Sort of a filler for this week's episode. This takes place during the scene from the promo where we see Olivia crouching on the floor, against the wall, and Peter (?) in the doorway. A little bit angst.

Read and review, if you wouldn't mind!

"I can't do this," a heart-wrenching sob escaped her. She spoke to no one and anyone who would have listened. Clammy arms reached upward toward her hair and pushed it back, a nervous habit. Her body pressed against the rust door and she slid down to the dusty floor. Her body wracked with loud sobs. She cupped her mouth in an effort to stifle the telltale signs of defeat.

She couldn't do this—this going back to her childhood. She was just fine the way it was; where she had very little recollection of anything under the age of eleven. Not knowing was better, or so she thought. And now she was supposed to just let him, of all people, drug her, tip her upside down and around, strap electrodes on her, and send her off to another dimension. She knew she had to but she didn't know if she actually could.

Catching five minutes of her childhood, which was spent in this very building—this very room, was traumatizing to say the least. Having not been able to stomach more than five minutes of her stolen childhood being replayed on a thirteen-inch screen, she walked out of the shared room and down the hall into this vacant room. The room lacked a door but she didn't care. She slid down the neglected wall that shared the entryway to the room.

She had expected him to follow her and was exceptionally glad when he didn't. Or was she? She held her breath and tried to focus on anything other than…herself, past or present. She quieted and listened to the muffled voices from down the hall.

X

"Son, we had to. You don't understand…" Walter tried but Peter couldn't take it. He was beyond disgusted. Worst of all he felt he had something to do with it…some kind of responsibility simply because Walter was his father.

"Peter, I had to do it...I had to do it for--" Walter tried again, but Peter waved his hand and was out the room before Walter could finish his sentence.

"…for you son…" Walter whispered the last part. Anger and pleading was evident in his voice.

"Walter," Astrid walked over and placed a small hand on the scientist's forearm.

"Astrid, I had to do it…" she nodded and allowed him to close in for an embrace.

X

He approached the entryway to the room he knew she'd be in. He had heard her small sobs from the room where it all happened. He hesitated. One finger grazed the stale air before him and then retracted.

X

Olivia heard the soft patter of feet. Her breath caught in her throat. She closed her eyes and waited, anticipated the beckoning. She could see the shadows of his feet, thanks to the dark room and dim lit hallway. She quickly and roughly wiped the tears away.

Nothing.

She exhaled in relief. She knew it was Peter. However, she was taken aback when he didn't try to bust through the imaginary door and pull her, physically, out of her misery. She was glad that he didn't yet strangely she felt a…longing. Part of her wanted to be taken care of. This sensation was queer and new. And yet—welcoming.

X

He made it all the way to the car. Even so far as to put the keys in the ignition.

Running.

That's what he did; that's what he knew.

"I can't do this," he confessed to no one. He remembered being in a similar situation except this time his life wasn't at stake. He wasn't sure why he didn't run at the time, but he did now. And yet even with his newfound knowledge, he was here and not there.

"I'm here if you need me…" He had said this to her on more than one occasion and yet he just walked out on her. He felt disgusted with himself. Making up his mind, he took the key out of the ignition and shut the battered car door behind him, not looking back.

X

He walked in and was surprised to see Olivia, face flushed and tear strained, taking off her suit jacket. Walter began to strap electrodes to her head.

"Son, we could use your help," Walter replied gravely, much like a scientist and not like a father.

Peter heard him but focused on her face. Her expression was wounded, eyes pleading, crying without tears. It showed behind the known-too-well, cold hearted, professional façade.

"Let's do this," she replied and he nodded, walking towards her.