Hey guys. Again, so sorry it took so long for this to get to you! In the lead-up to Christmas I've been working non-stop.

Epilogue: Life Flies By In Seconds

Reference: this chapter was inspired by the song Gracie by Ben Folds, song lyrics from Three Little Birds

There are many women who have changed Peter Bishop's life over the years. Some of them were carers trying to do right by him – the kind of women who gave him a place to stay or lent him money knowing he'd never be able to repay it - and who he'd ultimately always let down. Others were love interests that he'd hurt, who he'd come to with the best intentions but left in pieces. And then there were women like his mother, who had loved him but in the end had collapsed under the pressure when he needed them most, damaging him in a way that took him decades to understand or forgive. In their own way, each of these women taught him something, whether it was about respect or being a man, how to grow up, or how to never make the same mistake twice. They all left an impression that he would be a lesser man without.

But there are a particular few who have come into his life and completely turned it upside down, making sure that he would never be the same again.

Olivia Dunham is one of the women who ranks towards the top of that list. The other is Andrea.

Tonight, while he lies in bed with Olivia in his arms, he finds himself unable to take his mind off of her – her dark hair, her soft skin, her stunning eyes. He can't sleep, his mind overrun by thoughts of being with her, holding her close and telling her he loves her. Unable to relax and get back to sleep, he kisses his wife's hair and slips out of bed, careful not to wake her, and treads softly down the corridor of their apartment to where Andrea is.

As he walks to her, a million thoughts rush through his brain at full velocity. It feels so surreal – this moment, right here – the idea that he is walking down the hall to visit his newborn daughter, who he hadn't met until a few days ago. But despite never having met her, he always knew throughout the pregnancy that he loved her with all his heart. She and Olivia were his world now. There's nothing he wouldn't do for the two most important girls in his life.

It is an odd thing to wrap his head around – having a child. A week ago, he'd never met his daughter. He didn't know her voice. He didn't even know what she looked like, or her name. Come to think of it, he didn't know a damn thing about her. He hadn't carried her for nine months like Olivia had. The only contact he'd ever had with this tiny person was a sketchy image on an ultrasound screen and the slight, sharp press of a kick against his palm. In a way, she was just a concept to him, not a real little girl with a personality and a family and a future.

But he'd done his best to form a connection with her during the pregnancy. While his wife complained about achy bones and morning sickness, he was fascinated and moved by every change in her body. When Olivia felt the baby moving and fluttering in her belly months before he would ever feel her kick, he couldn't help but be jealous, knowing that his wife would always have a bond with this baby he'd never have. But he hoped to make a bond of his own with his child. He'd lie awake at night with his wife in his arms and lay his hands on her belly, feeling the little kicks against his palms as he told his baby stories and whispered how much he loved her. But it was never the same as what Olivia felt, and he sensed that he was distant from this baby in a way that his wife wasn't.

Despite this distance, he'd always known it was a girl. It's not that he didn't want a boy – a boy would have been just as wonderful – but he just knew. Olivia didn't believe him, but he'd known from the beginning. He had a habit of nicknaming the baby "Little Olive" while his wife was pregnant, and Olivia used to tease him about how stupid he'd feel if the baby ended up being a boy. But when she was born, it was Peter's turn to tease his wife and brag about his newfound fatherly intuition.

Olivia had insisted on having a natural birth. It wasn't just because she wanted to tough it out, but homebirths were a huge part of her family. Her mother had given birth to her naturally at home. She had watched her baby sister Rachael be born at home when she was only four and considered it to be one of the most moving and bonding experiences of her life. No hospitals, no drugs, no interventions, no strangers – just the warmth, love and familiarity of their home. Olivia trusted in her body and in her own strength to be able to do this without drugs - after all, childbirth is a completely natural process the female body is designed to handle. "People give birth without drugs every day," she'd told him. Though while Peter found his wife's attitude admirable, he was uneasy about a homebirth. He wanted to be near an operating theatre in case something went wrong and she needed an emergency c-section for whatever reason. In the end they compromised and Olivia gave birth naturally in a birthing centre right across the road from Boston General.

It had been a beautiful experience – much unlike most of the stories people had told them during Olivia's pregnancy. The mood was very relaxed, with everyone there to support Olivia as she gave birth at her own pace. It was much longer than Peter had anticipated, with the first eight or so hours of it just involving going for walks, drinking tea, chilling out to calm music and timing contractions while they patiently waited for their little one to join them. In those hours, Peter had already developed a sense of relief that they hadn't chosen to do this in a hospital, where they would likely have been in a crowded, stressed environment and given drugs to speed up the labour. When the contractions started to get harder and closer together, they stood together, holding hands and cradling each other as waves of pain rolled through Olivia's body. "It's a good pain," she'd tell him as she steadied herself against his frame, swaying with him, trying not to tense up as contractions approached but to surrender herself to the process. No matter how many times she told him this, he still worried for her, wishing he could take some of her pain away. He'd never felt so proud of Olivia as he did throughout the pregnancy and birth - watching her protectiveness and maternal instinct blossom was moving, and knowing that she whole-heartedly loved this child feircely and sweetly was very emotional for Peter.

All Peter knew of childbirth was the images of women screaming in excruciating agony and fear that he'd seen on TV. But seeing Olivia take such a wholesome and confident approach to their baby's birth was empowering to watch and be a part of. He would always admire his wife for her bravery through the pain – no dramatic screaming, just a gentle pace, lots of breathing and clenching grips on her husband's hands. She saw each contraction not as something to be dreaded but as a productive pain that would bring them that one step closer to meeting their baby. Their daughter's birth was not about pain or fear, but about overcoming this challenge together, and loving and supporting one another as they waited in hopeful excitement to meet their baby, bringing their status from a marriage to a family.

Then there was that moment – when Olivia pushed through her last big contraction, giving her all despite the pain, and their baby slipped from her body. They both cried and laughed with joy as the midwife laid their baby on Olivia's chest, all gooey and crying, and they'd laid eyes on her for the first time. Together.

She was perfect.

In the last week, that hadn't changed. Peter and Olivia have spent the last seven days getting to know their daughter, resting and seeing family and friends. They're both still in shock, still in awe at how drastically their lives have changed.

Now, in the middle of the night, he treads softly to her cot to check on her. He leans over and sees a tiny little girl wrapped tight in her blankets, lying with her arms by her head. Her eyes closed, she gently rubs her face as she fusses, whimpering and wriggling. She is beautiful – a thatch of dark hair, soft skin, long fingernails, delicate eyelashes. And freckles. Not as many as her mom, but enough for resemblance to show.

"Hey, little one," he whispers. "It's me, your Daddy. You up?"

The baby continues to fuss, not quite crying but definitely close. He knew she'd be awake at this time. Their baby's been waking up at 3am every night like clockwork, never changing routine, and after seven days of it Peter's learned to wake up before she does. He's insisted on doing this, since Olivia is still getting over the exhaustion, stress and hormone changes that follow giving birth. But during the day, they handle everything together.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks her, gently picking her up and cradling her in his arms. The baby curls into his body, burying her face in the warmth of his skin. He loves this part of being with her – how she automatically responds to him, recognising his protective arms, his loving gaze, his familiar smell and his gentle voice.

He checks her over to see what she wants, but she doesn't seem to need anything. She isn't hungry or cold or needing to be changed. He rattles his brain to think of what could possibly be wrong. But when he holds her to his chest, swaying with her and whispering to her, she seems to settle. She hums and nestles against him, and he realises that she didn't need anything after all.

She just wanted him.

He shivers. Peter has always known he loves his daughter, even before he met her – but the idea that she recognises him and wants to be close to him too makes his heart swell with a fiercely protective love.

"It's OK, little one," he whispers to her. "Daddy's here. Daddy's right here."

In her first week of life, Peter still hasn't gotten over that feeling of shocked bewilderment, like he's been dreaming the whole thing. He can barely wrap his head around the fact that the warm, wriggling weight in his arms is his daughter. All the time Olivia was pregnant, that idea of "daughter" was just a concept. Holding her made her real. Even now, a whirlwind of emotions is overwhelming him - the worry, the joy, the apprehension, the fascination, the devotion, the protectiveness, the disbelief, the love. God, the love. That love that is all-consuming, all-sacrificing. That love that knows no bounds and conquers all fear. That love. He adores her.

"You just want some company, huh, little one?" he asks her. "I dunno, kiddo, I'm gonna have to check my schedule. I'm a pretty busy guy, you know."

But Andrea doesn't buy it. At the sound of his voice, she rubs her cheek against his chest, her little hands pressing against his skin and squeezing, like she's trying to hold onto him.

He smiles at her. "Just kidding, sweetheart. I'll always make time for you. We can hang out if you want," he says, going to a big comfy armchair in the corner of her room and sitting down with her.

Feeling the pad of his thumb stroke her cheek, the baby stirs and blinks her eyes, gazing curiously up at her father. Her eyes are green – like his when he was born, but also like her mother's. "You're so beautiful, darling girl," he whispers to her, feeling his emotions start to swell in him. "You're perfect…I can't believe you're mine."

In the last week, that's been his one overwhelming feeling – the disbelief that he helped create this stunning little creature. She was far too beautiful to have come from him, surely. His wife, of course. But not from him. That being said, the idea that the love he and Olivia shared for each other was so strong that it created a life was profound and moving for him. Magical, even. The whole concept of it was extraordinary, but that seemed fitting, because he and Olivia had always been something extraordinary.

His daughter continues to blink up at him, rubbing her face and sucking on her fingers adorably as Peter lets his fingertips brush through her dark hair. He believes her hair to be the one trait she got from him – the rest of her is all from his wife. That makes him glad. He wants his daughter to get as much from Olivia's side of the gene pool as she possibly can. "You look more and more like your mother everyday," he tells her. "You're way too pretty to look like me."

The baby just stirs a little in his arms, curling into the warmth of his chest sleepily, her little fingers scratching at his shirt as she tries to fist it in her palm. Reaching around, he grazes the back of her hand and lets her feel him, chuckling as she tries curling her hand around his pinky and squeezing. "Look at you!" he laughs. "So strong. Nobody's gonna mess with you when you grow up. Coz you're a fighter, Andie. A Dunham girl, that's for sure."

Leaning down a little, he brings his pinky, which she is clinging to, and lifts it to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles. "You feel so real," he murmurs. "For a long time I knew you were there, but I never got to feel you like Mommy did. It's like I'm only really getting to know you now. You remind me so much of your mother already. She's smart and beautiful and tough and I'm sure you'll be just like her. I hope you don't grow up like me. I made a lot of mistakes when I was young, but I'm getting better now. Your Mommy saved me from a lot of bad things, and I feel almost like you're saving me all over again. I'm going to be the best Daddy I can be to you, little one. I don't know what I'm doing, and it's a little bit scary, but I'll do my best, I promise."

He sighs, holding her close. "I had two Daddies when I was a little boy - one when I was a very little and one when I was a bit bigger. Did you know that, princess? Did you know you have two grandpas?" The baby smacks her lips and hums, snuggling against him. He smiles at how much she likes to be close to him, soaking in the feel of him.

"My Daddies weren't always very good at taking care of me," he tells her, his faint smile bittersweet. "So I want to make sure you have the best Daddy in the whole world. I'll always look after you, I promise. Your Daddy loves you so much, sweetheart. Since the moment I found out you were coming, I've loved you. You have to know that, OK?"

A little more awake now, his daughter rubs her face against his shirt, blinking her eyes, stretching her legs, flexing her fingers and toes. Peter laughs. "You like it out here, huh? Lots more room to move than when you were all curled up in Mommy's tummy."

The baby flails her arms and legs a little again before settling, finding a more comfortable spot in her Daddy's arms. She barely makes a sound. He lets his thumb graze her cheek again, looking down on her with so much pride. "Can you keep a secret, little one?" he asks her. "You're the most special baby in the whole world. And I'm not just saying that because I'm your Daddy. You're the only person in history who's ever had parents from different universes. You shouldn't even be here. You're a miracle, princess. You're so special. Did you know that? Did you know you're the first bi-universal child to ever exist? Pretty cool, huh?"

He can see her eyes begin to droop, she yawns a little and goes still in his arms. Then an idea strikes him. He starts to rattle his brain for a song, feeling like it's his fatherly duty to sing to her at a time like this. He doesn't remember any of his childhood before Walter brought him to this side, let alone the lullabies his mother surely would have sung to him to get him to sleep. He wishes that he remembered more of how his parents raised him – if he did, he might be a little less clueless as to how to raise his daughter. But he does remember a song that Rachael sang to Ella all the time before bed, and it's the first thing that comes to his head when its time to sing for his daughter.

"OK, darling girl," he says to her. "I'm gonna do something to help you get to sleep. But you can't tell anybody, coz Daddy has a tough guy reputation to uphold. Can you keep it a secret, princess? This is just between you and me. And be nice, Daddy's not a very good singer."

Her eyes droop closed again, and he begins to sing to her.

"Woke up this morning,

smiled at the rising sun,
Three little birds by my doorstep
Singing a sweet song,

a melody pure and true
Singing, this is my message to you

Singing, don't worry 'bout a thing
'Cause every little thing is gonna be alright
Singing, don't worry about a thing
'Cause every little thing is gonna be alright"

The baby snuggles in his arms as he sings to her under his breath, making him amazed at the relationship they already have. "Look at what you've done," he chuckles. "You've turned me into a giant pile of goo."

He smiles down on his daughter, utterly smitten with her. The love he feels for her is joyous and fierce. He'd give her the whole world if he could, and would die to protect her from its dangers. But he is confident she'll grow up strong like her mother, always taking care of herself.

He has a good feeling about the woman she will become. A good feeling in his bones.

Of course, he is worried about the troubles she'll face in this world. And how to raise her. He doesn't know a damn thing about girls.

Actually, that isn't exactly true. In his time, he's learned a lot about girls – mostly how to hurt them, how to leave them, how to let them down time and time again. But he is determined never to hurt this one. Not on purpose. She and his wife are the two most important girls in his world, and all he wants is to learn from his mistakes and treat them right. The fear that he will be a terrible husband and father is very real to him.

Life feels so fast now that he has a child. There's this fear in him that he'll blink and she'll be all grown up, and he wouldn't have appreciated moments like this enough. Peter fears that he will lose her to rebellion in her teenage years, or that she'll leave home and get married and forget about him all too soon. And with all the horrors of the world he and Olivia fight off every day, it scares him that Andrea won't stay small forever.

He's never felt a love so terrifying before. With Olivia, he was always protective (overprotective according to her) and feared for her safety when they went on dangerous raids together at work, but he also respected his wife's strength and ability to look after herself. On the other hand, Andrea is in many ways defenceless, just an innocent child, and his overwhelming responsibility to make sure no harm ever comes to her weighs on his mind.

He sighs, memorising the feel of her curled close to him for protection and warmth. "Don't grow up too fast on me, kiddo," he whispers into her hair, wishing with all his heart that he could slow down time and keep them both like this just a little longer.

But for the time being, he pushes his fears and worries aside. As he looks down upon his little girl, all he feels is hope.

Looking over her, he recalls the tender words his mother used to say to him as a little boy. "S'agapo, agapi mou," he whispers in Greek to his daughter, leaning down and kissing her gently on the forehead as she closes her eyes to sleep.

I love you, my darling.

As his daughter falls asleep, Peter watches on, grateful for the two most influential girls in his life. Of all the women that had come into his world and turned it upside down, his wife and daughter had done it in the most profound and amazing way. He simply would be a lesser man without either of them – a far angrier, far more violent, far more lost man.

Marrying Olivia and having this little girl with her are the only two things Peter truly feels he's done right in his life. He's grateful for both of them every single day – grateful to Olivia for all her love and support and friendship that sustains him, and to his daughter for the joy her discovery of the world brings him, almost like a second childhood. They are the two great loves of his heart. They are the only reason he's kept his life together, the only reason he tries each and every day to do right and be a good person.

After laying his daughter down to sleep and kissing her goodnight, he heads back into bed with his wife, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her hair affectionately. As he breathes her in, comforted by the warmth of her, he knows he's found peace. He knows that after all the wandering in his life, he's finally found his sanctuary, his family, his shelter. The people he belongs with. He is home.

Please review! Not just on this chap but the story in general (i.e. did you have any favourite parts/things I could have done better?)

Hope you enjoy this chapter and that you've liked this story as a whole. I'm beginning to write a multi-chapter story like this about the men in Olivia's life and how they've changed her (her father and stepfather, first boyfriends, Lucas, Charlie, Lincoln, John, Peter, etc.). That won't be getting to you until I come back from overseas in February, so best wishes until then, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year : )