Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, Etta would never have died. Which probably would have drastically decreased the impact of the season as a whole, but still.
Author's Note: I recently started rewatching Fringe, and when I got to season 5 this story began coming together in my head. I love both Olivia and Etta, and really I wish they had gotten a bit more time together before Etta died. I think that would have been one of Olivia's biggest regrets. So I wrote this story to give them the moment I felt like they deserved. This takes place somewhere between episodes three and four. It was supposed to be short, but it sort of evolved into something a bit longer than I planned. I also invented a back story for Etta between the invasion and rescuing her parents from amber, so you can take that or leave it. And this story does take a bit of sad turn at the end. But overall I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Enjoy!
I Will Be
It was well into the night when Etta finally got home. Broyles had called her into his office near the end of her shift to tell her the Observers had officially pronounced Simon dead. They were conducting a full-scale investigation into his activities and they needed her to answer some questions. The interrogation had ended up taking several hours. Naturally, they had gotten nothing out of her. But that hadn't stopped them from trying every possible angle just to be sure. The entire ordeal had left Etta physically and mentally exhausted.
Walter was snoring lightly on the couch as she carefully eased the door closed behind her. She couldn't see any lights on anywhere in the small apartment. Everyone else was probably sound asleep. She had told them not to wait up for her. Of course, she had also told them she was staying late for last-minute paperwork. Apparently they had believed her.
Etta crept quietly into the kitchen, careful not to wake Walter. She grabbed a mug and a tea cube from the cabinet before heading to the bathroom. Once there, she turned on the tap and filled the mug with the hottest water the sink could manage. Normally she would have used the coffeepot, but she didn't want to risk waking up Walter. She dropped the tea cube into the full mug and took a deep breath, drinking in the minty smell given off by the dissolving cube. Almost immediately the tension in her shoulders began to ease a bit.
Picking up the warm mug off the counter, she turned and headed to her room. A small shaft of moonlight was coming in the window. Etta set her mug down on the bedside table and flicked on the small lamp there before changing into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.
Finally she sat down on her bed with her back against the headboard. For the first time that day, there was no other sound but her breathing. Etta closed her eyes as she let the blessed silence wash over her.
Almost immediately she had to reopen them as the image of Simon's severed head reappeared against her eyelids. They had been so busy lately that she hadn't had the time to really process what had happened to him. But now it was finally hitting her. Etta drew her knees up and rested her elbows against them as she put her palms against the top of her head.
Quiet footsteps outside her door alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. She lifted her head to see her mother standing in the doorway in T-shirt and sweats that she had borrowed from Etta. There was careful concern in her eyes.
"I thought I heard you come in," Olivia said by way of explanation.
"Sorry," Etta said apologetically. "I tried to be quiet."
"I was already awake," Olivia told her. "I couldn't sleep."
"Must be genetic," Etta joked. It fell flat on both their ears. An awkward silence followed. Neither of them really knew what to do. Etta and Peter had been able to pick right up where they left up, but things were more complicated with Olivia.
"Long day?" Olivia asked carefully.
"Something like that," Etta agreed. Olivia nodded as if she understood.
"Can I join you?" she asked, motioning at the bed. Etta nodded and scooted over to make some room. Olivia carefully sat down on the bed beside her daughter. Then she looked over at the tea and took a curious sniff. "Peppermint?"
Etta nodded.
"You can have it if you want," she said. "I don't actually drink it." Olivia gave her a questioning look, so Etta explained. "You used to make mint tea when you got stressed. I don't really care for the taste, but the smell always reminded me of you."
The explanation drew a fond smile from Olivia. She picked up the mug and took an experimental sip. Then she nodded approvingly.
"This is good," she said, wrapping both her hands around the warm mug.
"To each her own, I guess," Etta said with a shrug.
Another silence fell. Olivia took a long drink of her tea as she tried to think of something to say. For her part, Etta was staring past the wall at something only she could see. Under normal circumstances she would have faked a yawn and said she was going to turn in. But after being raked over the coals by the Observers, she honestly didn't want her mother to leave. There was something comforting about her presence. So instead Etta wracked her brain for something, anything that she could say.
"Captain Windmark came to the office today," she said finally. Olivia looked up, seeming mildly surprised that she had spoken. "They officially pronounced Simon dead. His desk is cleaned out and his replacement starts in the morning."
"I'm sorry," Olivia told her. She had already said it once the day Etta found Simon's head, but she had a feeling her daughter hadn't really heard her at the time. "I wish I had met him. He sounds like a good person."
"He was," Etta said quietly.
"What was he like?" Olivia asked. Part of her genuinely wanted to know, but she also had a feeling that it would help Etta a little to talk about it.
"He was... strong," Etta told her. "He could take anything and keep right on going. He never gave up. He was good at his job too. Sometimes people thought he was harsh, but he wasn't. He could be a lot of fun when we could actually afford to loosen up."
"How did you two meet?" Olivia asked in an effort to hold on to the smile playing across her daughter's face.
"I was being an idiot," Etta said with just the slightest hint of embarrassment. "I had gotten it into my head that I was going to kill an Observer. But I was seventeen and I had no idea what I was doing. I almost got myself killed instead. Simon saved my life. Then he handed me a gun and said if I wanted to kill myself, there were easier ways to do it."
"What did you do?" Olivia asked curiously.
"I asked him how many bullets were in it," Etta told her. "He said there were three left. I told him that was three dead baldies. He just looked at me for a minute and then he actually smiled. He said that if I could learn some self-control, that he could use me. He put me in touch with the resistance and helped me get on track for Fringe Division. He's been looking out for me ever since. He was like the big brother I never had." Her jaw tightened and she swallowed hard. "And now what's left of him is being used as some sick experiment."
"I'm sorry you had to see that," Olivia told her.
"It's not your fault," Etta said wearily. She didn't look up as she said it. "Besides, I'm the one who should be sorry. The other day when we snuck into the facility... when I saw what they had done to him... I stopped thinking straight. But that's no excuse for the way I treated you that day. I was... pretty awful."
"It's okay," Olivia assured her.
"No, it's not," Etta said softly. She hesitated for a moment before seeming to come to a decision. "A few weeks after the invasion, I got taken in by a couple named Mark and Beth Davis. They were good people. They actually wanted to adopt me."
"The picture in the bathroom," Olivia said. It was more of a question than a statement. Etta nodded in confirmation.
"When I was six, the Observers showed up at our door," she continued. "There had been a huge rebel attack and Mark's brother had been involved. They wanted to know where he was. Mark told them he didn't know, but they didn't believe him. So they read him. And when they realized that he really didn't know, they burned up his brain. Blood started coming out of his nose and then he just... collapsed. I saw the whole thing."
"I'm sorry," Olivia told her. She seemed to be saying that a lot lately.
"It gets better," Etta said with a humorless smile. "After he died, Beth went to pieces. She stopped eating and going to work. She would just sit in her room and stare at his things. One day she left the house and never came back. I found out later that she had jumped in front of a train."
Olivia could feel her heart breaking at the pain her little girl had experienced. But something told her the story was far from over.
"I got bounced around a lot after that," Etta continued. "I wasn't exactly the best behaved kid. I had a lot of anger issues. People got tired of putting up with me. When I was thirteen, I ended up in a home with an older girl named Sam. She was the first person in years who actually cared. She turned eighteen a few months later and somehow got custody of me. She actually managed to keep me out of trouble for a while."
Etta paused as if what came next was almost too painful to say. Olivia waited in patient silence.
"One day when I was seventeen we were out buying food," Etta said. "There was a teenage kid near us who tried to steal something. A Loyalist was in the store and he drew his gun. The kid panicked and grabbed Sam. I guess he thought the Loyalist wouldn't risk hurting an unarmed civilian. But the Loyalist took one look at her and pulled the trigger. Shot straight through her and killed them both."
Olivia shook her head. She couldn't even imagine what it must have been like. Etta swallowed hard and kept going.
"The Observers called her 'unfortunate collateral damage'," she said coldly. "Her killer didn't even get a slap on the wrist. I told myself then that I was going to spend the rest of my life making them pay for what they had done. A month later I met Simon and joined the resistance. I've been fighting ever since."
Olivia's eyes had begun to burn by that point. She couldn't decide which was worse: the things her daughter had been through or how calmly she spoke about them.
"I'm not telling you all of this because I want your pity," Etta said bluntly. She looked up at her mother for the first time since she had begun. "I'm telling you because I need you to understand. I have seen things that you can't even imagine. I have done things that I'm not proud of. And in another time I would probably be considered a horrible person. But we are at war and this is who I had to become if I wanted to survive. I had to harden myself. And I know that I'm not at all who you wanted me to be, but-"
"Etta, stop," Olivia said firmly. Her daughter immediately fell silent. Olivia took a deep breath and let it out as she tried to figure out what to say. She had never been good at this. "You're right. I didn't want this for you. I didn't want you to have to be a soldier, to... to know what it's like to take a life. But I did want you to be strong. I wanted you to be brave and capable and to be willing to fight for what you believe. And you are all of that and more. So yes, I wish the situation had been different and that you could have become who you are under different circumstances. But that does not make me any less proud of the young woman you have become."
Etta's eyes were shining by the time Olivia finished. She leaned her head back against the headboard and let out a long breath.
"Simon always said that innocence is the first casualty of war," she said quietly.
"He sounds like a smart man," Olivia agreed.
"It's not your fault, you know," Etta said suddenly. She turned her head so she could see Olivia. "That we got separated in the park. You blame yourself. I see it every time you look at me. But what happened was out of your control. There was nothing you could have done."
Now it was Olivia's turn to look away.
"When we lost you," she said quietly, "I felt like the universe was punishing me for not being a good enough mother. Like I had failed you somehow and that maybe if I had just loved you more or... or better... that maybe I would have been allowed to keep you."
"That's not true," Etta told her fiercely. "You loved me. I know that. And you still do. I know that you would have done anything you could to protect me."
The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Olivia's mouth.
"When you were born, I was terrified," she admitted. "I was so sure I was going to fail you. That I was going to mess you up somehow or, ever worse, turn you into me."
"I would consider myself lucky to be half the person you are," Etta said. Olivia looked over at her daughter and was surprised to see sincerity shining in her eyes. "You see the good in people. You always have. You believe even when it isn't logical. You're... you're incredible."
"You make me sound like a saint," Olivia said with a chuckle. Etta shrugged.
"When I was growing up," she told her mother, "one by one all the kids around me woke up one day and realized that their parents were only human. Some of them even less than. But I never had that moment because my parents really were heroes. That's why I joined Fringe Division. I wanted to be like you."
That gave Olivia pause. She covered it by taking the mug that she had finally drained of tea and placing it on the bedside table. She suddenly had an idea of how to connect with Etta.
"I wasn't always this person," she told her daughter. "When I was a child I was part of an experiment that attempted to give children supernatural abilities. They worked, but many of us were scarred emotionally. I was actually one of the luckiest. Some of the others were destroyed by what they could do."
"So you had... abilities?" Etta asked with interest. Olivia nodded.
"A few," she told her. "I could move things with my mind. I could... light things on fire, cross over to an alternate universe..."
"Really?" Etta asked with an impressed smile. "Can you still do it?"
"Not anymore," Olivia said. "I had to have a drug called cortexiphan in my system to make it work. I haven't had any since before you were born."
"Do you think your abilities could be passed down genetically?" Etta asked curiously.
"I doubt it," Olivia said. "The idea behind the experiment was that all children at birth were capable of such things, but that they lost the ability as they grew older. The drug was supposed to open up those pathways and keep them open into adulthood. Unless you were exposed to the drug as a child, I don't see how you could have those abilities."
"Oh," Etta said quietly. Something in her tone caught Olivia's attention.
"Why do you ask?" she asked curiously. Etta hesitated a moment before giving in and explaining.
"When I was younger, I discovered that I was... different," she said. "The Observers can't read me the way they do other people. I can stand in front of one and picture putting a bullet in his brain and he has no idea. I've never known why."
"I think I might," Olivia said slowly. "Around the time I became pregnant, I was also drugged with cortexiphan. It wasn't in my system very long, so it never really occurred to me that it might have affected you. But maybe it did."
"You always told me I was special," Etta joked. Olivia couldn't help a small smile. "When I joined the Resistance, I actually figured out a way for other people to put up walls inside their heads. It doesn't stop the Observers from reading you, but it does make it harder for them to find things in your mind. I can teach you if you want."
"I'd like that," Olivia said honestly. Etta nodded as if it were all settled.
"So..."she asked slowly, "what happened to you after the experiment?"
"Well," Olivia said, glad that her daughter was actually interested in her life, "around that time I had a stepfather who was abusive. One night when I was nine he almost killed my mother. So I took his gun and I shot him."
"Oh my gosh," Etta said in shock. Olivia nodded.
"My mother was never the same," she said. "I think she blamed herself for not being strong enough to protect us. She died a few years later."
"I'm sorry," Etta said quietly.
"After that, I finished school and joined the FBI," Olivia continued. "Eventually I ended up working with a man named John Scott. We were... close. But he was killed in a terrible accident." She turned her head to look over at her daughter. "You may not think so, but I understand a lot of what you've been through. We're more alike than you think. I used to be hardened too."
"So what happened?" Etta asked curiously.
"I met your father," Olivia told her. "Working with him changed me. He helped me start to believe again, both in myself and in others. He showed me that there was still good left in the world. And that it was worth fighting for."
"Simon was like that," Etta said. "I didn't love him. Not like that. But he kept me in check. He showed me why we were fighting. He taught me how to live for a cause instead of just dying for it." She shook her head as the full weight of his loss struck her again. "I can't believe he's gone. It doesn't seem real."
"I know how hard it is," Olivia said sympathetically. "And I know it seems like the pain will last forever, but it won't. It will get easier."
Etta forced a small nod. But then her jaw tightened.
"His head blinked at me in the lab," she said suddenly. A fierce anger had crept into her voice. Olivia's head turned sharply to look at her daughter in surprise. Etta stared straight ahead, unable to meet her gaze. "I don't know how, but he did. At first I thought it was just some sort of response they triggered in his brain, but what if it wasn't? What if they were actually keeping him alive?"
"Etta," Olivia whispered. Peter hadn't told her that. Maybe he hadn't seen it. But Etta had, and it was clearly tearing her apart.
"They couldn't just kill him quietly," Etta said harshly. "They had to take him apart and experiment on him just because they could. Like he was just some piece of tech and they wanted to know how he worked."
There were tears evident in her voice now. Olivia was completely at a loss. She wanted to comfort her daughter, but she wasn't sure how. Etta wasn't a child anymore. Besides, Peter had always been far better at this than she was. But Peter was asleep. This one was all her.
"They just keep taking," Etta choked as tears welled in her eyes. "They took our world, our families, our lives. I look in the mirror and I don't even recognize myself." She swallowed hard. "We have been fighting them as hard as we can, and no matter what we do they just keep taking."
She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth as silent tears started trickling down her cheeks. Olivia reached out and touched her shoulder, not really sure how far she was allowed to go. At first Etta tensed at the touch. But then she very slowly leaned over and rested her head against Olivia's shoulder. Her shoulders were shaking with sobs that were almost inaudible. Etta Bishop didn't cry. Ever. But somehow her mother's presence had snapped something inside of her and suddenly she couldn't stop.
Olivia carefully wrapped her arms around Etta, holding her baby girl tight against her. She could feel tears pricking at her own eyes. It wasn't fair. Her daughter had been through so much and there was nothing Olivia could do except hold her. She rested her cheek against Etta's head as her daughter cried quietly into her shoulder.
The crying didn't last long. Etta had conditioned herself too well for that. After a few minutes her tears slowed down and then faded completely. But she made no move to leave her mother's arms. It didn't matter that she was probably far too old for this. She had waited far too long to see her family and she didn't want to lose a single moment.
For a long time they sat there in silence, just drinking in the quiet moment together. The two of them hadn't really had a moment alone since Olivia was removed from amber. It was a relief to finally have a chance to be together without having to worry about rushing off for this or that. They would have both been perfectly happy to stay there forever. But after a while, Olivia sighed and looked down at her daughter.
"We should probably get some sleep," she told her.
"Probably," Etta agreed. She sat up and quickly wiped away the remaining tear stains from her face in an effort to salvage some semblance of pride. "Busy day tomorrow."
Olivia stood up from the bed so her daughter could pull back the blankets and crawl under them. Once she was settled, Olivia turned out the lamp beside the bed. Then she hesitated, trying to decide exactly what the protocol was when tucking in the grown daughter you hadn't seen in twenty years.
"Good night," she said finally. She turned to go, but was stopped by Etta's hand suddenly catching hers.
"Mom?" Etta asked. Olivia turned back to see a surprisingly vulnerable look on her face. Etta hesitated as if she wanted something but wasn't entirely sure how to ask for it. Finally she settled for, "You can stay. I mean, if you want to. It's probably more comfortable than the floor, right?"
She smiled like it was a joke, but Olivia could see the nervousness in her eyes. Her baby girl was clearly hurting. This was the most vulnerable Olivia had seen Etta since her return, and it tugged at her heart. And the truth was that they would probably both sleep better tonight knowing the other was nearby.
"Okay," Olivia said finally, giving a small nod. Etta immediately scooted over to give her a bit more room. Olivia pulled back the edge of the blanket and slipped in beside her. She lay down on her side so she was facing her daughter. On a sudden impulse, Olivia reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Etta's ear. Etta responded with a small smile that was just barely visible in the dim moonlight.
"Good night, Mom," she said softly.
"Good night," Olivia answered. "Sleep well."
"You too," Etta mumbled as her eyelids slowly drifted shut.
A few minutes later they were both fast asleep, secure in the knowledge that the other was nearby to help fend off any demons that might try to invade their minds. But none came. Instead, both mother and daughter slept soundly for the rest of the night.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Two days later Etta was shot and killed. The loss completely devastated all of them. Later that night after everyone else had finally managed to slip off into a fitful sleep, Olivia crept back into her daughter's room and lay down on her bed. As silent tears trickled down her cheeks, she suddenly found herself thanking whatever cosmic force was out there that she had been unable to sleep the night Etta had come in late. It was because of that inability that she had been allowed those precious few hours with her daughter. They should have been granted years of late night conversations. But time was a cruel thief, and it had taken all but one. One precious night with her baby girl before the universe tore her away all over again.
A few hours later as sun came back up, Peter entered the room to find Olivia sound asleep on Etta's bed. A mug of cold tea was sitting untouched on the nightstand, the fading smell of mint still lingering in the air.
Hopefully it wasn't too unbelievable or out of character. And I do apologize for any emotional trauma the ending may have caused. I was originally going to leave it out, but it just felt so... right. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought!