Stage Three- Bargaining (ex: "I'll give anything to keep this from happening!")

Dr. David Westman had broken rather easily compared to the other 'Tailors' (the unofficial office nickname for Pattern criminals) and something told Olivia that this man, probably didn't know that much about their mysterious 'Monster Maker'. Still the fact that he was talking was a promising sign.

He just wasn't talking enough.

"Look, we've got you." Olivia said as she started droppng photo after photo on the table in front of Westman, "Felony murder, possession of illegal narcotics, experimentation with out FDA approval, resisting arrest," She paused as she came to the photo of Westman's vehicle pulling into the airport parking lot, waving the image under his nose, "Shit, if I felt like it I could even charge you for the expired tags on your fucking Saturn." She growled out her next words, making sure that she was as close to breaking the 'no touching' rule as she could while maintaining the needed authority. "Let me help you, Westman, tell me something I can use."

Questioning a suspect was like performing a high wire act without a net. Applying too many threats of jail could cause the subject to rebel and close his mouth, getting too friendly could cause you to lose the subject's respect and make the interview spin wildly out of control. The key was to find just that one single point of pressure and strike hard, over and over again.

For Westman, that point was jail and for Olivia, the cracks in Westman only got wider with every swing of the hammer. "I told you! I don't know him, I never saw him before! He offered me money…and I said yes!" Westman was hardly a career criminal, four years as a professor of biology and six more as a bio-chemist made him almost a transparent liar. If there was ever a weak link in the Pattern, this was it.

"That's a lie, David, I know you're lying."

Beads of sweat formed on Westman's forehead and Olivia could see him arriving at the cross road: The point where fear of reprisal by another criminal was less scary then fear of life in prison. "N-no jail."

"Maybe."

"I want to be protected."

She shrugged, letting the pressure grow."Perhaps."

Westman stared at Olivia, unsure of what her motives were. One minute she was dangling help and safety, the next she was shutting the door in his face and yelling at the top of her lungs. His throat went dry. "He said his name was Mr. Jones…"

Olivia Dunham walked into the outer office to a thunderous applause. Every agent in the building, including Broyles was clapping and cheering. She felt the pleasant sting of a 'boys club' back slap from Charlie. It was a wonderful moment, a good feeling. For the first time they had someone inside the Pattern willing to spill his guts about everyone and anyone connected to Fringe science.

There was more clapping, more 'Atta girl!' handshakes, more smiling faces, then a single frown brought it all crashing down for her. Because the only person in the room who wasn't cheering or clapping or smiling was Peter Bishop.

'Biggest professional victory of your career and you're upset because you yelled at the cute boy.' The voices almost sounded pouty, 'Fix this stupid.'

For once she agreed.

"Turn left here." The car ride back to Peter's new apartment was excruciating. She didn't know why she offered, he wasn't sure why he accepted. For six miles the most either of them said involved which exit she needed to take and which way the detour sign was pointing. It threatened to stay that way if Olivia hadn't pulled over to the side of the road to finally get some sort of resolution out of him.

"Talk to me."

But he ignored her, turning to look out the car window. Tiny rain drops were beating down on all sides of the car and soon the light drizzle from the afternoon would become a late evening thunderstorm.

"Please."

"No." He crossed his arms like a child and she had this image of her niece pouting because they sent her to bed early.

'Kiss him, make it all better.' Another little voice, another wicked suggestion and she had to remind herself that this was what going insane felt like. "Peter…" Still no reaction, he just kept watching the world pass by the passenger side window.

"I apologize." She took a deep breath, "I over reacted and I'm sorry."

Nothing, it was like having a conversation with the steering column. He was acting like she wasn't even here and part of her didn't blame him. 'You broke his heart, Liv.' The little voices were nastier these days, getting angrier every day. 'You hurt him…badly. Fix this before you go as crazy as Walter.'

"I want to go back to the way things used to be, Peter." She saw him tense up, his shoulders rising and the cords in his neck tightening, "Please, Peter, I just want to be your friend-" That earned her a hard look. A fuming, rage filled stare.

"My friend?" His voice was barely above a snarl, "Fuck you!"

'Yes, please.' Be quiet.

Olivia was trying so hard to keep her own feelings in check that she'd forgotten about his. She saw him pull back on the anger, fighting desperately for control and she sympathized with him. Peter didn't know how to feel and it was drivng him crazy. "Peter…"

"Don't." His arms flew up in front of him, as if he was defending from some sort of invisible attack, "Just don't! I can't even look at you right now, let alone hear anymore of this patronizing bullshit."

'You don't have to look at her, just bend her over the hood of this car and start tearing the first article of clothing you can find!' Stop it.

Olivia saw the beginning of tears in Peter's eyes and knew just how hard this was for him, he wanted to hit something and yell and scream and bang his head against the wall. But he was so sad, so depressed that he couldn't muster the strength anymore. He hated her.

'You ever had hate sex? It's amazing! You haven't lived till you've given a guy two black eyes during a good roll in the hay.' Olivia could feel her body reacting to that thought, a soft warming sensation she easily recognized as latent desire. With that realization came nausea and self loathing, because the idea that making Peter cry could be arousing made her very ill.

"I don't want to be your friend anymore, Olivia." He whispered and she felt something inside of her crack into a thousand didn't want to cry in front of him and didn't want him to see her upset, so she let a practiced mask of Marine level professionalism.

"I understand."

Then she put the car in drive and hit the accelerator.

To be continued...