It's just a miracle they've all lived through, now. As if they haven't before, but this time it's different; they all feel how it's different. More of a finality to it, a solidness lacked in their previous apocalypse-preventing maneuvers.
But somehow, in a calm, carefree way, they all feel it. The fight is over, the war is won. Their waged battles weren't for naught, they reached the impossible outcome they all dreamed of.
Olivia doesn't know when she's aware of her feet on the ground again, but the second she is she's running, straight into Peter's open arms and hoping to never come out of them again.
They have lost many in their fight, and none will be forgotten. Broyles, who fought with his damnedest until his very last second; September, who was the only of his kind left to ever understand the meaning of love; William Bell, who appeared in many forms with many motives but never seemed to fail them.
And even though none of them escaped the bruises and the pain of war, the scrapes are only superficial scars of the long-lived and finally ended.
The next person to seek them out is Etta, their beautiful daughter, their own little miracle. She's swallowed into the embrace between her parents, everyone sobbing and smiling and exchanging (I love you)'s.
And, just like a day so very long ago, Astrid and Walter watch on as the family is whole again, as teary-eyed as before, seeming to ground each other in the moment.
When Etta breaks out of her parents' grasp, they let her go, knowing they are not her only family anymore and being completely okay with that. She's in Simon's arms next, her partner at first surprised but soon wrapping himself around her. He presses a kiss into the hair at the top of her head, and then she looks up to return it on his lips. It's short but meaningful and promising, and only the beginning of a long, happy life together.
Eventually, everyone just looks on the rest of the group, astounded and speechless that (they did it), they actually survived and won. After a moment, everyone just laughs happily and more tearful and warm hugs are exchanged, no one left out and no one forgotten.
Peter breaks the moment, not too soon but not soon enough, and asks that they observe (and yes, he does laugh only slightly at his word choice) a moment of silence for their fallen comrades.
No names or words are spoken here, but they are said over the rest of their lifetimes and that seems enough.
When they finally gather themselves and find the strength to leave this place, this monument to everything worked towards in the past twenty-eight years (though that time seems inaccurate for some, seeing as twenty of those years were lost in amber), Peter and Olivia join hands and lead the group away. Walter stands close to his son, Astrid on his arm and a hand on the shoulder of a boy he can now truly call his own. Etta lets Simon wrap a protective arm around her waist while still holding tight to her mother's free hand.
The four members of the original Fringe team, as well as the two newer additions, walk away from their final battleground, one where they lost lives and saved them; and, for now, no one dares look back.
