Spoilers: All aired episodes.
Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe.
Author's notes: I have wanted to write Elizabeth since "Over there" and "Subject 13" brought the idea back; this was just supposed to be 2 or 3 pages but it just went on and on and on.
I hope I got Elizabeth's voice right. This is unbeta so feel free to comment on the bunch of mistakes it surely has.
Hope you like it.
Where a world ends and where the other begins
"Can't sleep?"
Peter turned from the night view of New York to find his mother standing in the middle of the dark living room.
His mother.
It was weird, after so many years of think her gone, death, she was standing here in front of him, so alive; he thought she must be feeling the same way about him.
He smiled in response, a sincere smile; despite all the thoughts inside his head he couldn't stop feeling happy to have his mother again.
"Maybe a glass of warm milk would help?"
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow and Peter thought about Walter, he would have made the same offer (okay, maybe not the same offer, maybe he will offer some drugs along with the milk) with the same concerned face.
He missed Walter.
"Peter?"
His mother looked at him worried; he hadn't answered her question yet.
"Sure, I'd love one."
Elizabeth smiled one more time and turned to the kitchen, Peter sat at the kitchen aisle watching her, absorbing every detail; she took the milk out of the fridge (not in an aluminum pack, just a glass bottle, just like Walter would keep Gene's milk), she took a white saucepan from one of the upper cabinets (it was just where Walter had a very similar pan, with white tulips on it), she returned the milk to the fridge after pouring it in the pan and then turned on the stove.
He didn't need warm milk, he needed a drink, or ten, but he doubted his mother had alcohol in the house or that she would give it to him, they were not there yet.
A drink.
Olivia.
Peter unconsciously closed his eyes just at the thought of her.
Olivia, Olivia, Olivia…
"May I ask what is keeping you from sleep?"
His mother's voices dragged him from the memory; he had missed her soothing voice so much.
Elizabeth's expression was plain curious, not inquisitive or intrusive, she had been like that all day, asking him about his life on the other side, he hadn't wanted to lie but there were some thing his mother didn't need to know right now, maybe with time, or maybe he should just tell her, maybe the excitement form having him here again will suppress the disappointment she would feel at knowing what exactly he had been doing.
"Nothing, it's just… everything… it's just a bit overwhelming."
The understatement of the century.
He smiled again, but Peter had forgotten something, his mother (any of them) would know his tell, would know exactly what was he thinking about.
"What's her name?" he tried not to look so shocked but fail miserably, "You left somebody behind."
He ran a hand through his face, trying to clear his head (he needed to shave) thinking how to put everything into words and didn't make it sound like he regretted being here, because he really didn't, the apology he had been using all day was ready to roll out of his tongue when he felt his mother's hand covering his (the warmth brought such solace).
"It's... it's not what you think, it's not that simple."
"Love is never simple."
Peter looked up from the table completely shocked, okay, It was official, his mother had a freakish sixth sense (was freakish a suitable word to describe his mother?), he swallowed the lump on his throat.
"I might not have been with you for the past twenty-five years Peter, but a mother can always tell."
(Tell when something is wrong, tell when his son is in some kind of distress, tell when it's about love.)
Peter hung his head, Elizabeth stood up and went to pour the now warm milk into two glass mugs sprinkling some cinnamon and nutmeg on each (just like Walter used to do), just like he liked it.
He felt the warm mug been placed between his hands, he took a sip and tried to get lost in the swirls the spices were making.
Elizabeth just looked at him, giving him time to collect himself, giving him time to decide.
"Olivia, her name is Olivia."
Olivia?
Elizabeth hid her surprise at recognizing the name; it was the same name that was written next to his son's on a drawing Walter had showed her so many years ago.
She took a drink of her warm milk.
"She… she," he was struggling with words, because deep down he was still hurting, "she's and FBI Agent, we've been working together for the past two years."
"How did you meet her?"
"Walter…," he hesitated again, because really, how do you refer to one of your no-parents in front of your mother?; Elizabeth gave him another encouraging smile for him to go on, "Walter, it was through Walter, two years ago, she needed help from him and she needed me for that, since then… I just… couldn't leave."
Maybe it wasn't the same Olivia.
"You stayed to work with her and Walter?"
"Yeah, I did."
"And you fell in love with her."
It was not a question; Peter let out a long breath before answering.
"Yeah, I did."
There, he said it, he had been very careful about it, not even daring to admit it to himself, and here he was, admitting it to his own mother after just a few words and a glass of warm milk.
"How is she like?" She asked with a note of excitement, she wanted to know her, even if it was only through his eyes.
Peter looked beyond the glass doors to the patio seeming to get lost on the distance, he was remembering something, then a little smile appeared on his lips, his eyes shining.
"Blonde long hair (he hair plastered by the salty water of the thank), pale skin (she surely was taking caffeine pills), so skinny that you can't believe how strong she is (she took him down with just a candlestick), warm dark green eyes, so beautiful that you can get lost just by looking into them (Peter, I'm scared), gentle (Ella laughing in her arms), compassionate (she gives Walter a patient smile), so intense that you get consumed by it (she is going to turn those light off), protective, never letting those she care about alone (she returned to the building for him), she doesn't let anybody takes care of her (Who cares about me?), loyal (she was holding back the tears at Charlie's funeral), she smiles so rarely that each one counts (how long has it been since she smiled?), she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders and so.. so… haunted."
Wow, that was quite a list.
"It must have been hard to come here and leave her."
And there was where she was wrong.
"It wasn't… at the beginning, I don't even know if she knows where I am, or if she was looking for me."
"I don't understand." If the loved her, why hadn't he said goodbye?
"She found out about me, about this," he laughed bitterly, "she saw it, I know she did and she left me believe that the awkwardness was because I tried to kiss her, and that she didn't want that, and it wasn't, it was because she knew the truth and she didn't tell me, she lied to me." The last words came out a lot louder and stronger that he had wanted to, Elizabeth straighten up on her chair.
"Sorry."
"It's okay."
She gave him a minute to calm down, his breathing coming slower and slower, and then she asked very quietly, almost in a whisper; "And, why do you think she did that?"
There Peter, somebody finally asked.
He knew the answer, but he refused to accept it because it felt wonderful and hurt at the same time, because it made his choice to be here a lot harder.
"Because she was afraid I would leave, because she feels something too."
He didn't know if it was love, if it was just friendship, need, company or something as intense as he felt, but it was something, and now it was too late, he was never going to see her again, he was never going to be able to tell her how he felt about het, to tell her how sorry he was to have left, to have left her alone.
"Peter…" it was the voice, the tone.
"I don't regret being here mom (mom!) but I wish I would have done it differently, I wish I at least had the chance to say goodbye to her, but I have to take responsibility of my acts and live with it."
At that moment Elizabeth felt for his son, she wished for him as she wished for a miracle for her and Walter so many years ago, for him to be able to fix this, that he could see her again someday and be happy even it meant to let him go again, because there was no worse agony than see your son in pain.
Peter yawned and his expression was neutral again.
"I think the milk worked." He gave her a half-smile and stood up, "I'm going to bed, you should too mom (mom!)."
He leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead.
She will treasure that kiss and the hug she received next morning before he left, it would be the last she would see of his son, because Elizabeth knew that love was strong, that love knew nothing about boundaries and lines not to cross, that things that were bound to happen since so far along in time could not be stopped, because she knew Olivia would come and take him, because Peter was hers, because Peter belonged with her.
"He's gone."
It was all Walter had said, but she already knew, the moment he didn't come back, she knew.
"He left this for you."
Walter handed her an envelope, her name written on the neat handwriting of his son, she didn't open it in front of Walter, this was a private moment and she and Walter had long pass that point.
He would grieve alone, well not alone, she knew that, what she meant was that he would not talk to her; he left for the city minutes later.
Elizabeth went and sat on his bedroom, what she had prepared as his bedroom; even when they moved houses faster than she could decorate them her son would always have a room that grew along him; this time it had been pale brown and beige colors on the walls, and hard and sturdy wood furniture.
His scent remained in the room the clothes he had arrived in were still folded on the bed waiting to be put away with her other mementos; she opened the envelope, just the light on the night table on.
She came for me, I'm sorry. I love you mom.
Peter.
Two simple lines that encased a bigger truth; Elizabeth felt the tears and she let them come, but they were not just tears of sorrow, they were mixed with tears of joy, she had got her miracle for a second time, he would have a chance to fix this.
She rarely visited Walter's office on Liberty Island but it was necessary today, he had taken Peter's clothes saying he would returned them, but he hadn't done so, it had been almost two months, and she wanted them back, it was part of the memories, and memories was all she had now.
The guards didn't hesitate to let her pass, not asking for clearance or security checks, being kind and telling her where to go, some of them looked at her with pity in their eyes, she would have to talk to Walter, they had a deal and the mask of the perfect marriage was slipping away.
She opened the door to the lab where they told her she could find Brandon (she didn't like the man at all), but at opening the door she found a woman there, reddish-brown hair hanging out of a black jacket, cargo pants, black combat boots and a blue t-shirt.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for Brandon."
The woman looked up, green eyes, a pure dark green, and intense look, fierce, and yet gentle, and haunted, very haunted, and despite the hair color she knew who this woman was.
Olivia.
"Ma'am, are you okay?"
Olivia got closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, it was warm.
What is she doing here? She is supposed to be with Peter.
"Yes, I'm fine, Thank you."
Olivia looked at her intensively, almost going through her, then recognition hit her.
There was a picture of them on the living room.
"Mrs. Bishop?"
Elizabeth nodded lost for words, Olivia looked nervous suddenly and smiled, a kind smile, and then she was shaking her hand.
"Olivia Dunham."
She shook the young woman's hand firmly; looking at her in the eye, telling her what she couldn't with words.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Olivia."
"The pleasure is mine."
Elizabeth felt like she was going to cry, she was so happy to meet her, but she was not supposed to be here; Olivia looked really touched and Elizabeth saw what only a mother could see in another woman's eyes.
"Mrs. Bishop, security told me you were looking for me?"
Brandon entered the lab interrupting their moment, they let go of each other's hands quickly, Elizabeth getting her poker face on.
"Yes Brandon, I needed to talk to you."
Brandon turned to look at Olivia.
"Do you need anything else, Agent Dunham?"
Olivia had recovered her composure too.
"No, I was just leaving."
"Okay, we'll contact you for the next round."
"Okay."
Olivia smiled to Brandon who went to the back of the lab, and before she left she looked again at Elizabeth, a smile appearing on both their faces, silent communication.
Take care of him, tell him I love him, love him.
I will.
The door closed, a terrible feeling going through Elizabeth's body.
Walter what have you done? What have you done to our son?
Contrary to what people believe Elizabeth Bishop was a very, very smart woman; she met Walter at a physics conference on Germany and she hadn't been there to catch a husband; she has been genuinely interested on the topic, but as society demanded once she married Walter she devoted her life to her husband and later on to his son, that was why when Walter brought that drawing home and explained where he thought their son was she didn't thought it was incredible or crazy, it has also been very useful on trying to figure out why Olivia was on her side and not with his Peter.
However, it didn't help much to try to assimilate the shock of the news.
"Olivia Dunham is pregnant."
She demanded an explanation when Colonel Broyles had been reported as missing, Elizabeth didn't believe the lies and knew that somehow everything was connected, so she knew exactly what had happened, and now this… she just didn't know how far Walter would go to execute this revenge, because this, all of this, had stopped to be, a very long time ago, a way to bring their son home, it was revenge.
"How could you do this Walter? How could you do this to our son?"
"I know you won't believe me, but I didn't plan this."
He was right, she didn't believe him, and even if she did this would only make matters more complicated for everybody involved.
It took her a few days to chew on the news, Elizabeth knew there were still parts of this "plan" that Walter hadn't told her, that somehow there was a bigger agenda and that the baby, her grandchild, would be now in the middle of it along with his son, and she could not allow that, she had to at least warn the woman that she was being used and that something was going to happen, Elizabeth didn't know what but something was about to break.
"I want to meet her."
They hadn't had dinner together in years, and Elizabeth remembered now why.
Walter didn't even bother to look at her while still slicing his steak.
"I thought that what I did disgusts you so much that you wanted nothing to do with it." His tone was calm, but she knew he would explode to the slightest provocation.
"If I want to be a part of my grandchild's life, then I… I am going to have to… ignore some things, I did it for my son once; I stayed with you and I didn't tell him the kind of man you are," he still wouldn't look up from his plate, "and she… she met him, she stayed with him for two month… I want to know more about him."
That part was half the truth, yes, she would love to heart about his son's life more than anything else, but this wasn't about what she wanted to hear, it was about what she needed to hear.
"All right."
Elizabeth called her, she had sounded surprised on the phone and curious about why she wanted to meet her, so Elizabeth played the nice grandmother over the phone.
She arrived to the café near Fringe Division Headquarters almost fifteen minutes early and saw her walking almost a block away, she was not alone though, a tall man with spiky hair was with her, a man who looked at her almost with devotion.
She was more swaggering than walking, dressed on the same attire on which she saw Olivia, but everything was black; her hair; which was now a mixture of red and blonde, was inside her jacket; she hadn't started to show.
"Mrs. Bishop, Olivia Dunham," she extended her hand and shook it with a bit more force than she expected, her voice a little more cheerful, "it's a pleasure to meet you."
Olivia smiled, but it was not the same smile she had seen or the same eyes, she was… different.
"Mrs. Bishop I'm Capitan Lincoln Lee," she shook the man's hand, it was a lot more gentle; of course she knew the man, he had been all over the news the week before, he has taking Colonel Broyles place, he seemed obvious to the whole situation, "I was just escorting Olivia, so I'll let you to talk."
Capitan Lee smiled to both of them and left. Olivia sat on the vacant chair while the waiter came and placed menus and a glass of water in front of each of them.
"So, what can I do for you Mrs. Bishop?"
Elizabeth chose her words carefully, she was not here to make threats but Olivia needed to understand.
"My husband told me what happened, everything in fact."
Olivia paled for a second or two and looked at her menu smiling.
"He didn't tell me but I imagined you wanted to talk about… about Peter."
Elizabeth had to make a great effort to not ask, (Is he alright? Is he safe?), there was no point.
"Yes. How could you do this to him?"
Olivia looked up, she was confused, she surely wasn't expecting this, maybe kind words.
"Excuse me?"
"I might not now everything Olivia, and I know what my husband is capable of, but you… you didn't have to do what you did, and the baby…"
"I didn't plan it if it is what you are thinking, it happened, and about what I did, it was necessary, we need to save our world."
"Is that what he had been telling you? That this is all to save the world?" Olivia looked dumbfounded, like she couldn't believe that Mr. Secretary's wife was telling her this. "It is not Olivia," she place her hand over hers," this is about revenge, he just wants to get even for them taking Peter, and he is using you, tricking you like he tricked Peter to come back, and he is going to use your baby."
The waiter returned and Elizabeth ordered tea for both of them so the man would go away, never taking her hand away.
"What you're saying cannot be true."
"You know it is, just think about it, the death trail he has left, the lies, you doubt him.
Her expression changed in front of her, from that cockiness to something much more painful.
"I love him." Olivia's voice sounded soft, a little bit more like the person she met. "I love your son, I know what I did may not be right and I didn't plan to get pregnant, but I love him and they stole him, and he is not supposed to be there, he is supposed to be here with me, with his family."
Elizabeth could not stop herself from feel some consideration from the woman.
"No, he is not Olivia; I know how you are feeling, when I first understood what had happened I was angry too, he had taken my son, but then I knew why he did it, because my son was alive, and when Peter came he confirmed it, they saved his life, my son is still alive because of them and I'm grateful, even though I cannot be with him I'm happy and grateful, but he doesn't belong here anymore Olivia, he made a life there, he has people who love him and I don't love him less for leaving."
Elizabeth looked around, the woman seemed to have a hard time composing herself, pregnancy hormones can do that to you.
"He is where he belongs, with her."
Olivia looked at her again.
"I… it was just a mission, I… didn't want to cause pain."
"You didn't know what you were getting into, did you?" Olivia shook her head "Every relationship is reciprocal, when you touch something, it touches you, Peter has touched your life and change it, change you, that's why I'm asking you to do the right thing."
"I'm not going to get an abortion." She sounded panicked, tears in her eyes.
"I'm not saying that, what I'm saying is that you are going to have to protect this baby, Walter is going to want to use it for something and nothing is going to stop him, not even you; you need to make the right choices, if you really love Peter as you say, if you really love your baby don't let Walter use it to lure Peter back, it won't be easy but he is going to use your feelings and the baby to try to get him back, and you can't let that happen, you have to choose right Olivia."
Elizabeth gave her a handkerchief and prepared to leave.
"You'll have to be careful from now on Olivia." Elizabeth looked at her again, not with hate or contempt, but understanding.
She left her sitting at the café; Elizabeth might not have his son with her but it won't stop her from looking out for him.