the majority of this story was written BEFORE bloodline (hence the quick post) so there is SOME reference to bloodline in here. I don't know how you are with reading, but you may or may not need some tissues. This is very sad, i warn you now. But Angst is what i'm best at (which is really strange because i'm the polar opposite in real life) so with that said, i give you the story, originally titled "Out of Line" but changed thanks to bloodline.

SPOILERS FOR BLOODLINE and (possibly) 6:02 AM EST.

T for heartbreak.

I own the typos.

She loves him.

And maybe, no, probably, he loves her back. Because even though there is a whole universe between them, he would always love her over her. There were from the same side, it was genetically written that they were meant to be forever together. Like a delicate blend of two things that shouldn't but should and do go together. Hell, she was carrying his kid. He loved her enough to trust that if they were to ever have an accident, he'd be there for her of course. Because he fucking loves her.

And that's what she told herself.

So it didn't hurt too much when Frank left her. Because lying the hospital bed, she knew that if he saw her again, he'd come running, because he cared for her. Mr. Secretary would make sure of it as well. With a slimey wicked grin, the man told her that she would be perfectly all right, that everything would be taken care of. And she of course believed him. He was the Secretary, he could do no wrong. Therefore, it was perfectly fine that Frank had left. Peter would be coming to love her soon, anyway.

But the time grew long, long enough for her to think about things. With a horrible realization, she remembered that he hates her for what she did to him and that bitch they call Olivia. She remembered that even after she told him she fell in love with him, he called her a liar and told her he would never believe her. So it was with that painful realization that she found herself completely alone and spiraling out of control.

She had done her job well, much too well in her opinion. Her job was to convince them she was the blonde woman, and that she did, strings attached and heart thrown into everything. Which was ridiculous, because she knew, subconsciously she would be leaving and going home. But of course, that came far too late for her, as she had already fallen in love with Peter Bishop, whom didn't fall back in love with her, the real her, anyway.

And that stung more than any needle she'd ever received.

So the long days and ever expanding stomach was a sick reminder of everything she lost in vain. Frank was in vain. Her tiny frame, in vain, and her sanity, yeah, vanity robbed her of that as well. She was a toy to be used. The worst part was she let herself be used. And for what? The loss of her mind? It was some sick kind of joke that she was stuck in, for nine months.

So her sanity, naturally, was going away from her, slowly. And it was in those moments where she found herself yelling at herself in the mirror.

"He loves me, you whore!" she screamed at herself, fingers gripping the edges of the sink, "He loved me first!"

But of course, it was all a lie.

And she could live in her world of lies, easily, calmly, because the secretary had built the safe net that hung around her, made of lies and corruption, a net that she could use as a blanket to warm herself at night, to keep the demons from her dreams. But Peter was not a demon, and he would stay in her dreams, which, in turn was the worst nightmare she could ever have.

Sometimes she wished she didn't play that part so well. She also wished that he had never been stolen from this universe so she could have him. But she did played the part so well, and he wont come back for her. He hates her, for everything she did to him, to them. And she hates him too, because he wont want her. He'll never want her. And it is her fault all together.

So in her insanity, she'll hate herself.

Because there is nothing left to hate but herself. She was too good to be true. She wasn't even real. When she lay in her bed in the dark of the night, fingernails digging into her stomach she would whisper to her stomach, whisper to a child that ruined her.

"I hate you. I hate you more than anything."

It wasn't until she was stolen, kidnapped and injected that she really was scared. She wasn't just scared, she was cracking, breaking apart in pieces, just as the baby ripped itself from her. She was a mess in Lincoln's arms, falling apart in fear as she inhaled and exhaled and pushed, pushed out the demon child itself before collapsing in his arms, thinking that just for a moment, just for a second that Lincoln was Peter, returned to her and loving her. But when she opened her eyes again, it wasn't true. Lincoln was there and Peter was not.

Foolishly she figured that once the child was here, so would he be here, waiting by her side to see their son, the life only she and him had given forth. He would somehow know that she was willing to sacrifice her life to him and he would come for her. Because he would love her. And she was back to believing that somehow, somehow he had figured out long before he announced it, that she wasn't her and he was falling in love with her for real.

Just like she had fallen for him.

She has fallen for him, really, because she still thinks that he's coming home, coming back for her. With little tiny nameless son in arms, she waits by the door for him. Every day. Every night. And it's not doing anything for her sanity. But she already knew that. Her sanity was long gone, erased back into nothingness by a desperate plea to assume that he is coming back, coming home, returning to them and to her. Olivia will believe it, as long as they beautiful boy in her arms stares at her with eyes that aren't her own, eyes that belong to the man she fell in love with, trapped in another universe.

He's waiting for her to rescue him. To take him home.

She's too selfish to think about the life she's ruined over there. She's too focused on loving him to see that he will never love her. And even as the secretary gives her hopeful looks as she suits up to return over there, rescue him, she's too focused to even think about the damage that remains from her mission. She won't notice the knife her double will carry around, she won't noticed the pain in her eyes or the sag of her tired body or they way she will simply turn around and say leave to him. And she will not noticed the tears that streak his face, his beautiful face as she walks away, shaking, trembling, tired and sobbing. All she will focus on is the way she imagines his face as he sees his son for the first time, and how he will look at her as if she were the most perfect creature on earth. And he will forget about the life he had. She will tell him.

"You have to come back, because you belong with me."

He will return to a son he always wanted. He will return to the woman he will always hate.

He couldn't save the woman he really wanted anyway. He'd broken her too many times to get the right to do that.

And at 6:02 AM EST, a broken, beaten, bitter, kidnapped, cynical Peter Bishop will return to his rightful universe.

It will be the universe he will destroy.

eh fin. what do you think? honest feedback please :)