Peter was digging through old boxes like a mad man. A lot of the boxes he brought from his place, combined with some keepsake boxes Walter often had lying around in the lab. And Walter, while very excited about digging through old fond memories, became very worried…and a bit suspicious.

"Are you sure you don't wish to tell me what you're looking for?"

"Look, Walter. It's not something I know I'm looking for until I see it. But when I do…I think it might trigger something, a memory. You know what I'm talking about. You have it all the time when I mention food."

"Oh…you're becoming like your old man everyday, Peter. I'm so proud of…"

"Just shut up and keep looking through those boxes."

Astrid was very nervous upon entering the lab. She had been gone all day retrieving the materials that Peter requested and was stunned to find him turning the lab upside down. He looked like a man in complete disarray.

"Astrid! Did you get them?"

"Uh…yeah." She put the books on the table. "John Tobin Elementary School and Shady Hill School Yearbooks all dating between 1984 and 1988."

Peter grabbed the yearbooks and started flipping desperately through them. "Walter, what school did I go to in second and third grade?"

Walter was sweating. "I told you before boy, and I'll tell you again, you went to the Shady Hill School…and then you transferred to John Tobin for the 4th Grade."

"That would've been around 1986. That's when I would've been in 2nd grade, but look at this!" Peter shoved the yearbook in Walter's face. "No picture of me, Walter! No class picture. My name's not even listed in the not-pictured section!"

Peter snatched the manila folder from Astrid's hands and Peter the papers one at a time, sorting the sheets on one of the lab tables in piles.

Walter carefully approached him. "Peter…"

"Back off Walter! I'm gonna prove to you that I'm not crazy!"

"Care to specify on that?"

Peter took a breath, his voice in absolute distress. "Something's wrong, Walter…something's wrong. I know what my life was like…I know what my childhood was like. But I've been getting these memories and they don't connect with the ones I've spent the past 20 years recalling. I can't believe the things that I used to Walter, and I can't explain it…I can't prove it…but I think my mind's been lying to me…"

"Oh, Peter." Peter shrugged Walter off of him and hastily continued to sort through the papers ignoring everyone around him…unaware that Astrid got out her phone and retreated to the office.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Olivia…" Astrid was shaking. "I think you need to come back to the lab."

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

"It's Peter." Astrid cut to the chase. "He's acting really, really weird. He's got the lab turned upside down and he's flipping out more than usual. Walter and I are getting a bit scared."

"He's acting weird? Like Walter Bishop weird?"

"Oh, he's close to getting there."

That was enough to convince Olivia to get the lab as soon as she could.

Peter meanwhile was waving papers in Walter's face. "Look Walter! These are student records of all the elementary schools in the Boston area. 1985-1987. NOT ONE of them has my name on it, Walter! I've never been to second or third grade at any of these schools."

The sweat was building beneath Walter's wrinkles. "Son…best if you calm down and listen to…"

"NO! I can't calm down Walter! I'm losing my mind! All the nightmares I've been having for god knows how long…I think they're memories. But it doesn't make any sense! None of it does! Unless…" Peter tired to calm down. "Unless I'm being lied to."

Walter was about ready to pee in his pants.

"Peter?" Astrid was looking through one of the old yearbooks waiting for Olivia to show up. She handed one yearbook over to him. "I think you might want to look at this."

Peter took the opened yearbook in his hands. The one of Shady Hills, Class of 1985. Peter had never owned a yearbook before the fourth grade, so he expected to see his first grade photo for the first time.

He did.

It was a whole page devoted to one picture of his 7-year-old self. Above the picture in giant bold letters was a message that made his blood run cold:

SHADY HILLS REMEMBERS PETER BISHOP 1978-1985

Our Hearts and Prayers Go to the Bishop Family In Honor of This Wonderful Child They Have Lost

Peter was shaking. "Walter…what the hell is this?"

Walter had nervously urinated a few drops in his pants. He never wanted this day to come. He never thought of it, nor expected it to.

"This is a memorial page. This says I died but…"

"Peter…there is much you do not understand."

Peter could only look at him with a very scared and confused look…

…so much like the young boy that Walter knew.

"You're right, Walter." Peter was tearing up. "I don't understand."

"What kind of memories have you been having?"

Peter was unsure whether his father should hear this. "People hurting me…putting me in dark rooms. I…I saw you. You dragged me and threw me into a cage."

Astrid listened in on the conversation completely shocked by Peter's account of his childhood.

"You hurt me, Walter…"

"No boy…it wasn't."

"I know," Peter said kindly. "I know you wouldn't. I actually believe you wouldn't. But that's what I saw and now I don't know…"

Walter cupped his son's trembling face into his own hands. "Peter…listen to me. The Walter Bishop, the one you knew in your childhood. It was not me. I swear to you! He was not me in body or mind. You must believe me!"

Peter in a surprising case of helplessness allowed Walter to finally pull him into his arms. "What's happening to me, Walter?"

After shedding a few tears, it was the sudden opening of the door that made Peter look up.

It had to be the worse day of his life. There he was completely losing it, and Olivia made her entrance into the lab…just to see him melt into a pathetic mess.

Now he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Walter looked up and announced to everyone in the lab. "I propose we go on a field trip, please."

--------

Four souls now stood in a graveyard…surrounding a tombstone that Walter could no longer keep secret.

Peter was the first to slowly approach it. His fingers slightly tracing along the embossed letters that spelled out his name.

The yearbooks and the school records made sense now…but everything else was still a mystery. And Peter still did not know how to feel. Horrified? Angry? Scared? Pity?

"This cant be right, Walter," Olivia demanded. "This has to be another Peter Bishop."

"No," Peter sighed. Somehow he knew…he just knew it was HIS grave. "This is Walter's son alright."

"But that doesn't make any sense," said Astrid. "If that's Peter Bishop, then…who are you?"

"I dunno. Interesting question, don't you think, Walter? Did you snatch me from some orphanage and brainwashed me into thinking I was your son?"

"Peter, that's absurd. I would never brainwash a random child for non-experimental purposes anyway. I only gave you memories to protect your damaged mind. Happy boyhood memories."

"Happy boyhood memories of what?! Being hooked to wires?! Seeing how long I could go without dying?! Having your assistants beat and threaten me?! I could swear at one point you were trying to get me to kill a little girl…but I can't…"

"PETER! STOP!"

He realized why Olivia had to yell at him. Peter had Walter by his shirt collar in one hand. The other was formed into a fist aiming just feet away from Walter's sad sorry face.

Ever so slowly, Peter's hold on his so-called father finally loosened. All he could do now was kneel by the grave and cry.

"It was that blasted bird flu," said Walter. "I know I shouldn't have lied to you, but when I saw where you came from. The life you were living there…"

Peter was confused. "Where I came from? What do you mean?"

"It took me two years after you died to perfect it, the machine that would allow me to go back through time and retrieve you. It was by mere accident that the machine would serve another purpose. Instead of sending me back in time, it gave me a different version of our time. One where you were alive and miserable."

"The other reality," said Olivia. "Peter is from the other reality?"

Peter shook his head. "Heh, it makes sense doesn't it…what with you being Walter and all. Taking me from everything I knew for your own selfish purposes…"

"Selfish?!" said Walter. "What I did has benefited us both, Peter! Terrible things were done to you over there and I saved you! I saved you Peter! You and I were meant to be together in THIS world!"

"Am I supposed to really believe that?!"

"You must believe me, Peter. Why else would your real memories return now?"

Olivia and Astrid went wide-eyed. Real memories?

"So all that stuff I've seen," said Peter. "You trying to kill me…that was real?"

"Not me, Peter!" pleaded Walter. "It was not ME…please…"

"Hey." Olivia came and made a barrier between Walter and Peter, fearing that he would try to attack him again. "I think you two need some time apart. Cool your heads." Olivia gently tugged Peter by the arm and walked him away from the grave.

Walter and Astrid remained there. "You believe me…" Walter said nervously. "Don't you, Asterim?"

Astrid could only give him a comforting half-hug.

"To think," said Peter as he walked with Olivia. "I was starting to feel left out of the whole Freaks Club."

Olivia didn't know how to respond to that. She was scared of Peter at the moment, unable to predict his next wave of emotions. "So those dreams you were having…"

"I didn't think they were memories until just yesterday, Liv."

"I believe you."

Peter stopped walking as a tear slowly formed down his eye. "I let down someone."

"Who?"

"I…I think it was that little girl, the one they tried to make me kill."

"You mean Walter?"

"Or Alter-Walter, whatever. Point is, that little girl...I keep seeing her in my memories. I remember getting away, escaping…and I'm pretty sure she was with me. But I don't know what happened to her. I don't even remember her name or if she survived. It's killing me."

Olivia sighed. "Peter, maybe you're better off not knowing. If the truth hurts, then maybe additional truths will just hurt more. Learning about the Cortexiphan trials was hard enough on me. I don't think I'd be able to handle anymore of my past coming out that I don't even remember."

"Me neither," Peter said softly. "You're right…but it's gonna be hell trying to get some sleep tonight. I know I'm just gonna have more memories again, but I don't know if I'm ready to…"

Cautiously, Olivia's hand had found his once more…the weight of his pounding thoughts were lightly supported by the gesture. It was eerie and comforting. It was like the world was ending but he was feeling better, more hopeful about things.

"We'll get through this," said Olivia. "We'll get you through this."

Strange and unexplainable as it was, Olivia's words had manage to calm him.

And much to everyone's surprise, Peter and Walter went home together…both knowing that new memories would be invading Peter's thoughts tonight. It was pointless to ask Walter anymore questions given his own forgetfulness…

Tonight, whatever happened, Peter's dreams would be doing all the explaining.

--------

Just as he expected…darkness, the screams of children, being trapped in a dark closet, dead bodies…all hitting Peter like a ton of bricks…a ton of nightmarish bricks.

And Peter could actually recall seeing these horrible visions flash before him as a boy.

He shot up screaming in the rickety old bed. Tears were streaming down his face and he was about to call for his mother…until he remembered his mother had abandoned him.

It was a terrible thing for a young child to be left waking from nightmares without someone to comfort them. It didn't help matters that a strange rumbling could be heard outside and brief flashes of light…and finally, a pattering that struck every side of the house.

He looked to his side. The other occupant of the bed had gone missing. His heart seemed to have completely stopped all together.

Looking out over the edge, Peter could only find the scattered books and playing cards that had occupied their time here. He was struggling to find his voice, call out for her, but nothing would come out with the raging storm at hand.

He grabbed the old flashlight he found and began his search. She wouldn't go out in this weather…least, he hope she wouldn't.

Many minutes later, he would find her…oddly enough in the bathroom, which the children hardly used. The toilet stopped working ages ago, and the bathtub was pretty moldy. But there she was…sitting inside of the bathtub in her clothes, curling herself in as much as possible.

She saw Peter with the flashlight in hand. "Close the door!"

Peter quickly obeyed and but remained in the bathroom. He flashed the light on the girl and she became irritated, almost very upset. She didn't like the light at all.

"What are you doing?" asked Peter.

"I don't like the lights," she said shaking. "I don't like the lights outside."

"You mean the lightning? It's okay to be scared of storms. I wont hold it against you."

The girl looked confused. "A storm? The lights are…a storm?"

"Part of the storm. What did you think they were?"

"The lab."

Peter felt stupid for not realizing thid was what she meant sooner. "It's not the lab. The lab's far away from here."

"But they're looking for us."

"They wont find us, not here."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am," Peter lied. "Come back upstairs. I don't wanna sleep alone."

"I still don't like the lights."

"I don't like them either. But I don't like sleeping in a bathroom either."

Peter reached out and gently grabbed the girl's hand. She shifted herself up, allowing Peter to help her out of the tub and the two went back upstairs.

The storm raged on as they got under the covers. The blankets made it darker, revealing less of the lightning flashes coming from the window. She seemed to prefer the dark…far more than Peter.

After what seemed like forever, the little girl finally ceased her shaking. Lightning was still apparent outside, but she wasn't as bothered now with Peter here with her. She didn't know how to thank him.

She could barely recall kisses on the cheek that her dad would often give her before bedtime or after a job well done. So unexpectedly, she leaned over to Peter. A light peck landed on his cheek…soft as a butterfly's landing. And with that, Peter was in shock.

Thank god for the darkness as his face blushed into all shades of red.

"Goodnight, Peter."

She had already closed her eyes and slowly allowed sleep to take her in.

Peter took her hand in his. He was the happiest boy again…though in the worst possible place. It was clear that the two of them were getting physically weaker by the day. Food was harder to come by and Peter wasn't sure if she knew anything about death by malnutrition. He knew they were on their way there.

On the other hand, after all the hell they've endured, he couldn't think of a more peaceful place to spend what may be the last of his own life.

And he got to spend it with her…he needed no one else.

"Goodnight…" He squeezed her hand gently. "…Olivia."

Peter woke up screaming for the first time in 21 years.