AN: So, this is my first EVER attempt at a multi-chapter fanfic. Any feedback is appreciated.

Also just so you know, this is unbeta'd.

If anyone decides to give me the rights to Fringe for my birthday, you'll be the first to know. Until then, not mine.

Peter was convinced that Walter was trying to drive him insane.

For nearly three days, Walter had been trying to remember something that he thought might relate to the case they were working on. However, without any context of what he might need to remember, he wasn't having much luck, and his increasingly eclectic attempts to jog his memory were pushing Peter closer and closer to the edge of his Walter-craziness limit.

It had started out in the usual way, with incessant reciting of mnemonics, to no avail. He then spent several hours sitting in the quad, counting the number of people wearing red, under the theory that engaging the mind in mundane activities would help bring forth the memories. This had mixed results, as he had remembered that whatever it was he was trying to remember occurred in the mid-to-late 1980's, but still couldn't remember what it was. That was when the fun really started.

For the past day and a half, Walter had been immersing himself in all things 80's. Eating the foods he had enjoyed. Watching movies from the time. Listening to recordings of speeches. He had even kept his son awake half the night by blaring Michael Jackson and Duran Duran.

So it was now nine am, Peter had gotten just three hours of sleep the night before, and he had the song Thriller stuck in his head. It was not a good way to start the day.

He had just decided to head out for his second cup of coffee, when he heard a commotion on the other end of the lab.

"Yes! I did it! I finally remembered! Bellie and I DID work on something like this! Only, I couldn't remember, because the location was wrong. Back in 1987, there was a flood here in the lab. So we had to temporarily relocate and work out of a lab on the other side of campus. It was there that we were working on this project. And it is there where the files most likely remain."

So much for the coffee.

Half an hour later, Peter, Walter and Astrid were in another, smaller, basement lab sorting through Walter's unique organizational system, looking for the relevant files. Walter was going through a pile of stuff in the corner, Peter was making his way through various cabinets, and Astrid was braving the depths of a deeply stuffed storage closet.

Walter was filling up what would have been silence by telling them what it was like working with Bellie. When he paused in one of the stories, Astrid spoke up.

"Walter, the work you did here with Bell; it didn't involve... child subjects, did it?"

"No, we actually required subjects significantly older than your average college student. Why?"

"Because there's a child's backpack in here. It seems kinda out of place with all the other stuff."

Astrid walked out of the closet, dusting herself off and carrying what was indeed a child sized backpack. Peter was still exhausted, and apparently feeling less curious then Astrid, so he continued his search while she set the backpack on a table, and opened it up.

It was only a moment before Astrid spoke again. "Peter, is there any chance your middle initial is R?"

"Yeah, R for Robert. Why?"

"I think you might want to come look at this."

Peter got up and dusted off his hands as he made his way toward the table where several items that had been removed from the backpack were laid out. There were several large pieces of paper folded in half, and a scientific notebook. On the cover of this was written PRB, and underneath that, 1986.

Peter picked up one of the pieces of paper, and nearly dropped it again in shock when he saw what was on it. It was a large picture of what was unmistakably a zeppelin. He picked up another picture. It had a large circle on it, and both the circle and the page were cut in half by a line. On the line, outside the circle, was a house, and a man and a woman crying. If you turned the picture upside down, there was another, identical house, with an identical man and woman, except this time they were smiling, and had a crying child with them.

"I don't remember this."