He couldn't believe it, no, this had to be a dream. In a few moments he was gonna wake up screaming, and she'd be there to comfort him just like she always was. Not this time, never again would she stroke the side of his head, her thumb rubbing the stubble on his cheek. This time she wasn't coming back. He'd seen her like this twice before, but now it was too late there was nothing, nothing in the universe, nothing in any universe. There was absolutely nothing he could do but stare at her. Her eyes, once so full of life, with the occasional sparkle they got when she smiled. They were closed; they had been closed before he got there. Her hair, the same hair he loved to twirl in his fingers as they were lying on the couch; the same hair he loved to watch cascade out of her ponytail when he pulled the rubber band out of her hair as she arched her back into him. Was not matted against her skull sticky with sweat and dried blood. Her skin was already turning pale and he thought it looked sort of blue-ish. There was a hole, a horrible bloody hole in her chest right were her heart used to be. He remembered one Friday night as they were sitting on her couch watching the Alfred Hitchcock film "Psycho". She lay across him, their feet inter twinned; the movie completely forgotten. That night as she lay partly conscious on his chest she looked up at him and said,
"I've always thought it was really cheesy and a bit cliché when the romantic interest says to the hero that 'he has her heart' but true be told, Peter, my heart is yours."
"You're sappy when you're exhausted" he said, meaning to tease but it came out more as a half-hearted attempt at something more.
"Maybe, but you like it." She responded in a more successful teasing tone.
"Yeah" he sighed, "I do, I really do." He lifted her chin with his pointer finger and kissed her lovingly. That night they fell asleep in each others' arms.
A hand on his shoulder shook him from his fantasy. He turned to face Walter's red puffy eyes, still wet from crying. It was then Peter noticed that he was crying as-well. Not sobbing but he tasted the salt as the tears leaking from his eyes fell down his cheeks and on to his lips. Olivia Dunham, the woman he loved more than anything else in both universes was dead. He was never going to feel her breath against his skin again, never again. He would never be able to look into her eyes knowing that as long as they were together everything thing would be ok. He would take William Bell with a god complex over this any day.
This is my first fan-fic ever so please be kind, but also please review :) My friend encouraged me to post the fan-fics I write so here it goes... I also remembered that at this summer's comic-con panel Anna Torv and Jasika Nicole said they had read fan-fics so I was driven to post this on the off chance they might read it. Plus posting this was better than doing AP Spanish homework :)
