Ficbit. Unbetaed. Writteninpost.
Fringe Ficlet: Something Here Before Me
Now there's something here before me
A figure, I think
Isn't there a warning
Or something to drink
My god, my god
- 'Infinite Arms' Band of Horses
She stands there, transfixed.
Not by any awesome moment — it is actually very anticlimactic, once Peter puts his other hand up there. Olivia expects a loud noise or bright light, an explosion, another tremor, something to signify things are working, he's finally there. But then she sees his body arch and a cry bleed from his lips, and she feels like she's been punched in the stomach, all the air pushed from her lungs.
The cry lasts a second longer than she'd like. It dies off, an echo bouncing down a tunnel, and then he's silent. Still. Her eyes begin to burn, and Olivia clasps her hands, pressed together as if praying, to her mouth. Please, God… Tears leak from her eyes but she won't look away, won't even blink, not until he's out of there and in her arms.
Then something jolts him, and she's terrified the machine will kill him, despite the best guess of Sam Weiss, and she chokes down a sob that nearly breaks through. Bites her bottom lip. Stands still and listens to the hum of the machine, watches the blue lights that swirl through ancient designs, the sirens outside in the harbor.
In here, the air is still.
Olivia suddenly feels coiled, ants crawling along her limbs, and if she doesn't move, she'll disintegrate, vibrate right apart into little Olivia-particles, and then she can hold him while he's up there and oh, God, is someone supposed to arch like that?
This time, the sob makes it past her lips, a low, broken sound.
It fills the chamber, presses in against her, and she doubles over, clutching her stomach, head still tilted up to keep an eye on him. She said she loved him. All the optimism in the world can't reach her, now, so she keeps praying in her head, a constant litany of begging she's too proud to say out loud.
A hand slips over her back, around her shoulders, and Olivia is pulled upright and into Walter's side; he clutches her like she's a life-preserver, the only thing keeping him afloat in a turbulent sea, and she realizes they're both drowning, both going under, into the black, the sun a dot above them.
She floats down, blond hair fanning out around her, allowing herself to sink. Farther and farther. Walter keeps a hold on her hand, and she marvels at how clearly she can see him. He's younger, like in those photos of him she first saw all those years ago. He isn't broken, but isn't Walternate, either. He's happy, smiling. Then his face changes, and are they in the lake? She can't make anything out, and panics when Peter's figure above the water begins to dim.
Olivia flails, comes back to herself. Walter has her head tucked against him and is soothing down her hair, murmuring to her under his breath. But not. She hears his prayer, over and over, and opens her mouth to join him.