Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe or any of it's characters.

And so here I stand, apparently where I have once been before, staring at the blue void in front of me that is leading to somewhere I truly belong, where I might have been destined to have a life. I smile bitterly at that last thought, remembering the Alistair Peck case where Olivia had had déjà vu. I bet the two of them had exchanged a worried glance as I'd spoken of how I felt I was not meeting my destiny, because I had been right and they knew it. I was never meant to be here.

My thoughts returned to how I had guessed and Walter had confirmed my fears, clutching a piece of paper in his hands. I remember how I had glanced back at that paper as I left, noticing the hand drawn tulip. I also remember avoiding his face due to my own tears threatening to spill just as his own were. And then there was Olivia. I remember the way I felt as I knocked on her door, I was so hurt, so betrayed. And at this point my tears became the betrayers, carrying out their threat from before. I remember her answering groggily, and watching as her face contorted as she began to understand why I was here and why I looked as angry as I must have.
"Peter..." she'd begun, her words echoing the horror that I realised was shaking her to her core.

It was then that I had realised I had no idea what I was going to say to her. I just wanted her to know how badly she'd hurt me and for her to know she has leave me to get over her. Not that she'd be able to.

"Olivia... why... I... I trusted you..." I choked, and she let out a sob. Before she could answer I turned and walked away, leaving her weeping on her doorstep. I moved out of the light from the dingy streetlamps as quickly as I could, hiding in the alleys, but still watching. It only took her a minute to realise I wasn't going to come back and grab her coat, lunging out into the cold dark air. I knew she was looking but she wouldn't find me because the darkness was shading me, protecting me from her sight. I walked then. I knew no one would be at the lab at this hour and I knew where Walter had likely hidden the machine that created his 'doorway'. It wouldn't take long for me to work it out; I was the son of a Walter if not this one. And I had been right. I grabbed the device and piled it into the car which I had left outside hours before, and set it up in the spot by the lake where my 'father' had done so all those years before.

And so here I stand, apparently where I have once been before.