A/N: Could it be? I updated twice in the same month? Blasphemy! As always, I do not own Fringe or the song "Feeling Good"!

Enjoy!

Girl with the Broken Smile Chapter 6

The more Olivia thought about the Peter situation, the more confused she became. After Walter's distressed phone call, it became very apparent that there was no friend that needed help moving. While she wished that she was wrong, she couldn't deny the evidence that was becoming clear as day; Peter had lied… Or there was something more serious going on. Either way, it wasn't looking good.

Before she'd left her apartment that morning, she'd made sure to grab the CD Peter had gifted her the previous night and add it to her now growing collection in her car. She hadn't thought much of it when she popped it into the player earlier, but now the music wafting through the stereo wasn't offering the slightest bit of comfort.

"Birds flying high

You know how I feel

Sun in the sky

You know how I feel

Reeds driftin' on by

You know how I feel"

He could've gone back to gambling, her inner voice sneered. In truth, it was a viable option. However, even if he had, Peter was a good liar and knew how to be inconspicuous. If he was trying to cover something up, he wouldn't have been this sloppy. No, she decided, he wasn't gambling again and it probably wasn't a con for that matter. Olivia knew more than anyone that he'd shut the door of his questionable past tight and thrown away the key. He was a better man now, a man she was proud to call her partner and confidant. The Kresge building soon came into view and Olivia made her way to the parking lot. She needed to talk to Walter, now.

"It's a new dawn

It's a new day

It's a new life

For me

And I'm feeling good"

No, she disagreed with the song, she was not feeling good about this.

Not one bit.

FringeFringeFringe(insert glyph)FringeFringeFringe

"Walter, stop! Getting upset right now won't help anyone," Olivia overheard Astrid say through the door.

Her arrival went unnoticed; Walter was an absolute wreck, clutching his hair and frantically walking all over the lab. Astrid, on the other hand, was desperately trying in vain to get him to calm down. Since joining Fringe Division, Olivia had seen Walter in various stages of panic before, but this… This was nothing short of pure hysteria. He didn't even seem to be able to register any of what Astrid was saying, just constantly pacing back and forth and muttering indistinguishable words under his breath.

It was pitiful.

"Hey," Olivia called once she couldn't take the unraveling scene anymore.

"Agent Dunham! Any word from Peter?" Walter desperately asked as he ran to her.

"Nothing yet, I tried his cell phone a few times on the way over and he never answered." She replied.

"Something's happened to him, I can feel it!"

"Walter, we don't know anything yet now will you please-"

"Exactly! We know nothing! He could be lying in a ditch somewhere and we'd never even realize it until it was too late!"

"Do you want me to call Broyles?" Astrid piped up.

"No, not until we have anything solid. We need to be sure that something has in fact happened before we get the FBI involved. For now, we should keep trying to get in touch with Peter. If we don't hear from him after 4 hours, then we'll call Broyles." Olivia said, although her spiel did little to calm Walter's nerves. After a few minutes of arguing with him, Olivia stepped into her office, needing a break from the chaos. After a couple minutes of doing a few yoga breaths she pulled out her phone.

"Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up," She whispered into the receiver.

"You've reached Peter Bishop, this better be good. Beep."

Dammit!

She dialed again.

Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up.

FringeFringeFringe(insert glyph)FringeFringeFringe

"How 'bout we take a break, my arm is getting a bit tired."

"If you insist," Peter panted. Although he down played it as much as he could, Peter was relieved. For the past however many hours he'd been locked in the room, Chris had really done a number on him. His lip was split, his left eye was nearly swollen shut, a few of his ribs were definitely cracked, and he strongly suspected that he had a mild concussion. Despite being about seven or so years younger than his father, Chris could really pack a punch. If this was how much damage he could do as an older man, Peter didn't even want to think about what he was capable of twenty years ago.

"So'd Olivia ever tell you about our time together when she was a kid?" Chris asked as he pulled up a chair and sat in front of him.

"She may have mentioned it once or twice," Peter said.

"Is that so? How much did she tell you?"

"Enough,"

"I'd be willing to bet every penny in my name that she only told you about half,"

"What are you getting at?

"You know Olivia, one could say that she's a bit selective about how much she's willing to spill,"

"Why are you so sure she hasn't told you everything?" Peter countered.

"I've been watching you for a year now, Peter. Given the way you look at my little girl, you'd have torn me apart the second you knew who I was." Chuckled darkly.

"And who says I don't want to do that already?"

Chris leaned forward and flashed Peter a sinister smile.

"You know what? I think I should enlighten you on a few details sweet Olive may have left out. Originally, I wasn't going to tell you, but now, I think a story may do you some good,"

"Wouldn't count on it,"

"Well for starters, she didn't always hate me. No sir, in fact it wasn't until after I became part of the Dunham household that her opinion changed. I remember the day I met Olivia and her sister. I'd only been with Marilyn for a few weeks or so when it became very clear how desperate she was for a man in her life. I came over for dinner one night and met the girls. Olivia was probably around six or so and I remember thinking 'my God, she's perfect', which was strange since before that moment, wasn't exactly fond of kids. So that night, I did what any guy trying to impress a pretty girl would do, made her laugh and showed her a magic trick or two. Marilyn told me later after she'd put the girls to bed that little Olive hadn't laughed like that since before her father died."

Peter turned his head away, he didn't want to hear anymore. Yet Chris continued as if his captor was listening intently.

"I came over a bunch after that and Olivia learned to be comfortable around me, once she even decided to show me how good she was at reading. Although, it confused and surprised her when I stopped being "Mommy's good friend Chris" and instead became "Daddy". In a way, that was probably what kick started her negative opinion of me. But it didn't form into full on hatred until I 'corrected' her mother for the first time,"

"I've heard that part of the story,"

"Figured as much, she probably blamed it on the booze as well, when actually, it was only about half or it. Do you wanna know why I drank so much?"

"Not particularly,"

"You see," Chris began. "Shortly after I met the girls, started having these feelings, thoughts… urges about little Olive."

Peter's head snapped up.

"That got your attention, didn't it?" Chris chuckled in enjoyment at Peter's horrified expression.

"Any way, where was I? Oh yes, the drinking. At first, the thoughts scared me, as you can probably imagine. I knew it was unnatural for a grown man to be thinking such things about a little girl, yet I couldn't help it. However, the more I tried to repress them, the stronger the urges would become. Before long, I was blowing through a case or two of beer a day just to deal with the guilt. But wouldn't you know, getting shitfaced everyday did nothing to get rid of my little problem. If anything, it made it stronger. And after about a year or so, I didn't feel bad about it at all. I figured I'm going to hell anyway, might as well enjoy the ride, if you know what I mean. Well, Olive was getting older and prettier; as some would say, she became the apple of my eye. Of course she was always stubborn as hell and from time to time, I'd need to 'correct' her. However, no matter how much of a brat she'd be, she never stopped being a fixation for me."

Behind his back, Peter clenched his fists tightly.

"I wanted her, bad. And you know what else? It was the littlest things that would really get my blood flowing; the way her lips would stain after eating cheap candy, the flash of her eyes after I'd correct her or Marilyn, the smell of her hair…" He inhaled deeply for emphasis. "All of that and more! Olivia was a perfect little princess, and above all, she was all mine."

That was enough, Peter didn't know how much more of Chris's fucked up tale he could handle before he got sick.

"When she was about eight or nine; just looking and whacking one off wasn't enough anymore. So once in a while, I'd let myself indulge a bit. And as she got older, God, it got so much better! Fuck, I'm getting hot just remembering it. Tell me, Peter, do you think the skin between her thighs is still as soft as it was twenty years ago?" He winked.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Peter shouted. All coherent thought left his brain as he fiercely struggled against the think wire that bound him to the cold metal chair. He was going to kill this sadistic bastard even if it was the last thing he ever did.

"Alright, Peter. Now I just spilled my guts to you. Don't you think it's time you do the same for me?"

"Not a chance, asshole."

"Shame,"

And with that final word, he got up and kicked over Peter's chair. Satisfied with the sickening crack of his head against the cold floor, Chris bent over and checked Peter's pulse. Sure enough, he was still alive.

Silly boy, he thought and turned to leave.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I'm midway through drafting chapter 7 so it should be up soon:) Also I improvised on the page breaks because I'm having a formatting issue, hope you don't mind. As always, please make sure to drop a review, even if you hated it! I live for all of your thoughts.