Disclaimer: If only they were mine…

A/N: Thanks again to all those who have read, reviewed, alerted, or favorited this story. That *really* makes my day.

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." Jim Elliot

She was sitting at her desk two days later when she caught herself drifting. There had been no new cases and she was stuck reviewing old files and completing paperwork, but she was having difficulty focusing on the work. She felt tense, a building agitation that made the quiet and stillness of this work unbearable for long. She remembered how Charlie would break up days like this and would keep her focused, when the stillness got to her.

Thoughts of Charlie brought a fresh wave of sadness. Charlie, John, possibly Peter once he knows the truth. She sighed. How could she not have seen? How did she miss the signs? The frustration peaked and she stood up, gathering up her case files and grabbing her keys. Nothing she could do here that she could not do elsewhere with fresh coffee.

The wind outside was bracing and she drew her coat close. She slid into the SUV and started it up, pulling out into traffic with no particular destination in mind. Her thoughts drifted back to Charlie, how she missed the signs that he was gone, replaced with an imposter. She had not noticed the subtle changes in his behavior, though to her credit she at least acknowledged that his behavior was within fairly normal limits. Except when he tried to kill her. Feelings of failure rose again and she bit them back with effort.

It was too late to stop the mental leap, however. Thoughts of John washed over her in a wave of disorienting emotion. She tried to put her finger on it, to give the feelings a name, but did not quite succeed. There was the echo of grief, a twinge of loneliness that she tried not to admit was there, persistent self-doubt about her ability to read people. There was the ache of betrayal, but something more too. She sighed. She still believed that John was good at heart, that he truly loved her, that something must have happened. Like something happened to Charlie, something she missed. Like she missed the signs Peter was not from this universe…

Peter. Looking back, she sees so much she overlooked as part of Walter's madness. The missing memories of childhood, the nightmares, his ability to fire the weapon from the other side. But still, she felt she read him correctly. He had demonstrated his dedication more than once. His dedication was directed at least as much to her as it was to the work, maybe more.

She spied a Starbucks and pulled into the lot. Ubiquitous but convenient, she thought. She ordered a large latte and sat inside, giving herself time to think. She let her mind wander and found herself thinking about Peter again. She felt herself drawn to the commonalities they shared as a result of Walter, both from past events and recent history. The disconnection, the distance from others, the depth of emotion under the surface that so few got to see.

She never really had time for relationships. In school, she was too focused on grades; in the Academy, she had to hold her own or risk not being taken seriously. Now, the Pattern is all consuming. She had a few significant relationships but mostly they fizzled because no-one understood her, her drive. Reluctance to trust was most often seen as disinterest, and she allowed that, if that is what they chose to believe. John was different though. He saw through her, took the lead when she wouldn't, gave her space when she needed it, was as driven as her. She shook her head, swirling her drink in its cup. Something still eluded her about John.

But Peter, Peter was different. If she was reading him accurately, he would force her to make a choice, to take a step forward or back. He was not driven by any means and would probably encourage her to relax a little. Try to encourage, she corrected, smiling to herself. She reached the end of her latte with surprise. She had been lost in thought, musing about men, long enough to finish her drink. She chuckled softly about this behavior, then sobered quickly. She was interested in him, she decided. But he still did not know what Walter did. Nothing else could happen until that was resolved.

She got out her phone and dialed the lab. Astrid answered, updating her on Walter's search through old records (both paper and vinyl) and his current obsession with finding the perfect hot and sour soup. She asked to speak to Walter and Astrid complied, bringing him to the phone. Olivia heard Astrid let him know who was calling before he started speaking.

"Agent Dunham! How nice to speak with you. Did you want to talk to Peter? He isn't here right now… " His voice was exceptionally cheery and it made her wonder if he truly understood the consequences of the actions he has taken throughout his life. She reminded herself that he had had parts of his brain removed, so whatever he was before, he was no longer. She still struggled with the anger.

"No, Walter, I'm not calling for Peter. I need to talk to you."

"Well, certainly, Agent Dunham. How can I be of assistance?"

"Walter, you need to tell Peter the truth. And soon."

"Oh, no, no, please, Agent Dunham, I can't…" His voice grew quiet, pleading. She found herself lacking sympathy, though she too feared Peter's reaction. She tried to focus on the shared trepidation and softened her tone.

"Walter, he has to know the truth. Keeping it from him longer will only make it worse. I will tell him if you don't, but it will mean something to him if it comes from you." She paused, listening to the soft sounds of his distress before she continued. "The sooner, the better. We don't want to get caught up in another case."

She waited, but he only mumbled his assent. "I'll be by tomorrow, Walter. I will help you, if you want."

He was noncommittal but aware of her intentions, and that was likely the best she could ask from him. She ended the call, staring out the window of the Starbucks, into the darkening afternoon sky. She felt purposeful again, focused on a goal, able to move forward again, able to sit still. Time to get back to work.