A/N: Hello again everyone. First of all I'm sorry that it's taken so long to update this story, but RL has been a bit busy as of late, and I happened to get caught up in my latest project 'Resurgence'. But fear not, I WILL finish this story, one way or another.

This is for you Clmbls, because you have been waiting for an update and for this moment ;)

Thanks to Uroboros75 for the beta work.

Chapter Twenty: Cause and Effect

The heavy silence had drawn out far too long for Peter's tastes, but he couldn't bring himself to disturb the sorrow of a man who had clearly just lost someone that meant a great deal to him. Peter's face drifted into a sad frown at the sight of Lincoln Lee, who remained kneeling at the body of Olivia's alternate self. He moved his hands away from her face, allowing her body to rest on the ground, though his right hand still clasped one of hers.

Of all the tragedies that Peter had had to witness, he'd never thought that the death of a presumed enemy would be one of the hardest to bear. She had come into his life and tried to encroach upon everything that he had ever built for himself, things that were years in the making. For so long, he had hated her for intruding upon their lives as if there were no consequences; to her, it was part of the job, but for him, it was everything.

Now she was dead at his feet and the guilt was flooding his body. He felt the weight of all his failures collapse onto the bridge of his shoulders in one mighty avalanche. He'd betrayed the one place that he was biologically tied to; he had brought chaos where he had only wanted peace.

How had it come to this?

Charlie shook his head again, his jaw clenching beneath the scarred canvas of his skin.

"This isn't over, Bishop," he said. "Even if you leave, the Secretary will find you."

The threat is anything but vacant, and it makes Peter nostalgic of his days as a nomad. With those memories came flashes of nights spent alone in the streets with nothing but meager change tucked away in his pocket. Then there were the nights where he was huddled in a corner with a gun pressed between his palms, the nights when he was sure that he was going to die.

He had the notion that those nights would be revisiting him again in the near future.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face Astrid, who motioned over to a thick plot of bushes about twenty feet from their No Man's Land. The bushes rustled, and Peter could see the faint hints of a face peeking through the tangles of emerald and mahogany.

A delicate, pale hand pushed aside some of the shrubbery and a figure stepped out.

Peter felt his knees give out at the same time as his heart thumped to a vigorous beat. He felt a pair of hands slip beneath his shoulders and catch him before his body hit the ground again. He looked up, saw Walter, and was instantly grateful for the man's presence; one thing that he had with Walter that he didn't with the Secretary was loyalty.

Once he'd regained his balance, he stood and took a few steps forward as the figure tentatively strolled out into the waning sunlight. Her dull red hair caught along the edges of her scarred face as her pace quickened.

Peter sped up, breaking into a run; it didn't feel like his legs could move fast enough.

"Olivia?"

He saw the broken relief flood her face when she was not even a foot from him; he wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go. She nearly careened into him, her hands gripping the muscles of his back with a firmness that prickled the nerves beneath his skin. She was clinging to him with such strong desperation that if he tried to break her hold on him, he would surely fail; she was holding on to the last thing that she could count as real.

That last realization struck a bolt of terror straight through his core; he had no notion of what ordeals she had endured in the past months, and all the while he'd been off gallivanting with her sinister doppelganger. It made him feel like the worst kind of asshole.

In the presence of such monumental chaos, he did the only thing he could: he wrapped his arms around her body and let her tired face rest against his chin. He felt her relax slightly, her muscles uncoiling against the strength of his body as he ran a hand through her red hair. She curled a hand against the back of his neck and he softly kissed her forehead. He had to be strong for her now; her very foundation had been smashed to a fine dust and she had no way of rebuilding it at the moment.

"Peter," she whispered, her voice laced with the echoes of terror.

"It's okay 'Livia," he whispered. "You're gonna be fine."

"I was so scared," she answered; and for the first time Peter didn't hear her voice, but the high tone of a little child lost in a dark cavern with no one else.

"I know." It was all he could manage to say through the thick shroud of his own foggy guilt, which spread and clouded in his mind without any hesitation.

The sound of someone's voice drew them apart, and Peter saw Olivia's green eyes widen slightly when she saw their present company. Charlie stood with a melancholic stare that bordered on fury, while Lincoln still remained by the body of his Olivia. The expression plastered across the Agent Lee's face was one of failing composure, where decency and logic were cracking to reveal the chaotic emotion hidden beneath it.

"How is this fair?" he asked, voice soft and faint. He stood from his position beside Bolivia and walked around past Charlie, until he was only feet from Peter. Olivia- whose own trepidation had gotten the better of her- had quickly moved behind Peter.

When Lincoln stopped, Peter could see the heaving motion of his chest beneath his uniform and the sharp slant of his dark eyebrows. His eyes were brimming with rage, threatening to spill over onto the already bloody battle ground.

"How is this fair?" he yelled, his rage boiling over into the air. He motioned angrily at

Peter before turning back to Charlie, whose face had fallen to something Peter could only pinpoint as pity. "He comes here and kills someone from this universe, and yet the woman he loves is still alive?" He looked back to Peter, the slight clench in his jaw a haunting sight. "You tell me how that is fair."

Peter swallowed thickly; of all the things that he had ever considered horrendous in his life, this topped the list. He'd found Olivia, but he'd robbed another man of a friend, and the potential of a taste of joy.

"Lincoln," Charlie called, but Lincoln ignored him.

"It's not," Peter replied solemnly.

Lincoln turned sharply, the muscles in face tight with the strain of rage.

"Exactly," he answered. "And you can be sure that there will be retribution for this, Bishop; even on the Other Side, you won't be able to hide forever."

"Hey! This isn't a fucking war, buddy," said Peter. "We're only trying to keep our universe from falling apart!"

"You may think that now, but every action has consequences," countered Lincoln, "and it's not fair that someone who was so loyal to such an honorable cause should die like this!"

From the shadows of the tree line, a deep voice answered before Peter could even sneak a word in. Peter recognized it in an instant, and by the way Olivia clenched his left hand, he knew that she did too.

The heavy thud of a politician's shoes echoed against the battered pavement as the Secretary walked forward, scattering a group of nonchalant doves in the process. His face was stoic enough to be bordering on stone, and his dark suit mirrored the epitome of an awaiting disaster.

"Nothing is ever fair in war, Agent Lee," he said as he stepped closer to the group.

Astrid and Agent Simons stood nearby, ready to cover Olivia at any moment. Walter, having seen their latest guest, had retreated behind Astrid by a significant distance.

Peter moved an arm in front of Olivia and gently pushed her behind him, enough so that half of her body was hidden behind his. He was going to protect her; he wasn't going to let her disappear again.

"Peter," he said flatly. "I see you've found the fugitive. I think it would be a wise decision for you to turn her over, immediately."

Peter stood frozen on their bloodied No Man's Land, the indecision of the moment casting the weight of mountains on his shoulders. Desperation clawed at him from within as he glanced over at Charlie and the remaining Fringe agents; the fight was anything but his, and even with Astrid and Agent Simons at his side, it would be next to pointless.

He shifted so that Olivia was covered by his body a little more and looked to his father, the man who'd built and then destroyed his pillar of respect that supported Peter with such speed that he'd never even had the chance to blink. Defiance called to him, and Peter had no other option free at his disposal.

With a final, definite breath, he answered his father.

"...No."

Dun Dun Dun DUNN...

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