I wrote this piece during the episodes in the third season leading up to episode Entrada. This is a bit outdated as it is my interpretation of how Olivia was going to make it back home. It is the longest thing I have been working on and currently it is not quite finished! But it will be, believe me!

Now enough of my ramblings!

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. And clearly the writers did a better job of what happened next. Also, I would like Joshua Jackson. That is all

Rated T for language in up coming chapters.

War

Backs against the stone cold brick wall, Peter feared that this was it. The final moments before life as they knew it, ended.

His eyes snapped shut automatically as a grenade went off somewhere down the street in the darkness. Breathing slightly heavier from the adrenaline that was now coursing through his veins, he glanced at the woman beside him. Crouched in a defensive position, Olivia Dunham was peeking around the corner of the brick building they were hiding beside, firing off rounds to keep the enemy at bay.

She looked like a soldier, as though this was what she was meant to do.

"What do we have here, Charlie?" Olivia swaggered casually up to one of the few people she trusted in this universe. Ever since Peter had appeared in her bedroom, she had been getting flashes of a different memory. A different universe. Her memory. Her universe. The swagger was a way of Olivia attempting to stay hidden in this world.

"Squatter was roaming this shore of the Boston Harbour a few hours ago. Saw a man walk straight out of thin air, on the dock over there," Lincoln filled in. Olivia turned as the other member of her team walked toward them. "Just finished interviewing the poor guy. He's pretty much traumatized; I wasn't able to get much of a statement out of him. Plus, he kind of smelled pretty ripe."

The sun was beginning to set, Olivia shivered. This time of year, as soon as the sun hit that horizon, the cold set in.

"Well, you smell like you've just finished interviewing a squatter. Oh wait that's just you," Charlie jabbed.

Lincoln looked at Olivia daring her to say something.

"Look, I'm with him," Olivia said earnestly. Lincoln rolled his eyes and headed toward a police officer. "We're just looking out for your best interests. You know, hygiene is important," she called after him.

Lincoln raised an arm and showed them what he thought of their concern. "Well, somebody's in a great mood today." Olivia mused.

Charlie chuckled.

"So do you think we'll have to quarantine?" Olivia asked as she looked out into the body of water.

"Yeah, I think so. If someone from the other side came over here, we don't want them to be able to get back the same way."

"Darn, I keep forgetting to update my will," Olivia joked.

"Well, fortunately for you, there doesn't seem to be too much of a wormhole." Charlie showed her the device used for determining the barrier between universes. The reading was practically at zero. "We'll be given enough time to evacuate the area and clear out of here and activate the quarantine."

Olivia secretly breathed a sigh of relief. "Good," Olivia looked around and saw an old abandoned building nearby. "Charlie, has anybody checked out that old building?"

"Yeah, a couple of Boston PD did a few minutes ago, why?"

"I wanna check it out again. Make sure they didn't miss any squatters." Olivia sensed that she needed to go into that building.

"Sure, but we gotta clear out of here in seven minutes."

"Right, in seven," Olivia was already making her way to the building.

The building seemed to be completely empty. The sun was completely gone now and the moon had yet to rise. Olivia shone her flashlight toward the steps that led to the upper level. Olivia decided to forgo the upper level, assuming that it would be structurally unsecure and anyone who had decided to stay up there had a death wish anyway.

From the corner of her eye, something moved in the shadows of the next room. Slowly, she drew her weapon, placed the flashlight in a pocket, and simultaneously reached for her radio to call for back up.

"I'm with the Fringe Division. This area is about to be quarantined. I need you to leave with me now." Olivia slowly moved into a room with furniture that was covered in white sheets. The boarded up windows caused an entire corner of the room to be immersed in darkness.

"Step out of there, now," she commanded. Her left hand, the one that had been reaching for the radio, left it, grabbed the flashlight, and joined her right hand at the butt of the gun.

She could tell that the shadow was a man, and his hands were raised. As the beam from the flashlight hit the silhouette, Olivia gasped.

"Don't shoot," was the deep, familiar response.

"Peter?"

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