Disclaimer: No inFringement intended…

A/N: Thanks to all readers and reviewers… And no, I have not seen the movie whose title I am borrowing for this chapter, but it seemed fitting anyway.

"I have realized that the past and future are real illusions, that they exist in the present, which is what there is and all there is." Alan Watts

He had his back to her when she arrived, noting her presence in mirror behind the bar. He waited as she looked around uncertainly, picking up on subtle cues he might not have noticed another day, one when he felt more secure in his surroundings. She had her hair down, looked exhausted, worried. She looked a little more human, a little less Agent. He caught her eye and waved.

"Care for a drink?" he asked. "I'm a little past my limit, myself," he added, smiling.

"Sure," she nodded. "Whatever you're drinking."

He waved the bartended back over, pointed as his empty glass, and held up two fingers. They sat in silence then, each waiting the other out. He had expected to feel exposed again, or angry, something other than comforted by her presence. He struggled to wrap his mind around the muddy mix of emotions. She began the conversation, breaking their silence, a first for her.

"You never told me how you were," she remarked.

"Currently? Well, let's see… Drunk. But before that? I am not sure I can even put it into words."

"Try…"

He narrowed his eyes at her. She was trying to get him to open up, drawing him out. "Let's be fair about this, shall we? If I answer your questions, I want you to answer to some of mine."

She nodded in agreement. "Sounds fair."

"When did you first know? And why didn't you tell me?" He could hear the edge in his voice and hoped it sufficiently covered the pain. He waited patiently as she looked away, preparing her response. He already knew the answer to the first question; he remembered her reaction to him that night, but needed to hear what happened from her perspective.

She met his eyes before responding, holding his gaze. "I first realized when you came to the door, when we were going out for drinks. You went to get your jacket and Walter begged me not to tell you. At first, I didn't say anything because I wasn't sure what to do. Then I decided that it didn't change anything."

"Didn't change anything?" he scoffed, raising his brows in disbelief.

"For you and Walter, yes. For the Pattern, the war? Maybe. Probably. But not for me, because you're the only Peter I've ever known."

He nodded, taking in her words. This was big, coming from her. He met her gaze, trying to focus his alcohol-soaked thoughts, when she spoke again.

"Let's go," she said softly.

In response, he caught the bartender's eye and gestured for the tab. He slid off the barstool, a little surprised to find himself swaying as he stood. He quirked a grin at this state of inebriation, and then she put her hand on his arm to steady him and it was all he could do not to sigh at her touch. God, what a basket case… At least it looked like she had not noticed.

She maintained the touch all the way to the SUV, which was unexpected. At some point, he realized that it had gone from a steadying hand at his elbow to a simple touch, a point of contact. Once she started up the vehicle, though, he was struck by the reality of his situation. What now? He was frozen with uncertainty for a moment, then catalogued his options. Not back to Walter's, maybe a hotel… Still have no clothes. Ugh. He was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of her voice.

"I figured going back to Walter's is out of the question, at least for now. I already went by there and got some stuff for you. I didn't know if you were going to stick around, so I didn't requisition new lodging for you, but I guess we can figure that out later."

He turned to see his duffel bag on her back seat. He stifled a laugh at the thought of her selecting underwear for him. Talk about laid bare… "You got clothes for me?"

"Yeah."

"Well, thanks."

It crossed his mind then that this much alcohol made controlling the emotions a little difficult, made sorting them out a true challenge. The mention of Walter stirred up anger and hurt; he was touched by her thoughtfulness, stung by her doubt (though it was certainly justified), and a little turned on by the thought of her in relation to his underwear. He sighed with the effort of containing it all, and let his eyes slide shut.

He woke to her touch, shaking his arm gently, and was surprised to find the SUV parked outside of her apartment. He noticed she looked a little nervous, unsure of herself, and the rarity of that was not lost on him.

"I know we didn't talk about it, but I figure that we can start to sort things out here."

He realized the confidence of her tone belied the intent of the words. This was actually a request. An invitation to share her space, for however short a time.

"Ok."

He had reached the world-is-spinning phase of drunkenness, so he held onto the bag and she held onto him until he was deposited onto her couch. She handed him a glass of water and sat beside him, apparently waiting for the questions to begin. When he finally spoke, it was not what he expected to say.

"Where's Walter?" He asked the question with a sigh, irritated at himself for wanting to know the answer.

"Astrid is with him. At your place." She did not question or comment on his concern, and he was grateful for that.

"So why today? What changed today? Because I know you instigated this morning's debacle."

"Yes, I did."

He waited, giving her a look. She sighed, shaking her head.

"I couldn't not tell you. I had to know what you'd do once you knew. It wasn't a matter of if, just when."

"So you figured I'd find out eventually and you had to know if I'd stick around or blow town?" She nodded. "Walter has never slipped, not once in my life, so I'm not buying the if/when thing. What's different now?"

"I'm not Walter," she replied starkly. "I won't lie to you. Bluff, maybe," she smiled, "but not lie".

He felt a disorienting shift in perspective, like when you suddenly see the other image in an optical illusion. She was talking about betrayal. She meant she would not betray him like Walter had, like his mother, like John Scott betrayed her. Oh. This changed everything.

"Ok then." His eyes flicked to her. "Any questions for me?"

"Actually, no. I think I have all the answers I need right now."

He cocked his head and gave her a grin. "Good. Got anything to eat in this place?"

"Not really," she replied, shaking her head and suppressing a smile. "But there's always Chinese take-out…"