Disclaimer: Not mine, Shame, Shame I'd put them to more appropriate uses….ahem like the one below!

Story Notes: Alright my Pretties, things have been crazy busy for me of late (serious understatement let me tell you) but I have managed to wrangle together enough smut bunnies into the muse corral to get this out.

This story takes place and subsequently departs from Cannon IMMEDIATELY after Peter Leaves in the Second Season, in this universe he was never kidnapped to the otherside, or brought back to Fringe Division to work; he fled the country and was gone for two years. This is a version of how things might have unfolded if Fringe division were closed after his leaving; and Olivia Dunham had to find another way to save the world with the help of Massive Dynamic and Walter Bishops last theory on how to save the world.

Rated for UST/RST Language/Violence/Sex, Sex and More Sex! …oh yeah and handcuffs. :D

This is going M 2.0 Peeps, lol I thought you might like that ;)

Super thanks to my Beta Readers ab89us, and Lnz for their fantastic work with the metaphorical red pens of doom. They did their best to rein in the run-ons and grammatical atrocities and anything that is left below is entirely my fault.

This strays into M 2.0 Category just so you know, so anyone not okay with our two favorite Fringlets getting tangled up in one hot steamy mess probably should hit the back button now; No one is twisting your arms peoples feel free to stick your fingers in your ears say 'lalalalala' and back out now if you think you can't handle it….

Anyone who's been waiting on the edge of your seat for the next looooong awaited update proceed now!

As always Read, Enjoy (I hope) and Please Review; it let's me know what you liked, what you didn't, and if you fell outta your chair when you thought about Peter Bishop and handcuffs in the same sentence. (my oh MY!)


Chapter One - "The Last Day of freedom for Peter Bishop."

Peter was royally Fucked.

The biting steel digging into his wrists' and ankles' clicked maddeningly against the metal frame of the hotel bed he was affixed to with every movement.

How in the Hell she'd even managed to find a hotel with such a frame was beyond him. Peter having previously labored under the delusion that such beds only existed in bad B movies and well….Porno where handcuffs and submissive captives being tortured by smokin' hot women in full leather were featured prominently.

Personally if Peter had his choice, he hoped he was in the Later…but knowing his life or rather what had BEEN his life until he'd abruptly ended that chapter approximately 2 years ago; Peter would never be so lucky.

No if he had to bet money being a gambling man at heart he would unfortunately have to weigh his odds. Just based on his track record with this particular smokin' hot woman and the order of the universe in general; particularly how much it like to fuck with him; Peter was forced to conclude that he was firmly trapped in the first.

Which was unfortunate in many ways; the most obvious being that the object of his every waking and dreaming fantasy for the larger portion of his adult life now was also it appeared a key character in his current predicament. Having been the one to handcuff and shackle Peter to the bed in the first place.

It had all gone so very, very wrong for Peter Bishop somewhere along the way that he was still having some difficulty believing that this was all really happening instead of some bizarre and kinky sex dream.

Not that Olivia's prominent role in Peter's night time fantasies was wrong…well, maybe in some ways it was; but it was definitely not something he could call unusual. Not when it happened with such regularity that he had come to expect it and greatly enjoy picturing her naked and writhing below him or her hair tossed back throat exposed to him as she rode him with wanton abandon late into the night.

Such activities in reality had sadly never occurred between the actual Sexy and Pragmatic Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop. But that had never dampened the spirits of his exasperatingly imaginative libido when they had worked as partners years ago in the FBI from producing torturously real play-by-plays in Peter's sleep and sometimes even while he was awake.

The fact that the dreams had not ceased but had in fact increased in their intensity and regularity after his departure probably said something rather un-healthy about his particular level of obsession with his ex-partner and her gorgeous body. Something Peter chose not to examine too closely over the last few years hoping to maintain what little hold he had on his remaining sanity and self-control.

Lest he hop on a plane and fly halfway around the world to kick down her door and invariably enact upon her person a similar situation to the one Peter now found himself trapped in-only in actuality his scenario would be more pornographic….and less terrifying.

Imagine that. If you'd told him a year ago that Olivia Dunham would fly half-way around the world to ensnare and kidnap him Peter would have laughed in your face.

He had been aware for some time, unable to stop himself from keeping tabs on her despite his every effort to forget her that Olivia no longer worked for the FBI.

She had in fact relinquished her position with the Fringe team and gone to work, of all places, at Massive Dynamic just after his departure. Only a month or two after in fact.

The news he had been receiving through very unofficial channels had Peter both simultaneously perplexed by this turn of events and greatly concerned. Over the last two years he'd learned that Olivia's latest job description through Massive Dynamic was some sort of specialized field agent.

The closest thing Peter could liken it to be was—well—a bounty hunter.

Only Olivia wasn't capturing and bringing in criminals, well, not criminals that the general public would know about at least.

Olivia Dunham had been captured on video, just once detaining a shapeshifter but not killing him. Peter had been able to determine by hacking into Massive Dynamic's database—no small feat in and of itself, that this was not the first time Olivia had done so.

In fact, over the past two years Olivia had almost single handedly rounded up every person whom did not belong on their side, and those persons were never seen or heard from again.

Which brought Peter's thoughts back to this room, and the inescapable fact that he too was not of this universe.

He knew it, and Olivia knew it.

She was watching him from across the room, a half empty water bottle dangling from one hand as she regarded him with eyes that gave nothing away, no intent, no emotion. She was like a lifeless doll in the corner of the room. In two years she had gone from someone he could read like an open book with just a glance, to an empty page; and it scared the shit out of him.

"So," Peter began, the first time he had really said anything since his capture the day before.

He had remained stoically silent mimicking Olivia throughout the trip out of Hong Kong and the private jet flight that had landed them on the coast of California. The pilot coming back to announce mid-flight that their intention to fly straight on to New York would not be possible. Largely due to all flights being grounded at any possible refueling airports another one of those massive winter storm blanketing the entire Western and Central United States halting all air traffic and making take-offs and landings too hazardous with ice slicked run-ways.

Ra Ra for Global Warming Peter mused.

Olivia had said nothing at this revelation, as the plane had landed on a private tarmac she had hustled Peter down the steps and into a gigantic SUV the make and model of which he was not familiar. The vehicle's basic interior was a kidnapers wet dream in that it came with handy bolted in and very secure steel rings perfect for a passenger who needed to be secured with something stronger then a seat belt on your cross-country excursion.

Perhaps this was some new police model he was unfamiliar with; or the FBI's latest in criminal transport; though he doubted it; the buttons and gadgets that littered the dash before them were completely alien and just screamed Massive Dynamic and not GM had made this monstrosity.

Peter could only imagine what the multitude of buttons and knobs were capable of; but seeing as each of these was firmly out of his reach; and Olivia plainly ignored all of them except for the easily identifiable GPS; which had a deeply disturbing proclivity of trying to start up a conversation with its drivers every hundred miles or so, Peter was left to wonder on his own.

Since conversation did not seem to be forthcoming, and Peter had no idea where to even begin; he spent most of the first day theorizing about the action each button and gadget might create, while intermittently fantasizing his escape.

By the time they had arrived at the first hotel Peter had decided that the buttons closest to him most certainly launched missiles off the front of the SUV's monstrous undercarriage. While the lever beside Olivia's gearshift probably enabled it to sprout wings; or perhaps a helicopter like propeller for short bursts of flight. And one of them, most assuredly; he was torn between the red button personally and the deep orange, had to produce a mini-gun from the roof-ideal for spraying enemies with heavy artillery fire.

So Peter had a bit of a GI Joe and Bat mobile obsession, big deal.

If one had to be secreted, he concluded—as a captive across the United States under duress it might as well be in the equivalent of Batman's SUV. Escorted by the hottest Super hero, or super villain, the jury was still undecided, that Hollywood could ever hope to cast; the one and only Olivia Dunham.

Peter cleared his throat, having said nothing in the last 24 hours and not being a man of many words prior to that; he had existed mostly in self-imposed exile except for when he was running a con preferring to be left alone to brood over his private demons.

"What exactly is the deal here?"

Olivia continued to stare at the water bottle in her hand.

"No deal," she finally spoke just when Peter began to think she might actually be a robot incapable of verbal communication. She raised her eyes to his; her expression was grim, the hard lines of her mouth set with determination her eyes held none of the warmth Peter remembered seeing in them.

Peter swallowed. "So…you're going to kill me?"

Olivia laughed at that.

"Glad you find this situation funny."

She shook her head, the barest trace of laughter still visible in her eyes. "I'm not going to kill you Bishop." Her face lost all signs of mirth; her eyes turned haunted and empty again.

"I'm going to send you home."