A/N: It's been a while since I've written anything, so my apologies for any OOC. I absolutely adore alt-universe Elizabeth Bishop. In all timelines. Orla Brady is pretty incredible, and she has real chemistry with Josh Jackson.
Disclaimer: I don't own this show. I'm kind of glad. There's no way I could come up with something that awesome!
Eye of the Beholder
Elizabeth felt her heart pounding as she stared up at the young man standing in front of her, but for a different reason than it had been. He startled her and originally frightened her when he appeared, and she was still scared. But, this was a vastly different kind of scared.
Nearly every night since Peter had disappeared, she dreamed of his eyes. Cool, dark blue eyes looking at her with love, humor, and a hint of seriousness. The beautiful eyes of her only child.
Memories that she buried during the day so she could function as a human being came flooding back. Memories that she only allowed herself during the night. She had taught her son how to roll a quarter across his knuckles, and he would look up at her with those beautiful eyes as he weakly tried to copy her movements. Memories of the man who looked like her husband taking him in the night, promising that he had found a cure. Also promising to bring him back safely.
A promise broken. Until now.
She never had given up hope, even though she was told that Peter had drowned on the other side. She couldn't allow herself to believe that. Not after everything Peter had gone through. To die in a strange alternate universe, kidnapped by a man who looked like his father—it wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible.
Walter had given up hope, angrily took it on face value. Not her. The one time she expressed her belief that somehow and somewhere Peter was still alive out loud, Walter angrily told her to let go of that dream (although Elizabeth could see the deep sorrow and flicker of hope behind the anger in his eyes.)
Along with the flooding memories were images. What kind of life he lived. Sometimes at night, after Walter had fallen asleep, Elizabeth would write down her dreams in the journal. Dreams of a growing Peter, surrounded by people who loved him. She often wondered what sort of people were raising him, wishing she could get in touch with him. She wondered what he was doing.
Her son. Her Peter. She could recognize him anywhere. Even though the physical image of Peter faded from her memory until every boy, and then man, around his age became her son in her dreams. Despite his protests that he was from another timeline and wasn't actually her son. He was her son. It didn't matter what timeline he came from, what universe he came from.
He was still her son. His eyes had never changed. They were cool, dark blue, looking down on her with love, humor, and a hint of seriousness. And with sadness.
Her pounding heart leapt into her throat. All her dreams, all her beliefs were realized. In some universe, her son lived to be a man. Although she knew she couldn't hold onto him, he had briefly come back to her.
It made all those years apart from Peter hurt all the more. But, it was a lovely ache.
Despite his protests, this young man standing in front of her was her Peter. His eyes proved that.
End
A/N: Just a short one-shot. What an episode! Too bad more people don't watch Fringe. It's getting less and less optimistic for season 5, so I'm just going to enjoy this show while we've still got it. So, hope for the best, but anticipating the worst. But, seriously, people don't know what they're missing by not watching this show.