the ghost in me (she don't fade)
Fandom: Fringe
Characters: Olivia Dunham/Alternate Lincoln Lee, Alternate Olivia Dunham/Alternate Lincoln Lee
Rating: T
Summary: Liv still feels off balance.
Notes: Takes place Over There during "Amber 31422."
They never do get that fancy dinner.
As they catch their breath after escaping a fate they've learned is literally worth than death, Lincoln says, "Hey, you wanna get pizza?"
It is, Liv decides, precisely the right response to her almost being caught in Amber below the subway. She knows without asking that Lincoln and Charlie pushed the limits of every last protocol getting her out of there, seconds ahead of the encasing mist. She would've done the same for them.
Charlie growls, offended on her behalf. "You tryin' to welsh on her? You promised Evvia, everyone heard." As if that wasn't a month's paycheck for a single meal. Liv enjoys watching Lincoln spend his money, he has it to spare even if it doesn't show in his WalKart khakis and plain t-shirts. But pizza sounds perfect.
She grins to show she's not letting Lincoln get away with anything. "Nah, Charlie, he still owes me. But not tonight."
Charlie shakes his head. "You're lettin' him off easy, but okay. See you kids later, I have a date." He presses a kiss to Liv's forehead—perfectly appropriate for a colleague who nearly died—and swats Lincoln gently on the shoulder. "Get her home safe."
"Always do," Lincoln says.
He does. He will even after she almost shot him during her psychotic episode. It's still so bizarre to acknowledge she fell apart so completely after a little head injury. Liv supposes no one ever thinks they'll crack, until they do. But the shrink said everyone had their breaking point.
Liv is just happy to be over it. Seeing mom brought her back to herself, the process helped along by remembering the look in her double's eyes when she'd seen mom's picture. The clear implication that on the other side, her— her double's mother was dead. And in some kind of cosmic karmic tradeoff, the other one's sister was alive and she had a niece.
(They're monsters in our skin, the Secretary said. They can't be trusted.)
They were the aggressors, those people from the other universe. The girl who torched Lincoln, her own double. Liv agreed to the tests that were supposed to give her the ability to cross over, even though they sound crazy to her. But the Secretary lost his son again on her watch and she owes him one. The world owes him a lot for creating the Amber protocol, even after what the team learned today.
(Their Olivia can travel between worlds safely, the Secretary said. We believe you may be able to do the same.)
And she'd—she'd done it. She'd crossed over. She's still confused about that, not convinced the vision of the gift shop wasn't a hallucination. With all the psychotropics they pumped into her, it's a wonder she isn't still high as a kite. Maybe she could blame the drugs for going after Rose on her own.
Liv smiles to herself. If anything, the recklessness proves she's still Olivia Dunham.
(You gotta trust me, the other one said. I'm you.)
Liv doesn't trust that easy. Not in the innate goodness of the universe since Rachel died; not in the stability of the world since she joined Fringe Division.
How can she trust herself, knowing she's been broken? How can she trust herself, having looked into her own eyes and seen a stranger?
But Lincoln trusts her. Charlie does, too. Maybe for a little while, she could lean on their trust to shore up her own.
It's a long, surprisingly quiet walk to her favorite pizza place. Lincoln orders like he usually does, a pie loaded with double everything. Liv gets her favorite, green peppers and pepperoni, but finds herself picking the greasy meat off her slices. Linc just gives her a curious look and eats them off her plate.
Lincoln's skin still bears the sign of his horrific burns. Whatever those people been trying to do, stealing Peter Bishop back...could it really be worth all the pain they'd caused? They'd lost three of their own, and for what?
(Your hair is different. Think I like yours better, Peter had said. She hadn't known what he meant then.)
The thought of Peter makes her uneasy, makes her skin shiver in ways she doesn't understand. Maybe it's the idea of being stolen from your home and taken to a place that looks like home but isn't.
Like looking around this place, a perfectly ordinary pizza joint, though a step up from a greasy pan because they're in New York and bad pizza places don't live here long. But she keeps glancing at the menu and expecting to see Indian food. It makes no sense.
(She's a lot like you, Peter said. And then, Maybe she's nothing like you at all.)
The way she keeps seeing Peter makes no sense. His...image...keeps trying to convince her she's something she's not. And the only way she can hold on is to cling to her touchstones: mom, Frank, Charlie, Lincoln. She looks at Lincoln's face, the scars that will heal, the ones under the surface she knows won't. And she knows that she loves him, though not half as well as he deserves.
Lincoln looks up, catching her eyes. He's been unusually quiet this evening, not chattering to fill the silence like he usually does. If the close call spooked him, that's the only sign of it; his smile is warm, full of things unsaid.
After dinner they walk again until they're standing outside her apartment. She doesn't really feel like going in. Like she told Lincoln, she doesn't sleep well when Frank's away. She misses his solid presence, his unwavering affection. The surety of being loved.
(Olive, mom asked, is everything okay? )
Lincoln says, half sly and half hesitant, "You gonna invite me up?"
The question takes her completely by surprise. She doesn't remember...and then she does. Frank is out of town. And when Frank is out of town, all bets are off. For both of them, though Frank doesn't tell her about his exploits any more than she tattles about hers.
"Yeah, Lincoln," she says. "Why wouldn't I?"