By request, this story has been extended with an addendum about how Walter Bishop Farnsworth came into existence. Thanks for the reviews and faves – recent ones encouraged me to continue. I know these stories aren't exactly a canon path, and can be quite explicit, but I like to imagine the impossibilities. Plus, I like to explore some odd concepts regarding the question of "what is family?" Also, for the reviewer who asked; yes, Walter and Astrid did what you think. It was a time of emotion and uncertainty, so even Walter got some love. But I'm not writing about that, unless there's some serious bribing going on. ;)

Boston, The former lab of Walter Bishop, 2018

It began with overhearing a conversation. Peter had a penchant for eavesdropping. After all, he once made his life in information; in collecting it, spreading it, manipulating it, and making it up. Old habits—especially survival mechanisms - die hard, if ever. He pretended to be fully engrossed in the soldering job that he was performing as he replicated a piece of technology once obtained from dealing with the Fringe team Over There.

Astrid was pacing back and forth. She had taken a break from deciphering some code from a terrorist cell that they were investigating, possibly linked back to William Bell, and shapeshifter technology. She was speaking to her partner, Claire. He heard terms like "donor," "catalog," and laughing with the words "turkey baster" thrown in.

"No, he won't do. While he has an acceptable educational history, he just doesn't have everything else we'd like…. No, I am not being difficult… I just don't see why this has to be hurried."

Astrid continued her frazzled path from one end of the lab to the other. She noticed Peter looking at her, and he quickly put his head back down, both eyes back on…

"Shit!" he exclaimed as he touched some hot solder onto his finger, and jumped up quickly, as he flailed his hand around. His team mate had seen this happen maybe a couple of dozen times by now, so his pained outburst was of no concern to her.

"Hold on a moment. Yes, that's him you hear. No, I haven't talked with him about it." Astrid smiled back at her friend and colleague for a brief second, but then walked off to her office, and shut the door behind her.

Peter ran some water from the lab's safety sink over his finger and bit his teeth down slightly into his lower lip due to the slight, but sharp pain.

"What a wuss," he laughed to himself. After many years of working with small and intricate electronics, he had developed callouses on key places of his fingers, battle scars from his favorite vocation. Olivia even enjoyed some of them… for other, more leisurely, purposes. He knew the reason for the distraction that led to his oblivious slip, as he glanced over into the window of Astrid's office. She was finished with her call, but didn't look very happy at all, as she was sitting at her desk, slumped over in her chair. She had her elbows braced on the desk and her hands cradled her forehead. The poor woman looked absolutely defeated. Peter had not seen her looking this miserable since Walter had disappeared.

When Astrid's sad, you know something is terribly wrong.

He had intended to apply some proper burn appointment to his singed finger, but his curiosity and desire to make his friend feel better led him to simply quickly dry his hands.

What's a little pain, anyway? I've had worse. Like that kidney infection which made it feel like I was giving birth to a xenomorph.

He walked to the office door, and knocked on the wood below the glass pane which read, "Special Agent Astrid Farnsworth;" an addition shortly after Bell's plan for a humanless utopia was foiled. Astrid had received a promotion, and Walter felt it was time she had her name on the office door because of all of her momentous contributions, mainly protecting him, and being shot in the line of duty. Astrid was in many ways, a daughter to Peter's dad.

"Hey, Astrid? Are you all right?"

Silence.

He knocked again. "If you want me to go away, just let me know, OK?"

The door opened and she motioned her friend inside.

Peter sat down in the guest chair opposite her desk, his brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

"Are you OK?"

The dejected woman in front of him shook her head to affirm that she wasn't.

"No. But it's a personal manner, and I really don't know who else to talk to."

Peter stood back up and he held her misty gaze in his own eyes, sensing a deep hurt. But from what?

The next thing he knew, she had embraced him, her head buried into his chest. She and her domestic partner had become great friends with Peter and Olivia over the past few years, and to be honest, it was like being an extended family.

Peter placed his arms around her, and then pulled her face up with each of his hands on the sides of her face. He bent down and softly whispered, "Hey, now. Hey… I'm your friend. You can tell me, if you want. I won't tell anyone, if that's needed."

"I haven't really told you guys, but… Claire and I have been exploring options for having a child."

"OK… I remember you both talking about the possibility."

"We've been looking into using a sperm donor for artificially inseminating me. But the thing is… none of these men really stand out for me. To be honest, the impersonal nature of the entire procedure bothers me. I mean… my job has dealt with these mechanical, scientific processes for years. Just for once, I'd like something not so lab-oriented.

"Mm, well there's not much that can be done when you are involved with the woman you love."

"Maybe she's right, and I am being too picky… No, that's not it, and I am embarrassed to say…"

"Astrid… you spent how many years working with and caring for my father? Embarrassment should be a non-issue for you by now, and honey, you know I've heard and seen it all."

"This is different, Peter."

"How so?"

"Because… It involves you."

Peter cocked his head with curiosity and folder his arms across his chest, "Excuse me?"

His mind raced. How could talk of sperm donors and insemination possibly involve me? I've done lots of things for cash, but whacking off into a cup and spawning an unknown litter across the country was not one of them, in any timeline.

"I think you need to sit down." Astrid pulled up another guest chair. Peter obliged and looked at her intently for some sort of rational explanation.

"Peter, when I think about all of the qualities I want in the father for my child—intelligence, good humor, kindness, curiosity, bravery, decent looking—all I can think of is…. How you fit them all. Plus, I've seen your children, and while yes, half of who they are is uniquely Olivia, I can clearly identify you in them. You are basically the perfect father I had in mind. And that is not a possibility."

There was a sense of relief that washed over his tense muscles, and he relaxed in the chair, though he still processed exactly what Astrid had just revealed to him.

"Astrid, dear… While, I'm flattered, did you also include prone to self-destructive acts, depression, and being a stubborn and massive-pain-in-the-ass to that list?" Peter laughed. "And you do know who my father is… well, technically for all intents and purposes on a genetic level… You know how scared Olivia and I were for each of our children… My very makeup is fundamentally different from anything in this world. I am ever-so-slightly out of sync. Not enough to matter on an everyday, practical level, but the thoughts were there about the risks to a child formed from a union between parents from two different realities. Plus, I almost died as a child, and I'll never truly understand the origin of the illness, as Walter must have hidden those records and research, but I was always under the assumption that it was genetic. Add Olivia's Cortexiphan ordeal… It was a miracle that the kids turned out normal. Well, as normal as expected, coming from the two of us."

"I'm sorry, Peter. I really shouldn't have told you this. You are a married man with a family, and Olivia… I don't want her to hate me."

"I didn't say no, did I? Let me talk to Olivia about the situation. You may be surprised. If anything, I may be the one who ends up sleeping on the couch with only the dog to keep me company for a couple of months."

Bishop residence

"I see the point, Peter. "Why not have the child originate from someone special to her, rather than some stranger? And Hell… none of the men offered by the donor banks can beat your IQ. To be honest, if I had never met you, and if he had lived, I may have asked Charlie to do the same thing for me. I never saw myself having a husband."

"The sticky issue, hun, if you pardon the pun, is procedure. After seeing clones and test tube baby experiments galore, we were discussing accomplishing the goal, the old fashioned way. Seminal collection and injection is a little too rote for my taste.

Olivia tilted her head and gave her husband an intense questioning gaze.

"You are asking to have sex with her?" his wife tittered.

Peter placed his hands up in front of himself in a cautionary gesture.

"Only if you are OK with it. If not, I'll insist on the porn and cup-plus-syringe route."

Olivia considered it for a few minutes. The implications of such action…

"I don't think I'd care, Peter, but that's… wow… Claire is OK with this?"

"Yes, they both want a child born out of human contact and affection. She knows that I don't love Astrid. Well, not at least in the way she does, or the way that I love you."

They discussed the issue long into the night, and took turns researching similar situations and legal procedures.

Dinner at the Bishops

Olivia and Peter invited Astrid and Claire over for dinner one evening, and Nina took the kids so that the two couples could have an uninterrupted conversation. Nina had counseled them all on the matter and offered the services of one of her personal lawyers.

Peter had decided to let his wife take the lead with the majority of the details. He was hers to do with as she wished, in his opinion. Whatever she ultimately decided, was law in their relationship. This tenet had served them well. Peter was perfectly find letting her where the pants, as long as he got to hold them up.

"Thanks for coming over, the both of you. We've had our lawyer draw up the contract and we wanted to discuss it again before it was all signed and filed tomorrow."

"We insist on certain parental rights. I'm not going to allow Peter to do this unless he has some claims to any child that may result; mainly, the right to see it and be involved in its life…

"Second, the child must be aware that Peter is his or her father. Our children will be siblings in every way."

"We are to be legally absolved of any financial support, but we can offer it if we so choose, and you can be sure we will."

"The sessions will take place at a neutral place – a hotel room; not our homes."

"We'll initially agree to 3 ovulation cycles or three-month's time. Peter will provide his… services… for 3 days each cycle, once every 12 hours."

"This is somewhat morbid, but… given the nature of our work and past experience… If Astrid dies, Claire will be given custody. If you both somehow die while the child is a minor, Peter and I will be given full custody."

Several weeks later…

So, I take it that the mating call has arrived?" Olivia grinned, a happy baby on her hip, another secured in a high chair, and Etta off watching cartoons and practicing her drawing skills. Peter turned somewhat red, as he put his cell phone back on the counter and returned to his task of washing pots and pans.

"Maybe, I should bring the camera and make a video for Discovery," he offered back with a slight grin in an attempt to keep the topic light. "You can be the entire film crew."

"Don't you mean Hustler?" Olivia laughed back, as she enjoyed the banter with her mate.

Phew, so she is still OK with this.

"Even if we actually would go through with such a crazy and kind of creepy idea, with our luck, our curious daughter will find it, and then there will be some serious explaining to do."

"As if we won't have enough of that to do if Astrid does become pregnant, and the child calls you Daddy, which I fully expect," Olivia said with a more serious tone as she placed baby Charlie into the playpen along with his brother, Sam.

"Well, let's hope it works and this next couple of months is all I need to um… attend to."

"Considering we had Etta so easily, and then you outdid yourself with twins, I'd say the chances are good."

Peter replied with mock indigence, "Excuse me, but those twins were the result of your two eggs, thank you very much."

"Well, they would have gone on their merry little way if someone didn't have sonar sperm, Olivia giggled. "Though that took care of the 3 we wanted."

"Livia, are you sure you'll be fine here with the boys and Etta while I am off on my um… goodwill mission?"

"Just get 'er done, as they say, and be back home shortly after sunrise."

Four Season's Hotel

Astrid flipped through some television stations, while sitting on a fairly posh bed. They had agreed that any potential conception would not occur in a seedy motel, and Peter, having amassed quite a small fortune from patents for devices based from his father's work, had made the offer to pay for a nice room. The expectant woman was dressed in a black negligee - a plush robe enveloped her nearly nude body.

Easy access.

He had called earlier to let her know he had to make a stop first. She was nervous and the muscles of her back would occasional ripple with anticipation when she ran dozens of thoughts quickly through her agile mind.

What will this be like?

Do we just "do it" and get it over with?

What if he's good and I like it?

Am I really going to fuck my good, married friend like he is a stud horse?

She laughed at the last one, even though the thought of using him in that manner was distasteful to her.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, there was a knock at the hotel door. Cautiously, she looked through the eye piece to see what looked like a pizza delivery guy standing outside, but it was Peter.

"Is this your idea of some kind of kinky role-play, Mr. Bishop?" she giggled as she opened the door for him.

Peter had dressed simply in a pair of loose, belted, black Wrangler jeans, and a gray three-button Henley, an open navy zip-up hoodie, and a pair black leather engineer boots. He wore an aged black Violet Sedan Chair ball cap, which he preferred only for leisurely days off. Otherwise, he tried to be somewhat cleaned up for work. This was a sign of how comfortable he was with Astrid. No formality. Just two friends. About to get it on…

Peter placed the pizza on the table, and he embraced Astrid in a quick hug, laughing. "No. No. Don't worry about the naughty pizza boy getting a different kind of tip. I just felt… that… well, ha, ha, I should at least buy you dinner."

"Oh, Peter. That's so sweet. You didn't have to."

"Well, it's not Four Season's room service, but I try…. And…"

The smiling man pulled a bottle of wine out of his kit bag, and even some plastic wine glasses.

"High-style for us, my lady. Let's enjoy tonight. Sound good?"

Astrid nodded, and they both dug into the supreme Damiano's pizza. Their discussions ranged from Claire's work to the tribe of Bishop children.

Peter looked over at mostly ignored television set, and about choked on a piece of pizza that was he was chewing. Astrid had last clicked on the Discovery Channel, and there were a group of bonobo monkeys basically having an orgy in the forest. Astrid looked over to see what Peter was laughing about, and turned beet red. The remote was quickly snatched up and the television switched off.

Peter arched his eyebrow, and quipped in a playful tone, "We could always put on some mood music."

"I think we'll be fine without a soundtrack. I really don't want to have one of those, 'sweetie you were conceived to a Justin Bieber song' stories."

"Oh, no, sweetheart. Not that. Instead, we'd ruin jazz for the poor kid for life."

They both giggled at the thought, and then there was a moment of silence, as the two of them sensed there had been enough friendly stalling.

Peter shoved his lingering pizza crust off to the side and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"You know, just because this is a legal arrangement doesn't mean it has to be all clinical; that we can't have fun and enjoy it," he said as he looked intently at the remaining wine in his glass and swirled it around, purposely avoiding eye contact.

Astrid had been feigning interest in the current pizza slice too long for her taste. Her hunger was different, and started to awaken as she spoke to the man sitting with her; as they enjoyed their time together. She didn't want to break the spell, and was glad that he spoke up first. She stood up and extended her hand to him. Peter looked up to her-one of the rare times that would ever happen given their height differences—and softly took her tiny hand in his, then he stood up to tower above her. His eyes bored soulfully into hers, and they spoke silent volumes.

He looks scared, almost trembling.

It was Astrid who took the lead.

Chink! The heavy, worn leather of his trusty belt creaked after Astrid had undone his buckle. Peter stared at her in a moment of disbelief. He was briefly paralyzed as she yanked his zipper open and then shoved his jeans down over his perfectly curved ass so that they fell down to his knees, leaving him nearly exposed in his black Jockeys. He was so electrified by the boldness that the hair on his legs was standing; his skin pebbled with evidence of excitement.

Hell, this is making me hot. Here I am, normally a tiger, and she's turned me into a mewling kitten. Not expected from Astrid. I like it.

His initially soft cock reacted in kind, a surging pulse starting the process of bringing it to life, as she went straight for business and removed her robe. Peter looked on, fascinated and entranced by her lace-covered body. He shook off his skittishness, and pulled her to him with a small growl, his hands cupping one of her breasts as their long denied mouths sought each other out. They lost themselves for a few minutes in heavy kisses and mutual body exploration with solid, massaging motions. Sometime during their foreplay, his shirt ended up… somewhere, and his boxers were kicked into a corner.

Why do I feel like this isn't so out of place? Like this is meant to happen? Huh, déjà vu. What do ya know?

She stroked his manhood gently at a leisurely and seductive pace at first, noting just how much he gained in both length and girth; definitely well above average.

"Damn, Peter. How do you hide all of that in there?" Astrid remarked as she took in view what had been hidden from her all of these years.

"Do you think you can handle it? And I don't mean that to brag about the size of my junk. I don't… Don't want to hurt you."

"Astrid raised an eyebrow, "Sure… Peter… I may prefer women, but I've had my fair share of guys, too, and one thing is fairly universal with you: You guys take every opportunity to prove you have a big dick, especially if it's actually true. Besides, I kinda had the feeling you were blessed," she winked.

She took in his entire nude form, making notes of his delicious body. Peter was amazingly fit for a guy who would be 40 this year. He did have an ever-so-slight excess of stomach, but it actually made him all the more real and cuddly.

If Peter knew I was having these sex dreams about him the past few years—complete with a threesome with Olivia… that seemed, oddly real…

"I look forward to it. You should see some of the toys that Claire and I have."

Peter's flashed a toothy grin when he thought about that. "Oh, I can imagine," the amused soon-to-be-lover chuckled. "But, how to put this… I can't compete with The Dominator." Peter's hands moved to the front of his bare chest, and he spread them apart with about a good 18-inch space between them, as if to emphasize a point.

"Sure you can. You can cum, and that's all I really need, right?"

Peter's cheerful flirting was deflated with that statement, as it landed him square back into reality and his purpose for being here, in a hotel room with Astrid, in the first place. His sole mission was to be a sperm donor. Quite literally - to be a tool. Any other thoughts about potential side benefits of this specific need for his ejaculate should be locked away, but his heated and excited body and the overwhelming primal urges in his brain overrode these rational thoughts. Genius or not, he was still a man, and he saw a beautiful, naked woman whom he cared for— smelled her desire for his touch – heard her voice laced with want, even if the context of her words were not. And, her touch contradicted the intent of her words.

Oops, I upset him. Dealing with the male ego is a bit rusty for me.

God, she's playing with my balls, like they are candy to be unwrapped.

He exhaled slowly, and groaned, giving in to the pleasure, as Astrid enjoyed the weight of his hefty sack, and imagined the shear amount of fluid that he would most likely provide. It had been ages since she had been with a man. Her stomach knotted into a heated lump, at this thought. The idea of him cumming inside her for the sole purpose of creating a new life, was pretty overwhelming, and it made her incredibly horny.

This feels so right. I've made the choice to have a child conceived out of affection, and fathered by a man I know and care for. No regrets…

Even after being with Olivia for so long, Peter still immensely enjoyed sex with her. They had never reached a dreaded plateau that so many other married couples suffered that led to boredom. It could be hot, and sometimes kinky, but he mostly got off on their love for one another. Their binding emotional connection led to physical bliss. However, this act with Astrid was unexplored territory, and his naughty and opportunistic cock seemed to sense this carnal attraction, causing the blood that poured into it to beat a savage rhythm that pounded in his ears. In any other situation, she was off limits, forbidden fruit. Now, made available, it was just too much to resist.

Her mocha skin was gorgeous and responsive to his touches, and he was quite enjoying her reactions to his teasing strokes across her very alive and engorged clit. Her sex was overflowing with wet heat, and it was driving all of his senses mad with overwhelming stimulation. He felt every urge to toss her onto the bed on her knees and to wildly fuck her into oblivion; true animal copulation in the basest sense of the phrase. It scared him because for the longest time, his one and only was Olivia, and he pretty much expected to die with that always being the case.

Instead, he pulled himself back to being human, and scooped her up into his arms, hers wrapping loosely around his neck. He placed her gently on the bed and hovered above her, mindful of the differences in their mass. Peter continued to love her from mouth, to thighs, and inside her thighs, as she verbally encouraged him.

"Peter. I want you badly. Did you ever think you'd hear that?"

He continued to look her in the eyes as he positioned himself between her legs, he ran his fingers all around her soaked pussy, and slowly worked some fingers in and out, making sure she was ready. He then placed the palms of his hand on her thighs and spread her legs as far as he could to give himself as unrestricted access as possible. She quivered beneath his touch, the roles now reversed from those that they had undertaken earlier. She had led him to this point, let him know that she felt safe with him, placed complete trust in him; he sensed this. It made him quite deliberate and mindful of his actions. He may have wanted to fuck her like an animal, but he'd be damned if he hurt her in the process.

Astrid felt the tip of him at her entrance as held his cock, and prepared to start the process that she hoped would pay off. She wasn't young either, and didn't even know how her fertility would be affected by this fact. The knowledge that she was ovulating was encouraging, however. She was fairly certain that the conditions were right, this very night, to accomplish their goal. Her thoughts were shifted as she felt him enter her tight passage. She didn't admit that she really was daunted by the size of him, because unlike a toy, she could not control his speed and movement. But her slight anxiousness was unfounded.

She had initially felt the need to close her eyes and bite her lip, expecting some unpleasant pressure, and possibly fleeting pain, as he filled her, stretching her to the limits of her body. Peter was of course certainly experienced enough with sex that he knew better than to ram his thick rod into a woman all at once, and to expect consequences from such a sadistic move. Her eyes remained open as she held his gaze. But he lost himself in the exquisite bliss of feeling her tight walls resist him, and he broke eye contact. He slipped partially into her and pulled back before sliding a bit in, which made Astrid squirm and whimper beneath him. He smiled at her desire for him, and after a few half pumps, completely buried his root in the garden valley.

His vision was blurred with intensity from so many levels of sensation.

There is quite a difference between a woman who has given birth to three children, and a woman who has never had kids.

His rhythm was pleasing, measured and rough at the same time. He was no longer afraid of hurting her, and increased his tempo to a pounding pace. Her skin became flushed with heat and slickened by sweat from her own body and some which dripped from Peter. Astrid's womb made its desire know as she felt the familiar signs of climax approaching. She ached for him to flood her with his seething seed, to the point at which it would flow out of her. Her own fluid coated him as well, and added a soft, suctioning smack each time he pushed into up into her all of the way, his balls provided the percussive element.

"Come on, Peter. So close. You ARE going to get me pregnant tonight," she encouraged him, and even though he really didn't need it, it flipped an instinctual switch on in him. Even when he and Olivia were actually trying for a second child, she never uttered such a thing to him. It was devilishly naughty in his mind.

Peter panted hard as his machinery was sent into overdrive, and Astrid reacted in kind. She unyieldingly bucked back up into him. His eyes closed, and noises alternated between grunts, curses, and pleasured outbursts. With purpose, he forcefully latched onto the sides of her hips and pulled her toward his center mass at an upward angle and as close as their bodies would fit. The rutting man held her next to him, fully using his position to grind into her clit and g-spot simultaneously, while she writhed and squirmed beneath him, and he came undone hard, his sought-after seed propelled and scattered in filling spurts into a hopeful garden. As he vigorously pumped his last few thrusts, she quivered and moaned loudly; her sex had completely soaked him with her own offering. He loved feeling her break all around him. Breaking the dike, he thought and mentally slapped himself for such a derogatory pun, although Astrid may have found it funny given the source and context.

Afterwards he cupped her face in his left hand; his shaking right arm supported his weight, as he stared into her eyes. His member had completely delivered its precious offering—siphoned from deep within the heated, sprung coils of his body. Peter's head was spinning as his brain came down from the high of his bliss, and his body recovered from exertion. He leaned over to place the bulk of his weight on his side, pulling along the smaller woman who had been beneath him, and they both adjusted to the new position.

With a hard exhale, Peter nuzzled Astrid and buried his nose slightly into the pillow next to her head, his chest heaving as his lungs screamed for oxygen and his heart pounded at the rate of a metronome on its highest setting. A soft whisper escaped his lips and into Astrid's ear, the breath quick and labored. "I don't want to crush you, but don't want to pull out just yet. The chances for conception are better if I remain inside you for a while." As it was, he could feel his voluminous seed slightly oozing between them, trickling down their thighs. It became small, sticky drops that mingled with the soaked spot on the bed that was mainly her doing. He intended to keep things dammed up for as long as possible in order to allow nature to take its course, if the time was right, as predicted by the test she had taken to determine if she was fertile.

Soft, trembling fingers made patterns in the damp curls on the back of his head, and sent goose bumps up and down his spine. Then a finger slowly reached the outside of his exposed ear, tracing a tickling pattern. Peter looked up from the pillow and could not help but smile as Astrid quietly and affectionately enjoyed the afterglow of this session.

"I'm perfectly content if it doesn't take this first time out," she purred.

Peter's eyebrows arched and he opened his eyes a little wider.

Astrid watched his Adam's apple work as he swallowed hard and then cleared his throat before offering a reply.

"Heh, I guess that's our little secret then, because I must say, that was fun. What our respective beloved partners don't know… they don't need to know. What happens here, stays here, and will never happen anywhere else."

Peter slipped his wilted and completely coated cock out of her, and rolled over on his back, blinking in the dark at the unseen ceiling. The last vestige of his semen coated the head of his now limp plow, and his depleted seed sack was coated with Astrid's juices, matting down the coarse hair covering it. It was this very realization that drove home the point that he and his friend had crossed the line into an intimate level, and there was no going back. Even if this week was a one-time exception to the commonly accepted societal rules of marital fidelity, things had changed between them, forever. Especially if he did manage to impregnate her this week. Being a father to a woman's child made the relationship alteration certain.

He hated that word: impregnate. There'd be a repeat performance in 12 hours, but it wasn't going to start as awkward as this time went.

What complicated feelings to have. I suppose it's just evolutionary biology in some ways, but there are several levels of affection at play here. Hell, none of us have exactly ever been the types to stick with the rules. We've broken the rules of time and physics for pity's sake. This agreement in itself is highly unorthodox and frowned upon, as we are all conditioned to modern tradition. Doesn't matter.

They slept in each other's arms for a few hours before Peter awakened to shower and head back home to his beloved wife and their trio of children. Before he left, he smiled at Astrid's sleeping form and hoped that he could give her a child of her own. She'd make an excellent mother.

Back at the Bishop House

Peter slipped into the bedroom and lay down next to his sleeping wife. God, I love her. He felt conflicted because his soul completely belonged to Olivia. But he enjoyed sharing himself with Astrid… She awakened and smiled.

"Hey."

Peter nuzzled her and snuggled up with her.

"How… did it go?"

"Good."

"Did you like it?"

"Yes."

"Well, at least I know you are being truthful."

"I love you, Olivia. She won't ever hear me tell her that I love her."

"I know. Don't feel guilt. We decided this together."

Nine months later

Claire called Peter in the wee hours of the night to let him know that she was driving Astrid to the hospital because she was in labor. By this time, Peter was a pro at the "baby is coming game," and was calm, unlike his panicky days as a first time father with Etta. He about drove Olivia mad due to his hovering and fretting near the end of her pregnancy.

He rubbed his eyes and grinned at the thought that soon a new life would be brought into the world, and he had a part. Olivia sat up and hugged him. "It's time?" He nodded his head in the affirmative, and affectionately kissed her mouth.

"I'll let you know how everything goes."

They had received a call from Astrid about 7.5 months prior informing them that she was pregnant. That first week was really all it took.

Hospital

"I'm here to see Astrid Farnsworth." Peter explained to the head nurse on the labor and delivery floor of the hospital.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Peter Bishop. I'm… I am the father of her baby."

"OK, yes. I see you listed here Mr. Bishop. Take a seat, and I'll have someone come to escort you to her room."

Peter turned around and prepared to take a seat, but was met by an older African American gentleman.

"You're the father of my daughter's baby?"

"Mr. Farnsworth?"

The older man nodded and waited for a reply to his question.

"Um, yes. Yes, I am."

Mr. Farnsworth laughed and held out his hand. Peter took it and shook.

"She's spoken highly of you over the years. You're married?"

Oh no, here comes awkward.

"Yes. I've been married to my wife for six years."

"And you have three children?"

"Yes, sir. One daughter and twin boys."

Astrid's father nodded his head slowly.

"I see… "

He sensed an uneasiness and embarrassment coming from the younger man.

"Don't worry, Peter. I'm not here to judge you. My girl explained the agreement and everything. If anything, I want to thank you. I love my daughter, and she's taught me a thing or two about acceptance of things that are different. If you're going to be a part of the baby's life, well, that makes me incredibly happy. I have grown to love Claire, but a kid should have a father.

"I agree. I miss mine every day, sir."

When the nurse came to take him to see his baby's birth, he looked back at the old man and it made him emotional to see tears in the man's eyes. He had seen tears in another man's eyes on the day his grandchild was born… It took all he soon-to-be-father could muster to not break down thinking about what Walter had missed and would miss.

Waiting Room

Peter called Olivia who had stayed at their home with their children. Etta was all kinds of curious as she had heard enough to put together that someone was having a brother or sister, and it wasn't mommy, but daddy was there.

"She had a boy, Liv! He's a doll! She named him... Walter. Walter Bishop Farnsworth. Oh God, I'm crying…. Tell Etta-bear that she has a new brother. Yes, I know she wanted a sister, blame me there. You all can visit and see him tomorrow. I'll be home shortly. I love you."

When Peter arrived home that night he was greeted by an overly-excited 6-year-old, their beagle, and Olivia. The boys were long asleep for the night. His home. His family. They were so happy; he never thought any of it would ever be possible.

Later that night, Peter retreated to his study. Olivia understood, as he hadn't had any alone time for quite a while. Although a weary and emotionally exhausted man, he retrieved a metal archival case and withdrew a photo album. It was opened, and several photos of newborn Walter, one of Peter holding him, and another of the baby with his mother, were carefully placed alongside those of Etta, Charlie and Sam. This project was being compiled for a very specific purpose. The grandfather of these children deserved to see their lives as much as possible, as only because of his sacrifice, did they exist. He would have his chance in the future, long after his son and grandchildren were dead.

Peter smiled and wondered what Walter would make of the youngest boy's parentage. He figured the old man would be overjoyed for such a genetic combination between his son and assistant, not only because of the practicality that their union would produce highly intelligent offspring, but because he dearly loved Astrid.

Peter lived the rest of his days believing this, and luckily, his theory was proven correct by the far-off -future smiles of a tearful and overjoyed old man, who had the privilege of seeing pictures of his FIVE grandchildren—Peter and Olivia had a final, surprise daughter; the sister Etta had always wanted—and from meeting some of his many decedents from his son, and Olivia and Astrid.