Title: A Simple Reminder
Author: A Paper Moon
Pairing: Peter Bishop/Olivia Dunham
Fandom: Fringe
Theme: #4—our distance and that person
Rating: PG (one minor word)
Disclaimer: All characters of Fringe are the property of J.J. Abrams and his stellar writing crew; I allege no possession of said characters. I only request to dress them up and force them to play out the many P/O dreams I have just like J.J. Abrams does only, I'm pretty sure I don't actually get paid to do that.
Summary: Even if she didn't know where she belonged, he'd help her remember.

So, who doesn't love Fringe? Well you're just silly if you don't and just to prove my love, I shall write thirty stories based on the wonder that is the P/O franchise. Enjoy :)

-.-.-

Why did it feel like she was going crazy? Why did it feel like she always had to question whether or not something that happened really did happen? Who was she? Which Olivia was she? For some reason, when she hallucinated about Peter in her and Frank's apartment, she thought she had really, really lost it. However, Peter's words, like a beacon of light, helped her find her way out of the foggy mist that was the alternate Olivia's memories.

She wasn't Olivia from this alternate world, she was Olivia Dunham, sister and aunt to Rachel and Ella respectively, science experiment of Walter Bishop, and love interest (possibly reciprocated of) Peter Bishop.

And it wasn't until she saw his piercing green eyes staring her down that she finally realized she didn't belong here.

As he approached her, his gaze somewhat predatory and his lips pulled in a smirk that was a mixture of both friendliness and sensuality. His arms, which were stuffed securely in his pockets, fell loosely at his sides and Olivia found herself rooted to her spot on the edge of the bed.

"I am here and I'm a part of you; that you have to hold on to."

Did she? Couldn't she just let her mind be and let the Bolivia's mind take over her subconscious? It seemed so easy that morning when she was just back to basics and chasing bad guys.

"You can't forget who you are, Olivia."

Couldn't she just let this other Olivia take over? She was sure she was stuck here now—there was no point in fighting anymore. As much as she hated to admit it, she was tired of trying to evade the thoughts of Bolivia, tired of having to act around Charlie and Lincoln, tired of questioning everything she saw… She was tired.

"You can't forget where you come from."

He was closer now and the skin on her arms became beaded with goosebumps. There were so many thoughts buzzing in her head—so many questions, so many concerns: Why was he here? When could she go home? Did he still remember her or was he in love with the other Olivia? Yet, nothing left her mouth.

He was now standing mere inches from her form, his knees brushing hers as she shifted herself to sit more comfortably.

He leaned into her, his hand hovering just below her jaw, his voice a coarse, sandpaper-like whisper against her face, "You can't forget this." Then his mouth was on hers.

Olivia was torn between ripping away and crawling closer. Her eyes slid closed, as did his, and she was lost in the feeling of lips on lips, his a bit rougher than hers, what with the facial hair surrounding his mouth. A soft whimper fought its way up her throat and in her moment of weakness, she let it slip past. She faintly heard Peter groan and his hand tightened around her chin. Her fingers itched to touch him but she was mesmerized, unable to move.

Behind his lips, Peter wanted to yell at her; wanted to tell her to come home to him. Please, please, please, Olivia, come home.

Olivia wanted to cry and scream and laugh and just hide inside the heart of Peter Bishop, never to come out. She wanted the warmth his arms offered, the strength his voice gave her, and the courage his smile lent.

The kiss was simple and yet heart wrenching all the same and, within seconds, it was over and the air around her brushed past her face. The scent of his cologne murmured in her ear and with him, it disappeared.

She was left alone (again she noted) and Frank's sudden appearance had her heart falling into the pit of her stomach. Peter. Sweet, sweet Peter with his maniacal father and nonchalant attitude; with his easygoing eye and lazy smile; with his fierce voice and loyalty beyond any person she had ever known.

She loved him.

She missed him.

She would return to him.

Strength renewed, she said a short goodbye to Frank and leaned back atop her bed, her mind reeling with ways to get back home. She'd get back to Peter because, in the end, Peter had her heart.

Peter was her heart.

Peter was home and she'd be damned if any doppelganger took her Peter away from her.

And that's the end of that. Don't worry about the length; they are usually far, far longer than this but when I saw 03.01 of Fringe, I just had to write something. Tell me your thoughts, okay? :)