Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe.
Chapter Seven
No one had been inside for years, because here, with this changed past, Walter hadn't been inside it since his wife had died. She noticed a slight shimmer to the air as she searched for an opening. The doors and windows were locked and closed, except for one. A window leading into the basement was broken, and if she cleared the glass shards away, she supposed she could slip inside.
The interior was unkempt from disuse, and her feet made depressions in nearly two inches of dust on the floor as she walked. The basement was filled with all sorts of machinery—apparently, Walter had transformed it into a makeshift laboratory. There was nothing that would be use to her down here, though, not unless there was a sensory-deprivation tank, of which it looked like there was none. She climbed the stairs, yanked open the door that led to the next level.
The furnishings told of someone who cared about their living space, and yet, it was strangely disjointed. The only pictures were of the Bishop couple, and yet, only in a few did the two look truly happy. It seemed that, without Peter, they were still just as dysfunctional as they had been with him. In the corner of what she assumed to be the living room, there was a piano covered by a sheet. It was strange, because as far as she knew, Walter did not play, and neither had his wife. The only Bishop who did was Peter, and yet, Peter did not exist here.
Before she could continue her search, her cell phone rang, and she froze. They'd been alerted that she'd escaped from the hospital; otherwise, they wouldn't have called her cell phone. But, she answered anyway, because she figured if they had something to offer to help, she'd take it, because she really had no idea what else to do. Peter didn't seem to be here.
It was Astrid. "Olivia, where are you? The hospital called us—why would you leave?"
"I needed to. I couldn't stay there any longer." She sighed, her free hand going up to run through her hair. "Listen, Astrid. There's someone I need to find."
"Olivia, the world is ending, and you're running around trying to find someone?" Astrid sounded uncharacteristically exasperated. Normally, she was always the voice of reason; the one who could always be counted on to be rational, even in the most stressful times.
"It's too hard to explain. But there's nothing I can do to help there, anyway."
"You sound different. What's going on? Why won't you let us help you?"
"Astrid…"
"Hold on a second. Broyles wants to talk to you."
One part of her wanted to hang up, if only to continue on her way, but another part of her didn't want to, if only to hang onto something that was familiar, that was friendly. Because now, she wasn't quite sure where this twisted path was heading, and she wasn't looking forward to going on with it alone.
"Dunham, there's no time for this. I'm not going to force you back into the hospital, but you need to get back here."
"I really would, but I can't."
"What is this about? Who are you looking for?" A pause, and then, "Is it Peter you're looking for? Astrid told us that you said his name when you woke up—who is he?"
"I can't get into it right now."
"I think with all that we've seen, I'm going to be able to understand whatever you're doing now."
Olivia snorted. "Sir, with all due respect, I don't think you can."
"You do know that we're not going to stop looking for you, don't you, Dunham? That we're trying to track your phone right now?"
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
"I hope your guy is worth is."
A half-smirk crossed her face, remembering those exact words coming from another's mouth, those few years ago. "He is."
Then, she ended the call, and tossed the phone to the floor. Her boot came down on it with a crunch, and it broke into pieces. There. Now she was completely alone; though, she was hoping for Peter to show up again, to lead her to him. It didn't seem as if this was going to be that easy. It never was.
The house held nothing of interest for her. Why had she come here in the first place? Why had she been so sure it was the next step? It had been a sort of innate feeling, and yet, it seemed as if her intuition had been wrong. She left through the front door, and got back into her car. She began to drive, if only for the illusion that she was headed somewhere.
A sign came up after a little while of driving—'Reiden Lake'. She knew that it was significant, and it wouldn't hurt to take a look. It looked as if the lightning storms hadn't quite made their way here just yet, and the air was calm. It was almost eerily quiet; the only sound the sweet tweeting of birds, and her feet as she trekked along the damp ground to the edge of the lake.
Her reflection stared back at her in the still water, slightly distorted by the surface. There was nothing here. How could she have thought it would be so easy, that she could just come here and Peter would be waiting for her? She leaned back on her heels, her hands deep in her pockets, and closed her eyes. Perhaps she could just stay here, just wait for the end of the world. Perhaps he wasn't real—she'd merely conjured up the memories, and she really was going crazy. Maybe it was just her mind's own attempt to cope with the end of the world.
She heard her name behind her, just a whisper at first.
"Olivia."
There was a loud crash of sound, as if the world had suddenly come back to life. Her eyes sprung open, but before she could even turn around, something cold was pressed to her temple. There was the sound of a gun being cocked, and then he asked,
"What is it that you said to me, the morning before I tried to enter the machine?"
"What's going on—?"
"Answer me!" His voice was harsh, but his tone also held quite a bit of hesitancy.
"I told you about the sunrise, that it's my favorite time of day."
She heard him sigh, then she was wrapped in a pair of arms that nearly crushed the breath from her.
"Oh God, Olivia. I'm sorry, I just needed to make sure it was you."
She felt disoriented; dizzy, as if she'd just woken from a too-short nap. But, the scent that filled her nose and the arms around her body were so very familiar, and without a second thought, she returned the embrace.
"Peter."
She wished they could've stayed like that for an eternity, because it felt so safe and right, but another loud crash brought them both back to the harsh reality. Peter held her at an arm's length, taking in her face—her wind-tousled hair, her reddened cheeks. He was the same Peter she'd always known, and yet, his eyes held something she'd never seen before. It was as if he'd grown old, and seen more than it would've been possible in his age. They held the same haunted look Walter's did; a look she knew that she must portray in a similar way as well.
"Mind telling me what happened?" she said, and the words came out jumbled between her lips, because her tongue could barely move through the shock. As a third crash sounded, he took her hand.
"I'll explain as much as I can, but not here." He couldn't help the smile that came across his face for a moment, before he pulled her with her, toward the road.
She was beginning to realize what must've happened on her own, as she took in the sight around them while their pace quickened. The sky was not the blue it had been just moments ago; it was an ugly gray, and the birds had ceased their singing.
He pulled her along to a car on the side of the road, and, he took the time to open the passenger door for her before bolting around the vehicle to the driver's side. As soon as they were both safely inside, he gunned the engine, and took off down the road with no concern for the speed limit.
"I'm not in our universe anymore, am I?" she asked, and her voice was quiet, almost calm, despite their situation.
Peter shook his head, his eyes hooked on the road. He feared if he took them off just for a moment to look at her, he would never be able to tear himself away. "No. I was just waiting near the lake—I didn't even know if you were going to be able to cross over or not. I couldn't believe it when I looked over and saw you standing there."
"This isn't the Other Side, though. Not the same one we've been dealing with all this time."
Again, he shook his head. "No. It's a third universe. I'm sorry about the gun—God, I'm sorry. But, when I first came here, I looked for you, because I had no idea where I was or what was going on. I found you, but it wasn't really you; it was another alternate. And, it turns out that, sometimes, our alternates are very different people. I had to make sure it was really you, 'Livia."
"I understand." She pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. "Peter, what the hell is going on? Why did you just…vanish?"
"I'm not sure." He looked over at her at last, and took her hand in one of his, relishing his tight grip on the steering wheel. "I've seen so much…I don't know why or how, but I've been traveling, Olivia. I've seen a lot."
"You came to me."
He nodded. "Yes. But it wasn't just then. When you were Over There—"
"That was you, too?" It made sense, now that she thought about it.
"Well, not me, physically. But, it was a manifestation of my consciousness. We're more closely linked that I could've ever imagined, 'Livia. And I saw different outcomes; I couldn't just let you stay on the Other Side and be used as Walternate's plaything. And I definitely couldn't just sit back and watch as our world was torn apart."
"The Observer said he made a mistake, that you weren't supposed to be gone."
"I guess he's right, then." She watched as his brow creased, creating deep grooves in his forehead, and again, he looked so old. "I think I understand everything better, now. Walter sent the Machine back in time, though I'm still not sure why. We were meant to find it, but we were supposed to be the ones to turn it on—not Walternate. It was his activation of the Machine that set the end of the world in motion. It may be Walter's fault that the war between universes started in the first place, but it's Walternate's fault that his universe was destroyed." He paused, and smiled. "But, I think I know what we need to do."
"What's that?"
"We need to stop Walternate from turning on the Machine in the first place."
