To understand this one-shot further, read Fringe Fanatic's 'Observertory' AFTER you read this. It's fun doing that. Yes, I typed that right. Yes, she knows it's misspelled.
November sighed, for the third time this week.
The Observers had actually proved to be some funny people. September liked jokes, December was all for the experimental stuff, and the second-newest Observer, August, happened to be an expert in anything and everything relating to his favorite game, Truth or Dare. (Along with the art of calling shotgun, which all of them were masters at.)
But what he really needed wasn't a good joke, no experimental drugs. Not hot sauce or Truth or Dare. What he needed was her back. He would give anything for her to remember him. Not even his father.
Just her.
So he started doing things for her.
He started making her coffee in the mornings and leaving roses on her nightstand for her to see when she woke up in the mornings.
He moved her keys and FBI badge to where she could see them, and he cleaned and dusted her house when she was away at boring days of desk work.
When she forgot to pick up her groceries, he left them in brown paper bags on her kitchen counter for her, the perishables on top so she wouldn't forget to put them away.
And when she cried, he placed boxes of tissues on the table next to her, or on the couch cushion closest to her, and hid himself again.
When she confessed to his father's lab assistant that she thought she had a ghost in her house, he watched her through the window with his binoculars, standard issue for Observers like himself.
It was, as November found out, very hard for an Observer to cry, or hard for him to find a reason to cry. But when pushed, there were one or two things that could make them cry.
And she was his reason.
He began to fall into the routine of the other Observers. He watched the world change around him.
But he always went back to watching her.
The years passed, and she moved out of her apartment.
Her fortieth birthday came about eight years later, by November's count, and he bought her forty roses and left them for her that morning. When she showed the faithful lab assistant the roses and the card that was left on them, he cried along with her.
The lab assistant took her out for drinks that night, and his father brought a cake and presents.
November left her a card, and she stiffened when she saw it.
"I'm sorry."
Those were the two words that she whispered out loud.
And November whispered them with her.
When she was fifty, his father died, and November was there at his funeral. Along with the still-beautiful woman.
She caught a glimpse of him, and tried to chase him. But November did what was best for him and the Observers and shot her with the gun that could shock humans. She flew back, and had a heart attack.
Peter Bishop went to Olivia Dunham's funeral a week later.