It was early the next morning when he got to the lab, so Peter picked up coffee on the way in. He slid one of the three cups, the one with milk and extra sugar, next to Walter's hand and smiled as he watched Walter take it and drink without ever once looking away from his computer screen.

"I don't dare ask what's coalescing inside that head, dad?"

Walter jumped microscopically, smiling at him with a tilt of his head and sipping again.

"Good morning, son. How long have you been here?"

"About ten seconds. Got in to Logan late last night. Why are you here so early?"

"We're moving in," Walter's eyes went back to the screen as he nodded toward the far wall. Peter saw movement in Walter's office – an arm, a piece of fabric waving, followed by tapping sounds of hammer on nail.

"You're going to live in the lab?"

"Yes, the better to be at Olivia's virtual fingertips when she needs us. It's either that or pack for New York, which I … can't do. Ingrid!" Walter shouted, setting down the coffee as Astrid popped her head out of the doorway. "Peter's here. Come join us so we can reconnoiter."

"I'd be out there already if you'd helped me with these ...drapes." Astrid said, leaving the 'damned' out. "Which, by the way, weren't even my idea, were they, Walter?"

"It's not 1939 and a motor car accident has not left us stranded in a cabin in the woods," Walter barked, voice rising. "We have department stores and they stock niceties, and if I'm going to ask you to live here with me then you will have a decent place to lay your head and some amount of privacy. Chivalry is not dead!"

"Yeah, well maybe chivalry can come help me with these fussy curtain rods before I pinch my fingers a third time."

She flipped the door shut and Walter watched it slam, chuckling.

"Can I tell you a secret, son? It's been a year since I've actually forgotten her name."

Peter sat with an elbow on the table and chin in hand and slowly shook his head.

"I do it because she'll miss it if I stop," Walter answered the unspoken question. "And, to be honest, I'm afraid she'll stop doting on me. And I'd miss that. A lot."

"You're a conundrum, dad." Peter pulled the lid off of his coffee and drank, and fixed a look on him that asked another unspoken question.

"I'm sorry," Walter said. "I have bad news. I finished modeling the possibilities for utilizing those Observer shipping containers as a tool against them and it's not going to work. There's no way we can travel in them to their Earth, their time."

"Why not?" Peter looked for any sign on Walter's face that suggested fudging, but he looked one hundred percent sorry to have to tell him.

"They encrypt every molecule inside the containers with a fiendishly complicated code." The frustration on Walter's face made Peter fully relax, convinced. "Astrid and I are working hard to crack it, but every simulation we run…

"What happens to improperly encrypted cargo?" Peter asked. "Like a stowaway?"

"I'd equate it to a malfunctioning transporter room," Walter flinched. "Body parts in the wrong places on the other end."

"So is it impossible for now? Or forever?" Peter asked and for the first time Walter looked like he didn't really want to answer.

"Nothing is impossible forever. Maybe down the road, we might, but…not this week or this month or even this year."

"Funny how every outlandish technology can be explained through Star Trek, isn't it?" Peter had clearly asked it to break the mood, and Walter smiled softly, grateful. "You really have to wonder if someone on that show wasn't a time traveler?"

"Please…" Walter said, fingers back on the keyboard, eyes on the screen. "You don't think Roddenberry was who he seemed, do you? That franchise has nothing to do with space travel. It's all about helping society adapt to the accelerating rate of technological development.

Peter stared at him for the longest time, trying to tell from the amused half smile still on his lips if Walter was kidding or dead serious, but he was re-absorbed in his task.

"I'm going to go check in with Astrid," Peter ran a hand over Walter's shoulder as he went. "And fill her in on the latest, okay?"

Walter waited a minute before he picked up his phone and called Olivia.

"He believed me," he said the moment he heard her hello. "I told him we haven't beat the code… and he believes me."

"I know this is hard," Olivia's voice was calming, patient. "But it's for a reason. We can't let him be the guinea pig for this, Walter. You do believe it's a fool's errand, still, don't you? The whole idea of trying to go beat them on their turf?"

"Yes," Walter nodded, as if she could see the certainty in the gesture through their phones. "There are too many variables. And the margin for error is absurd. The only way we win is with Occam's Razor: The simplest solution. What that is, I'm only sixty percent sure at this point."

"Then we're doing him a favor. We can't lose them both, can we?"

"No, my dear. I certainly can't. But I also don't want to be in the room if Peter ever finds out we've lied to him."

"Put it all on me," Olivia said. "If that happens… it's on me."

"Let's not worry about it now," Walter said. "We have bigger problems to talk about."

"What are you working on, Walter?" Peter asked.

The three of them were in the lab, now, Astrid on the computer, Peter and Walter sitting a few feet away and catching up with each other before Peter left for parts unknown in his search for his daughter.

"An escape plan," Walter said, doodling in a notebook. Peter watched over his shoulder, eyes following the swoop and curve of his father's pen hand. He knew those random doodles could look deceptively simple. "I have some thoughts on an 'out' for the human race if the Observers win round one."

"Do you think they will?" Peter asked, and felt a chill when Walter nodded.

"I called Olivia to warn her; I think the random attacks they've been launching are over. In a matter of weeks or even days it won't just be Paris they're occupying, it'll be London, L.A., Sao Palo, Beijing…"

"New York?" Peter asked.

"Yes, New York. And not random strikes – this time it'll be for good."

"Why are you so sure?"

"September has some inkling," Walter said, and then shrugged when Peter stared. "His status among his people may be in danger. His assistance to us has put him in a bad position, but still he hears things. It's not your problem right now, is it, son? Olivia told me you quit.

"Not quitting, Walter. Just focusing on Henrietta. I know you can understand."

"Yes," Walter said. "I do. And frankly, I've wondered…."

"Wondered what?" Peter asked, a hand going to Walter's pen hand to stop it.

"If your experience, if what you've been through - has it, maybe, enhanced your understanding of why I've done what I've done?

"Yes," Peter pulled his chair closer, pulled Walter in, and he heard Astrid's heels tapping away from them fast, headed for her 'room' as he hugged his father. "I'd accepted it already. Fully. But now, losing her and wanting her back like oxygen? I get it."

"This is why I bought the drapes," Walter sank into the embrace. "Can I please get some credit for knowing those were a good idea?"

Nineteen Hours Later

Olivia was very out when her phone rang. She gazed at the readout, and curled up under the blankets, sighing as she answered.

"What's up?"

"I need your help."

The starkness of the request and the chill in his voice were like a blast of cold water. Olivia went from a warm ball of sleep to sitting up and wide-awake.

"There's something in New York I need," she heard him say. "Now."

"Okay, so I'll have a courier….

"No!" Walter snapped, and Olivia could picture him willing himself to calm down, to rein it in. "It's too important, it can't be a courier. It has to be you. And Olivia… there's no time to spare. They're coming."