I've always been a bit of a history fanatic, especially interested in the American Civil War. So, when I read Josh Jackson's story from the DC comic's "Beyond the Fringe" series, I felt inspired to write a fic based on Peter's adventures in this time period. (Also, I am inspired by the X-Files episode, "The Field Where I Died," one of my favorites.) There are some familiar faces, and new scenarios. There are also a few adult-oriented scenes in a few chapters, and lots of violence. This time period was brutal, and Peter is a lost soul. But the light get through the cracks-somehow.

If you enjoy this story, please let me know. I love reviews and private messages. (As of mid-August, I'm working on two other stories. Encouragement would be nice.)

Location: A Field - Date Unknown

Thunder cracked in the night sky as the earth was saturated with a downpour of rain. Suddenly, a glowing mass of blue light tore across a cow field, which startled a few of the sleepy animal inhabitants. It shook the ground as it sent waves toward the wet dirt, a result of the drowning vibrations that it produced. Nails from the nearby fences started to come loose from the posts and slats, but then stopped moving when the massive magnetic force disappeared. A man landed in the middle of the field where the mass had hovered; he fell with a squishy thump. Dazed, he lied still and groaned, as the cold rain continued to fall, splattering mud around him. A curious cow came over to him, lowered her head, and licked him in the face. As he sputtered the water out of his lungs the man's eyes opened and he said one word: "Gene?"

Suddenly, he jumped up and steadied himself on both of his shaky legs, as the spooked cow ran off to join its herd under some of the tall and leafy trees to the far right of the cow pasture. The bewildered man shook his head, and laughed because he hadn't thought of the old cow named Gene, for many years. It was a lab test animal - actually, more of a pet - that belonged to his scientist father. The man's eyes grew wide as he searched his body for the source of a sudden pain. Luckily, he had only been bruised in the fall. No major breaks, gashes or scrapes this time. He nearly died from one prior incident in which his leg had been impaled upon an oak sapling. The ugly scar was still there, hairless and zigzagging in his skin, a reminder to him of how close he had come to death. If it had nicked an artery…

"Figures," he muttered as he walked with steady strides toward a treeline, in order to some shelter from the bone-chilling rain. "Everywhere that I end up, the weather is absolutely miserable to the extreme." As he surveyed the visible landscape in the pale moonlight, he noticed a structure not too far from his current location. His knapsack hitched up; he made his way to shelter. He had an important job to do, one that was literally a matter of life or death in the not-so-distant-future.

The old hay enclosure was not ideal, but it would have to do. As long as he could stay dry, he could push on with his work. There was some eagerness to his movements, but also steadfast care in each action. A compartment in his bag was opened, from which he removed a medium-sized metallic box. It was lined with a gasket. The lid was flipped open, revealing some electronic devices. The man sighed in relief that everything was intact and free from visible damage. He took one into his hand, and turned a dial, which powered up the unit. After a few minutes, he had the information that he needed to know. According to the temporal GPS invented by his father, the man was currently in the State of Ohio, in the United States. The year – 1862.

The man shook his head and sighed, "Well, at least I'm now in the Industrial Age."

He shivered as he went over the reading of the other meter he had running. This one gave him the coordinates for the location of something that was the reason for his whole fantastic journey of the past few years…

Peter Bishop had diligently marked each passing day - starting about three years ago - which made him about 50 years old now. Peter's brown hair was heavily speckled with gray, and the once small crinkles around his eyes were more pronounced. He wore a full beard, which was also dotted liberally with gray hairs. Yet, his body was still strong and lean, and he mercifully did not suffer from any ailments associated with middle-age. He had traveled from the time of the dinosaurs, to ancient Greece, Siberia, China, South America, and many more times and places.

He really didn't know why he did it - marking the passage of "time" - it wasn't as if aging mattered to him any more. Not since he had lost her, making him feel the sting of prolonged agony each day that he awakened, and realized that yes, she was still gone from the world. Peter would often dream of seeing her lifeless body in the morgue, and how he could barely remember making it back to their - his- home. Astrid and Ella were there with him as he mumbled and pointed while making the arrangements for Olivia's funeral; but honestly, Peter could remember very little.

At first, he'd also see her in his dreams, and she would talk with him. She'd tell him that it wasn't his fault; he couldn't have known Walternate's plans; that she loved him… But as Peter went on, he saw less of her, and she stopped visiting him entirely.

All that he had left was a worn and tattered wedding photo, his wedding band, her gold cross necklace, and his silver Liberty dollar. Peter thought it may have been silly to hold these small objects in such reverence, but at the same time he couldn't help the attachment he felt to these little reminders of the life he had, and that he shared with Olivia. Fifteen years of marriage were not enough.

Once he had convinced the two women that he was not going to kill himself with alcohol poisoning, they left him alone for long enough to write a proper eulogy for his beloved wife. Peter set aside the vodka that was his emotional crutch, because he wanted to be clearheaded for this task. She was more than that to him. Olivia Dunham was Peter's tether, his light in the dark, his purpose; his lover, friend, and soul-mate. He would give anything to just feel her warm arms around him for just a few minutes. Peter was so cold - so lonely - but he never gave up hope that when he finished his mission soon, that all would turn out right in the end.

He wasn't far from a small village outside of Columbus. There, he would be able to tag the last piece of the vacuum machine, so that it could be located in the future, to create a healing bridge between two ailing sister-universes, without his direct involvement.

Although Peter was mostly healthy, he was not totally immune from the effects of time on his fifty year old body. His bones ached deeply from the cold dampness, and he had developed a nagging, deep cough. He could almost hear Olivia in his ear telling him to rest and not to push himself so hard. But it was the memory of her that made Peter diligent and unwavering in his mission.

There will be time to rest later. All the time in the world… if I choose to take it.

Carefully, he placed the instruments back into their protective cases, although he really didn't need them any longer. Once his final task was accomplished, Peter would be here to stay. He had to make a life for himself here for the remainder of his days… or not. Peter had considered many options, but in the end, he'd die alone. He couldn't risk having a family in this time. Really, he thought should just go off as live as a hermit.

Peter mapped out a traveling plan; then, he took off down an old dirt road: an ancient pathway marked by the drudge of wheel ruts filled by mud. After walking for several hours, Peter had enough. He was weary and also hungry. All he could do now was to find a place to rest. He came upon a barn, and in the still of the night, he made his way inside. He took a small kinetic powered flashlight from his coat, and used its soft light to find a nice pile of hay in the loft. Peter peeled the leather shoes off his feet, along with the soaked and rank-smelling socks. He flopped his weary body onto the hay, then covered up with a wool blanket. He reached his shivering hand into a coat pocket in order to retrieve a photograph encased in Lucite. It was a wedding picture. They were so happy...

Peter muttered a silent prayer as he closed his eyes, that all he had been through would be worth it in the end .