A/N: I'M BACK! :D I'm terribly sorry that I've kept you all waiting so long for an update, but RL got a hold of me for a little while and I didn't have time to write. This is probably one of the longest (if not the longest) chapter of this story to date, so enjoy :)
Thanks to Uroboros75 for the beta work.
Music: The Truth Unravels - Two Steps From Hell
Chapter Twenty-Two: Open Wounds
Peter caught up to the others only moments later, and they ran until their breathing was collectively labored. He felt his lungs cramping inside his chest and the muscles in his body were protesting immensely, but he didn't want to imagine the kind of physical strain that was shooting through Olivia's body at that moment. He glanced in her direction, her red hair bobbing behind her as she ran; she gave no hint of any pain. Peter pushed himself a little farther, coming up next to Olivia; that told him enough to get them to stop.
He reached out for Olivia almost instantly, something inside him deeming it as a necessary reflex. She was already leaning into the shadow of a tree when he caught her, and that was when he truly saw the toll her time in this universe had inflicted.
Her eyes were shadowed with dark crescents of sleep-deprivation and exhaustion. Her skin had lost a hint of colour and he felt the tension coiling in her muscles as he held her. Her eyes were what terrified him the most; they made steel nails curl over his skin in an icy wave when he saw them. Her pupils were blown wide like dark full moons that threatened to eclipse her emerald irises entirely. He watched her for a moment, watched how her eyes danced from one corner of her vision to another; she was searching for something that he hoped she would never see again.
"Olivia," he whispered, and he was shocked to see how fast her eyes darted to him. "We need to keep going." He was almost scared by how fixed her eyes were on him, as if he were the only real thing that she could trust at that moment.
She blinked once, perhaps twice, before answering him. The time between his words and her response stretched out for an eternity as he ran his fingers over the muscles in her shoulder in a soothing motion; they were coiled tight like springs. She finally nodded and then whispered an 'okay' before moving away from the tree. Peter kept his right hand on the back of her shoulder as she moved; he was afraid that at any moment she would stumble and he would not be there to catch her.
"Peter," Astrid said, her revolver poised at her side. "We need to get out of Manhatan; Walternate's security won't be far behind."
Walter nodded in agreement. "Indeed they will be, Astro. We must return to Reiden Lake as soon as possible."
"Reiden Lake?" Olivia interjected. "Is that where you crossed over? Won't that just destabilize the universes further?" Her eyes darted to Peter again, and he could see the concern billowing into the contours of her face.
"For the moment it doesn't seem so," Walter replied. "Although considering what has transpired between the two universes I don't know how much of a difference any of it will make now."
Peter saw the concern slip into a dark fear, and his own trepidation was beginning to brew in his gut. If the universes were in a downward spiral towards destruction, then they were going to have to think of a new stratagem. He knew, however, that the notion would have to take second chair to their current priority:
Getting Olivia home.
"Let's focus on one thing at a time, Walter," Peter said, his hand still curled around Olivia's arm. "We need to get Olivia out of the city; it's too dangerous for her to stay any longer."
"It'd be easiest to get out if we had a vehicle," Agent Simons interjected, and then added dryly. "Doesn't help that ours was used for target practice."
Peter pulled Olivia to her feet with care and placed a hand on her shoulder. He looked first to her, and then to the others; he had found himself in similar scenarios when he was parading across the world as a nomad. Though there had been times when he was caught between the edge of a knife and the barrel of a gun, he'd made it out alive.
This was no different.
"I can get us a car," Peter said. "Granted, it won't be by any conventional means, but I'd say that those went out the window as soon as we crossed over."
"Indeed," Walter concurred. "The traditional methods for anything have become obsolete. It is rather like tinker toys to engineers; they can never meet the needs of their users because the users' needs have surpassed their potential," he finished with a decisive hand gesture into the air, his face tinged with confidence. His expression of renewed vigor was short-lived, as a moment later Peter saw his father's face stumble into a chasm of lines and worry. He saw doubt cross his face for an instant, and that was all it took for it to make a permanent residence there.
Walter's expression quivered with his next words as his hand fell to his side. "We can only hope that our needs do not surpass the means available to us."
Peter stepped towards Walter – his hand leaving Olivia's shoulder as he did – and clasped the man's arms in his hands. Walter looked to Peter, and he could see the fragility in his father's eyes; he could withstand so much, but the tiniest flick at the right angle could shatter him into a myriad of shards.
"It won't come to that, Walter," he said with a gentle shake of his hands against Walter's arms. "We are going to get back home."
Walter's eyes slipped back up to meet Peter's, and he could see a speck of hope still lingered there; it was all he needed.
"I'll be right back," he promised, and then headed for the edge of the shrubbery. He didn't make it out immediately, however; Olivia's hand caught him first.
"Peter," she said gently, her voice still ringing with a subtle fear. "Be careful."
He paused, and brought his other hand to meet the one Olivia had placed on his arm. Her nimble fingers were cool and trembled slightly beneath his own calloused palm, but she didn't withdraw. Her eyes were olive mirrors, reflecting the same apprehension he'd been feeling for the past few days.
With a final nod he said, "I will."
Then he ventured out of the cover of the shrubbery.
Finding an actual car was trickier than Peter would have first thought, but after slinking along the borders of shrubbery for an unbearable amount of time, he came across a sleek, dark blue SUV parked against the opposite side of the path. He quickly dashed across the pavement, careful to keep his footsteps as silent as possible.
He would have to hot-wire the SUV from the inside, and he hoped in this instance that this one didn't have handles that sounded off like air raid sirens when you placed so much as a finger on them.
He let out a heavy sigh when he curled his hand over the handle and heard nothing. He was about to pull his small lock-pick from his pocket when the crunch of wheel on concrete rumbled in his ears. He quickly dashed around to the other side of the vehicle and sank into the bushes there.
The rumbling crescendoed into an intimidating roar as Peter watched an ominous black vehicle roll past him a little too quickly. He suspected that it was most likely another contingent of Fringe agents searching for Olivia, and soon to be him as well.
Even when the vehicle was gone and the rumbling had diminished to a slight murmur, Peter waited a few extra moments until silence was his only companion before emerging from the emerald canopy. He checked both sides of the road before dashing back to the car door, where he jimmied his lock-picker into the key-hole, and hoped that no alarm would sound. His heart drummed in his head, pulsating in a staccato that even he couldn't dispel. A single drop of sweat rolled down his face, drawing a lazy curve over his right cheekbone. He took a breath and turned the lock-pick.
He heard nothing.
He dared to fiddle with it even more as that single droplet of sweat plopped onto his neck and curled down over his clavicle. It had already disappeared under his shirt when Peter actually ran a hand over his face and neck. He turned the pick a little further, inching through the degrees with the utmost care.
A moment later, he heard a faint click.
Peter pulled on the door handle, and let out a loud sigh when it opened without difficulty. He then realized how very tight the muscles in his shoulders had become, and was sure that he'd have a few cramps to work out later.
Another potential problem arose to him as he leaned under the dash of the SUV; what if the wiring was different Over Here? He hadn't seen much of their electrical work during his last visit, and now was not the time to for reverse-engineering.
As long as it doesn't look like something Romulan, I should be fine, Peter thought as he flipped open the compartment that housed the wiring.
Ah, fuck.
What he found beneath that plastic shell was a mess of alien circuitry with wires in colours that he had never seen before. He sighed.
So much for the 'red wire' trick.
They had been waiting for precisely twenty-three minutes when Olivia peeked at the road for the fifth time; she didn't like waiting on the precipice of potential capture. With every minute that ticked by her heart fluttered a little harder against her ribs; anxiety was no stranger to her, but this companion was not a welcome one.
She brushed a stray ginger hair away from her eye with a quiet scoff; the first thing she was going to do when she got back was get rid of the colour, even if she had to bleach it out. It was a reminder of everything that she was not, and she has no intention of leaving a permanent question mark on her identity.
Astrid sat nearby with Walter while Agent Simons kept watch on the road; she didn't tell him that she's been watching as well. His face is calm, poised, and Olivia can't help wondering how much of that composure was simply for show. Her own composure was something of an enigma to her at the moment; she knew that she had to be strong for them to get home, but how she managed to keep herself glued together after being broken down was a mystery to her.
She adjusted the leather jacket again as it brushed against her neck, the material nipping at her skin; she didn't like it, and she doubted that she ever would. Emotion had long ago become a luxury for her, and she wouldn't allow herself the indulgence now. They had to get home.
A loud crunch grumbled up the road, and Olivia shuffled herself farther into the bushes in case it was a Fringe Division vehicle. Simons drew his rifle a little closer; whether it was out of habit or apprehension she didn't ask. She saw the vehicle curve around the road a good hundred meters away, which was an SUV nonetheless. She thought it was a Fringe vehicle at first because of the dark color; yet squinting and took a closer look, she realized that it was proceeding far too slowly for it to be associated with Fringe Division. If those vehicles were on the move, it was usually at the fastest speed possible.
The SUV, tinted a dark blue, paused not too far from where they're hiding and Olivia watched the driver's side door carefully. After a moment it opened to yield none other than Peter Bishop.
Olivia let out a brief sigh as Peter checked the road and then made a brief motion for them to come over. She stood (and upon Astrid's encouragement) ran over to Peter, who ushered her into the back of the SUV. When she gave him a quizzical look, he gave an explanation.
"Just trying to draw a little less attention to ourselves," he said. "Not that we probably won't draw some anyway," he added.
"Can we even get out of Manhatan?" Olivia asked as the others climbed in. "Every exit that I know of requires a show-me, which none of us has."
"Olivia, if there's one thing I've learned over the years it's to always have an escape plan," Peter said with a quirk of an eyebrow. He raised a hand to her face, running a gentle finger over her cheek. "We'll get out of here, I promise."
Olivia nodded and climbed into the SUV.
They had only been on the road for a few moments when Olivia heard the sirens.
She watched Peter glance at one of the mirrors (and uttering a curse in what she was sure was Russian) before slamming on the gas. The SUV sped forward and Olivia was pinned against the back of the seat as Peter sharply turned a corner and fought desperately with the wheel to keep them from flipping.
"Peter," Astrid called from the back. "Are you sure about this?"
"About what?" Olivia asked, closed off from whatever line of information Astrid had mentioned.
"Remember my escape plan, Olivia?" Peter asked.
She nodded, hoping that he could see her action in the tiny mirror.
"Let's just hope that the route is still open," he said as they screeched around another corner.
Then – for no apparent reason – they stopped.
"Peter, what's going on, why are we –"
Ahead of them was a narrow alley punctuated with garbage bins and graffiti, and at the end was a decline with an open door, leading to what Olivia assumed was an underground passage or a lot of some description. She was surprised that something like that would be so exposed, but then she saw Lincoln Lee glaring at them with the fury of an enraged Poseidon and she understood why.
Off to the side, Fringe Division was cuffing two men in casual attire, people that Olivia assumed were working in the area. Peter must've weaseled his way into a deal with them, but it appeared that whatever it cost him was worthless now.
Olivia gripped the back of Peter's seat and watched his fingers curl against the steering wheel; his knuckles were turning an ugly shade of white.
"Peter," she said.
"Hang on, everyone," he said as he threw the vehicle into reverse. Olivia quickly settled herself back in the seat next to Walter and held on to whatever she could.
"Peter," Walter interjected. "What does this mean now? If our only route of escape is cut off, then –"
"I know, Walter," he snapped. He swallowed thickly; Olivia could see the muscles rippling down his neck. "I have tried to be reasonable in my time over here because I just wanted to get Olivia back. I don't want to fight these people, but this is where I draw the line." He gripped the steering wheel harder, his knuckles paling. "I have tried to do things their way, but no more."
Olivia was thrown back against the seat as the vehicle sped forward again, this time in another direction. Looking ahead, Olivia saw a booth sitting passively on the dividing line of the road.
A checkpoint.
"Simons," Peter said. "Can you take out whoever is manning the checkpoint?"
The agent nodded without any hesitation. "Yes, sir."
Olivia would have protested, but their options had been significantly reduced; she'd learned that if you can't find a hole, you sometimes have to punch one out for yourself.
Simons leaned out the window and balanced his rifle over the mirror, his eyes squinting into the cross-hairs with an intense precision that Olivia knew herself to possess in such instances. Peter edged the vehicle closer to the checkpoint, and Simons took the shot. Glass shattered and more sirens wailed, but they did not stop. The agent peered once again into the rifle's eyes and fired.
They were close enough that Olivia saw the second figure fall; it was anything but graceful. Whoever it was behind those windows was snapped back and thrown down by the force of the bullet, a rag doll in the hands of a wolf.
But Olivia could not do anything in this case; they were now fugitives in a world that was not their own. She looked back at the mangled booth as they passed through untouched.
She never even knew their names.
They reached the cottage at sunset; they had abandoned the SUV an hour earlier to try and stave some attention off them. Peter asked her if she was up for the walk; of course she was, she said in reply. Secretly, she didn't want Peter to have to deal with any of her own baggage; from what she'd seen he had enough of his own to contend with.
She was exhausted by the time they reached Reiden Lake, and Peter offered to make up a room for her so she could get some rest (or at least try). She accepted, because a closed room seemed more comforting than an open space where innumerable eyes could be watching her at any given moment.
Agent Simons stood out front on watch while Walter snored quietly on the couch. Astrid sat tensely on the chair near the piano, her silver revolver glinting in the candlelight. Olivia stood rather awkwardly against a door frame in the room, one arm crossed over her torso while the other hung limply at her side; she felt tense and restrained, like an elastic wound too tight.
"How are you feeling?" Astrid asked suddenly, and Olivia silently thanked her for cracking the heavy stillness in the room.
She shrugged a little, her shoulder pushing against the material of the jacket. "I don't know. I guess... more than anything I'm relieved that you all came to get me." She stroked the back of her neck, still sore from the mark of that damn tattoo. "But we're not clear yet, and that's what worries me the most."
Astrid shifted in her seat, crossing her legs and placing one hand on the arm of the chair, the other across her lap. "You're in good hands, Olivia; we are not going to let anything happen to you. We are going to get you home."
She smiled slightly; Astrid's determination was uncanny, and she was grateful for it. "Thank you," she answered.
She looked back down the hall and then to Astrid. With a motion of her hand she said, "I'd better go check on Peter."
"Olivia," Astrid said, and she turned from the hall to look back.
Astrid was standing now, and the deep sympathy in her eyes drew Olivia back for a moment.
"It's good to have you back," Astrid said.
Olivia nodded and ventured down the hall. There was a light on in the room second from the end, and just as she was about to turn into said room Peter stepped out.
"Sorry," he said as he stepped aside from their near collision.
"Peter," she whispered, gripping his arm. "Thank you, for coming back for me."
He reached up to her face and cupped her chin, bringing her face closer to his before she stopped him. He let her go, puzzlement riddling his face.
"Olivia, what is it?"
She looked to the floor briefly, her eyes caught in the hypnotic swirls of dust at their feet before she met his gaze. His eyes were compassionate, the blue ripe with concern, but she couldn't take it, not until she knew for sure what had happened in her absence.
"While I was over here I didn't know anything about what happened on our side. I figured that... there must've been a reason for them to take me. I mean, why else would they lock me up in that facility..."
"Olivia," Peter said calmly before biting his lower lip with his teeth.
She hated it when he did that.
He took a breath and she knew that the news was going to be the farthest thing from good. She placed a hand on the nearby dresser to steady herself as anxiety welled in her body.
"They sent your alternate back with us... we had no idea," he said as he ran his hand through his hair. "She made us think it was you."
Olivia had heard the date on the radio in the SUV; she'd been locked up greater than two months. There was enough shock that her own identity had been used and manipulated like a puppet by none other than herself, but the crippling surprise was that it had taken them so long to realize that it wasn't her.
"Peter, I was over here for more than two months; none of you noticed anything?"
His face was in surrender, but whatever white flag he was trying to wave for her wasn't helping his cause. To her it was only surrender to admittance, like a child caught in a lie.
"She was different," Peter answered. "I saw how she acted, and I questioned it, but we had just come back from the Other Side and I thought... I thought it had changed you, Olivia."
Olivia shook her head, moving away from the dresser and instead towards the door. Her chest was a raging maelstrom, gnawing and pounding away even as she tried to quell it.
"Peter, she's not me and I am not her. I will never be like her."
Then she shut the door, letting Peter's words be muffled into the wood that was no stranger to anything such as this.
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