Nothing but Lies, XI

Summary: xi. Missing. Peter misses parts. And people.

Warning: none besides the obvious

You are going to regret this.

Olivia's words still replayed in Peter's thoughts. No, that wasn't true. She hadn't said those words, hadn't spoken them out loud the way his mind imagined her having done. She had thought those words. And while he had no idea how he knew she had thought them he felt rather sure she had meant him. Of course, she could also have meant herself. But for a multitude of reasons he didn't really trust himself any longer when it came to Olivia Dunham.

Sighing, he put down the screwdriver and used an already oil-stained towel to clean his sweaty hands. While the summer wasn't too hot anymore the sun still shone brightly through the great Plexiglas windows that surrounded what Olivia had angrily called his personal playground. The huge hall was entirely empty save for the many parts and components of the device which had been buried all over the world. Even though he had discovered and decoded the manual Peter still wasn't sure he knew what he was doing. He was mostly working by himself, relying on what his instincts told him to do. Reaching out, he touched a thin plate of metal.

Images shot through his mind.

It was nothing one could possibly describe in words. Peter touched the components and simply knew where it belonged. In that way, he had already assembled the inner core of the device. He had worked like crazy, only taking short brakes to eat and sleep. He even slept here, on a thin field bed in the hall. The urgency he had felt whenever it had come to the device had multiplied. Everything in his body cried out for him to finish, get ready quickly, to assemble the machine and put it into use.

He knew it was dangerous. But he was done lying to himself.

-v-

When he had returned from the crash site of the train accident a few days ago he hadn't been able to sleep. Normally Peter wasn't an insomniac, normally he slept through flights and fights and stormy nights because he had learned the hard way that sometimes, his body needed every second of rest it could get. But that night he lay awake, sweating in the summer heat, tossing and turning and unable to calm his racing mind. There had to be something they could do. He had seen a girl, ten years old maybe. She had been comatose, with a severe traumatic brain injury. Her left leg was crushed and had to be amputated. Her frail, little body was covered in bruises and cuts and blood. And nobody had known her name. They hadn't been able to identify her and nobody had asked for her, no desperate parent had called, searching for her, no one crazy with worry had tried to find her. She had been brought to the nearest hospital, to be treated immediately, and despite her injuries she had survived until now. But her pale-white face behind the breath mask and her bruised body had burnt itself into his memory. There had to be something they could do. There had to be. If Walternate was able to build a machine to destroy the universes, could he build one, too? He flinched at the thought. He wasn't a killer, wasn't a murderer. He wouldn't put himself on the same step his father stood on.

Not even to save Olivia and this world which has become your own?

Clenching his teeth, he jumped up and walked to the window. The night air was cool on his flushed skin.

He had to protect this world. There had to be a way. Walternate had found a way to destroy worlds and now he was testing a shield that would save-

He didn't waste time in waking Walter as the obvious solution hit him. He got dressed quickly, scribbled a hasty note, grabbed the box of cookies that stood forgotten on the kitchen table and threw himself into the car. Half an hour later, he pulled up at the company his father lead.

If they can create a shield, so can we.

-v-

Peter wasn't quite sure how he was going to make it. But he felt the machine was able to be more, more than what his father had dreamed it to be. Maybe it could save them. Maybe it could stop this war. Maybe he would be able to reconfigure it into protecting this world rather than destroying it.

In theory, his idea was good. In practice, it proved to be difficult.

It was a machine. As such there shouldn't have been a problem to modify it. But it wasn't just machine. Of all people, Peter knew this best. It didn't fight him but it resisted. And he didn't even know how it worked so it was really hard trying to figure out what he needed to change in order to make it work the way he wanted it to. Exhausted, he leaned back towards the wall and regarded the device. Something was missing. Maybe an integral part, maybe just knowledge on his part. If he could just find out what it was he might have been able to change it.

The sun outside still was blinding. Staring out of the window, Peter's tired brain needed a few seconds to realize what he was staring at wasn't only the window but the reflection of a woman standing somewhere behind him. Pulling himself upright, he turned to look out of the observation glass that ran along the wall. Indeed, a person was standing behind the glass. When noticing him, it flinched involuntarily, like a person that would prefer running but, for some reason, stayed. It was a young woman with long, blond hair and a pretty face. Peter, who normally had no problems sorting people by age, was unable to tell from her face how old she was. Experimentally, he tried a smile. She smiled back, almost shyly, and suddenly seemed incredibly young. When he nodded at the door, she nodded back and both made their way towards the heavy steel door to his left.

"Can I help you?" He asked. The woman smiled again.

"I'm sorry to intrude. I'm looking for my father."

"I'm pretty sure I knew if I had such a beautiful daughter."

The flippancy left his mouth before he could check himself. She laughed, embarrassed, and shook her head.

"No. I mean, I'm looking for block N27, Lab 7.105.31. My father's name is Michael Schuhmacher. I seem to have gotten lost."

"Just a little bit," he reassured her. "This is O27. Just follow the corridor in this direction" – he pointed to the right – and you'll be in N27. The lab is on the seventh floor."

The woman (girl?) smiled, relieved. "Thank you." She hesitated. "What is it you're working at?" She then asked him. "It's like nothing I've ever seen." Peter shrugged.

"Just a device someone I know found. I'm assembling it for him."

"How is it working?"

"Not good."

She regarded him critically. "Why? Don't you have a manual?"

"It's like a puzzle," he tried to explain. "As soon as you put together some parts you notice the rest is missing."

What an absolutely fitting image to describe his life.

The girl smiled, a shy, girlish and yet wise smile. "I hope you'll find whatever is missing soon," she said and re-adjusted the strip of her bag over her shoulder. "Well, I'll be off. It was nice to meet you. Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome," Peter answered and watched for a while until her straight back disappeared around the corner of the corridor. Frowning at the feeling in his heart, he moved towards the machine again. Yes. Something was missing. But not only the machine was incomplete.

He was, too.

They would have to work on that.