The Fundamental Things Apply

Fandom: Fringe, Star Trek

Characters: Olivia Dunham/Peter Bishop

Rating: T

Summary: When Olivia met Peter.

Notes: Flashback/back story for the FringeTrek mash-up universe.

The first time Olivia Dunham met Peter Bishop, he was playing a piano.

Olivia had wandered into a slightly disreputable bar on the outskirts of Federation space, looking for distraction. Even after three months, she was still aching after her break up with John Scott-though it'd been less a painful break than a mutually agreed-on cessation of romance. They'd both been risking their careers with the affair and Olivia felt she needed to concentrate on her own. The William Bell was approaching completion at the San Francisco fleet yards, the final debates over her captaincy still raging. Olivia had made her case and in the meantime she was a captain without portfolio, on routine inspection duty at various outposts.

The bar had patterned itself after a 20th-century jazz club. The patrons were the usual mix of shady types, and Olivia was certain she could find a number of illegal or semi-legal transactions if she bothered to listen in on their conversations. She wasn't listening, instead considering the clientele for someone who might make it easier to forget John.

She liked the piano player's shoulders and the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Something about his face seemed vaguely familiar but then, he had that kind of face.

"Play it again, Sam," she said, leaning over the piano and smiling.

"Peter," he replied by way of introduction, "but wouldn't it be convenient I really was a Sam?"

She laughed. "Then you'd be condemned to play it again, eternally."

"Just as well, then." He switched chords mid-step, changing to something jaunty. "I'm just about through my repertoire anyway. Let me buy a captain a drink?"

She glanced at her bare arm as if she'd forgotten to change out of her tunic. "That obvious?"

Peter hummed assent. "There's a tell."

"That won't do. I'm Olivia. Tell me how to fix it over that drink."

A slow smile crept across Peter's face. "You're going to get all my secrets out of me."

She didn't, not then...but she wasn't looking to, either. Peter had an easy manner and a ready laugh and Olivia was happy to spend time in his company, at the bar and over dinner. He'd also been traveling outposts as a kind of itinerant mechanic, making repairs where needed. It was clear he'd been through the Academy's engineering program, but more than that Olivia didn't feel she needed to know. She knew more than enough to accept his offer of a nightcap back in his room.

The nightcap led, entirely predictably, to some friendly necking and Olivia had just about decided to stay the night when she spotted his Starfleet tunic and its double stripes.

She pried herself off the couch and picked the shirt off the floor where it'd fallen. "You didn't identify yourself, Commander."

"You didn't ask," he said simply, and that was fair. She'd never gotten around to asking his full name, either.

She raised an eyebrow to rectify that. "Commander...?"

He smiled wryly. "Peter Bishop."

Olivia stared at him, that familiarity she'd noted at the bar now becoming clear. Walter had mentioned his estranged son on occasion.

Peter sighed to her look. "Yes, I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. I spent the first few hours after we met trying to decide if I should apologize for my father's-"

"Nothing to apologize for," she said firmly. The Cortexiphan trials had been difficult and occasionally terrifying, but she was grateful for what she had now. Not the least of which was Nick's constant presence in her mind, even light years away. "Walter misses you, you know."

The wry smile grew larger. "There's irony. When I was a kid, I thought he was running away from me to play with you." He paused. "That's not why I offered that drink, by the way. I was never angry at you or the other kids in the trials. It's all on Walter."

Olivia tilted her head, considering him. "If you knew who I was, then why..."

Peter grinned at her, the expression just as appealing as it'd been a few hours ago. "Because I know what you've accomplished, despite everything. It's...impressive. I'm not easily impressed. But mostly? When a pretty lady asks me to join her for a drink, I'm unlikely to refuse."

She couldn't fault him for that. And he'd been good company, so she supposed she could forgive him for the slight subterfuge. "Then come over here and express your appreciation for how impressive I am."

A few months later Olivia was back on Earth, in a frenzy to fill out the crew before the Bell's maiden voyage. She was still waiting to meet the first officer-slash-spy Command had assigned her, though Charlie Francis assured her Commander Lee was more than capable. Between the lines of his message she could almost hear Charlie's approval, and that was more than sufficient to ease her mind. Besides, she'd read the reports of Lee's actions on the Hartford. No officer could have done more, or lost more.

Even without that unknown she'd have Charlie and Astrid and Frank Stanton and even Brandon Fayette on her side, trusted allies all.

And Nick, of course. None of this would be possible without him. Starfleet clearly didn't recognize that if he wasn't on the Bell, she wouldn't be either. If her enemies realized that, they could pull the plug on her career at any time.

The other Cortexiphan subjects had been arriving as they wrapped up their other business. Olivia welcomed as many as would come, because her victory in winning the ship was theirs as well. Simon was on his way back from Vulcan. Sally, for better or worse, was already aboard with Nick. James signed on, to her slight surprise; Olivia had never been able to discern his motives. But Cameron and Alan and Lloyd and a number of the others were clearly thrilled to have the opportunity put their skills to use.

Olivia had already met some of the rest of the crew. She'd liked helmsman Higgins immediately. A number of officers came looking for different opportunities, like Lieutenant Sala. Newly promoted Lieutenant Anthonsen followed Olivia from the Dauntless, an oddly touching gesture. The Bell was commissioned primarily as a science ship, so she carried more than the usual complement of scientists and technicians.

It was, overall, a young crew. More than a few experienced officers who might've otherwise welcomed the chance to shake out a new ship had declined the assignment, politely or otherwise. Fearing contamination, Olivia thought sourly. But she wouldn't have wanted them on her ship anyway.

Her ship. Which still needed a chief engineer. Lieutenant Falcon was reasonably qualified but his focus was far too narrow, and he was in no way ready to command a whole department. She'd already categorically rejected two candidates: an older male commander who obviously didn't think she'd earned her command, and the female lieutenant commander who looked at Olivia like she was an abomination against nature.

Astrid was ably directing the flow of traffic to and from the ship, announcing the constant stream of arrivals and departures. A small flood of ensigns and noncommissioned crew spilled out of the latest shuttle. Olivia greeted them and learned their names, not noticing the last arrival until she'd handed the crowd off to Milo Stanfield for orientation and cabin assignments.

She found herself looking up into a familiar face. Peter stood at attention, in proper uniform. "Commander Bishop, reporting for duty."

Olivia stared at him numbly."What post?"

"Chief engineer, if you'll have me." He handed over his PADD with his service record and Olivia skimmed, her eyebrows rising over the impressive list of qualifications. It held a considerable number of commendations and an equal number of disciplinary reports...the kind she approved off, the kind that said he wasn't satisfied taking the easy road if a better solution existed. A necessary quality for the best engineers, Olivia had come to learn.

But that wasn't the only factor at work here. She motioned him toward a currently unoccupied alcove. "I hope you weren't expecting-"

Peter was already shaking his head. "I wasn't. This isn't a problem for me if it isn't for you."

Olivia believed him, and she'd never regretted the decision to take him on board. He'd never mentioned their fling again, not after an evening poker game or over late-night drinks or at any other potentially opportune moment. She was entirely certain he hadn't told Lincoln, even with as close as they'd become.

It was also equally obvious that he still wanted her. He feeling was mutual, but...

But. She was the captain, his captain. The Bell was already under intense scrutiny by those who expected her new captain to fail; Olivia wouldn't hand them any excuse, legitimate or otherwise. So despite all the gossip, she maintained a professional distance when she could manage it and relied on Peter's discretion to uphold their agreement when she failed. It wasn't easy for either of them, considering he'd become a valued friend as well as her trusted engineering chief.

Peter was easy to talk to. Easier sometimes than Lincoln, because she and Lincoln were too much alike in certain ways. Easier than Charlie, because Charlie could be thrown by her darker moments. Peter took all her moods in stride, seeming to instinctively know when to push her and when to back off. He'd proved himself a worthy partner in every way including the one she didn't dare recall too closely, or too often.

Olivia refused to speculate on the future. Both of them understood the constraints of their situation and were free to enjoy other possibilities. Neither of them were shy about exploring those possibilities as need or want dictated.

She might occasionally daydream about more, but Peter wasn't the only subject of those fantasies; and besides, as a starship captain, Olivia was devoted to her ship first and foremost. Anyone else with a claim for her attention would have to get in line.

Of course Olivia misquoted; if people don't get it right now, odds are the error will persist a couple of centuries into the future.