I've been reading Fringe fanfics for years, and now I finally contribute one of my own. It's kind of short, but I think it could end up being more than just a oneshot. Tell me what you guys think. :)

The first chapter is from Olivia's point of view. This is just based on a little idea of mine after watching Concentrate and Ask Again. And this story takes place after Concentrate and Ask Again, so you know…spoilers.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fringe or the characters or really anything worth mentioning at all.


Her hands were shaking as she pounded down a shot of whiskey. She set it on the kitchen table and sauntered off to her surrogate bed of blankets on the living room couch, pondering the exact point of time that everything in her life had gone to hell.

It wasn't like the note came as any big surprise. If she was being fully honest with herself, it only confirmed what she had known all along. But it wasn't just the note that made her fingers twitch and her hands quake and her head swarm. No, it was more than that.

Because quite lately, she'd noticed that things seemed a little…off. And tonight with her improved marksmanship…it scared her. She didn't want to believe that a part of her alternate still lurked in the inner crevices of her mind. But she still had memories and feelings, feelings that were unexplainable, like the feeling that if she woke up in the morning, she'd find Frank beside her in bed. And the even more frightening thing was that when she woke up on the couch alone, she almost felt…disappointed.

Perhaps a subconscious part of her brain longed for the life she could never have, a "better" life. And the more she drank, the more confused she got. For a fleeting moment, she debated picking up the phone and calling her mother. Then she remembered. The Olivia Dunham from this side didn't have a mother.

Then came the tears.


She woke up perhaps a few hours later with her face planted into a tear stained pillow. Where am I? Where is Frank?

But those thoughts didn't belong to her. Breathing heavily, she turned her head to the window. It was still night time, or at the very least it was early morning. But she didn't care. She had to get out. She had to get help. She had to go see the Secretary. Her expression turned to one of horror. Walter!

This wasn't right. Everything was wrong. Walter was not the Secretary, her mother was dead, her sister was alive, she had a niece, and Charlie was gone. Peter

Though, with a hint of bitterness, she noted that Peter was something that her alternate and she both had in common now.

She was out the door in minutes, car keys in hand, sprinting towards the FBI issued vehicle. And at the time, it didn't matter that it was freezing outside or that she'd forgotten to grab her coat. Her coat she didn't keep a gun in, she had to remind herself. Despite her panic, she was still able to buckle her seat belt and simultaneously pull out onto the street with one destination in mind.


She knocked on the door lightly, seeing as it was 2 o'clock in the morning. Then, she debated calling their home phone before realizing that she might not even be able to remember the number. So she knocked again, more forcefully. Who would open the door? She briefly wondered how she looked standing on the porch, slightly inebriated and dizzyingly confused. Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps. She restrained herself from putting her ear against the door to listen and waited for the doorknob to turn. It twisted slowly, hesitantly, before revealing the man behind the door. It was Peter Bishop, shirtless, in all of his glory.

"Olivia?"

Peter Bishop, the Secretary's son. No, yes…sort of. She tried to get ahold of herself.

"Peter. Peter, I need…"

He eyed her curiously, concernedly, taking in her appearance. Circles under the eyes, sweats, no coat. He could already tell that something was wrong. Dreadfully wrong.

"I need," she began again, "to talk to Walter."

She didn't give him time to ask why because no sooner had she finished speaking when a sudden wave of nausea washed over her and she fell unconscious into her partner's arms.