I'm BACK! Hope you're still interested! Sorry for the long hiatus, but I guess we Fringe fans are used to that, huh? Props and hugs, as always, to DixieGirl256!

11.

There was no way around it. No other possible explanation. Peter put the pen down on the plastic bedside table in disgust.

He'd been over the information Olivia had given him about the Fringe event at St. Claire's a dozen times or more now, cross-referencing it against the timing of his illness, and Peter could only conclude one thing: somehow, the universe was trying to course correct, and the reason it needed to was him. As soon as Peter had been given Walter's treatment, the event at St. Claire's began.

He didn't want to believe it; there was something incredibly conceited about the thought. At the same time, though, it was hard to argue with it. Peter ran a hand through his hair, forgetting about the IV port Walter had inserted that morning to prepare him for the afternoon's treatment.

Peter winced; oh, yeah, he thought. The treatment. What would happen this time, if Walter's latest cure succeeded? A tidal wave? Earthquake? An entire neighborhood collapsing in on itself? The possibilities were endless. He chuckled mirthlessly at something he once said to the late Dr. Sumner: You have no idea what I'm capable of…

"Yeah, no shit," he mumbled, rubbing the irritation at the site of the IV port .

He could be wrong, of course; it could be a complete coincidence. But something inside Peter told him that wasn't the case. The case… He sighed. Amazingly enough, he had become a case. Maybe he always had been one, he mused. After all, didn't all the madness begin when one man decided to save one boy – him?

Looking at the clock, he saw he still had an hour to go until the treatment – far too much time to think about everything. Before he said anything to anyone, he had to be sure; the second treatment would definitely be the deciding factor. If another event occurred after this treatment – if it worked – then Peter would know for certain that he was the cause. How would he tell Olivia? And Walter? It would break Walter's heart.

He looked again at the files spread out on the table before him, the files Olivia had brought over. She had found him in the middle of a nightmare, and he had found himself unable to distinguish between the tormenting Olivia of his nightmare and the one who had looked so stricken at his bedside. Sighing again, he thought back on how brusque he'd been with her. Grabbing his cell phone from the table, he thought for a moment, and began to type.

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Olivia's phone buzzed on her desk as she finished up the last of her paperwork before she headed to the hospital. Picking it up, she couldn't help but smile at the text that appeared:

I'm an asshole.

She typed back:

But you're MY asshole. Feeling ok?

She waited for a moment, then read:

Like a jerk. I'm sorry.

Olivia shook her head, and typed:

4 what? It's ok. Just talk to me when ur ready, please? I worry.

A pause.

ok. I love you.

She typed back:

I know.

Laughing, she read his almost immediate reply:

So, what? I'm Princess Leia, now?

Her reply:

No metal bikinis 4u. EVER. Not even a Speedo.

His:

Excellent. Skinny dipping it is.

Olivia felt a twinge in her chest; it astonished her sometimes how much she loved this man. If you had asked her five – no, not even five – years ago if she would find herself in love with a man like Peter Bishop, she would have laughed in your face. Yet here she was, and she was damned sure she wasn't going to let him go without a fight.

She typed:

Be there soon. Don't start the fun without me.

She waited for a reply for a moment. When none came, she typed again:

Peter?

Still no reply.

Peter? What's wrong?

She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding when she finally read:

Nothing. Sorry. See u later, ok?

She knew he was lying. Again. Something was troubling him terribly, and he didn't feel he could talk to her about it. Was it something about her? Gritting her teeth in frustration, she typed:

OK. We'll talk later. Hang in there.

She read:

Hanging. XOXOXO

Olivia touched the screen tenderly. "I love you, too," she whispered, then put the phone back in her pocket as Astrid entered. "Hey," she greeted the junior agent.

"Hey," Astrid replied, a sympathetic smile on her face. "Sorry to interrupt. Was that Peter?"

"That's okay. Yeah, it was."

Astrid noticed a shadow cross Olivia's face. "Is he okay? Is he worse?"

"No, no, he's pretty much the same. Walter has him stabilized after the dialysis. But… something's going on with him, Astrid."

Astrid sat down next to Olivia. "Well, he's been sick for awhile now, and had a relapse. I imagine he'd be a little depressed."

"I suppose so, but this isn't depression. He's… thinking about something. I know, that sounds unbelievably obtuse, but it's like he's got something on his mind that he can't share with anyone else. Not Walter, not even me."

"How long has this been going on?"

"A while now. He's been seeing things – I think the visions have something to do with me. I think he may have told Walter about them, but I can't get him to tell me. Sometimes, Astrid, when he wakes up, and sees me there with him, he's afraid of me," Olivia said softly.

"Afraid of you? Olivia, don't be silly," Astrid laughed.

"These visions… he and Walter were talking about them at the house before we went away a couple of weeks ago, I'm sure of it. I only came in on the end of the conversation, but Walter was talking about the two of us being married and having kids."

"Well, that certainly doesn't sound like anything to be afraid of," Astrid offered. "Peter loves you so much. I'll just bet he'd love to have kids."

"No, it's not that. I want to know what led to that discussion. Astrid, has Peter ever told you what happened when he was in the Machine?" Olivia suddenly asked.

"What? No, he hasn't said a thing," Astrid replied. "Why?"

"What if Peter saw something while he was in there? What if the Machine showed him something, or put some kind of idea in his head, about me?"

"Like some kind of hypnotic suggestion?"

"Maybe. I guess. Arrgh!" Olivia growled, pulling at her hair in an uncharacteristic show of frustration. "How many impossible, insane, disturbing things have we seen, Astrid?"

"You really want a number?" Astrid said dryly.

"Exactly. And after all this time, nothing fazes me. Nothing. Except… "

"Your boyfriend," Astrid grinned. At Olivia's raised eyebrow, she retorted, "What? What else should I call him?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Boyfriend just sounds so… high school."

Astrid laughed. "Oh, I don't even want to think about what Peter was like in high school!"

The two women shared a look for a moment, and simultaneously said, "Bad boy."

Her laughter fading, Astrid patted Olivia on the shoulder. "Listen. He's crazy about you. And he's going through a lot of bad stuff right now. But he knows you're here for him. And… well, he's Peter. He doesn't unload on people easily. If he's going to talk about what's bothering him, it'll be with you. Just give him a little time."

Olivia squeezed Astrid's hand on her shoulder. "Thanks. I… I just hope we have the time."

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Nina took a moment to compose herself before entering Peter's room in the infirmary. She hadn't thought about William's little science project in years; she had willed herself not to, knowing its possible ramifications. She hoped that Walter's latest attempt at a cure for Peter's illness would be lasting. It had to be, because Nina found herself thinking far too much about William's suggestions regarding the Peters all those years ago. What if…

"No," she said aloud, scolding herself and opening the door to Peter's room. Plastering a smile on her face, she called softly to him, "Peter?"

Peter, who had been dozing, rubbed his eyes, reminding Nina so much of the little boy she used to know. "Huh? Oh, hi, Nina," he said groggily.

"Looks like I beat your father here. He called to tell me the treatment was going to begin soon. I wanted to be here for you." She pulled up a chair and sat down next to him.

"That's kind of you. Really," Peter said sincerely, a weak smile briefly lighting his pale face. "I know they say the third time's the charm, but I'm really hoping it's the second in my case, you know?"

Nina smiled and gently patted his arm, which was mottled with bruises. "Let's think positively. This treatment will succeed, and you'll be up and around in no time."

"Yeah," Peter said half-heartedly.

The door Nina had just entered opened again. Nina turned to see Brandon Fayette enter, wheeling a cart with medical equipment. "Ah, here we go again," Peter said jokingly. "Hey, Brandon."

"Hey, Mr. – I mean, Peter," Brandon corrected himself. "Yeah, here we go again. But this time, we're gonna get it right. This one will stick," he said encouragingly.

"Look at me, with the big ol' cheering section," Peter smiled. "Thanks, Brandon. I hope Walter hasn't been riding you too hard on this. I know how he gets when he has a goal in mind."

"Eyes on the prize," Brandon agreed. "He's been fine."

"Define, 'fine?' With Walter, there's a sliding scale," Peter said, his voice still rough with fatigue.

"Peter, maybe we should wait a day," Nina said, concerned. "You still seem a bit weak."

Peter shook his head, yawning. "Uh-uh. We're doing this today. I want outta here – no offense, Nina. The service at this establishment is… " Another yawn. "Top notch."

"I can tell," Nina chuckled, reaching out to touch Peter's hair briefly. "Why don't you close your eyes, and try and get a bit of rest before Walter arrives?" she suggested, noticing that Peter's eyes were already closing. Turning to Brandon, she said, "May I speak with you for a moment, Dr. Fayette?"

"Uh… sure," Brandon stammered. Nina led them a few feet from Peter's bed to the corner of the room. "Is something wrong, Ms. Sharp?"

Lowering her voice, Nina said, "Brandon, what were you doing in the sub-basement earlier?"

"The sub-basement?" Brandon repeated. "Oh! Dr. Bishop was looking for some files on Peter's previous illnesses, and I hit the wrong elevator button. Wound up down there… wow, that place is cavernous! Who knew it even existed?"

"Don't be coy, Dr. Fayette," Nina said sternly. "Access to the sub-basement is restricted, and I saw you down there."

"What were you doing there?" Brandon countered.

"Listen to me," Nina said, her voice rising. "You will tell me what you were doing in the restricted area right now, or we are going to Dr. Bishop." She looked over her shoulder when she heard the rustling of sheets. Peter had shifted in the bed, but seemed to have settled.

"Are you sure you want to talk about this here? Because I'd be more than happy to discuss it with you. And Dr. Bishop. And Peter. One of them, at least," Brandon Fayette replied slyly.

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Damn IV port itches, Peter thought to himself, shifting in the bed half-asleep.

"… Restricted area…" Nina's voice filtered through the fog. Well, sure, this place probably has trap doors, too, he mused.

"…more than happy to discuss it…" Hm. Brandon's getting feisty…

"…And Peter. One of them, at least…" One of them? One of them… The phrase followed Peter down into sleep.

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