Olivia glared over the sights of her pistol at the Observer, while everyone else in the hotel room freaked out.
Past-Peter seized the lamp from the nightstand by the bed and crouched beside his father protectively, seemingly prepared to beat someone senseless, whether The Observer or his future (present?) self, she couldn't tell.
Walter bounced up and down on the bed and clapped his hands in childish joy.
"Oh, this is the best trip ever!" he exclaimed.
Present (future?) Peter reeled in agony as his memories rearranged themselves to include this odd incident in his past.
Olivia understood now. The migraines had not been a direct effect of the Cortexiphan treatments. They were a symptom of someone moving through time and treating her past - and her memories of it - like they were a child's messy room, to be rearranged whenever the adults felt like it.
Every time a change was made to her past, her memories rearranged themselves. No wonder she had headaches.
She briefly considered simply shooting The Observer here, in the past, and accepting whatever the consequences would be. Olivia was tired of being manipulated.
"Olivia, what the hell is going on?" said both past and present iterations of Peter, in unison. Then they glared at each other.
Finally, The Observer spoke.
"I am not...messing around with his mind." Baldy actually sounded hurt at the accusation.
"No, not directly, but you've rearranged events in his past, and consequently his memory of them in the present. Just like you do to me."
Past Peter looked around warily.
"Olivia, I have no idea what you're talking about, but I think Walter must have dosed up with something..."
The Observer used her moment of distraction to make himself and Present Peter disappear again.
"What the hell was that about?" Peter demanded.
Peter and The Observer had reappeared in the park by the Charles River. It was night, and Peter had no way of telling whether it was past, present or future.
He didn't really care, because he was as pissed off as he'd ever been in his life. And he was still naked.
September turned away and started walking beside the river. Peter followed and continued to pepper him with questions.
"Is what Olivia said, true? Have you been manipulating her memories? Is that why everyone forgot about me? Can I get some clothes? Have you just fucked up a Christmas Carol scenario?"
The Observer stopped and turned around, stiffly.
"You are annoying." he announced, like it was news.
Peter caught his shoulder, preventing him from turning away.
"Tell me what's going on!"
September looked him up and down.
"For some time now, I have been attempting to fix the mistake I made, by distracting Walternate from finding the cure to your childhood disease."
September pulled an old fashioned pocket watch from his pants, checked the time.
"The difficulty arises from the fact that actions have consequences. Every change I make, causes unforeseen changes to the timeline, driving it further and further away from it's original path. I did not know it at the time, but both the Bishop and Dunham bloodlines are necessary to my continued existence."
Peter raised an eyebrow.
"What are you saying?", he asked, suspiciously.
"I am your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-"
The Observer gasped a breath, before continuing.
"-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson."
September stood panting and looked up at his distant ancestor.
Peter didn't look at all surprised.
"Black sheep." he muttered.
September looked at his pocket watch again.
"I have an important meeting to attend. This is what you would call your present, or near enough. I will contact you..."
September didn't see the fist that collided with his slack jaw and snapped his head to the side. The Observer spun completely around and flopped stiffly to ground, unconscious.
Peter glowered down at his annoying descendant. Then he smirked.
"Finally, some clothes." he said.
Olivia's consciousness snapped back into her present day body, and she opened her eyes and looked around. She was still sitting on the bench in the park by the river. It was night, so some time had definitely passed, while she had moved her awareness back to the past.
She groaned and leaned forward to put her head in her hands, fighting nausea. Another migraine was threatening, as her memories rearranged themselves to insert the one she'd just added. Olivia guessed she had about half an hour before it took full hold and made the most trivial of tasks agonizing.
She took several deep breaths to calm herself, and looked about for the shimmering path. It was not far away. She sighed and clutching her weapon, set off toward the lab.
Peter Bishop lurched though the night towards the lab, carrying a naked Observer over his shoulder. Wearing September's poorly fitting grey suit, shirttails hanging, tie askew, fedora threatening to fall off his head, he looked like a reject from a Laurel and Hardy movie.
The effects of Thiopental and a lack of Red Bull were taking their toll. Each step was harder than the last, as a coma threatened to send his consciousness into oblivion.
Peter was dimly aware of the occasional Harvard student pointing and laughing at them. It was a weekend, and they apparently assumed that he and his naked companion were simply two drunken frat boys.
With a prodigious effort of putting one foot in front of the other, Peter eventually found himself at the outer door of his father's lab. He lunged through the door and stood swaying.
"I'm home, everybody!" he announced, drunkenly. Lincoln Lee and Astrid rushed to assist him, while Walter merely looked relieved.
The Observer woke at that moment, looked around at the interior of the lab, like an automaton.
"Put me down." he said.
With Lincoln's assistance, Peter put September back on his feet, and everyone stood looking at each other until Olivia burst through the doors into the lab.
Peering through a migraine-induced haze, she was startled by the image of a man in a grey suit before her, and raised her gun.
"You bastard!" she hissed.
Lee hit her arm just before she fired, deflecting her shot. The bullet ricocheted off several of the brick walls inside the lab, until it pierced September's chest.
The Observer stared down at the bloody hole in his chest.
"Not again." he said.