Summary: Olivia didn't get all of Peter's firsts. But that's okay, because she gets something else.

Author's Note: I'm traveling tomorrow and while re-watching Fringe, this popped in my head and I had to get it out before I left. Sigh. These two.

Disclaimer: Ixnay on the owning-ay.

Olivia had a photographic memory. Nobody who had ever met her and spent any amount of time with her could deny that. She remembered everything.

Peter wasn't as lucky. His memory had some holes, some gray areas. But it was still pretty damn good.

After Bell, they went to a street fair. It wasn't the same one, but it was a good one and Olivia loved it. They both did. They spent the day pouring over used books, laughing at obscure track names on old vinyls of one hit wonders from the 80s, and eating their weight in pizza and fried Oreos.

When Olivia spotted a rented out photo booth for the event, she tried to drag him over there, initially confused at his reluctance.

Because of course he hadn't told her everything. The major things, yes. They'd agreed on full disclosure and that meant Peter shared the major events between him and Fauxlivia.

But the details he had kept quiet about. His time with Fauxlivia may have still filled with shame and anger, but only towards himself. He never saw a reason to torture his Olivia with what she'd missed: the time with him, the firsts she'd come second to, or the fact that somewhere out there was photographic proof of Peter's happiness with her double.

Olivia didn't know that they had done that before: walk into a photo booth and take silly pictures with grins and kisses. There never seemed to be a point in revealing those things.

Until now.

"Why not?" Olivia asked with a grin, searching Peter with sharp green eyes and picking out remorse of all things.

Her grin dropped.

Peter looked down. "Liv..."

"Because you did it with her."

Peter breathed a deep sigh and nodded, glancing up at her to judge her reaction.

"Do you...still have it?"

He shook once. "No, I wouldn't have kept it."

"You wouldn't have kept it. Meaning you'd have thrown it away if you had a choice."

Peter reached down and threaded her fingers with his. "Yes."

"She has it."

"Had. They were in her bag when we apprehended her at the station in Newark. I tossed it back in the bag and gave it to the police. I don't know where her things are now, if we even still have anything."

"Peter?"

He looked up.

"I know how you feel about me. I know that when it started, you were all in and you'd have done normal things that couples do." She ducked her head to catch his eye. "I also know that somewhere along the line, she fell for you and maybe that made it seem more real, and for you more shameful. But, Peter, I don't want to continue this...us...with precautions and walking on eggshells. I don't want what happened to stop anything because I want to experience everything with you, including all the normal things that couples do—even though I might not be the first."

Peter smiled and cupped her cheek in his hand, sweeping his thumb across her soft skin. She was truly incredible, and it just came out.

"I love you."

Olivia's eyes widened slightly in surprise before crinkling around a wide grin. "Come on. Before someone steals the booth."

Olivia had the photographic memory. She could recite the most obscure numbers and recall the details of a case at the drop of a hat. But Peter's wasn't half bad either. He remembered every moment with Fauxlivia, having gone over and over in his mind how he just didn't know. In the photos with Fauxlivia, he remembered how the camera easily captured the force of her laugh. The look of pride and her easy flirty nature. He remembered the lightness of her eyes.

As Olivia lay beside him that night, Peter studied a different set of photos and smiled. They were both similar but so entirely different. He liked the photographic proof that only moments before they'd been taken, Olivia was told she was loved. He could see how much she cared for him, and it made him fall in love with her all over again.

It was in the softness of her smile, the furrow in her brows as they kissed—as if the emotion was pouring out of her. She was happy, and so, now, was he.

No regrets.