Disclaimer: No claim to ownership of anything Fringe related. This is for fun, speculating to get us through the hiatus.

A/N: This was written off the two lines from Peter and Olivia from the latest "Bound" promo, and will probably be rendered moot by the time the episode airs. I just couldn't let those two delicious lines sit idle. Thanks, as always, to Chichuri for her beta and making sense of my madness.

Questions

Olivia moves stiffly throughout the room, the body of a middle-aged man seated upright in a chair in the middle of the office with a bullet wound punctuating his forehead. The whole place has been turned upside down, not unlike her world, and she agitatedly flits from one area to the next. She skims over the chaos looking for some sort of order, something to help her understand why all this is happening. Why it happened to her.

The body belongs to a rather infamous scientist; a leader in the field of genetic manipulation and neuro-scientific research, and per Broyles' "sources", someone who might have a special interest in the Pattern. Once they start going through the dead man's computers and paperwork, they discovered Olivia's name amidst the jargon. Personal details. Evidence that he had knowledge of her kidnapping and the warehouse she was bound within. But someone made sure he'd never talk. Another tumbler has fallen, locking Olivia away from the answers she so desperately wants, and she can't decide whether she wants to scream or fall to her knees and sob.

She bends to retrieve a few sheets of paper, some with coordinates of Little Hill airfield, and others with sequences of numbers: Walter's safe deposit box numbers, her apartment number, her SUV's license plate. She also sees files that detail her unofficial transfer to Department of Homeland Security, Walter's release, and a myriad of information specifically about her team's investigations. Things no one outside of the Federal Building should have access to.

"I want our people to go over every inch of this place and catalog every scrap of paper. I don't care how important a scientist this guy was, I want to know how he gained access to classified government files." Her voice is harsh with frustration, and the few agents picking their way through the debris snap to attention.

She's tired. Her body aches from the bruises hidden under her clothes – the ones she suspects Peter knows about, but doesn't mention – and she wishes for all she's worth that he would just stop watching her. Just for a few minutes. She has enough on her mind without having to feel his weighted stare boring holes in the back of her head and trying to see past the walls she's erected for support.

Peter's behind her now, looking over her shoulder at the papers in her hand. "Some of this information is about you, Olivia." There's a dark edge to his tone and Olivia moves away rather than be encompassed by his presence. His ever-present gaze is suffocating enough.

She walks over to the body. "What's important is that we find information about Jones and his escape. And what the hell was in Walter's safe-deposit boxes," she says. Hands on her hips, she finds herself staring at the dead man, as if he'll suddenly awake and tell her why she was chosen for experimentation like some guinea pig.

Peter's watching her again, intently. "I happen to think this might be important." He waves the sheets of paper with her information on it. "Maybe there are emails, voice messages," he slaps the papers down on a nearby table in frustration, "something to tell us why."

"Why what?" Part of her knows this rhetorical question will spark his temper, and for some reason, she wants to push him a little. Olivia understands his ire but she'd rather he focus on the big picture. Her part in this is only a small piece.

Pulling her eyes away from the corpse, she meets Peter's gaze. He hasn't stopped watching her since she got back. Since she freed herself from her binds and managed to escape her captors. There was a darkness in those green eyes – fear, relief, worry, fury, all rolled into one – and it had taken her aback. She was busy trying to rein in her own emotions and was unprepared for the onslaught of his. At first, his vigilance was comforting, if a little awkward. But after the gentle yet insistent questioning about her ordeal, Olivia has started to chafe under his scrutiny. She doesn't know what they wanted from her. No one spoke, and the leader wore a Halloween mask. She has no hope of understanding the medical technology that had been around her, other than their mundane uses, and she's pretty damn sure her captors had no intention of following the standard operating procedure for those machines.

Peter's voice is soft, but with a hint of urgency. "Why they took you."

"That's not the objective right now-" she's shaking her head, as Peter cuts across her.

"Well it sure as hell should be the objective," he snaps. "I want to know what they wanted from you." Peter's hands are balled into fists, and the deadly seriousness in his voice makes Olivia pause. But only for a moment.

She glances at the body, gives a minute shrug. "Who cares about me?" There's bitter impatience in her tone, frustration at Peter's obvious lack of keeping his eye on the ball seeping through. Why is he so fixated on finding out what happened to her? She wants to reserve the impotent fury of her violation for herself. Let it steel her resolve to find the bastards, no matter how long it takes. The why couldn't possibly be as important as the who involved, and she can't understand why Peter doesn't see that.

She isn't prepared for Peter's come-back. "I care about you."

Said with all the conviction of a man on a mission, with a certain finality that Olivia has rarely heard from the younger Bishop. She pauses in her retreat from the room, and catches his eyes for a moment. They're sober, resolute. He's not going to let her kidnapping be brushed out of the way of the main case. The strength of Peter's conviction momentarily renders Olivia at a loss for words.

After a moment, Peter seems to realize that his last statement has many connotations, some of which are too convoluted to explore – not that either of them are ready to even try at this point – and he rushes into a clarification. "Finding out what they wanted you for may give us an idea of what they might be planning next."

She's never been able to argue with his logic, but right now, she very much wants to. She would rather let her confusion, all the whys and what-ifs, simmer on the back-burner while she takes care of business at hand, and Peter wants to drag everything out and dump it in the middle of the room. Trouble is… he's right.

Perhaps discovering why she was taken could lead to answers about why everything seems to be linked. Walter's inventions, Jones' escape, John's disturbing memories. Olivia is tired of following the threads of connections that lead to dead-ends. She needs something to hold on to, something solid.

She leads the way back to the SUV, head bent in thought, hands shoved into her pockets. Peter's stride easily matches her own as they walk side-by-side to the car. Every now and then she feels his gaze. This time, she doesn't have the strength to mind so much.

END

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