Spoilers: through Jacksonville
All characters and settings (so far) belong to the world of Fringe
"The longest journey is the journey inward." Dag Hammarskjold
She said she had a freakishly good memory, and she did. She rambled through it on the flight back from Jacksonville, looking for any indicators that what happened happened, something to prove to her that she could not lose such a big part of her childhood, that she only misplaced it. She remembered being that blond headed girl, she remembered pictures of herself at that age. She recognized that girl from the video but not the video itself.
She remembered living in Jacksonville, the humid summers and the winters that barely qualified as cold, at least by the standards of the Northeast she now called home. She remembered her parents, her father cold and distant except when his anger flared brightly and frightened her. Her mother was vacant, going through the motions blankly. At least until Rachel was born. They both doted on Rachel; she was a cheery child that encouraged doting. Looking back, she wondered if they had known about the experiments. If they had given her up, or simply given up on her once she came back changed. She must have been changed, darker, quieter, harder to hold.
Her anger at Walter flared again. She generally thought he was not the same man as he was before, but sometimes she wondered. He still relished his experiments; he seemed gleeful in the face of curious tragedy when true humanity would recoil. She narrowed her eyes at him but he did not notice her attention. She remembered how she chose to sacrifice a suspect to save Walter. The suspect who caused the building disaster, which led to Jacksonville and Cortexiphan and this unpleasant trek down memory lane. She shook her head slightly, stopping that thought. She saved Walter for Peter, for the sound of the plea in his voice. She turned away again, choosing to calm herself by staring out the window.
"Livia, you look a thousand miles away." The gruff sound of his voice interrupted her calming exercise. She turned to see his face, scruffy and kind and concerned. The interaction was not entirely unwelcome but she could not begin to unbolt those doors. Not now anyway.
"A thousand sixteen, actually", she replied, a sad half smile gracing her tired features.
He nodded and returned the smile, also sad but understanding, knowing enough to let her go.
A/N So this is short, but I do plan to continue... And it is my first Fringe fic, so please leave me feedback about my characterization. Thanks!