Disclaimer: Only playing with them… I'll put them back, I promise.

"I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies." Pietro Aretino

"No." His stern voice was a whip crack in the quiet of the lab. He looked at each of them in turn, pointing his finger as he started backing away, shaking his head slightly. She started to move toward him, opened her mouth as if to speak, and was quickly admonished. "No."

The silence followed him out into the cold. The icy air bit his checks but did little to cool the rage he held so tightly. He wasn't ready to see beyond the anger, to see what hovered below it. He made it halfway to the parking lot before remembering that Olivia had picked him up that morning, driven the three of them to the lab. He cursed in frustration and changed direction.

His pace was brisk as he found the stairs to the T station, hurried to catch the next train. He looked at the map once inside, calculated the route to the airport, tried to dismiss the idea of taking off. He heard the grind of a coming train and turned away from the map. Five stops to downtown, change to the Orange Line, one stop to the Blue Line, three stops to the airport. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Last stop on that line would be Wonderland. Whose fucking joke was that, he wondered darkly.

He took a seat on the train, despite the urge to pace, and relaxed a little once the movement started. Movement always relaxed him. He focused on the sights outside his window, even when all he saw was the darkness of the tunnel he was in. He had gone two stops before he allowed himself to revisit the scene in the lab.

Hindsight is 20/20 and much of the morning snapped into place in retrospect. The looks Olivia gave him, Walter seeming jittery and actually acting clingy. Even Astrid seemed to know something was up. He briefly mused that he had been still too long, gotten too comfortable, to overlook such warning signs. The word domesticated crossed his mind, along with a rush of bitterness.

Walter had not wanted to tell him, that much was obvious if for no other reason than he had never told him. Olivia had to be the impetus. The thought that Olivia knew unsettled him somehow, as if he was laid bare in front of her. He'd certainly been laid bare before, had imagined being laid bare in front of her, but not like this. He felt vulnerable, exposed, unsure of himself. She knew more about him in that moment than he did. His anger flared again.

He was jolted from his thoughts as the train stuttered to a stop at Mass General. He saw a woman enter the train holding her son's hand and he was rocked by a dizzying wave of dissonance. It struck like a blow: His mother knew. He had been so focused on untangling Walter's lies, ignoring his pitiful pleas, that he overlooked his mother's complicit agreement to this whole mess. Was this what she meant, when she told him to be a better man than his father? Don't kidnap kids from other universes? He huffed as the train shuddered to another stop. Downtown station.

He jumped up and left the train, heading to the Orange Line, still churning with emotion. Should he take this as a compliment, to be so loved that parents would consider stealing a replacement? That they would play God for him, the other him, the dead son they lost? Was his mother even aware of Walter's plans or was she surprised to find a doppelganger in her son's bed one morning? To get answers to those questions, he would have to talk to Walter and then trust his responses. He shook his head, realizing he would probably never know. But Olivia wanted him to know, she had forced the issue with Walter. She must have known since the Cortexiphan, and Walter must have known that if it worked, this would be the outcome.

The train was waiting and he hurried toward it, standing once he got inside. One stop, transfer to the Blue Line, sitting once again. Three stops to make a decision.

He glanced around the train, observing other passengers. Some were reading, some talking, others checking their cells. A woman lost in thought, looking sad. He wondered how he looked. He wondered how he looked to her. Two stops left.

Thoughts of Olivia pulled at him like gravity. He didn't want to admit he'd stay for her. He didn't want to stay and have to come to terms with this, with Walter. Running would be so much easier, disappearing into the ether like so much smoke, burned up, dissipated. That's how he felt, the self he'd imagined up in smoke. He shook his head, frowning to himself. So much made sense now. His mother's admonitions, much of Walter's strange behavior, his lost childhood. His nightmares suddenly took on new life as a haunting memory.

The PA announced Airport Station. He remained seated, exhaling heavily. Let's see what's waiting in Wonderland.

He relaxed a little, settling into the decision. He comforted his inner nomad by saying he could always leave later. He didn't want to leave her, he didn't want to leave the work that had grown to be so meaningful. A very child-like part of him didn't want to leave Walter, to end the tenuous connection he'd made with his almost-father that was now filling him with doubt. Idly, he wondered how long they would let him be before someone tried to track him down…

He stepped off the train at Wonderland Station and walked out into the midday sun, a rarity for a New England winter. He was surprised to see it was not quite noon. For all he'd been through this morning, it felt much later. It was still cold and the wind was whipping around him. He scoped out the area, noted the signs; Revere Beach to his right, Wonderland Greyhound Park in the distance to his left. Fitting, he thought. At least they would have a bar.

First Turn Pub was the bar's name and it was full of gambling alcoholics. For a moment, he felt like he fit right in, but after a few minutes he knew he didn't anymore. He could pretend though, and he did for at least 3 drinks before reality started to settle in. He would have to face them sooner or later. Hell, he did not have any extra clothes with him, no car, just his cell. His still silent cell. He decided that he would not call, but he would answer if she did. He called it salvaging his pride.

Around the forth drink, he drifted to the thoughts of Walter's lost child. He wondered how the other Peter would have turned out, if he had lived. How would he measure up to him? He wondered what his life would have been like if he had never been taken. After another round, he realized that either way, living with either Walter would have likely ended badly for him. He laughed softly to himself. He felt disillusioned and lost, but at least sarcasm was familiar.

Later, as he tried to figure out what round he was on (six? seven?), he flashed on a song about counting rounds of Jose Cuervo… He laughed as he fumbled through the lyrics. His good humor did indicate he had forgotten what he came to forget after all. Until she called.

He took a moment to compose himself, before responding "Bishop".

"Peter," she said hesitantly. "How are you?"

"Isn't 'Where are you?' a better question?" he quipped, trying not to slur his words.

"They are both important," she acknowledged. "But right now I want to know how first, where second. If you'll tell me where," she added quietly.

He recognized the effort she was making. She was not a touchy-feely, let's-share type of person, but she was asking about him. He conceded.

"Sweetheart, I'm in Wonderland."

"What?"

"Wonderland Greyhound Park, end of Blue Line. First Turn Pub."

"Past the airport?"

"Yeah."

She read the subtext easily. "I'll be there in 45 minutes."

A/N: Thanks again to all readers and especially to reviewers like Starlight77 and Shate-815 (you guys make my day). I really would appreciate some feedback on how the characters are coming across, if the feelings are being conveyed, if the reactions are fitting... Cookies to anyone who gets the reference in the title or can finish singing the song Peter flashes on…