivia said, wrapping her fingers around the cup, embracing it's warmth and smiling.

"What?" Peter asked, slightly confused at her grin.

"You know, when you go on vacation and you come back and some things are a revelation? Like coffee, or my favorite shoes. And then... other things are just... I don't know. My mail was opened. It's kind of disconcerting knowing that somebody else has been living your life." Olivia paused, noticing the look on Peter's face. He had brought his hand to his face, almost as if he was trying to hide. "Hey, you okay?"

Peter's stomach dropped again. No, he was not okay. He'd done the worst thing possible to the most wonderful woman in the world. Suddenly he couldn't carry the weight anymore, and knowing full well he was about to shatter Olivia, and along with it, any semblance of happiness he'd ever had a hope of feeling.

"There's something that I have to talk to you about." He grimaced as he said the words, almost choking on them.

"About her." Another pause. Olivia fidgeted in her chair. "I noticed... changes - small changes, but they were definitely there. She's... she's much quicker with a smile and... less... I don't know - less intense maybe. She said that when she was over there, what she saw of her other life, it made her want to change, to be happier. And I believed her, because that made sense. "

Even his tiny justification of his actions felt like betrayal. But then Olivia spoke.

"There was no way for you to know. Everything happened so fast, I couldn't even tell you how they did it. And it's okay." She shrugged mildly. "I'm here now."

Her nonchalant attitude made the words all the more difficult.

"When you asked me to come to this world with you, you said.."

"That you belonged with me." Oh, God, Peter thought, that smile. How could he break that smile?

"And so I came back for you…for us. And we started seeing each other. And I explained away the differences because our relationship was different." He frowned, preparing himself for the last sentence. "I thought she was you, Olivia."

Peter watched as Olivia's face dropped with each word. "Does everybody know?"

"I reported everything when I found out who she was."

They paused, and Peter shifted in his chair. "Olivia, I'm sorry."

"You know, she had a really full life, really sweet boyfriend. And if he hadn't been out of town, then who knows what could've happened? She had friends, people who loved her, people who - who risked their lives to help her. And they all believed that I was her." Here was the strong Olivia, appearing at a moment's notice to protect her emotions. "So, you know, I – I - I can understand how that."

Before he could respond, a nurse walked in and informed them Doctor Ross was out of surgery.

"Could you give us a second, please?" Peter asked.

But Olivia quickly interjected. "Peter, it's fine. We're good. Let's go."

Making Sense

Olivia had dropped Peter off at the lab after they interviewed Doctor Ross. He had to drive Walter home.

When he arrived, he put on a chipper face, even when Walter asked him to smell a dead body.

But it was hard to maintain that façade when they were home again. Peter left Walter bumbling in the kitchen, claiming he wasn't hungry and went to his bedroom.

He laid on his bed, his head swirling with visions of Olivia. She had taken the news so well. It was not that he expected her to cry. Olivia self protected too much for that. But he knew that something was off with her simple acceptance of his betrayal.

These thoughts kept him awake all night, as he lay motionless staring at the ceiling.

House Cleaning

Olivia sat crumpled on the ground, clutching Peter's MIT tee shirt. She tried not to cry, but the tears came. She'd just finished tearing apart her entire wardrobe, her bedding, trying to wash away traces of her doppelganger.

Earlier, even though she'd brushed off Peter's confession, she knew the heart ache would catch up to her. And now, she'd found his shirt in her washer, and she could barely stand. She remembered the first time she'd seen him wearing this shirt. It had been in Washington when they were working a case. She'd thought it was adorable, knowing his falsified enrollment. She'd seen the shirt several more times, mostly when she had run to the Bishop's to awaken their slumber with case breaking news. Every time she'd seen him wear it, or sling it haphazardly over his shoulder, too tired to dress for her intrusion in his sleep, she'd imagined falling sleep with it on. She couldn't help it.

In her imaginings, Peter and her would tumble into bed, finally acting on the feelings she'd tried to bury. He would caress her body, they'd make love, and she'd fall asleep in his arms. She'd grab the nearest shirt to sneak to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and it would be his MIT tee. She imagined it to be worn and smelling of him, musky and earthy.

Now, with the tee shirt in hand, she realized for the first time what Peter's confession meant. All the dreams she'd had of Peter, the simplest pleasure of falling asleep enveloped in him, were tainted. Her doppleganger had ruined the sweetness of this shirt, and now, all Olivia could do was sob, trying her best to get a hold on herself.

A/N: I was getting frustrated with this fic. It's super angsty, and the style is similar to a fluffy fic I had written earlier. I realized after writing this that I'd prefer to write fluffy deleted scenes rather than angsty ones! lol. Read and review, I'd much appreciate it.