Epilogue

"It's been thirty days…"

Peter spoke again, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "You know, it's really too late for fireflies in Boston…"

"But…" Olivia knew him too well to think this was all he had to say.

"Do you remember that Walter made a dog hypo-allergenic so I could have one as a kid?"

Olivia nodded and curled more comfortably into his lap.

"D'ya think he made the fireflies in Boston resistant to colder weather so Etta could chase them longer?"

She stifled a giggle. "Peter, is that even possible?" She could feel him shrug and knew if she looked at his face, he'd be smiling.

"You ask this about a man who dosed caterpillars with LSD?" He chuckled. "I wouldn't put anything past Walter."

She raised her head to look at him, and cupped his face in her hands. "He was right, you know."

"Hmm?"

"Despite all the crazy, outrageous, dangerous things he did…" she kissed him softly, "he brought us together… and kept us together. No one else could've done that."

"He gave us our family back." His voice was hoarse. "I miss him, Liv. I don't know how to live in a world without him."

"Peter, I see him everywhere… at the lab…in you, in Etta…"

"Now THAT'S a scary thought," Peter remarked, a small smile creeping into his voice.

"Look at Astrid…five years ago, she didn't even know what a DNA replicator was, and now she's programming one."

Peter nodded slowly, "Walter would be proud of her. But Etta…"

"Etta will grow up… IS growing up knowing her grandfather." Olivia stood up and walked around the room. "We talk about him every day. We have videos, photographs..."

Peter's eyes rested on a framed photo on his desk – his favorite – Etta and Walter sitting on the steps of the house on Yukon Street earlier that summer. They were eating (and wearing) grape popsicles; Etta was talking, using the expansive hand gestures that she could only have picked up from Walter, and he was listening intently, a smile on his face and pure adoration in his eyes. He blinked, remembering Etta wrapping her arms tightly around Walter's neck, whispering her "I love you, Grandpa's" in his ear and making his eyes sparkle with delight.

"You're teaching her his love for good food," she walked around his desk, trailing her fingers over the surface, picking up the white paper wrapper holding what was left of Etta's daily allotment of Red Vines, "and junk food." She smiled, picking up the licorice and sniffing it before twisting the white paper around the remaining pieces.

She paused to look at Etta's latest drawing for "Grandpa's Box", her name for Massive Dynamics' 'time-proof' container sitting in the corner of the room. Peter had been reviewing more of Walter's files and left one open on his desk; Etta had been copying the molecular structure Walter had sketched in his notes, adding her own personal touches with rainbows and brightly colored balloons surrounding the multi-hued skeletal formulae, and Walter's favorite, a green unicorn, dashing across the bottom of the page, being chased by what Olivia could only assume were Etta and Walter, Red Vines in hand. She held it up so Peter could see it. "Is there any doubt that Etta is a Bishop?" she laughed.

He smiled, and shook his head. "Let's hope she only inherited the saner aspects."

Olivia continued to walk around the room, running her fingers over the albums cramming the shelves along the wall. "You're passing on his love of music… listening to Walter's albums with her, teaching her to play the piano, playing for her…" She stopped, her back to Peter. "He loved to hear you play, you know?"

Peter sighed heavily. "Yeah, I wish I'd done it more, and now…"

She turned to him and said gently, "You haven't played since… I miss it, too." She walked back to him, and perched on the arm of his chair. "Walter played a lot when you weren't there… when you left." She fell silent for a moment. "He said it made him feel closer to you, wherever you were."

He nodded slowly, and she threaded her fingers through his hair. "You're a lot like him, too," she said, leaning into him.

He grimaced in response. "Just what any son of a lunatic wants to hear," he groaned.

She tugged his hair, and in retaliation, he pulled her legs over his and slid her back into his lap. "You are!" she protested, and held up one hand, counting on her fingers, "You're brilliant in so many ways. You're a wonderful teacher. You're a devoted father. You're an amazing cook."

Peter was shaking his head, but Olivia kept on despite his denials. She smiled up at him and pushed her hand against his chest. "You both love the sensual things in life… wine, women, and song." . She slipped her hand inside his shirt.

He captured her hand and pressed it against his chest, over his heart. "Woman. Just one."

"You're passionate about what you do. " She paused. "Sometimes, too passionate. You both get carried away from time to time."

Peter tried to look innocent.

"Three DAYS, Peter, smoking dope… if that's not Walter…."

"I can't argue with you there, Liv. I'm sorry…"

She looked up at him again and bit her lip. "I'm not saying it's ALL bad."

"Hmmm?" He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Well… you're kind of cute when you're stoned."

"Agent Dunham!" He tried to sound outraged, and failed miserably, eliciting a giggle from the decidedly unofficial woman snuggled in his lap.

"And you know that thing…"

"What thing?" He played along.

"That thing…" she bit her lip again. "That thing you do with your mouth…"

"Hmm?" He nuzzled her neck until he found that spot and nibbled the soft skin under her ear until she squirmed in his lap. "This thing?"

"Nooooo," she settled back into his embrace. "The other thing… in the shower."

He sat silently for a moment, as if he was replaying that week in his head, until Olivia huffed in frustration. "Oh, THAT thing," he laughed.

"Yeah…. That thing…" Even after a couple of years of marriage, Olivia was still capable of embarrassing herself in front of Peter. She buried her face in his shoulder and mumbled, "It's always good…. But that night, it was… wonderful."

He tipped her face up to his and smirked. "I can assure you, Walter didn't teach me that."

"Oh, you…" She laid her head back on his shoulder and breathed an internal sigh of relief. Peter had been quiet all day, bordering on sadness. He kept his deepest feelings to himself until they overwhelmed him - another way he and Walter were alike. He'd talked more about Walter tonight than he had for a week or so, and she'd been able to make him smile, even make him laugh a little about him. She knew it was unbearably hard on him – hell, it was killing her a little bit every day and her relationship to Walter was nowhere as deep and complex as Peter's. But she couldn't lose them both… she couldn't bear it if she lost Peter again.

He wrapped his arm around her a little tighter, his hand splayed against her hip, and reached for his glass with the other hand. He swirled the golden liquid – there was barely a sip left, and Olivia shook her head when he offered it to her. He swallowed it and closed his eyes as the warmth coursed down his throat.

"You know, he did teach me something," Olivia's voice was quiet in the stillness of the darkened room.

"Walter?"

"Mm-hmm." She curled her body into his, tucked under his arm. "He taught me how to love… fearlessly, unconditionally," she smiled a tiny smile, "dangerously."

He was quiet, waiting for her to continue.

"You know this is hard for me, Peter…"

"I know, Liv, and I haven't made it any easier." He brushed a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"No, Peter… it's always been hard for me to let people in… but Walter…" She looked up at him. "Walter loved you so much. No matter what happened, he loved you."

"Except for being poofed out of existence," Peter added wryly.

"Even then… he knew he wanted to love you, but his fear of losing you again held him back. When he got over that, though…"

"Did you know," he mused, "that Michael was able to bring back all his memories?"

Olivia sat up. "Everything? Like mine? Peter, that's wonderful!"

He smiled, remembering Walter's exuberance that day, the joy in his voice when he related the things he remembered, the hug they shared on the sideway in Brooklyn. "He told me that he didn't think he could love me any more than he did, but when he remembered everything we'd been through together…" He held Olivia's hand to his face, and kissed her palm. "I just hope I can love Etta as much as he loved me."

"You will… you are," she cupped his stubbled cheek. "Walter taught us both a lot about the power of love."

He rubbed his cheek in her palm, smiling. "Yeah, the power of love saved my worthless ass enough times…"

Now it was Olivia's turn to chuckle. "An ass, yes, but never a worthless ass. I'll have you know I'm rather fond of that ass." She leaned in to kiss him, and felt him smile under her lips.

"That ass is devoted to you, as is the rest of me," he murmured.

"Good to know," she said as she pulled his head down for another kiss. "Now stop talking."

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the soft glow of the fireflies… until they heard the familiar sound of bare feet padding across the hardwood floor.

"Daddy, the stars are falling outside my window!"

"Shooting stars? I don't recall any new meteor showers predicted for this time of year…" he puzzled.

Olivia and Etta walked to the windows and looked at the gold streaks illuminating the darkened sky, while Peter checked a few web sites for expected activity. "The only known activity this time of year is the Leonids, but it's too early in the evening even for them." He joined them at the window and swung Etta into his arms for a better view.

"Wanna go outside, kiddo? Go get shoes and a coat." Peter barely finished his sentence before Etta was squirming out of his arms and running back to her room for sneakers. Olivia found a couple of quilts they used for picnics in the park and watching the constellations in the summer. Soon, they were settled in the backyard, Etta nestled between Peter and Olivia and a quilt wrapped around all three of them.

"I still think it's an anomaly of some sort," Peter said quietly as the brilliant lights continued to splash in the sky. "For this much activity, it's unusual not to have advance notice of a celestial occurrence."

"Is it weird that we think of everything as a Fringe event?" Olivia replied.

"Given our history?" Peter snickered. "I'm surprised we do anything that's not weird." His eyes lingered on the skies as he continued to speak. "It's a little odd that they seem to be moving in a different direction than the Leonids usually travel."

"It's Grandpa…" a sleepy voice from between them said. "He's telling us hello and that he loves us."

Peter pulled his family closer to him and looked back at the golden threads flashing across the indigo sky. He kissed the top of Etta's head. "I think you're right, kiddo. I think you're exactly right."