DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything

AN: I am sorry for making you guys wait so long for the first chapter! hehe...my bad.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADUE:


SO PAINT IT BLACK AND TAKE IT BACK

"I know what it takes to move on,
I know how it feels to lie,
All I wanna do
Is trade this life for something new,
Holding on to what I haven't got"
~~Waiting for the End by Linkin Park

Chapter 1: Waiting for the End

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March 2014

28 Years Later

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Boston, Mass.

"Liv, did you find Etta?" Peter yelled upstairs to his wife, "I know she's around here somewhere."

He chuckled to himself, while shaking his head when he heard giggles coming from the stairs and Olivia's mumbles as she shadowed the low muffled giggles from the little girl. Before shrieks could be heard from the little girl where she was hiding; footsteps fell hard on the floor, sounds echoing down to Peter. The pitter-patter of steps had fallen louder as the four-year old girl rounded the corner on top of the stairs.

Peter had a mini-heart attack, "Etta wait—" his feet carrying him over to the bottom just as Etta slipped on a stair, pull-vaulting her into the air where Peters awaiting arms hung. Her curly blond pigtails bouncing around her, "Hey there—speedy Consolas." He whispered to his daughter to calm her fight from the fall.

"Peter!" Olivia's voice rang out in panic of the little girls scream before her footsteps came to the stairs. The sight in front of her halting her where she stood, a sly smile placed on her lips at the scene below.

"She's alright!" He shot at her with his usually toothy grin, before smiling down at Etta, "You missy—need to learn to be better at sneaking." He says before he started to tickle the little girl's side. Burst of laughter fell out of her mouth, "S-stop daddy; stop!" Etta wiggled and twisted in his hands.

"Daddy will only stop for those who don't try and run down stairs," Olivia preached to the little girl as she made her way to the pair, "Isn't that right?" She questioned her husband.

"Well, I do believe you are right, Mommy." He slanged back to her, before leaning in to kiss his wife on the lips.

"Ew." Henrietta commented on it, "That's ewwy." Before burying her eyes away from her parents into Peters shoulder.

"Oh no you don't," Olivia said good nurtured to her child. She always loved these moments with Etta…before Peter, Walter and she headed off to deal with the unimaginable and unexplained. She would never exchange these moments for those. Never.

"No!" Etta squealed with excitement and mock-fear.

Olivia's phone rang off in the kitchen freezing the trio in place as it signaled a phone call coming in. She looked at Peter which he knew that this was time to get his father. A new case awaited them.

She raced for the phone all business like. Peter stopped his torments on his daughter to sling her over his shoulders, "Come on Etta—let's get ready for the day." As he huffed up the stair, taking two at a time, "No bath time!" Etta squealed with joy of not having to bathe—yet.

Olivia shook her head at the comment as she answered the call, "Bishop." She smirked on the inside at the name. It took a lot of convincing on Peter's part to change it. Though on the inside, she was delighted that he wanted to share it with her—to become a Bishop. They had come a long way in such a short time.

"Bishop," Agent Broyles commanded over the phone. He had that kind of voice, "We have a situation."

"Where?" She answered short, her ears picking up laughter from upstairs. Seems like Etta wants to play more, she mused.

"Downtown. Grab Dr. Bishop and meet me over there." He said shortly then hung up. Agent Broyles wasn't someone who would stay on the phone just to 'chat'; he got down to business quickly and efficiently then hung up. It was how he got where he was in the FBI: Fringe Division.

Peter made his way into the kitchen with Etta still in giggles, over his shoulder—dressed and ready to go, "So?"

"Downtown." She said short to him. They both knew they didn't want Etta to know too much of what they do—in too much details. They wanted her to at least have somewhat an undisturbed childhood—as much as humanly possible in their line of work. She turned her attention to the bundle over his shoulder, "So munchkin—you ready to see your Auntie Astrid?"


They made it in record time after dropping off Etta with Astrid and picking Walter from his lab which he was staying at for the time being since the last case frightened him so. They had kept Etta away from knowing why Grandpa wasn't in his guest house in the backyard. Both Peter and Olivia thought it would be better for Walter to be close with the family.

"How is little Etta?" Walter asked the parents as they drove through the busy streets of downtown Boston, "she loved it when we went to the carnival." He rambled on, as the others smirked about how Walter's good nature talking was always a good sign.

"She's good, Walter, she's good." Peter answered his father, a smirk on his face. He turned in his seat, "She was asking about you…she kept asking, 'where's grampy?'" he chuckled before looking over to his wife who smiled softly as she drove.

"Really?" He wavered in his rambles, "Well—well, I guess once this situation is all cleared up, we-we could go home." he stated with declaration.

The couple sent knowing glances at one another. They knew that he would do anything that had to do with Etta; he would do in a heartbeat to see the girl smiling brightly at him. When Walter had found out about Olivia's pregnancy, he made sure that she was welcomed into the family properly. And when Walter found out that she was having a baby girl—he went into a mode that rivaled Peters in the area of being protecting.

They found a parking spot once they saw the crime scene up ahead. They gathered their equipment and made their trek to the new horror that was awaiting them ahead.

"So…what do we got?" Olivia asked Agent Broyles as he made his way over to the trio. He stood tall, his bald head shinning in the morning sun.

"What we got is nothing but otherworldly. A person's head gets sliced off his body with no apparent reason—only leaving his head to roll into a crowd of tourists." His hand gesturing to the group of people gathered by a police vehicle.

"Well, you go to love the irony of dramatic displays." Walter piped in, sidestepping Agent Broyles to go farther to the body. Blood spatters were dried on the pavement around the body. The poor guy's head was found by the tail of blood that escaped the man's neck as it rolled. Walter mumbled to himself about different facts and tidbits of the world as he went about his work.

The trio looked on, shaking their heads at Walters's ways, "Anything else?" Olivia inquired from her boss.

"Yes, the woman over there—." Broyles pointed to the group again but signaled out a woman with fluffy red hair, her eyes wildly looking around, "She had the unfortunate event of having the man's head roll onto her foot. Miss Lauren Lubor. Age 21. Also as far as we found…there's no ID on the body, and we aren't getting any hits from finger prints. I'll go talk to her, you two help Dr. Bishop with anything he needs. "

She nodded to him before he walked to the group. She turned to Peter, "Do these cases get any less weird?"

He chuckled, "I seriously hope not. It would make this a lot more boring." They made their way to the headless body where Walter was looking it over, "You find anything?" He asked his father.

"Well…yes. Yes, this cut was clean through the bone. There are no jagged marks around the wound…where's Astro?" Walter asked.

"Walter...she's babysitting Etta. You know this." He told his father, wearily. He knew sometimes his father could circle a drain about things, "And yeah. Of course there would be no jagged marks—there was nobody around the guy." He stated to the scientist. He eyes surveyed the crime scene around, looking for anything that could do it. But he came up with nothing.

Walter simply nodded, "Yes. Yes. That is correct. I—I will need to get the body back to the lab for further analysis."

"Where's the head?" Peter asked Olivia, looking again for it, "Has anyone seen a head?" He asked louder to the mix of FBI and police officers.

"There." Olivia stated, pointing just over Walters shoulder.

Peter nodded, then made his way over to it. Once he got to it he crouched down over it. The guy's eyes were still frozen in the state of terror and shock, blood—long dried has around the sever point and in the John Doe's mouth. As he looked at it more, Peter's eyes widened a little more. I can't believe this, he thought astounded. He chuckled, "Olivia!"

She made her way over to him once she made sure that Walter was in the back of the medical examiners vehicle safely. She asked him what the matter was; for his mouth was shocked with a lopsided smile, "what?" she repeated, thinking that Peter had definitely lost his mind.

He chuckled like a man that made money on the potluck. Maybe he did. He straightens up for his crouched position, "I know this guy."

"What one of your weird connections?" Olivia shot back at him.

"No, but they are somehow always a little weird." He smirked, remembering their last time they had this conversations a couple of years ago. God, was it only a couple of years, Peter thought, it felt like a lifetime.

She smirked as well, telling him that she remembered that conversation as well.

"His name is Robert Jenson, he was on the run, and skipped out on bail. He was supposed to be in jail but the woman never really caught him—thank to my-oh so wonderful life before…." His eyes light with the memory of it.

"Do you think she'll help us? She must have known what he was running from." She asked.

"Ohh," He chuckled lightly, "the last time we saw each other…it didn't end up so well." His hand raked through his dark hair, "but she does owe me a favor."


StoryBrooke, Maine

"Jones." Emma's eyes slanting across the table to the pirate as he slid into the booth.

She was having a nice morning so far. The light was shining, and the birds where singing—nobody was trying to kill her family or cast another curse on the town…so it was going to be a good day. She had no problems so far in Storybrooke since coming back from Neverland so many months or so. Who can really tell with this small towns longing days? She had effectively dodged Neal for two weeks now since he came back. It's not that she was glad that he was…alive—she was just starting something with a now non-handless more than handsome pirate (the hand was a gift of peace from Gold). He came back expecting that they would be together, since the 'I love you' exchange. But she doesn't know if he was what she wanted anymore.

Which brings this conundrum to light, can't you see it?

She was ready to pull her hair out of her head, staying up late from going back and forth between the two—what both of them mean to her, what each of them are to her.

"Well hello, love." The Captain's Irish lilt blew to her. She had to tell herself to get under control as shivers tried to crawl their way up her back. He was still wearing his goddam pirate outfit, stating that it fit his personality better. HIS PERSONALITY.

Which is totally true, for it does work wonders for him.

"Shouldn't you be, you know, thieving or pillaging?" She shot back at him.

Killian broke out in a smile by her comeback at him. He liked to ruffle her feathers, and get under her skin—which to him wasn't that hard to do, apparently. He was nervous. Nervous of having Baelfire back in his Swans life. Of course if she would say one word about being together with Bae, he would step aside. Yet, he had saw her avoid him with expertise that made him proud and told him she probably didn't feel that much anymore for the boy, "Oh come on love, that's hurtful." He pouted to her.

She laughed bluntly at his overreacting self, "Okkaayyy…then shouldn't you be looking for a woman to go to bed with?" Her gut wrenched at the thought of him being with another other than her, but she clamped it down tight making sure that it didn't show on her face.

"Yes I did that; but she's been too busy avoiding people as of late." He stared right into her eyes so she can't mistake it for anyone else.

"Killian," she broke down, "I—" Her phone vibrated on the table, which she sighed inwardly ass her silent prayer being answered. Her eyes floated back to the brilliant blues she already lost herself to once before-, "I have to take this…so…"

But Killian had no intentions of moving until she had a real conversation with him. He missed their talks—their late night stargazing—late night love making—, "I'm not leaving, love."

She looked around the small diner—her eyes searching for someone to come to her rescue. Seeing no one she sighed in defeat feeling Killian's smile in triumph against her skin, "Fine," she answered her phone, "Swan." She stated sternly, feeling her anger boil (and something else) over as Killian's leg rubbed against hers underneath the table. She turned away from his taunting gaze to watch Storybrooke folks go about their day through the glass window.

"Is that really anyway to speak to an old friend?" Peter's voice rang out.

Emma froze in place and Killian got worried that something must have happened to her family, but he hoped to God it wasn't, "What do you want?" Emma knew she should have checked the number before answering, it always ended up like this. She felt Killian's worried eyes on her, but she waved them away.

"I need to cash in my favor."

"Okay." She had to keep the conversation short, she didn't need anyone to start looking at her weird. Especially Killian.

"You remember Robert Jenson?" He questioned.

"Yes." She answered through clenched teeth. He remembered him well, the slimy fuck got through her fingers. With the help of the one and only: PETER BISHOP.

"Well he's dead. His head got sliced off clear by something that look invisible."

"Okay. That's all good and dandy—but why does this matter to me?" She asked as Ruby came out of nowhere and place a hot chocolate with cinnamon in front of her. She smile ruefully at the woman for not coming her minute of help. Ruby only smirked, knowing.

"I need your help. That's my favor."

Emma took a sip, contemplating what she should say to this, "I'm no longer a bails person, Bishop," She says as Killian's eyebrow quirk up which she ignored painfully, "So get to the point."

"You help us with this…I won't ever bother you again. K Em?" Peter descaled out.

She bit her lip, mowing it over, "Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"K you—"

She hung up before he could say another sentence. Emma rubbed her temple, feeling a headache brewing there, "I have to go." She states throwing down some money for her hot chocolate, mading her way out of the booth.

"We aren't finished here, love." Killian began to argue with her. She wasn't going to escape so easily from him. Not went she was this close to him.

"Okay. So bother me when I'm off duty, "She states, not even looking behind her, "I got something to take care of till then."

"Fine, love. BUT WE WILL TALK ABOUT THIS!" He yelled after her.