Olivia Dunham stared at the ceiling, hands clasped on her chest, unable to sleep.

One would think that six months or twenty years apart from Peter, depending on one's perspective, would have made it rather easy to sleep without him beside her. But she'd found that having had a little taste of her soulmate next to her again made her want him near her all the more.

So she simply lay awake in the creaky bed that wore his scent, and tried not to think about everything bad that could happen to him while he was time traveling with September. It certainly didn't help that watching him wink out with the Observer reminded her of what had happened when he'd emerged from the Machine years ago.

Sometimes having an eidetic memory, even one that had been written over, erased, and traced back in, was a curse.

Olivia was grateful when she heard the stairs creak and a tap on the door. She always preferred crisis management to brooding alone.

"Mom?" Etta asked through the closed door. "We have a situation downstairs."

Olivia got out of bed and slipped into a pair of jeans, sliding her pistol into the waistband out of habit. As was her preference, she'd been wearing one of Peter's tee shirts to bed. She opened the door to reveal her daughter, waiting patiently.

"Hi, mom," Etta said. "...before you ask, no Dad isn't back yet. Walter came up from the basement ranting about Bell, and wave sync devices, palimpsests, causality violations and a whole lot of other things that Simon and I don't understand. Help?"

Olivia tied her hair back as she followed Etta downstairs. "Where is Astrid?"

"She braved the depths of the basement," Etta said over her shoulder.

Olivia and Etta reached the living room, and encountered Walter attempting to frantically explain something to Simon.

"I'm trying to tell you, Bell isn't the man he claims to be..." Walter exclaimed.

"Do you think he's an imposter?" Simon asked.

"No! He's William Bell, but not the William Bell he's pretending to be," Walter gesticulated frantically.

Simon made an expansive gesture, arms widening, hands open and tone even, soothing. "You're making no sense to me, Doctor Bishop, please try to calm down."

"Try to keep up, boy," Walter replied, his anger rising. But then, Walter did something that actually made Olivia proud of him. He shook his head, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, making a valiant effort to calm himself.

"I suppose you could consider him an imposter," Walter said. "...he definitely isn't the Bell I shared the Harvard lab with years ago. He knows things our Bell couldn't possibly have knowledge of."

Presently, Astrid emerged from the basement. "Bell is down there, hogtied, with a big lump on his head."

In the midst of the commotion, Peter and September reappeared, bringing all conversation to a momentary halt. Peter lowered the burden he carried in his arms, the deactivated and split open Beacon, to the floor beside him.

"Peter..." Olivia said, as she stepped forward to embrace him.

He accepted the hug gratefully, but his face was tense with worry. "Where's Bell?"

Olivia blinked with surprise. Astrid tilted her head toward the basement. "He's tied up in the basement..."

"What did he do?" Peter interrupted, eyes flashing.

Under normal circumstances, Peter was always one step away from shooting Bell in the head. But now...Olivia feared he might actually do it. It was the tensed set of his shoulders and the ice cold expression on his face that alarmed her. He ran into the kitchen before she could stop him, and then everyone followed him and crowded down the stairs to the basement.

September probably saved Bell's life, by blinking out of the living room and reappearing in the basement one second later, between Peter and the bound, unconscious scientist.

As they gathered in a loose ring around the unconscious and bound form lying on the floor, Peter paced nervously back and forth, scratching at his stubble, blue eyes never leaving Bell.

"Dad?". Etta asked, "What happened? Why are you so upset?"

"He isn't the William Bell he pretends to be..." Walter interrupted, "Yes, son?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Yes. September told me while we were away. How did you figure it out?"

"He knew things he couldn't possibly have. About you, things he couldn't have known unless he was there."

Peter shook his head, agitated.

"That doesn't make any sense. The Bell from the overwritten timeline died after..."

He stole a glance at Olivia, who gave a little nod.

"Well, I guess we should just ask him. Walter, wake him up."

Walter nodded, then went to retrieve something from his medical kit. When he returned he crouched in front of Bell's unconscious form, and cracked open a capsule of smelling salts in front of his nostrils.

Bell jerked away from the acrid smelling substance, then looked up at the ring of faces surrounding him.

"Ah, the jig is up," he said. "...I had a pretty good run. Longer than I should have, in fact."

Bell struggled against his bonds - apparently, Walter had used whatever was at hand to tie him up, which included zip ties, coaxial cable and plastic wrap - and eventually managed to sit up.

"Really, this is a little much. Where would I go?" he pleaded. "Most of you are armed."

Everyone glanced at Peter, who looked at Simon.

"Cut him loose," he said, "...just don't let him near any bells."

Simon raised an eyebrow at the last, but produced a pocket knife and cut Bell free.

Bell nodded gratefully, then stood up - moving slowly, as he was aware of their jumpiness - and sat down in a chair at the nearest workbench.

"So what's your story?" Peter asked, "September and I had an interesting conversation about you."

Bell nodded. "Yes, I imagine you would have. The Observers in their various incarnations have been a problem for some time."

"Are you...the original William Bell, for lack of a better term?" Peter asked.

The others seemed fascinated by the turn of events, and content to let Peter continue the interrogation.

"Well, young Peter, I don't know that I'm the original William Bell, the concept itself is problematic. But I am the one that makes sure he continues to exist, no matter the circumstances."

"So what September said is true? You've murdered all the other William Bells?"

"They all had...conveniently fatal accidents. And I assure you, the process was quite Darwinian. Several of them attempted to do the same unto me. But the most fit survived."

"It sounds like you're all a bunch of dimension hopping, time traveling, psychopaths."

Bell shook his head.

"If I eliminate a few of my alternates, what does it matter in the scheme of things? They're all just...possibilities anyway. The end result of different chains of events. When my timeline became...inhospitable...I migrated to another. Once there, I realized that in order to remain there, I had to assume my alternates identity and I did."

"How many times?" Peter asked.

"Irrelevant. What you need to ask is why I've done all this."

"To save your wrinkly ass?" Etta interjected, her sarcastic tone so resembling her father's that everyone present smirked, including Bell.

"No, young lady. To pass information between timelines. To maintain continuity." Bell responded. "I was...the backup plan. Something we need to discuss, soon."

Peter rubbed his eyes tiredly and swayed on his feet a little. Alarmed, Olivia stepped forward and grabbed his arm. "Peter?"

He waved her off.

"I'm okay. I just realized I've been awake for eighteen hours with nothing but s'mores to eat."

Olivia took that as her cue to take charge.

"Well, we're not going to resolve this tonight anyways. We can't really leave Bell alone..."

"I will watch over Doctor Bell," volunteered September.

Olivia nodded gratefully.

"Thank you. Take him to his apartment over the garage, and be careful. Tomorrow, after breakfast, we'll have a meeting. We'll detail the plan for the device and figure out what to do with Bell. But for now, let's all get some sleep."

The group broke up. As the others ascended the stairs, Walter peered at Bell as if he were examining a specimen in a test tube.

"I never knew you at all, did I Belly?" he asked, before following the others up the stairs.

Olivia followed Peter upstairs, undressed and waited in bed for him while he washed up in the small bathroom across the hall and changed into a tee shirt and boxers.

After the meeting with Bell, he had retreated into the brooding silence she had started calling "running silent" years ago. It meant that he was thinking deeply about something that disturbed him, and she knew he wouldn't talk about what was bothering him - or much else - until he had sorted things out in his own mind.

Which could take anywhere from mere hours to a few days.

Before everything went to hell after the Purge, Peter could sometimes rid himself of a foul mood by spending an hour or so at the piano, either the one at the lab or the refurbished baby grand she bought him for their second anniversary.

She smiled, recalling the expression of shock and delight when he returned home to find an almost new piano in the living room. Then she wondered...the piano had been abandoned with the house in Brookline. It wouldn't be very useful to scavengers, and it was very heavy besides. Could it still be there?

Peter entered the room, scratching at his scruffy face, a sure sign that'd he shave in the morning. He sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

"So, you had your confrontation with Nina?" he asked.

This was new. He wanted to talk. She nodded. "Yeah."

"How did it go?"

Peter's expression told her he already knew, but had to ask. It was Olivia's turn to sigh.

"As well as we expected. She admitted to it all, so that's to her credit. I just...wonder when it'll stop. I don't like having been used, and I absolutely hate that Etta was, in our absence. But there's little we can do about it now."

"We can be there for Etta now," Peter said.

"Yes," she acknowledged.

Olivia sat up and wrapped her arms around Peter's waist from behind and laid her head on his shoulder.

"What about you?" she asked quietly, watching his face.

"The topic of Henry came up." he said simply, avoiding her eyes.

Ah ha, Olivia thought. That always puts him in a black mood.

"He was your son. It's natural for you to think about him. Doesn't matter that you never met him."

Olivia caressed his chest reassuringly. She'd made it clear that the topic of Etta's namesake didn't bother her, yet Peter was still reluctant to bring the subject up to her.

He swallowed.

"It's just the...injustice of it." he said, "...he isn't here now, because of choices I made. And honestly...if I had to do it all over again, I'd have to make those same choices again. Makes me wonder about my role in things, whether I have any choice at all."

Olivia laid her head on his shoulder again.

"I wouldn't want you any other way." she whispered into his ear. She reached up, scratched his too- scruffy cheek affectionately, turned his face toward hers and kissed him softly and affectionately, then broke away and looked into his eyes.

Peter turned toward her, slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a kiss that was a lot more than simple affection. A second later, Olivia responded, pressing herself against him, her hands roaming his body. When they broke apart this time, it took her a second to gain her breath.

"I thought you'd be too tired for this, tonight..." she teased.

Peter shrugged. "As long as you don't mind me falling asleep right after...I think it's a perfect way to end a long day."

"Just this once."

"I do want to thank you again, my dear, for indulging my scientific curiosity. Here, have a Red Vine!"

Walter held a paper bag of the candies out to his granddaughter, who smiled and politely accepted one. Each was fighting a bout of insomnia, and had gravitated together in the basement lab.

"What exactly are you attempting to find out?" she asked, after taking a bite.

Etta reclined in a chair next to a workbench in the basement. Two metal clamps were attached to her arm, which were attached to wires that lead to a device on the workbench that looked like an old fashioned ham radio.

"You are very special, Henrietta. You are the first child born of parents from different universes."

Walter scooted his chair closer to the workbench and started flipping switches and turning dials before he turned back to Etta and continued his explanation.

"Now an object or person from this universe resonates at a distinct frequency, a C note. Something or someone from the other universe, vibrates at a different frequency, a G. I am just curious as to what frequency you will resonate at. I assume you will vibrate at this universe's frequency, because you were born and raised here, but I am prepared to be surprised."

Walter stopped to finish his Red Vine before continuing. "You know, I attempted to do this very experiment before when you were very young. I think you were only two at the time, and your parents brought you to the lab for me to babysit. Your mother walked in on us...and assumed I was doing something rather more hazardous. I never got the chance again until now."

Etta smiled. "You're lucky she didn't set you on fire," she teased.

Walter nodded. "You have no idea..."

He turned to the device - which actually was a ham radio she had decided, it just accepted signals from the clamps attached to her arm, rather than an antenna - and turned it on. The basement filled with a tone from the speakers.

"Oh my," Walter said, "D sharp? Why a D sharp? That's magnificent!"

Walter steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, lost in thought.

"Uh, why?" asked Etta.

"Oh, well it's just unexpected. As I said, I would have imagined you would resonate at the same frequency as your mother...ah, I have it!"

Walter snapped his fingers and nodded.

"Your frequency is precisely between your mother's and your father's. It was set at the precise moment of your conception, when Peter's sperm united with Olivia's egg!"

After breakfast the following morning, they all gathered in the living room for the planned meeting. The group listened attentively while Walter described exactly what Eunice would do when activated.

"Eunice essentially creates a pocket universe by tearing a sphere of material out of this one. Anything within the area of effect would vanish in an instant, swept into a new universe. I'm not exactly sure what would happen to those trapped inside. The laws of physics might rewrite themselves in a random fashion. I suspect it would be quite hellish inside, for a few seconds anyway."

"What about the effects on this universe?" Simon asked. "It sounds like quite a weapon of mass destruction."

"Well, anything within the sphere will disappear, but the damage should not escalate beyond that. The real problem is, Eunice is under powered. With only five grams of antimatter available, the sphere is only one hundred meters in radius. We have to lure the Observers within that radius."

Astrid raised her hand. "Where are we going to...detonate it?"

Peter answered this question. "We think we'll use the Harvard lab. The university is abandoned, so there shouldn't be any civilian casualties. We just have to figure out a way to get the majority of Observers there."

Etta grew agitated, pacing behind the couch, her brow furrowed. She had the beginnings of a plan, but she knew that everyone in this room, save perhaps Bell and September, would object to it.

Oh well. She'd never been one to duck a good argument.

"I have an idea." Etta said. "Send me in... as a Trojan Horse. I can put thoughts in the Observers heads, and hide my own from them. We just need to figure out why they have to converge on the lab."

She grinned wolfishly as the firestorm started. The argument raged for several minutes, sweeping up everyone except September, Bell and surprisingly, Olivia. Her mother sat and stared at her, a disturbed expression on her face as she thought deeply.

Finally, Peter managed to shout down everyone else. "All right, Bishop family meeting in the backyard! Everyone else, chill for a little bit."

In the months they'd occupied the house, Astrid had turned the backyard into a small flower garden. She spent her free time indulging herself in her new hobby, painting flowers.

"You're a Bishop too, Walter," Peter said to his father in passing, and Walter followed them out.

Simon followed the group outside and stood at Etta's side, earning himself a baleful glare from Peter.

"You think you're family, now?" he sneered.

Simon remained standing, facing off with Peter, until Etta stepped next to him and linked her arm in his.

"He stays." she said quietly.

Peter sighed, and gave a frustrated wave of his hand. "He stays."

"I don't want you to do this, Etta," Peter started. "...you're just learning to use your abilities, and it's far too dangerous..."

"Aren't you being a little hypocritical, Dad?" Etta interrupted, "From what Walter tells me, you stepped into the Machine twenty years ago, fairly certain you were going to die. I'm just following your example."

"Princess, the situations are entirely different. For one thing, if you don't do this, the world isn't going to end... I didn't really have a choice."

"Peter, calm down," Olivia interrupted. "...I think it's a good plan. And face it Peter, she has a point. Either of us would do this if we were capable. And... she's not four years old. She can make her own decisions."

Peter turned and looked at her, and Etta watched the most fascinating silent battle of wills she'd ever seen. Eventually, Peter forced his blue eyes away from her green, and seemed to deflate.

"We have Broyles on the inside, he can help her if anything goes wrong." Olivia said. "...we've left him unused, just for this sort of situation."

Peter looked to Walter, quietly sitting in his armchair, for support. "You can't be going along with this!"

"Actually..." Walter murmured "It's a good idea. We certainly need to work out the details, but Henrietta is uniquely suited for just this sort of task. In fact, she's really the only one who could do it."

Peter sighed and sat down on a lawn chair, shoulders slumped.

"Simon?" Olivia asked, "Do you have anything to say?"

"I'm with Peter," Simon said. "...I think it's far too dangerous. But it's not like she'll listen to me, so it really is up to Etta."

Etta smiled at him. "I guess it's decided then. We can work out the details later today."

She stepped forward and bent down to kiss Peter's cheek, earning herself a lopsided grin. Then she hugged Olivia, grabbed Simon's sleeve, and tugged him to follow her into the house.

Olivia's eyes followed Simon and Etta as they left the garden. When they were out of earshot, she sat down beside Peter.

"Are those two...together?" she asked.

Peter smiled. "They're at the stage you and I were about a year after we met."

Olivia raised an eyebrow and snorted. "You mean they have feelings for each other, but both are afraid to talk about it? Oh, that sucked. And got us into a lot of trouble..."

Walter sighed. "I wish I could remember what you two are talking about."

September followed William Bell up a flight of stairs into the apartment built over the garage. The resemblance to the lab in the basement was striking, revealing that Bell and the elder Bishop tended to work in a similar matter.

"Doctor Bell...how did you travel through spacetime?" September asked.

Bell stared at him for a long time, then glanced at the white board in a corner. He walked over to it and began drawing with an orange marker. September stared at the design taking shape on the whiteboard, and soon found he was unable to look away, move or make a sound.

"I had help from an Observer, of course," he said, "You people should really put some sort of filter on your visual cortex. It's far too easy to use memetic weapons on you. What do you think of my paralysis rune?"

Bell turned and stared at the motionless figure of September. As if on cue, another Observer phased through the roof. The new Observer wore the typical grey suit and fedora, but was particularly tall and thin, well over six feet in height, had an eyepatch covering his left eye, and wore a spectacularly garish – for an Observer, at least – purple and pink paisley tie.

"April," Bell greeted him.

"Doctor Bell," replied April.

April looked with interest at the frozen in place figure of September, as Bell continued speaking. "...Or could it just be you, September? April here, would never look at a rune I had drawn..."

Bell stopped and glared at the new visitor. April had turned his gaze from September to the whiteboard, and was now frozen in place.

"Damn it," Bell muttered.

Thanks again to all my readers, and to my beta, Dixie. This story is now officially in the final leg, and will end in either chapter 14 or 15. - CorwinOfAmber