A/N: I've recently become very obsessed with Fringe. Dr. Bishop is hilarious, Peter is satisfies my need for a smart-mouthed jack-ass, and Olivia is totally BA. All-in-all, a fabulous show. Enjoy. :)

Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love.
–Albert Einstein

It does not happen on purpose.



There's nothing unusual about the day or the time or the weather outside; he's rattling off the equation for methane to aid one of Walter's crazy experimental ideas. You're standing off to the side as you attempt to think back to the last Chemistry class you had. It's been a while.

All in all, an ordinary day.

He just had to choose that moment to look at you with those eyes and say your name in that way, and suddenly, you're drowning—you've forgotten how to swim.



Your brain does what it always does in these situations—it stops thinking logically and starts clinging on to small phrases and words.

Emotion: n. instinctive or intuitive feeling as distinguished from reasoning or knowledge.

There's nothing reasonable about any of this.



His lips move, his brow creasing in confusion. Your stomach drops. You can't hear a word he's saying.

Somewhere between saving the world and cleaning up other people's mess, you've fallen in love with him, and you're not exactly ready for it.



The world is upside down: the grass is blue, mud falls from the sky like snow. Everything is still. You can see only his eyes and his lips and his hair.

(You are his Joan of Arc. He thinks you're strong, but he's way off base: you're not strong, just stubborn and maybe a little paranoid.)

You breathe in.



His vices are suddenly his virtues. His convictions are your bible.

Outside, the rain patters on the window. A destiny you refuse to accept lingers on his lips: Things weren't supposed to work out this way.

You breathe out.



He knows your soul, wants your body, needs your heart, and loves your mind.

Resistance is useless. You fall, and hope he's there to catch you.


You blame gravity.