Summary: "Forty percent of all the information you provided about your life is incorrect."
Notes: Post-s4.
Olivia's first visit with her sister after she regained and lost her memory was a disaster.
She had to tell a flabbergasted and disbelieving Rachel that she was in love, pregnant, and looking to buy a house with a man that she'd known for a handful of months, by this world's reckoning. She couldn't explain about three years of slow, often thwarted relationship buildup; she couldn't say that Peter had crossed universes for her, and she for him; she couldn't relate how they'd saved each other's lives more often than they could count. All she could say was, "I love him."
Rachel just stared at her for a long moment.
Olivia bit at her lip, already hearing the worst. "I know how that sounds—"
"Of course you do," Rachel interrupted, her voice hot. "Because I said it to you about Greg years ago, and you sat there with this disdainful look on your face, obviously thinking that I was a stupid little girl who was throwing her life away on a silly infatuation. That hurt, Olivia. And now..."
She got up, breathing hard, and Olivia thought it best to just sit quietly and let Rachel process in her own way. She wasn't wrong, after all.
Olivia had told Broyles she could relearn the cases from this timeline, go through the files and commit the variances to memory. She'd needed to do the same thing in preparation for this trip, sitting with Nina Sharp over old photo albums, learning details of her forgotten life like she was cramming for a test. From the look Olivia spotted on Nina's face when Nina thought she wasn't looking, it was a test she'd already failed.
So here she was now, with a head full of carefully memorized moments from a life she'd lived but couldn't remember, facing a sister who was pacing and fuming and rightfully infuriated by Olivia's seemingly arbitrary hypocrisy. And there wasn't a word she could say to defend her decisions because all of them had been made in another timeline.
Rachel would forgive, eventually. Her anger burned hot but fleetingly, and she rarely carried a grudge—Greg had reason to be grateful for that. So did Olivia, as a result of missed birthdays and other Fringe-interrupted occasions. That was why she'd come to Chicago without Peter, to spare him the brunt of Rachel's initial fury; there'd be plenty of time for them to get to know each other, now that the world wasn't going to end. Not at Bell's hands, at least.
"I'm sorry," Olivia said when Rachel finally turned back to face her. And more important: "I was wrong."
Rachel's mouth dropped open again, with astonishment this time. She blew out an exasperated breath, sending her bangs flying. "You're happy?"
"Yes."
"It's good, then." Rachel eyed her one more time, as if Olivia was playing an extended practical joke. "Ella and Eddie will be so excited to have a little cousin. I'll come help when you're due, of course."
Olivia got up to hug her, knowing the conversation wasn't over, that there were still minefields to navigate and places where she'd trip over her lost memories. Rachel squeezed her tightly, her voice a fierce whisper. "You have to tell me everything."
"I'll do my best," Olivia told her, hearing the lie, hating its necessity.
A first salvo, perhaps; there's more to say on this theme.