Olivia couldn't deny a second smile at the childish quip, watching Peter with warm eyes as he tried to safeguard the rest of his chocolate bar from Astrid. Every day he was becoming more and more like the Walter they wished had rightfully raised him. Neither men would be so indisposed today if there wasn't some alter-Walter somewhere else. Their Walter, despite his faults, his indiscretions, they couldn't exactly blame him. Olivia herself was prepared to go to the ends of the earth (or mind) and back again just to have that last conversation with John Scott, so why should Dr Bishop's cause be any different to that? He wasn't trying to reconnect with a traitor, he was convinced he was giving new life into his only child. And who could fault him there?

She wasn't even sure if Peter still hated the man for it. If he still hated himself. Because the truth was, he didn't have much time for a reaction. As soon as everything came to the forefront of everybody's attention, St. Claire's appeared to be his equivalent of the mute boy's foster home – forms were signed and he was swept away and drugged and practically forgotten quicker than he knew to defend himself. Tarred with the same brush as his father. His father with that disconnected lineage, that bloodline lie.

"Sir, you're not listening to me," Olivia demanded firmly and desperately, standing in front of Broyles' desk. He sighed, looking up from the drawn-up documents, already wet with the ink of his name. "If you lock him up in some – in some hospital – some mental institute we – we lose Walter as well. Our team? Gone. One won't work without the other. You know that!"

"Dunham," he said coolly, "I was already under the impression that Bishop wasn't prepared to work with his father anyway. They were always hostile time bombs, do you seriously think that they can learn to work around something like this?"

"I admit that it'll be hard," Olivia flustered, "But-"

"Look," he sighed again, trying to appear compassionate, or, at the very least, empathetic, "I know that losing Peter will be a massive blow to the fringe division and if that means losing Dr Bishop too then..." he sucked in a breath.

"Walter needs Peter, sir."

"We already cleared it that the Bureau itself can serve his guardianship – you knew that months ago."

"Then why can't we take Peter into custody too?"

"Because if he had a history of mental illness it would be much more simple, wouldn't it? I expect that you already know the same faction of the CIA Directorate of Science and Technology who came for that... bald child have information out on him. They're wanting me to turn him over to them, Dunham."

Olivia inhaled through her nose and shifted her feet on the floor. She was trying to keep a reign on her anger, knowing now that it wasn't fair if she were to blow up at Broyles for ultimately trying to protect Peter in the only way he knew fit.

When Peter finished his chocolate bar, he let Astrid without reproach take his hands into hers and clean his palms for him. Olivia had to envy the young woman because she fell into their new role gracefully. Of course it got to her, it got to everyone involved that he seemed to be wasting away here. And wasting away he was. There had never been an inch of fat on him before, but now he appeared too slim. Sometimes one of them would lift the hem of his hospital-issued shirt up out of curiosity, just to see if his ribs were still emphasised when he breathed. And it annoyed them – troubled them – that they couldn't be sure if he was getting adequate sustenance on the days that they weren't able to visit him.

But despite the obvious, the being here, Astrid was able to deal with everything in a dignified and selfless manner. For Olivia, visiting him alone was effort. And sometimes she wanted nothing more than to just hit a random bar in town and drink to his memory. But she knew that if it were the other way around, he would do this for her. She'd have issues keeping him away.

"What do you suggest? That we warn him, give him a little head start? That won't matter because they'll catch him when he runs. And in the unlikely event that they don't catch him? You can rest assured that he'll be running for the rest of his life."

"So, what? You expect me to lie my way through CIA interrogation? To that guy Eliot Michaels?"

"No one's asking anyone to lie," Broyles said with a hint of irritation. "And no one's against you here. Well, you won't find opposition from these quarters anyway. But yes, I'll be handing over whole reports on Peter's... deterioration. Hallucinations. Episodes."

"Halluca – episodes?" Olivia fumed, bringing her hands to rest solidly on his desk. "Sir, I am not going to be party to some underhand cover-up just to fast track him through undergoing psychiatric evaluation."

"If he isn't admitted immediately, Michaels' case isn't collapsible."

"You've as good as signed his rights away from him if you leave him to vegetate in that – in that hospital, sir," she added more gently, remembering that despite everything Broyles was still her superior. "How is that any different to-"

"Oh, believe me. He'd rather be a mental patient than a test subject."

"He'll be a test subject anyway! Or as good as."

"Agent Dunham, I don't care very much for your tone," he reminded her. "Now I've made my decision. Wouldn't you rather he was under supervised care in a place where you may visit him freely if you so wish? In a place where he'll reside indefinitely instead of being taken away to God knows where with God knows what being done to him for – well, forever?"

"Peter," she said, trying to take a leaf right out of Astrid's book and treat him less like a child even though they couldn't exactly ignore his new dependency on them. "I'm not trying to be cruel in any way but..."

Astrid glanced at her with wide eyes, remembering the last time they pushed the subject of the outside. Or of Walter. Or of St. Claire's. But he himself didn't seem to care. He didn't grunt, he didn't look away. He sat there stoically, much like he always did. Waiting for her to continue.

"We've been talking, Astrid and I, and we were wondering," Olivia started nervously, "If... you being here was... was working out?"

Peter shifted a little, weighing up the possibility that he may not have heard her correctly. He fought with himself not to sigh at her.

"I don't mean that how it sounds, of course you aren't content here. Who could be? But more specifically, if we just accept for the time being that you are here and that's that," she dropped her head sorrowfully, unable to address him if she had to look at that same impassive face again. "Do you think you're being cared for properly?"

"We're not asking for a medical opinion," Astrid jumped in quickly. "None of us are qualified to make such assumptions."

"But you should know yourself," Olivia continued, "if you're being handed meals and left to your own devices even when the nursing staff know that you have trouble... feeding yourself."

"Or going to the toilet," Astrid added gently, nodding to him. Watching him blush and then having to watch his lower lip quiver was probably one of the saddest things that would stay with her in life. Next to seeing Walter crying over that young boy's grave.

Olivia looked crestfallen, but at the same time she couldn't argue with that.

"I know this sounds callous," Broyles apologised softly as she straightened up away from his desk, clenching her jaw and folding her arms. "And trust me when I say that it wasn't the easiest decision I've ever had to call. But I honestly think it would be better if we were able to monitor him this way. For his sake as well as ours."

"If he did run away..." she prompted weakly.

"Let me ask you something," Broyles crossed his hands over his desk. "If he didn't receive medical... attention, if we sent him on his merry little way and told him to keep his head down because there were people outside of whatever gang he was initially hiding from out after him, if..." he paused, raising an eyebrow at her, "if he were left to deal with all of this information on his own – this reality news – do you think he would have the tools to cope? He always seemed a very self-destructive figure to me, especially when I first encountered him."

"He wouldn't do anything stupid," she said almost to herself, fearing immediately of suicide.

Broyles lifted a shoulder, "Who's to know?"

Olivia felt tears springing to her own eyes and she almost prayed that he were that same impassive person again. For some reason that impassivity seemed a hell of a lot more easier to deal with than having to sit beside him knowing that your words and your actions had reduced him to silent tears.

With much effort, Peter lifted a hand into his lap and plucked at the waistband of his pyjama bottoms so that the material made a snapping sound against his skin, "I have a catheter," he slurred, his tongue thick in his mouth. "And I don't like the feel of it."

Astrid gave him a watery smile.

"And I just want to be myself again, 'Livia."

Just to answer NightwishFan's Q, I have indeed seen the remake lol. I think I always sort of just kicked that last scene about my head - the idea of an otherwise strong (well) or flawed character being institutionalised and what that might be like for that person. And what with the Jackson link and the whole insanity of Walter I thought it might be an angle worth exploring for a while lol. So, yes, I too picture Peter as... Ben, was it? Minus the ghost, of course ;)