Disclaimer: I only wish I was creative enough to own Fringe.

A/N: I never thought I was very good at writing for this fandom but I miss Peter/Olivia so much, and I couldn't resist expanding a little after that last episode. Slight spoilers for Alone in the World.

She misses him, the man from her dreams.

It's strange, for she's never met him, and yet his face fills her with a deep sense of longing that she can't quite explain. When she wakes up, she feels lonely, and the other side of the bed feels far too cold, and sometimes she can almost imagine him there beside her, bathed in the light of the morning sun with his eyes all alight.

It all makes her feel so foolish; the way her fingers itch to draw him and the way that her heart leaps into her throat when she thinks she spots him on the street. She sees him everywhere now- in the stranger with five o' clock shadow and in Walter's dark eyes and even in herself when she smiles or laughs.

And she doesn't just see him, she feels him- phantom fingers in her hair and curling around her hip and lips pressing against her own, tasting faintly like bourbon and mint toothpaste. Sometimes she thinks she can feel the bed dip or hear the sheets crinkle in the still of the night, and sometimes she thinks the wind carries his whispers of her name past her ear.

She wonders how she can love him, this man she's never met, and how he can make her feel so empty yet so fulfilled at the same time. She wonders if she ever will meet him, if one day she'll just turn around and he'll finally materialize in front of her like she's been waiting for him too.

She feels silly for waiting and for trying to be so patient when all she has to go on is a sketch of a face and a handful of fuzzy dreams, but then she'll also wonder if somewhere out there, all he has is the same things.

Maybe he wakes up with the sound of her laughter ringing in her ears, and maybe his bed feels empty too, and maybe he dreams of the feeling of her touch. Maybe he has a tabletop full of drawings too, and maybe he's come to love and to miss her just as much.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Olivia traces her fingers over her drawing, traces the lines and curves of his face, and when she closes her eyes to fall asleep, she can almost feel him settle in beside her.

Peter, is what she thinks as she drifts off. Maybe I'll call him Peter.