To lead a better life, I need my love to be here... - John Lennon, Paul McCartney

Two Weeks Ago

She was meeting with her alternate, reviewing a map indicating the latest Fringe events, trying to discern a pattern. She looked up from the map and saw that the Other Olivia was staring at her.

"What?"

"You're not sleeping." It was a statement, not a question. Her voice was flat.

"No, no, it's fine. Just a little trouble last night. Not a big deal."

The other reached across the table and swiped her finger under Olivia's eye.

"One night of missed sleep doesn't require the extra strength concealer, Dunham. Believe me, I know."

ooo

Olivia stretched out on the couch in her NY apartment. "Not nearly as comfortable as the couch in Boston," she thought wearily, "but closer to the kitchen and the JWB on the counter than the equally uncomfortable bed."

After her third trip to the kitchen, she gave up any pretense of sobriety and brought the whisky with her. It had been another difficult day; the Walters were becoming more contentious and the Bridge Room was starting to deteriorate. No one knew how it had come to exist in the first place, but it was showing more signs of its impermanence every day.

The scientists, guided by the two Walters, had made progress in stopping the imminent dangers, but their final tasks were their most challenging: how to reverse the greater damage done to the Other Side, and to permanently end the potential to destroy either universe. This seemed to be the cause for the Walters' standoff; neither wanted to make any further sacrifice for the other.

Olivia drained her glass and stretched out again. Closing her eyes, she could hear The Voice in the background. She'd quit trying to fight it or to figure it out. After talking with Walter, she'd accepted the fact that her subconscious was trying to work through some psychological crisis, or – she was just going crazy. Either way, she couldn't let it interfere with the work at hand, so she'd stopped resisting it.

Tonight, The Voice was like a blanket covering her as she settled into the couch. "Wouldn't be the first time I've slept on a couch," she thought hazily. As she drifted off, she felt a delicate touch on her face, brushing her hair behind her ear.

You'll feel better in the morning if you sleep in your bed, Olivia.

"It's a dream, it's that same dream, that same voice. Too much stress. Let it go."

Suddenly, she was cradled against a warm, masculine chest, two strong arms supporting her.

"Not gonna open my eyes. Just a dream. Let it go."

She missed the warmth, but felt the bed underneath her. The Voice was back, though, and the warmth returned along with it.

Roll over, hon, give a guy some room.

And the warmth wrapped itself around her and she relaxed into arms that gently cradled her. The ache that had been her constant companion eased, and she slept through the night for the first time since the Bridge Room had been created.

ooo

As each day passed without a solution, the tension grew. The Bridge Room was becoming more unstable; the corners were starting to shimmer as soft spots developed and the two Universes fought for dominance of the space. From time to time, the lights flickered and electricity arced between the fixtures. They were running out of time to develop a permanent resolution and their palliative measures were no longer strong enough to manage the rapidly deteriorating conditions on the Other Side and prevent their impact from being felt in this universe, much like the conditions they experienced just before the Bridge Room had been created.

Olivia and Liv eyed the work area worriedly. Walter had covered white board after white board with equations, but the Secretary sat with his arms folded across his chest, impervious to Walter's ever more animated gesticulations. Astrid, always the peacemaker, brought Walter a file that "needs your immediate attention, Dr. Bishop" and pulled him to another part of the room, speaking softly to him until his shoulders relaxed and his gestures became more subdued. The Secretary didn't move, but a slight nod of his head sent one of the DoD admins running for a cup of coffee.

"I don't know how much longer this can go on," Liv spoke in a low voice. "They're at an impasse."

Olivia looked at her guardedly. She still wasn't sure about her alternate's loyalties, even after all the time they'd spent together. Yet if this was going to succeed, the trust had to start somewhere.

"Walter tells me he has a solution," Olivia said in the same muted tone that Liv had used. "It won't fix everything, but it will allow the worlds to start rebuilding. It's sort of a reverse vortex." She gave Liv a questioning glance.

"But the Secretary wants everything fixed," Liv replied. "He's never been much on compromises."

Olivia nodded. "They both know we're running out of time. Neither world can survive if they don't agree on something."

Liv started to reply, but their phones rang, echoing each other. "Dunham," they replied simultaneously. They caught each other's eyes and exchanged a wry smile before turning away to speak.

"The patches are starting to deteriorate," Olivia said as she spread a map on one of the work tables. She and Liv agreed on a plan and lined up the necessary resources on each side to secure the breach. As they gathered their notes and headed toward the doors, they both looked back at the Walters, arguing again.

"Men," they said in chorus, and shared another smile before heading out to their respective tasks.

ooo

Thirty-six hours later, Olivia collapsed on her couch again, too tired to even reach for the whisky still sitting on the coffee table. Each time they'd sealed a fissure, another opened. Finally, the patches were stable again, and the two Fringe agents reported their results and went home to sleep, agreeing to meet at the Bridge Room the next morning.

Olivia dragged herself to the shower. Thirty-six hours of smoke, dust, and soot coated her skin with grime. She let the hot water stream over her face and hair, too exhausted to move.

"I've fallen asleep standing up," she thought, as she heard The Voice.

Turn around, Olivia, so I can wash your back.

She felt large hands soaping her back and working out the tension between her shoulders. She leaned forward to rest her head against the shower wall and instead leaned into a man's chest.

Let go, Olivia. I'm here, lean on me.

"It's just a dream," she reminded herself. "Relax and enjoy it. At least you've dreamed a handsome man."

She wrapped her arms around the dream, and let him wash her hair and turn her back into the water. She smiled as the dream extended one arm, then the other, and washed away the traces of dirt and ash.

She sighed as the soapy washcloth made its way down her body, gently circling each breast. "Might as well make it a good dream,' she thought, laughing a little at herself as she sank back against the warm body behind her and felt an impressive hard on against her lower back.

The Voice chuckled too, and wrapped an arm around her waist.

Remember me, Olivia.

Remember how this feels…

Remember how good this feels…

She thought she was awake, but instead of being on the couch, she was in bed. Her hair was damp, and she smelled of citrus instead of burning rubber.

She knew she was still asleep, though, because she felt arms around her, and that same male chest pressed against her back. The impressive hard on was only slightly less hard, but still quite impressive, and long, muscular, hairy legs were tangled with her own smooth ones, toned from her daily runs with Liv. The Voice was quiet, for a change, but she could hear the deep, even breaths and feel the warm exhalations against the bare skin of her shoulders.

"I should be worried," she thought hazily, but calm wrapped around her like the arms she was sure she had dreamed, and she decided to worry about it when she woke.