This is just a short one shot I felt like writing post 4x13. There really aren't any spoilers in it, as it takes place during the Pilot episode.
I just found the fact that Olivia got lost on her own when she went to collect Walter to be too adorable to resist writing about, so this is what came out.
I think this is the first, and consequently only, non-smut story I have ever written. Weird.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own FRINGE, nor any of its characters or situations there within. I wrote this purely for the fun of it.
There were many things that Peter Bishop said he would never, ever do. Things that he had no desire to do, places he had no desire to visit, and people he would rather forget even existed. At the top of that list was his father, Dr. Walter Bishop, the trifecta of what Peter had sworn to never think of ever again. His father's incarceration at St. Claire's had been a situation that Peter had refused to deal with, something he had been running from for the last seventeen years. However, as the sadistically twisted hand of fate would have it, it just so happened that on this dank and dreary Thursday Peter would have to break every vow he had ever made to himself. Not only was he no longer running from it, he was, at that very moment, being driven straight in to the heart of his chaotic past. He was doing this against his better judgement, which in and of itself was really saying something.
The car ride had been mostly quiet after they had stopped for lunch. There hadn't really been any riveting conversation before, but they had at least indulged in gracious spurts of meaningless small talk. Now it seemed that the closer they got to the institution, the less Peter said. Olivia understood that Peter was reasonably anxious. She could see it written all over his body, in the way that his fingers tapped out a nervous lilting rhythm against his thigh, in the distant focus of his eyes on something she imagined only he could see. His tension was nearly palpable. She thought briefly that if she were to poke him, he might actually splinter into pieces right where he sat.
Olivia had not planned to stop for lunch, but Peter had insisted, whined mercilessly in fact. So she had stopped, and she had even picked a little at her food, while only half-listening to some story he was regaling her with about some half-cocked attempt to do something stupidly illegal. He was stalling, she knew it, after all, the quick lunch he had demanded ended up taking over an hour. Her patience was wearing thin, so she cut him off abruptly somewhere in the middle of Nevada - doing what she could not begin to fathom, in Nevada, really - paid their tab, made him leave the tip, and told him that he had five minutes to be back in the car. The look in her eyes told him she meant business, and he was buckled up and ready to go in two.
Although she knew next to nothing about Peter's unconventional family history, she felt that it was not her place to ask. Olivia normally had no qualms about prying into people's lives. It's what she did, what she had to do to save lives. This was different though, and as much as she wanted to poke and prod to see what she could press out of him, she doubted Peter would offer up anything more than the textbook summary he had given her during their flight. Olivia sighed and reached into the console between them for the directions she had printed out. She recalled a turn coming up somewhere soon, and she didn't want to miss it. While her eyes darted cautiously from the road to her directions, and back to the road, she felt his settle skeptically on her.
Peter watched her as she equally studied both the roads and her directions. Had their destination been anything other than what it was, he might even have been almost amused. For a fraction of a second, he thought he might have seen a flash of confusion cross her face. Peter looked around, re-acquainting himself with his surroundings, before he furrowed his brows and settled his unwavering gaze on Olivia.
"Are you lost, sweetheart?" He asked a bit arrogantly.
"No." She snapped back abruptly, softening just the slightest after she realised her tone.
"You sure you know where you're going?" He wasn't as full of himself this time.
"I think so, I mean, I have directions so we should be fine," she stated rather matter of factly.
"It says we need to make a right turn somewhere up ahead," she offered.
"Right?" He replied skeptically, "Here, let me see that."
Peter reached over and snatched the paper right out of Olivia's hand. She growled softly low in her throat in indignation, rolled her eyes and glared at her passenger.
"Sorry," he muttered absentmindedly.
She continued glaring out at the road, until she heard the paper crinkling as he turned it over, this way and that, in his hands. Olivia fixed her gaze expectantly on him. He furrowed his brows once more, and glanced around them again. Once he was sure he had himself oriented, he looked over, blinking when his eyes were instantly met with hers.
"So?" she inquired.
"Well," he started carefully, "your directions say to make a right turn at the next cross-section -"
"They're not my directions," she interjected cooly.
"Fine, the directions provided by the internet," he exaggerated, "indicate that we need to make a right turn, but it's actually a left turn at that cross-section."
Olivia scoffed.
"And what? I'm just supposed to take your word for it, supposed to trust that you know where we're going? We're already over an hour behind because you insisted on stalling forever during lunch. How do I know you aren't trying to take us on some ridiculous detour that will end up getting us lost?"
"You don't, but, now that you've mentioned it, maybe I shouldn't have said anything and let you make that right turn."
She side-eyed him venomously.
"Alright then, if it really is a left turn, then how do you know that? The map and the directions say that it's a right turn. How do you know that's wrong?" She questioned forbiddingly.
"Because I've been there before," he stated soberly.
The ire ebbed from Olivia's face immediately. Stoicism slipped over her features fleetingly before genuine sympathy, touched with curiosity, took its place. The look she gave him was probably the worst thing he could have seen in that instance.
"No, don't- It's not," he sighed, "it wasn't like that."
"In his records, it says Dr. Bishop never had any visitors," she stated cautiously.
"Because he hasn't," he conceded.
Olivia waited for him to continue.
"It was," he paused, "complicated. There was something- I don't know. There was just a lot of stuff going on, and at the time, going to see him felt like the right- it felt like it was something I should do, even though I never wanted to. It was a miserable trip, and I regretted it the entire time. I even ended up getting lost," he smiled, "I turned right. There aren't many people who come out this way, and even less who go visit the mental institution. The road that it's on is split into two sections, one on the right and one on the left, and since the majority, if not all, of the traffic on it utilises the right side, directions databases only store that information. I had to stop and ask somebody for directions, it was terrible."
"By the time I finally got there," he trailed off, and then he looked down.
"Anyway, I only made it as far as the gate. I didn't even get out of my car. I just parked on the side of the road and sat there, staring."
Several minutes of silence passed between them, and it wasn't until after Olivia had made the left turn that he spoke up again.
"I guess I'm not gonna get that lucky this time, huh?" His tone was lighter, more akin to the Peter Bishop who had been dragged reluctantly from a hotel in Baghdad.
"No," Olivia laughed softly, smiling, "I guess not."
She looked up, pointing out that they had arrived. When she had parked the car, and turned off the engine, she exchanged glances with Peter. Unsure of what to say, or even how to say it, Olivia allowed them to sit in silence for several more minutes before she moved to get out.
She looked at him again, "You know, if you don't want to go in, you can just, I don't know, sit in the lobby and wait. I don't mind going in alone. All I really need you to do is sign me in, so that I can talk to him. I don't really-"
He cut her off, and smiled, "No. I should go in. I haven't seen him since- It's been so long. I'm going to have to face him sooner or later, I guess."
As they walked down the hall inside of St. Claire's, Olivia sensed Peter stop behind her.
When she turned around, he told her, "You know what? Why don't you go on ahead?"
She nodded her understanding.