Six Years Ago:

He peered at their doubles from behind the thick frames of his glasses and came to the conclusion almost immediately that they're not quite the same, but also not quite different enough. He could see the red-haired Olivia Dunham of their side react to something with the same expressions he would have expected from his Olivia (his? Not yet), albeit a bit more animatedly, while she talked to their side's him and it easily looked like a conversation he could have seen himself having with her, just differently dressed. And maybe a foot more personal space between them.

His doppelganger Fringe Agent Lincoln Lee (then, he hadn't gotten his promotion yet) smiled a little too easily at Agent Dunham, both versions, and looked pointedly smug whenever he made eye contact with Lincoln, spiky hair and boyish charm Lincoln wasn't entirely sure he himself possessed. At the very least, he knew he certainly didn't possess the same cargo pants or hair product at home.

He could confidently say that watching this buttoned-down, more casual version of himself sprawled out loosely in a chair once Broyles left the room was far more unsettling that a lot of things he had seen so far since joining Fringe Division (that of course, radically changed in the next years), laying eyes on what-could-have-been, what-actually-is on the other side of the looking glass.

He shifted in his seat, slightly uncomfortable under his double's inscrutable stare before Lee went back to charming his partner, and he wondered if that version of him was thinking anything close to what he was thinking at that moment. Probably not, he didn't look like much phased him. Lincoln even read in his casefile that Lee nearly got blown up once, so his double must have been some kind of unflappable badass over in the other universe. It made his head almost spin when he blinked at the two again owlishly and heard Walter's voice in his ear saying it's truly remarkable how things diverge.

All that charm, however, only got him a small quirk of his universe's Olivia's lips in return, and he was oddly comforted that Olivia didn't take the bait. Perhaps it's the small victories after all.

"You look unsettled," Olivia stated after they'd finally conversed about all the particulars of the case and were able to pack up and return to their universe. They walked off the bridge just barely out of earshot from their doppelgangers and his mind still reeled from the day's events, the strangeness of it all. He really couldn't think of a particular rejoinder for Olivia's statement, so he ended up being just content to follow her lead. "It is rather unsettling, isn't it?"

He nodded his head in reply, because to say more could possibly be demeaning to Olivia's experiences. After all, he just met a different version of himself and having a moment of self-crisis and being stuffed in a supply closet by him was hardly anything traumatic on the sliding scale of his life experiences. He had no idea how Olivia had come to terms with the betrayal by her own "twin", what terrible things happened to her while she was over there, but her choice to favour addressing their Agent Lee combined with the tightness of her mouth and flinty looks she gave her red-haired double told him that whatever it was, she hadn't completely gotten over it.

"Your time over there. That's why you're so nice to him, isn't it?" He blurted it out, almost was ready to keep it to himself but was just so curious to know. Her head snapped up from checking her phone instantly, blond hair falling into her face he wanted to reach out and tuck behind her ear, as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his FBI issued windbreaker.

The look on her face was not unkind when she stared at him for a moment before she replied, but it definitely made him feel like he should tread carefully with what he said to her next.

"He's an okay guy," she supplied, after a beat and a half-shrug. "He was… good to me while I was her. Also was the first to tell me afterwards that he didn't know what was going on, that the higher-up's kept him in the dark. I believe him."

"An okay guy," Lincoln echoed slightly incredulous, and Olivia gave him one of those sideways looks before placing a placating hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah. Okay."

They stood there for a moment frozen, locked in time (not literally, but he couldn't seem to command his legs to move or his eyes to look away from her), and after a beat it went from painfully awkward to okay as Olivia's face became serene and she moved closer, and her hand moved up almost to his neck and he could feel his heart practically hammering out his chest.

"Lincoln, I—" she started, resting the hand on his shoulder. He reached up a hand to brush that stray lock of hair out of her face, but then she abruptly pulled away, as if she just remembered something she had forgotten.

Then it really was just him standing there, flummoxed because he wasn't sure what to do.

"You know, he does have good taste but I think mine might be better," he cracked mischeviously, hoping it would dispel the lingering awkwardness, hands shoved back into his pockets and he mentally kicked himself for being so indecisive, for not kissing her a moment ago like his double probably would have. "I can confidently say that I like you better as a blonde."

And he knew that she knew he meant much more than just hair. The Dunham of the other side, he wasn't quite sure what to think of her, the predatory looks she gave him as she very blatantly flirted with him and everyone else in the room (including her double). That eerie false cheerfulness until they talked about a case, only then she reminded him much more of the Olivia that he knew.

The smile this Olivia shared with him then was much wider and real than anything his double coaxed out of her that day, and that's something he realized he could definitely add to his own list of accomplishments and get used to. He looked at her as her face lit up with such rare joy and it made him feel brave, bold in all the right ways so he took in a deep breath and pushed on.

"You want to go get something to eat?"

"I thought you'd never ask. I'm starving."

He remembers this day more than most days he has now, etched it into his mind to not forget why he keeps it together each day, even in her absence. Olivia said yes, and a relationship started tentatively, with small touches and stilted silences, small grins and he remembers the smell of her blonde hair on his pillow, how radiant and strong she was that night, taking his breath away just like everything else she did.

It was the beginning of things ending.

Its hours into the flight and Peter's quiet, still hasn't spoken a word during the trip, apparently content to mull over his own thoughts, what he has lost in this war. Probably even more than most, Lincoln thinks. From what he's been told (mostly by Peter himself, but some by Olivia before— yeah) Peter lost a world that was beginning to be right, to come together, and then was thrown into Universe Prime and never quite shook his status of being the interloper, even though Lee gave him more access and freedom than most other consultants, agents even.

He has his fair share of moody days since Olivia left, as if she was the thing tethering them both, and its that commonality that made Peter begin to confide in Lincoln about everything, the things he omitted from the dossiers at first because he didn't want to talk about them, memories still fresh and painful. The way he kept a wide berth from both Olivia and 'Liv at first, as if history would repeat itself, but still seemed to be inevitably drawn to both of them.

In fact, Lincoln might even be willing to admit this Peter Bishop considers him a friend, even odder still.

"The future's changing every day, Linc," Peter sighs, staring out the plane window, and yeah, he gets that even if Peter gets it more. "Whole universes are collapsing because of our actions. People dying, people never being born, just so we can keep what we have now and we don't even know if what we are doing is right."

"Its not your fault," Lincoln reminds him. His tone isn't particularly conciliatory, but it is the truth. "No one could have predicted the anomalies doing what they did, what they do. We don't even know if Walter caused them."

Peter just stares at him in reply to that and Lincoln realizes its been a while since he saw that look on Peter's face, his blue eyes slightly glassy and unfocused like the night he had been drinking with Lincoln and told him that he wanted to give up, wanted to say fuck all and to go back to his home, five years back and some odd universes apart where Olivia was alive and tangible and Astrid was there too, home where he's just met Lincoln and regards him with curiosity, being more familiar with the other universe's Agent Lee.

"Do you think it matters? Anything we are doing?"

"Admittedly, I'm not the best person to ask," Lincoln replies softly, because he isn't. There's a difference between doing what's right and the fact he'd gladly jump through any anomaly if it even had the potential to have his Olivia alive in it (which, despite being against the law is also just as right), despite the fact this universe probably needs him in it. He's sure Peter would do the same if given the chance.

"You're the most honest person left here, Linc. Probably the only one without a broken moral compass in HQ. Its tragic," Peter smiles and its somewhat a sad smile despite him hoping to lighten the mood.

Lincoln just gives him a small smile in return.

"Strange days, these are," he replies, taking off his glasses and setting them on the tray to his side. He sees Peter nods his head in conformation, before he closes his eyes and sees blonde hair and green eyes as soon as they shut. He doesn't need psychometry for his memories of Olivia, they are as fresh as the day they were made.

He hears the click of Peter reclining his seat and assumes the conversation, for now is over.

They don't speak the rest of the way to Cairo.