A/N - There is much debate over fan fiction, something I wasn't completely aware of until recently. Some love it, others hate it and question the intent of the work.

When my friends ask me why I write fan fiction I found the best way to explain it was like this; writing fan fiction for me is like going to the gym. I write my original work and sometimes I get stuck, as all good writers do. I find fan fiction allows me to work on something else while the little men in my brain iron out my original work.

As an author, I don't find anything offensive within fan fiction. It gives people a chance to put characters that they love in situations that they may never do on TV, movies etc. I have written many CSI fan fictions and sometimes I will watch an episode that travels the same vein that my story did and it gives me a massive thrill to think that my brain came to the same conclusion. In defence of my writing, I never kill off original characters, though I do tend to put them in rather odd situations and I am obsessed enough with each of 'my' shows to make sure that nothing is out of character.

So after reading the first chapter of this little story (and writing a fantastic review) I wonder what your opinions are? Not just as fan fiction writer's but as writers as a whole. Is it flattery or something offensive?

So read on dear ones. I reassure you now, the story is finished, dwelling in the dark corners of my laptop. I just like to drip feed you all. I seperated out the dream sections from the others with a line to make it al ittle easier to read. If it's not, let me know and I will change it back to original format.

As always, I don't own Fringe, as much as that concept depresses me…

*sigh*

Chapter One - Innocent Voices

Olivia dipped the bread into the olive oil before eating the still warm chunk of dough. The bread had a fantastically sour twinge to it.

"So, did I get it right?"

Olivia took a sip of the smooth red wine and smiled widely.

"Yes. But I still need to try the pasta to be really sure."

"You, my dear, are in for a hell of an experience. This is one of the best Italian restaurants in Boston."

"So not the best?"

"You wanted to eat. The other ones, you would have had to wait a month to get anywhere near the menu."

Olivia took another chunk of bread with a nod.

"Fair enough."

Peter topped up her glass and she took another sip. This was an extravagance by their standards. A good day, a glass of wine that was actually worth the expensive price tag and the potential for a good meal. The restaurant itself made her feel like she was in Italy. Beautiful stone walls, flickering candle light and soft, chequered tablecloths and the distinctly Italian men that were serving the tables. The restaurant was bustling with easy laughter and clinking glasses.

"So how long did it take you to get a reservation here?"

"Two weeks."

Olivia opened her mouth to comment but with an easy movement, their food arrived. Peter had ordered the spaghetti bolognaise while Olivia had selected ravioli stuffed with chicken, ricotta and spinach with a garlic sauce. They ate in silence until Peter smiled.

"Good?"

"Fantastic. Want to Try?"

Peter nodded, stealing one of her parcels. She twirled some of his noodles around her fork, collecting the thick sauce and chunks of tomato. The pasta was perfectly cooked, the sauce tart and sweet. Peter closed his eyes, chewing slowly.

"Oh my god."

Olivia laughed.

"I know right? You, Peter Bishop, did a very good thing."

They finished the rest of the meal before splitting a large tiramisu and rolling themselves back into the car. Olivia gave Peter a quick kiss before clipping in her seatbelt and started the drive home. She was in a happy little bubble that could only come from good food and good company when she saw it. At first it was nothing, just a shadow of something out of the corner of her eye. Then it was there, in the bright lights of the car. A young girl, no more then eighteen or nineteen stood in the middle of the road and for a second her eyes locked with Olivia. It was a look of desperation and fear. Olivia didn't think twice, yanking the steering wheel to the left. She felt the second the car left the road and the impact as they slammed into the tree, Peter calling her name before she fell into the darkness.

"Olivia?"

She blinked a few times, the bright light burning her eyes. She licked her lips, they were dry beneath her tongue. It took her a few more seconds before she opened her eyes fully and then the memories came rushing back to her.

"Peter. Is he ok?"

She heard Walter's soft chuckle, his hand over hers.

"He's fine. He's got a bit of a bump on his head. You're the one that took the brunt of the hit."

Olivia tried to sit up but a searing pain in her side made her gasp and sink back into the bed.

"Easy does it. You have bruised ribs."

"How long have I been out?"

"Just a couple of hours."

Olivia gasped as more of the memories came back.

"The girl. Is she ok?"

"What girl?"

"The one I swerved to avoid. She was in the middle of the road. I didn't hurt her, did I?"

Walter shook his head, a deep frown on his face.

"There wasn't anyone else there."

Olivia nodded slightly. Peter would remember, surely he saw her too. Olivia sighed and closed her eyes.

"No breaks, just basic bruising."

"Good."

Silence fell and she kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep until she heard Walter slip from the room. She remembered that horrible, desperate look in the girl's eyes. And how cold she must have been in the hard, Boston air.

"Thank God you're ok."

Peter had a large patch of gauze over his right eye and she could see the start of the bruise that would soon take over. He kissed the back of her hand before laying another on her cheek.

"You scared me."

Olivia gave him a small smile as he looked her over.

"Just basic bruising, nothing more."

"That's enough. I called Broyles, told him you need a few days. You won't be chasing down bad guys with those ribs."

She let him fuss over her, rearranging her blankets and looking over her chart and helping her sit up against the pillows so that she could have a drink of water. She had had bruised ribs before but she didn't remember the crippling pain. She might as well have broken something. When Peter finally settled himself in a chair, his hand around hers, she broke the silence.

"What happened?"

Peter shrugged.

"We were talking and then we were off the road."

Olivia frowned.

"Did you see her?"

"See who?"

"The girl. The girl on the road."

Peter's face took on the same look as Walter's had, and for a moment there was no doubt that they were father and son, alternate universe or not. Peter shook his head.

"No. You just bumped your head."

"I saw her, that's why I swerved."

"Liv, there was nothing there."

"I wasn't drunk."

"You had less then I did. It's ok Liv, you bashed your head, you were knocked out for a few hours. Things are bound to be….a little scrambled."

Olivia felt the creeping doubt, it had slipped under her skin It was the same when she had seen John. She can't have seen what she had, could she? Perhaps she had more wine then she thought. Peter was right, she must have hit her head hard.

"I guess you're right. Did the doctor say when I could go home?"

"He wants to keep you over night, make sure that everything is ok."

"But I'm fine."

Peter stood, leaning over her. His thumb gently traced the edge of her hair line.

"Please. I give you permission to annoy the doctors."

"You make is sound so appealing."

"Just get some sleep, ok?"

Olivia closed her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her forehead before finding her lips. For a moment, she let the sweet kiss make her forget. Peter made sure she was tucked in one more time before leaving. The dark left no room for doubt. She had seen the girl. It didn't matter that Peter hadn't seen it and that apparently there had been no evidence of her at all. Olivia knew what she had seen. And what she had seen was real. The girl was as solid as Olivia herself. The internal argument didn't last long. Regardless of the basic bruising that Walter claimed, she still felt banged up and sore, which made the sleep that Peter had insisted on, so much easier to find.

It was cold. Olivia could feel the hairs on her arms stand on end, fear thumping at the back of her throat. It was dim there, caught somewhere between sunrise and sunset, the sky a set pale orange. She started to walk, her steps sinking slightly into the bare earth. There was nothing there. The air felt dry, scraping her mouth and throat as she breathed.

"Olivia"

She turned at the sound of her name, knowing the person that the voice belonged too. She would know it anywhere. It was Peter. He was smiling softly at her, getting closer and closer. She wanted to move but found her feet firmly planted in the ground. She tried to speak but the words failed to come. Peter moved closer still and then she could, for a moment, smell him. His hand reached forward to cup her cheek. He pulled her closer and she closed her eyes but the kiss never came. When she opened her eyes again, he was gone. Her heart thumped desperately as she tried to move. She had to find Peter again. He was safe. He made her feel safe. She struggled against the earth as she felt it move and shift, crawling slowly up her legs. When she looked up again, it was her. The girl. Her dark hair whipped in a non-existent wind, her dress clinging to her slim frame. Her skin was pale, deathly so, her eyes large and dark. She finally reached Olivia and she extended her arms wordlessly. Olivia followed her gaze and she felt the scream bubbling in her chest. The girls wrist's were slashed, deep vertical gashes that almost reached her elbows. Blood dripped, steady and dark, falling, breaking the surface of the dead earth. Olivia instinctively reached out to help but the girl shifted slightly away, her arms drifting back to her sides. Olivia watched the blood stain the pale fabric.

"Who did this to you?"

The voice was hers but it sounded wrong. The girl looked at her, dark eyes flashing, shaking her head. She extended her arms again, the angry slashes gone. On the pale, fragile skin were bruises, deep ones. There were finger shaped ones around the top of her arms and when Olivia looked at her face again, they were there too. Someone had been hitting her.

"I want to help you."

The girl shook her head again before lifting a hand and making a cross over her heart. And then, in a sudden move, the girl had her heart in her hand. She moved closer to Olivia, placing the still beating organ in her hand. It was in that moment that Olivia found her voice, opened her mouth and screamed.

Olivia lurched out of the bed, forgetting where she was for a moment. The pain from her ribs seared through her. She could feel the sweat running down her spine, her throat dry. Her scream, one that she hadn't even realized that she had carried out of her slumber, caused a young nurse to come rushing in.

"Ms. Dunham, are you ok?"

Olivia nodded even though it was a lie.

"Fine. Bad dream."

"You need to get back into bed. Doctors orders."

Olivia glanced down, surprised to find her self a good three feet from the bed. She let the nurse help her back, her side aching terribly.

"Can I have some pain relief for my ribs?"

The nurse smiled.

"Sure. Did you want a cup of tea? I find that helps if I can't sleep."

"That would be great, thank you."

The nurse helped her get comfortable before pottering out of the room again. Olivia sat back and waited for her heart to go back to a normal rhythm. The nurse was back in a few minutes, a small tray in her hands.

"I am glad to see you awake after your accident."

"Sorry?"

The nurse offered her a small smile.

"Up until that point, that handsome young man of yours would not sit still. It took twice as long for us to dress that wound."

Olivia smiled back.

"Yeah, he is a little bit of a worry wart."

"Could be worse"

"How so?"

"He could be someone else's worry wart."

Olivia allowed herself a small laugh, the dream already feeling distant and unreal. She just had an urgent need to not be alone.

"Sorry, what was your name?"

The nurse extended her hand.

"Amanda."

"Olivia. Would you care to join me?"

Amanda nodded and Olivia took a moment to register just how young she was. Young enough to make her feel old. It didn't matter that the conversation over the tasteless tea was jilted, nor did it matter that the drugs did little to help her avoid the pain. All that mattered was that Amanda's company cleared out the horrible image of the girl's blood mixing with the dry earth.