A couple of you weren't happy with the way I ended this story. After thinking about it I decided to add this epilogue.

Sorry I didn't solve the case of the unknown substance, and catch the nefarious Nate Wertheimer. If anyone would like me to write a companion piece in which I solve the case, let me know. I could use your ideas.

Thanks again to everyone who alerted and/or favorited this story. It was a fun ride.

You know I don't own anything Fringe, except my imagination. Totally unbetaed.

There is a quote from episode 2.02. A cybercookie to the one who finds it!

Warmer-Epilogue

Phillip Broyles took a minute to study the strange young man in the bed, as he pushed the chair a bit away from the bed rail. The significance of the chair jammed against the side of the bed did not escape him and Broyles worked hard to keep back the grin by coughing.

Peter Bishop looked less harmful than his FBI file implied, lying in a hospital bed wearing a johnnie, his leg secured by high-tech traction gadgetry. If Brolyes wasn't mistaken he was in pain, although his face didn't seem to reflect it. Curiosity won out, and he had to ask.

"Does it hurt?" Broyles asked, a sincere look on his face.

Peter Bishop shrugged. "A bit," he offered, nonplussed. "But it's better than being drugged."

Phillip decided if Dunham was sitting closely next to him he wouldn't want to be drugged either.

Broyles also understood from talking with his doctor that Peter had had a bad reaction to butalbital, the narcotic Olivia had innocently offered Bishop in the field. Broyles stared at Peter for a moment wondering if he had been awake or asleep for those hours in the forest, and what had transpired besides the fact that his 120 pound female agent dragged his 180 pound conman/homeland consultant for 2 hours and a distance of 2 miles. If that didn't smell like love he didn't know what did.

Broyles filed his thoughts away and smiled at the younger, less crazy Bishop.

"Your doctor says they're just keeping you tonight because of the mild concussion. If everything's status quo tomorrow, you can go home. That will make your father happy. He's called me several times today already since he got the news. I'm surprised he's not here."

Peter gave a tired little laugh. "Astrid's with him at the house. Apparently he didn't sleep well last night since he couldn't reach Olivia or me."

Broyles nodded, hating to turn this into a business session. He took a breath.

"We're no closer right now to finding Wertheimer. Six bodies accounted for, who knows how many are still out there, and an unknown substance that doesn't show up in any database in the world. Do you think after your father gets some rest you could talk him into re-examining the compound? You, of course, can take as many days as you need off your feet."

Peter rubbed at his forehead. "Yeah. Sure. I'll talk to him." Peter Bishop paused, thinking. "Do you really think this guy is also the 'Metro-West Serial Killer'?"

Broyles raised his eyebrows. "At this point I don't know what I think. I just know I've got both Washington and Massachusetts officials breathing down my back for answers."

Peter shook his head in understanding. He made a mental note to work from home, and read up on both the FBI's Wertheimer and 'Metro-West Serial Killer' files.

***

Olivia Dunham pulled the SUV up to the attractive Victorian house that Peter Bishop and his father called home. She killed the engine, opened her door, and walked around to the passenger side to help Peter get out.

Peter had already opened the passenger side door and was eager to show Olivia that he could function despite his physical state and the crutches that he would now need for the weeks ahead.

He got himself on his feet and gave her an 'I told you so' smile, as he hobbled away from the vehicle. Peter got up the curb on the first try and headed toward the stone stairs while Olivia carried his single bag, easily catching up with him. Instantly Peter had a new-found respect for Olivia recalling how she had been after her accident.

"Here. Hold onto my arm," Olivia offered.

"I don't need to. Really, I've got it," Peter replied. "I can do this myself," he said somewhat defensively.

"And you're really not good at letting other people help you," Olivia said calmly.

Peter realized instantly where he had heard those words before. "Touche, Dunham," he said stopping to look at her. Then he returned his concentration to navigating the stairs.

Minutes later he reached the top to find Walter smiling at the two of them.

"Peter! So good to have you home! I'm giving you my bed on the first floor so you don't have to use the stairs all the time...And don't argue with me about it, son." Walter patted his son on the back and moved out of the way, further retreating inside. "Thank you for bringing my boy home. Olivia."

Olivia smiled at the elder Bishop noting how happy he was. "You're welcome, Walter." She followed the Bishop men into the house to make sure Peter got situated alright.

"Come, come sit down on the sofa. You must be exhausted from going up the stairs. I must return to the laundry on the second floor, but I'll be back to make lunch. You will stay for lunch, won't you, Agent Dunham?"

Olivia snickered at his use of her professional name. "I'll think about it, Walter."

Walter Bishop padded excitedly up the staircase and vanished. The sound of running water could be heard.

Peter Bishop tried to get comfortable on the sofa with his leg propped up on an ottoman. He wanted to hurry up and get through the recovery phase, and despite what she thought he wanted a certain blonde FBI agent to help him. He paid attention as Olivia sat down on the sofa several inches away from him. He knew he at least owed her a thank you for all she'd done for him in the last few days. Peter wanted to spill his feelings to her like she had to him, but he didn't think he could. At least not right now. A thank you was a start.

"Olivia. I just want to thank you for all you did for me out there in the forest. I-"

"Peter. You don't need to thank me. I know that if our roles had been reversed you would have moved me too." There was an awkward pause as they both looked toward the stairs for any sign of a returning Walter.

Peter moved his leg to find a more comfortable spot and the wheeled ottoman moved several inches away. Both of them reached out to retrieve it and found their faces close together. Without thinking Peter closed the distance and kissed her.

It took Olivia Dunham a second or two to respond. When she did they pulled up still joined at the mouth, his hands in her hair. She brazenly turned and moved so that she was sitting on her knees leaning into him.

The kiss was gentle and sweet, but when she opened her lips to him Peter responded and they both felt warmer throughtout from head to toe. When it ended they separated and she turned to sit properly as Peter threaded his arm around her shoulder.

Peter Bishop smiled brilliantly for the first time in days. "You'll stay for lunch then?"

Olivia Dunham smiled back. "I'll stay for lunch."

Peter's smile broadened at her reply. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV surfing for a suitable channel. They both stared at the TV lost in thought.

Several moments went by and then Peter Bishop spoke. "So, when are we going on that date?"

The End