Time on Our Hands (the place in our hearts where we hide)
Fandom: Fringe Characters: Olivia Dunham/Alternate Lincoln Lee Rating: Explicit Wordcount: ~7,200 Summary: More of the same, and talking too.
Notes: Quantum Entanglements series, follows "Culmination". Canon continues to be on vacation.
Thanks to samjohnsson for beta and validation. :)
This chapter contains EXPLICIT MATERIAL and is therefore not deemed suitable for this site. Please see the full contents at the Ao3 archive or my livejournal, URLs in my profile. Subsequent chapters with appropriate ratings will be posted here.
(Apologies, readers. The way this site hides mature content annoys me a great deal.)
[First part below.]
It's been a long time since Olivia's woken up in a lover's arms. Her body feels pleasantly achy, inner muscles stretched in an agreeable way.
The "in his arms" part is more a figure of speech than a reflection of reality; Lincoln sprawls in his sleep, arms and legs pointing off in every direction, his pillow tossed to the floor. She runs a finger along his jawline, touches his mouth, and his lips purse in a kiss against her hand. "Hi," Lincoln murmurs without opening his eyes.
It makes Olivia wonder, briefly, how many times Lincoln has woken up to a touch on his skin, from a new someone he's just slept with. The thought doesn't disturb her at all. This world is full of too many hazards for moral absolutes, and she's a visitor here without room to judge. More important this time they both chose each other, with full awareness, and the past is finally past. "Morning."
Lincoln scoots over, eyes still closed, and pulls her close. "You know what? It feels like a good day to play hooky." His hand runs down her side, just short of tickling. "You feel good."
"Mmm. Lincoln, you know what I'd really like?" Olivia pitches her voice low, going for sexy, and has a wry fleeting thought that Liv would be much better at this. "You know what would really *satisfy* me this morning?" She shifts closer, feeling him hard against her, and nearly relents.
But no, she's set her course and will see it through. "Pancakes."
Lincoln's eyes fly open. "Olivia Dunham," he says, his tone a blend of surprise, amusement, and affection. She waits for the follow-up but he kisses her instead, grinding briefly against her thigh before he vaults out of bed. "Your wish, etc. Breakfast. Let's go!"
She laughs and follows, collecting yesterday's (no, the day before's) clothes. They jostle for bathroom space, constantly stepping on each other's toes, until Olivia steps back and watches Lincoln do his hair with proper reverence.
"That's...quite a procedure," she says, aiming for ingenuousness, when he's done.
"You're mocking me. I can tell," Lincoln says mournfully. "Liv does too. You two just don't appreciate the struggles of those of us not born with perfect hair."
He mentions her double casually and possibly for the first time, Olivia doesn't feel her hackles go up at the reference to their similarity. "Well, the result is worth it," she offers.
"Annnd now you're humoring me." Lincoln heaves a huge sigh. "Let's go find that breakfast."
They walk over to the same diner of the previous morning, and Olivia does order the pancakes. They're really damn good, she agrees.
"I wasn't kidding," Lincoln says around his omelet, "about playing hooky. Fringe events here have slowed back down to manageable levels, and the techs are going to be brainstorming their next big idea for a few days. Charlie and Liv can handle things. Besides," he grins, "there's gotta be a benefit to being the boss, right?"
Olivia nods, thinking of her caseload, which tends to veer between tedious paperwork and moments of extreme terror. "I'd love to. Especially if you spend a day or two with me in my world. It'd only be fair," she says wryly, smiling to take the irony out of it. "I could bring you by the lab. You could meet our Lincoln."
"Huh," he says, an odd look on his face.
"What?"
"I wonder if he's..." Lincoln swallows a gulp of juice, shakes his head. "Never mind."
Olivia thinks about it for a minute and then her face flames up as she translates his expression. "Lincoln Lee, you were not thinking about...!"
God, she can't even say it. The half-embarrassed, half-intrigued look on his face is answer enough. He coughs into a napkin, trying to cover too late. "Uh, no. Not at all. Nope."
"Narcissist," she accuses, but she's laughing because he's so ridiculous and also, why wouldn't he be?
"It was just a random thought!" he protests. "No court would convict."
Olivia tries to look stern, but it's impossible in the face of his absurdity. "I have to work with him, so don't scare him."
Lincoln looks thoughtful. "I doubt he's as delicate as you think. But I'll behave."
They finish up and head back to Lincoln's apartment so he can throw some clothes in a bag and then make a quick stop at Fringe Division headquarters, where Lincoln officially signs out. Charlie's back at his desk and Lincoln waves him down. "Sneaking out before anything comes down. If you need me-"
"Eh, you're not that important," Charlie says, and nods over to her. "Hey, Olivia."
"Hey, Charlie," she replies, smiling, while Lincoln sputters. "I heard you got married. Congratulations."
"Thanks," he says, grinning like the newlywed he is. "And hey, thank your Astrid for those files. The medtechs are working on a new serum to kill the bugs, they say it's starting to look good."
"What's Mrs. Bug Lady gonna think about that?" Lincoln asks, tone edged with sarcasm, but when Olivia looks into his face she sees nothing but fondness and hope for his friend.
Charlie just smirks at him. "Turns out Mona's got other interests, too. Crazy, right?"
"No accounting for taste," Lincoln shoots back, but he's smiling. "Hold down the fort, all right?"
"You got it." It's almost the same exchange they had on the bridge, but there's no 'sir' this time, Olivia notes. Charlie adds in her direction, "Don't let him wander off. He gets distracted easy and then you have to chase him down."
"I promise," Olivia says solemnly, and Charlie looks like he's about to say something else before he changes his mind. He waves them off and Lincoln takes one last look around at the relative quiet of the monitor boards before they go.
Thanks to Lincoln's ability to command fast transport not available to the general public, the journey to Liberty Island passes quickly. On the way, they play a game of "What's Different." They've both made the trip enough times to know the terrain by heart, and Lincoln skips over the amber dots on the landscape to keep the mood light. Lincoln's badge and rank get them through the heightened security with a minimum of questions, and they pass through the bridge room and by the humming machine without incident.
They walk out of the complex in her world and Lincoln stops short, staring across the water with a stricken look.
Olivia's gotten so used to the sight-or more accurately, the absence of the sight-that she's forgotten how hard first-time visitors take the loss of the iconic towers on the skyline.
"I read this in the briefings," Lincoln murmurs, sounding overwhelmed. "In- in my world they hit the White House."
"I know." The losses had been much fewer on the other side. "It's still hard to believe, sometimes."
"I'm looking and I don't believe it. Olivia..." Lincoln looks at her, beseeching. "I know it's probably not what you had planned, but can we go over there?"
She hasn't yet gone to the memorial site, thinking vaguely that she was waiting to take Ella, to explain about buildings her niece had never known. But Lincoln's distress is immediate and requires an answer.
They take the ferry over to Battery Park and walk up the few blocks to the site. Lincoln keeps looking around and up, like he's still trying to see the towers as they stand in his world, until Olivia nudges him.
He throws her a rueful look. "I'm gawking like a tourist."
Olivia smiles slightly, her expression tempered by their surroundings, and takes his hand as they walk onto the site. Her badge trumps a visitor's pass and they pass under the canopy of trees to take in the twin waterfalls and the bronze plaques, etched with names.
She touches Lincoln's shoulder and motions that she's going to meander a bit. Each person who comes here needs the chance to absorb this site on their own terms, in their own way. Olivia's emotions are still a tangle, mingled anger and acceptance and resignation to the fact that no memorial, no matter how well designed, will ever reflect the truth.
Olivia watches Lincoln as he circles one of the waterfalls, mindful of Charlie's words and her responsibility to keep an eye on all visitors from the other universe. But it's not long before Lincoln finds her side again, blinking suspiciously fast but otherwise composed. "It's still unreal. I can't imagine what that day-"
She cuts him off, because she doesn't want to relive it. "I'm glad-honestly, I am-this didn't happen on your side." She stares at the towers every time she's there, drinking in the sight photographs and memory can't match.
But no, frankly this isn't what she'd planned, and she's acutely aware of how limited their time together is. Especially standing here, in the shadow of no towers. "Ready to go?"
Lincoln nods and this time he's the one who reaches for her hand, as they head back down to collect her car.
The first thing they do before getting on the road is stop for coffee, giant cups from a drive-through for both of them. Olivia drinks quickly to stave off an incipient caffeine-deprivation headache; Lincoln savors his, something like bliss crossing his face with every sip. "Your side is ruining me. I'm going to go through withdrawal all over again."
"I can send you back with a stash," she offers.
Lincoln's got his thinky face on. "You know, we probably ought to start thinking about protocols for transferring materials between your world and mine. As tempting as the coffee sounds...it'd be awkward if I was asked questions about where I got it."
"That's...a really good idea," Olivia says, wincing because she's afraid her comment sounds condescending when she doesn't mean it that way at all. It *is* a good idea, and not something she'd considered; Astrid usually handles all the logistics.
But Lincoln doesn't seem to notice, so maybe her tone wasn't as off as she'd thought. "I've got stacks of virtual memos, recommendations from everyone who thinks they deserve an opinion. Some of them stuck."
The reverse journey up to Boston sparks more of the comparison game, and when that wears thin, the conversation veers into more personal topics.
"First real boyfriend?"
The first is nearly the end of the list, Olivia thinks ruefully, but answers anyway. "Lucas, when I was in the military. That...didn't end so well. I dated a little in college, nothing serious, until I met John at the Bureau."
"You were engaged to him," Lincoln says gently, and that's a detail he must've gotten out of Liv because she doesn't remember mentioning it and it's certainly not in any file. "I'm very sorry."
"Yeah. He- " she sighs. "I don't know. Everything looks different in retrospect. But I was happy, while we were together. That's the part worth holding on to."
"It really is. I'm glad you- I'm glad you have that." It sounds like there's a story there, but Lincoln goes on in a reflective, unselfconscious voice, "First boyfriend was Danny. We didn't know what the hell we were doing, but it was fun trying to figure it out. First girlfriend was..." he laughs. "Laurie. She was tutoring me in math, and then other things. Clich , right?" Lincoln glances over at her, sly smile on his lips. "You?"
She laughs. "No."
Lincoln nods, grinning. "Didn't think so. Liv would have told me about college lesbian shenanigans. I think." He pauses. "Not that your experiences would have been identical, but-"
"But some things probably remain true across universes," Olivia agrees, and suddenly it occurs to her that maybe she should have a conversation with Astrid about Lee. Not a warning, just...potential information.
Entertaining as the discussion is, she's had enough of driving by the end of the trip. Teleportation between cities in her own world, Olivia thinks, would be far more useful than the half-cooked abilities she's developed.
The day's getting on so they don't stop by the lab, after all. Olivia does swing the car by the Federal Building to tell Broyles she's on vacation- no ifs, ands, or buts-while Lincoln waits outside his office, smiling politely to the other agents' curious looks. Broyles raises an eyebrow at her, but agrees without argument when Olivia notes she hasn't had a real holiday in three years. He doesn't question Lincoln's presence either, even though her visitor is obviously not on a case, and Olivia wonders just how much he knows.
"Dunham," he says, as she's about to leave his office. "Be careful."
She glances back to find a hint of understanding in his stern eyes, a suggestion of support on his mouth. "I...will, sir. Thank you."
The pancakes were a long time ago and Olivia can't imagine there's anything really edible left in her fridge, so they stop for dinner at her favorite Indian restaurant, the one on her speed dial. Despite the frequency of her orders she's actually only been here in person a handful of times, and is pleased to find it neat, clean, and a perfectly acceptable place to bring a date.
If Lincoln's a "date." Somehow, none of the definitions really fit. But Olivia's determined not to worry about quantifying this, whatever this is. They eat mostly in silence, smiling over the table at each other, feet touching underneath.
By the end of the meal all Olivia wants is to be home, but on the way she realizes they need to stop at a grocery for necessities. She and Lincoln make fools of themselves in the pharmacy department, a required stop since all of Olivia's contingencies are ancient.
"So what do you think? Super huge? Equipment of unusual size?"
Lincoln shakes his head, demurring with modesty. "I know my limitations. Charlie, on the other hand..."
They both crack up to the amusement of an older lady passing by. Olivia is inordinately delighted to see that she's smiling at overhearing them, seeming entertained by their inappropriateness rather than glaring with clich d outrage. It feels like a good omen, like the universe approves.
She's throwing random foodstuff in the basket when Lincoln says, "I'm getting pretty tired of restaurants and takeout. You want to pick up something for dinner tomorrow? I can cook."
She turns to look at him, astonished. "I don't remember that."
Lincoln shrugs, like the fact hardly bears mentioning. "There usually isn't time or opportunity, at home. But my mom taught me, and I like doing it."
Olivia nearly says "marry me" before she bites down on her lip. Instead she settles for, "That'd be perfect."
"So what would you like?"
"Oh," she says, flustered. "Visiting chef's choice. Surprise me."
Lincoln eyes her, then thinks a moment and nods. "Follow." She does, amused by his imperious tone. She watches as he collects vegetables, herbs, spices-she'd warned him that her cupboards were bare-and a large aluminum pan. Finally, he leads her to the meat department. She'd been determined to agree with anything he brought back but is secretly relieved when he returns to the cart holding a bulky package.
"Roast chicken," he says. "Mom always says it's the true test of a cook, along with the ability to make the perfect omelet." Her nose crinkles reflexively, and Lincoln sighs. "Not eggs, either? I've noticed the way you eat. Or don't eat."
"I ate yesterday!" she protests. "All that Chinese! And two real meals today."
"Because I *fed* you," Lincoln retorts, smiling. "Seriously, Olivia."
She just shakes her head at him because there's no arguing, really. They approach the check out and Lincoln stops mid-step. "You grabbed the ticket at the restaurant too fast for me to remember I have no money here. I am *penniless.*"
"I've got it covered. Besides, I wanted to return the favor from yesterday." The cart is full of more groceries than she might ordinarily buy in two months but her monthly bills barely dent her paycheck, and she's not much of a shopper.
The checkout girl gives Lincoln the onceover. So does the bag boy two rows down. Olivia watches them watch him, entertained. "I need to get you off the streets before you start a riot."
Lincoln's voice is warm and full of promise when he leans over to whisper in her ear. "All my interdimensional cooties are yours."
Olivia starts to laugh, helplessly, to the open astonishment of the checkout girl who's probably seen her dozens of times and never, ever seen more cheer on Olivia's face than a polite smile. She's still giggling all the way to the car, and home.
Her apartment is just different enough from Liv's version, without Frank's stuff, to avoid double vision for either of them. Lincoln helps her unpack the groceries and finally, glasses of wine in hand, Olivia pulls him into her bedroom.
They get naked and curl up in bed but this time, there's no rush or need to hurry. All the frantic urgency of the day before has given way to something more deliberate, something she wants to savor.
Olivia pillows her head on Lincoln's chest, breathing in his warmth. "What are we doing?" she muses, not really meaning to say it aloud.
His hand strokes idly down her hair. "Being happy while we can."
Astonishing, it's just as simple as that. "...yes."
After a few blissful moments the imp of the perverse makes her prop herself up on an elbow to voice the question she hasn't had the nerve or desire to articulate before now.
"So are we really identical?" Olivia asks softly, knowing the answer no longer matters. He's here, with her, and there's no confusion.
Lincoln takes a breath, looking uncertain, and Olivia suddenly remembers that he's a few years younger than she is. "Sure you want to know? I'll tell you if you really want."
"Tell me," she says, and settles in to listen, watching his face.
"Well...Liv is...a little more toned," he starts, checking her eyes to make sure she's not angry. Olivia smiles, nodding for him to go on. "She spends a lot of time at the gym with Frank. He's really built."
Olivia laughs. "He wasn't around very long when I was in her shoes. I always wondered..."
"Liv never has any complaint," Lincoln says wryly. "But when you were with us, Charlie and I thought- well, we thought Liv had been on bed rest and an IV drip for weeks, so that explained the difference."
"Makes sense."
Lincoln grins, his face lighting up. "You know what else makes sense?"
She can smell a diversion coming-he's nowhere as subtle as he thinks he is-but she's feeling too content not to play along. "Hmm?"
[Read the rest on A03, again with my apologies for the hoop-jumping.]
