Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe or the song.

Author's note: Takes place during early season 3, when Olivia is in the alternate reality. The song this time is Nightwish's Rest Calm, which by the way is awesome.

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He came to her every night. Olivia crawled into bed after each day with the Fringe division, limbs heavy with exhaustion, but sleep would always elude her until he had visited her. She would lie wide awake, staring at the dark ceiling above her, and then he would be there. He was always dressed in black, his chin covered in short stubble and his eyes warm with affection. He was so familiar, so Peter that her heart filled with longing for him, even if she was not entirely convinced that he was real. She thought it was a good thing that Frank was in Texas though, since she was having conversations with someone who was most likely a figment of her deranged imagination.

He sat down, as usual, on the edge of her bed and so she scooted up until she was leaning against the headboard. She switched on the bedside lamp, so that she could see him properly, committing every aspect of his face to memory, just in case he did not return the following night. The bed dipped as he sat down and he felt reassuringly solid against her side. He smiled at her and she blushed a little, suddenly self-conscious about the white tank top she was wearing to bed.

"Who is Astrid?" Peter asked quietly, jumping straight into a line of questioning that had become a nightly habit for them.

"Agent Farnsworth works for the Fringe division," Olivia replied quickly, "she is a genius with her computer and handles all the statistical data within the division."

"No," Peter shook his head. "Who is the Astrid you really know?"

"I don't remember," Olivia frowned.

"You said Astrid here never seems to smile," Peter spoke, gently coaxing Olivia's thoughts towards the right memories. "So think about her smile? Can you remember Astrid who smiles?"

"Astrid works for the Fringe division," Olivia repeated, her brow furrowed. "She is good with computers and just about everything else. Someone keeps getting her name wrong and I think that makes her smile." The last bit was said with a great deal of hesitation.

"That's right," Peter nodded encouragingly. "Walter keeps calling her all manner of names, and yet he can always remember her surname. Now, do you remember who Walter Bishop is?"

"He is the Secretary of Defence, based on the Liberty Island," Olivia spoke slowly, already knowing that this was not the answer Peter was looking for, which made her dig deeper into her hazy memories. "He held me a prisoner and did experiments on me." Peter's eyes darkened with anger at her words, but he did not steer away from his questioning.

"Can you remember a different Walter Bishop?"

Olivia shook her head, which was beginning to ache from the effort of trying to remember all these half-buried memories that seemed utterly alien and so very right at the same time. She hated letting Peter down, but she simply could not recall anything further.

"All the memories are just sleeping within your consciousness," Peter assured her. "You have to find them so that you can go home. Does food in connection with Walter remind you of anything?" This stirred something within her.

"Walter hates butterscotch pudding, but likes ginger ale and strawberry milkshakes." Peter nodded for her to continue. "He has a lab, where he cuts up corpses and cooks his own drugs. And he has a cow in the lab." The last bit of information made her frown, as it seemed utterly illogical to have a cow in a basement laboratory. She yawned, the mental effort making her sleepy.

"One last question, Olivia," Peter said, his hand finding hers and squeezing it gently. "Who am I?"

"You are Peter Bishop, the only son of Mr Secretary and Elizabeth Bishop. You were kidnapped from your home in 1985." Peter nearly interrupted her, but she lifted her eyes to his and the certainty in them kept him silent. "Walter took you after his own son died and now you both work with the Fringe division."

"Anything else?" Peter asked.

"I'm in love with you." This made him smile.

Olivia slid down on the bed until she was lying down, fatigue threatening to overwhelm her. As she felt sleep tugging at the edges of her consciousness, she felt Peter lean forward and gently brush his lips against her forehead. He then turned his head slightly and with his warm breath sending tantalising shivers down her spine whispered in her ear:

"Rest calm, Olivia, and remember me."