Rating: T

Summary: Post Jacksonville, there is drinks, the past, and the revelation. Here is my take.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Though I wouldn't mind borrowing Peter for a little while.

AN: Well, its my first Fringe Fic, so reviews are MOST appreciated. There are song lyrics at the end of this chapter that I think are very Fringe. Enjoy, and download. Many thanks to geekischic for the wonderful beta work, it is most appreciated!

Chapter One: Drinks

This cannot be happening.

The thought kept running through her head as Peter bounded up the stairs. She was so focused on her friend that when Walter sidled up next to her, she barely realized it. Until he spoke, and then it got so much worse. He wanted her to lie. To Peter.


"Olivia, please." His voice was so pleading, so desperate and Peter was coming back down the stairs, she had to make a quick decision.

"Fine," she hissed as Peter hit the turn on the stairs. "Later."

The older man nodded solemnly and their short conversation was over as Peter stood next to Olivia.

He tilted his head- he could sense the tension in the air that had not been there when he left. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Olivia said quickly and gave him a genuine smile.

"Ready, then?"

"You bet." And she meant it, this night was for her and Peter, no one else.

It helped that he wasn't glimmering anymore. The bright golden glow had been replaced by a soft haze, and even that was fading. It didn't take long for her to realize why. She was no longer scared. When Peter had first opened the door there had been a faint feeling of fear in her. Fear of what this could lead to, of what she wanted it to lead to. Drinks with a colleague was one thing, drinks with a colleague with whom she had nearly shared a kiss with mere hours ago was something else entirely. Fear for what had become of her relationship with John Scott, which had her questioning everything she knew about him. Well, in this case she knew more about Peter than he did, and for a moment she wished she didn't.

With knowledge comes great responsibility.

Now she was angry. Angry at Walter for doing this to Peter. Angry at the universe – both of them. Angry at herself for allowing Peter to get this far under her skin; far enough that the thoughtof him leaving when he found out the truth made her nauseous.

And suddenly there was the thought that maybe Walter had started this whole mess. The war of the worlds had been started by a mad scientist who crossed universes to replace a dead son.

Suddenly a warm, and very real, hand was on her back, pulling her from her thoughts and guiding her out the door.

"Free at last," Peter joked as they headed down the walkway to the sidewalk.

"It has to be better than the hotel…"

He nodded. "Oh yes."

"Good," she said and smiled at him, admiring his features not for the first time. Peter was attractive, all muscles and broad shoulders and strong arms she hoped one day would hold her tight. Then there were those eyes, the deep pools of blue-green that she could get lost in so easily.

The remainder of the walk took place in companionable silence.

The restaurant was a small and cozy upscale Irish Pub, and Peter ushered her to a private booth in the back. Before long they had beers in front of them and both were drinking slowly, not wanting to blur the evening in alcohol.

Despite her best efforts, she could not concentrate fully on the man in front of her. Her mind wouldn't stop whirring with questions that only the older Bishop could answer.

"You're quiet," Peter finally said.

"Sorry, just thinking." Not entirelya lie.

He smiled. "Well, what are you thinking about?"

A sigh escaped her lips. She wanted to forget about it for one night¸ but the questions got the better of her. "How different do you think it is? Over there."

Peter took a drink, clearly thinking. "The way Walter talks, not all that different. All the people are basically the same, but there are subtle differences. Like maybe over there the Cubs are perennial winners, and the curse of the bambino continues. Or the Lions have won a Superbowl." He swished the liquid around in his bottle. "Or maybe over there prohibition continues. Now that's terrifying."

"Frightening." She agreed and smiled.

"So, Olivia Dunham, tell me something I don't know about you." At her confused expression he began ticking things off his fingers as he spoke. "I know you have a sister and a niece, I know your stepdad is an asshole, I know you were military, that you joined the FBI after being discharged, I know how you came to Fringe division and that you were an unfortunate victim of my father's experiments, which, I really should apologize for more often. I know your heart guides you more than it should sometimes, which serves you well. I know you're passionate¸ caring, beautiful and smart. I know you have a compulsion to save the world and a capacity to accept things that most people would run screaming from. And based on the manner with which you dragged me into this circus, I know you are as good a con artist as I am. So what don't I know?" At the end he gave her a grin and took a long drink of his beer, awaiting her answer.

His words took her breath away and in that moment Olivia knew her feelings for him were travelling much farther into dangerous territory than she thought.

"I think that about covers it actually."

He shook his head and took another long drink. "No, no way. There has to be some deep dark secret you've never told anyone."

Oh Peter, if you only knew, she thought as she leaned conspiratorially across the table. "I hated Boston when we moved here."

He gave her a mock expression of horror. "NO! The tragedy."

A light laugh came from her as she smiled. "I tried to talk my parents into leaving at least every week for the first year."

"We'll I'm glad they didn't take your suggestion," he said with that patented Peter smirk.

And suddenly even in the sparsely populated bar, there were far too many people for her taste.

"Peter, let's get out of here. Go for a walk."

He nodded in agreement and pulled some cash from his wallet, leaving enough to cover the beers and a generous tip. Quickly they pulled jackets back on and stepped outside the bar, she had noticed a park not much farther down the block and started in that direction, Peter close behind.

It didn't take long for them to find a bench and sit, the sky was clear, the stars twinkling like they always had. It was a small comfort to Olivia, that there were still constants in this world.

And until an hour ago, one of them was Peter.

Until then she had unwavering faith that he would be by her side no matter what happened.

Einai kalytero... Anthropo apo toy... Patera toy. Tell that to Peter. You're going to need him by your side.

William Bell had sent her back with that message for Peter, and instruction that she would need him. Bell and Walter had been working closely together at the time he was brought here. There was no way Walter could travel over there, snatch Peter and Bell be none the wiser.

Was Peter needed here more? She certainly knew she needed him.

"Ok," his voice said from the darkness. "You are doing entirely too much thinking."

She smiled at him. "Sorry. I know I've been lost in thought tonight."

"It's ok. I find myself thinking too much also." He blew out a breath and looked up at the sky. "Sometimes I wonder what side I'm on…"

She snapped her head toward him. "What?"

He looked at her with that cocky grin. "Well, with Walter sometimes it's hard to tell if we're the good or bad guys."

"Yeah," she said quietly. You have no idea, her mind added.

"Peter?" she started tentatively and he looked at her. "Thank you."

That earned her a truly confused expression. "For what?" he asked and slipped one of his hands over hers, which were clasped in her lap.

"Being here."

He leaned in slowly, resting his forehead on hers, their breath mingling. "Where else would I be?"

She nudged their heads up so she could look into his eyes. This man in front of her was her Peter, the only one she had ever known, regardless of where he came from. And so she laid claim to him the only way she knew how. Closing the inches they had left between them Olivia finished what he had started earlier.

Their lips met and the world seemed to stop, the normal background noise of the city faded, lights dimmed and the only thing they were aware of was each other. Her fingers made their way to his thick hair, his had found their way to her back and were pulling her closer to him. Both felt an intense connection to the other, as if they had been waiting for each other their whole lives. The kiss continued a few more seconds, until Peter pulled away, gasping for air.

"I've never…" he started but was cut off.

"Me either." She responded.

Peter placed his hand on her cheek again, stroking it slowly as he had done in New York what seemed like an eternity ago now. Only this time he wound his hand back through her hair and pulled her toward him. She was a drug to him now, one he couldn't get enough of.

The second time their lips met Olivia's entire body felt warm from desire. She would do anything in that second to be in her apartment, where clothes could be shed and she could feel his hands on her bare skin. Suddenly she was desperate for him, needing him. A feeling she had never had with anyone, not even John Scott

And suddenly she was scared again. Terrified.

So she pulled away. And the glimmer was brighter than ever, distractingly so.

"Olivia," he said, his voice heady, wanting. His hands trying to pull her back.


But he didn't even acknowledge she'd spoken, instead his hands continued their desperate attempts to bring her closer to him.

So she tried, again, her words stronger, her hands grabbing his, stopping them. "Peter. Stop."

Her tone cut through the fog that had seemed to overtake him, and he looked at her, eyes clear. "Wow. Did you…"

She nodded. "Yeah…"

He tilted his head at her, those eyes boring into her soul. And for one second she wondered if he could read her mind. With all the crap Walter had done to them she would not have been surprised.

"You ok?" he asked in that gentle Peter way and her heart broke for them both.

"Yeah, Peter I just…I need time."

A smile graced his face. "Of course, I understand. After John…"

God, she wanted to cry, this had nothing to do with her former lover and partner but to spare more questions she nodded.


He stood and held out one hand to her. "Shall we?"

Now she gave him a genuine smile and took the offered hand, standing. They walked holding hands back to Peter's place where he escorted her to the car. She opened the door of the SUV and turned back to him so she was trapped between Peter and the car.

"I did have a good time, Peter, thank you."

"You are very welcome, Agent Dunham."

Peter knew something was off, and he hadn't believed for a second it had to do with John Scott, but he had given her an out in the hope she would at some point share her hesitation with him. Somewhere deep within him, he knew what she did- they each were incomplete without the other.

He dipped his head down and stole a quick kiss from her. "Goodnight Olivia."

Before he could pull completely away she touched his cheek gently with her fingers. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You bet."

With that they parted, Peter watching until Olivia was out of view before heading back up the walk and entering his house.

Things were looking up.

Just paint the picture of a perfect place
They got it better than what anyone's told you
They'll be the King of Hearts, and you're the Queen of Spades
Then we'll fight for you like we were your soldiers

One Republic, All the Right Moves

Reviews are still appreciated. Next chapter: the past

I know we've got it good
But they got it made
And the grass is getting greener each day
I know things are looking up
But soon they'll take us down,
before anybody's knowing our name.

They got all the right friends in all the right places
So yeah, we're going down
We've got all the right moves and all the wrong faces
So yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down

Do you think I'm special?
Do you think I'm nice?
Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces?
Between the noise you hear
And the sound you like
Are we just sinking in an ocean of faces?

It can be possible that rain can fall,
Only when it's over our heads
The sun is shining everyday, but it's far away
Over the world is death.