It's a quiet moment that the thought intrudes in on this time. The other times it happens she could brush it off—
"Freeze, FBI!"
She has her gun trained on the back of the man's head, watching him slowly turn, and in that precise second, she feels like something's missing.
She's got her gun, her extra clip, her Kevlar vest, her hair's tied back and neatly out of the way, so… what? What could possibly be missing?
Walter watches from the sidelines, a safe distance away, but the feeble, lost feeling she has only increases the intuitive notion that something is definitely off.
Ah, but maybe—
Her moment of distraction lands her in the hospital—pipe wrenches to the head tend to do that—and every now and then it returns.
While driving, it happens once more. Talking with Walter brings the score up the four. Hanging around in the lab with Astrid raises it further to seven.
And now, now when she's alone in her apartment, cradling a steaming mug of coffee… Why now? The mug she holds is chipped at the top right by the handle and painted a bright, fire-hydrant red that she's not sure she's seen before, but she ignores that feeling too. It's clean and she doesn't feel like doing the dishes, so strange mug or not, it will have to do.
But something still feels missing, and it's not the chunk of porcelain around the rim. It's…
Maybe this was somebody else's and they forgot it at her place? Maybe somebody gave it to her, and she just forgot? For some reason the though bugs her more than it probably should and instead of drinking the coffee within, she stares at its black surface, watching her wavering reflection.
Yes, something is missing.
Maybe… somebody? Walter's there, along with his alternate universe counterpart. She even managed to be civil with her own, which initially she had doubts about. Those doubts probably only sprang to life because it's just so odd dealing with somebody that's you but at the same time not. Astrid is there, Other-Astrid is too but less frequently… Maybe it's the missing Broyles that has her confused, but as soon as the thought enters her mind she immediately pushes it out. It just doesn't seem… right. She had closure for that, mostly, but this feeling of loss still feels raw.
The reparations with the other universe are getting along as nicely as can be expected for two groups of people that have been trying to murder each other for so long, and some things have even been fixed. Two Walters is definitely a plus. Even among that harmony, though, there's a little hole that needs to be filled, and every now and then when she manages to catch Other-Olivia's eyes, she sees that same look.
Walter has it on occasion too—Walternate less so, but every now and then when he lets his impenetrable guard down it's there, glimmering somewhere just beneath the surface.
Olivia comes to the conclusion that they all feel it, so why is it so hard to talk about it?
She's tried twice, once with Walter and once with Other-Olivia but the words mangle themselves and she winds up asking something stupid like "where's the bathroom?" or "do you want me to make some fresh coffee?"
She scratches with her nail at the chip and focuses. Maybe Walter would know.
She'll try asking again tomorrow.