A/N: Story's set in 4x11, before that wham moment when September reveals that Peter has been home all along. For the purpose of this fic, let's just say that Olivia's birthday falls in that episode, yes?
Oh, and no copyright infringement intended. Sorry, couldn't help it. *bricked*
Olivia sat opposite Peter as they waited for their orders to arrive. After spending most of the morning interrogating, they had decided to have lunch at this diner called Flo's that they had passed along the way earlier. Their conversations had revolved around the case they had their hands on since they left the hospital. They had in fact just finished exchanging their theories on the missing link between the three victims when Peter started smiling for no apparent reason, much to Olivia's confusion.
"Oh, I almost forgot." He pulled something out of his coat pocket and held it in front of her. She took it rather reluctantly. "Here you go, Olivia."
Olivia stared at the object in her hands. It was some kind of package wrapped in torn newspaper pages taped together. Drawn in the middle with red marker was what she could only assume was a bow.
Peter grinned. "Sorry, it was the best I could do on short notice."
"What's this?" Olivia was holding the package up to eye level.
"Uh, a present."
"Why? For what, exactly?"
Peter opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, it was a sigh that escaped his lips. He crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward, his eyes locking with Olivia's. "Look, I understand if you still find it hard to trust me, but I mean no harm. My intentions are sincere. " He spoke slowly, carefully, so as not to provoke her.
Olivia leaned forward as well. "Peter, it's not that I don't trust you. But I just can't think of any reason as to why you'd give me whatever this is right now. I mean, what's so special about today?"
It was Peter who was confused this time. For a moment he just stared at her, brows furrowed like hers, unsure of how to react. Then, seemingly reaching a decision, he shook his head as he slumped back on his seat. He was grinning again. "Wait, you're serious. You really don't know." He was laughing by the time he pulled out his phone, turned it towards her, and pointed at the screen. "Today's October 12. It's your-"
"Birthday," Olivia finished his sentence. Her features softened as realization finally dawned on her. "That would explain why Nina insisted I see her tonight after work." From that one thought sprang a million others, until, without warning, her mind wandered back to her conversation with the mysterious man at the Orpheum theatre. He said she was going to die. That in all possible futures, whatever that meant, she must die. Her demise was necessary, inevitable. She wondered if this might be the last time she would be celebrating the day of her birth. Before the idea could consume her, though, she was snapped back to reality when Peter spoke. He had been gesturing towards his gift, which she found she had placed back on the table.
"Well, open it."
Olivia did as Peter suggested, unwrapping it as carefully as she could. Not that it mattered, anyway. "I appreciate this, I really do, but you didn't have to get me…" She trailed off as her eyes set on the now exposed contents. "…anything." There on a bed of ripped newspapers and tape was a small box of saltwater taffy. She prodded it once, twice, as though making sure it was really there. She was beaming when she looked up at Peter, who looked equally, if not more happy. "Oh God, I miss these! Where did you get them? They stopped manufacturing these years ago."
An image of a jar filled to the brim with the stuff on Walternate's desk popped into Peter's mind. "I know a place."
"And would that place be in, I don't know…an alternate universe perhaps?"
Peter shrugged. "Maybe."
"But how did you-"
"You were nodding when Walter said that Candyman's was still indisputably the best saltwater taffy ever made in this universe the other day," Peter told her, already knowing what her next question was.
Neither said a word for a while, but it was a comfortable kind of silence. It was Olivia who put it to a close. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. Green met blue as their gazes locked once more.
"I swear I will do everything in my power to get you back home."
Peter placed his hand on top of hers and nodded. "I know."
As she looked into his eyes, she suddenly felt as though she had known Peter Bishop all her life, this stranger that popped out of nowhere a few months ago claiming he was from another timeline. Upon recognizing this idea, his gaze became piercing, dagger-like, as though he was staring right into her soul. Blackholes pulling her into an inescapable void, and she was losing her grip fast.
Olivia almost jumped when her phone rang. Not quite as composed as she would like, it took around four rings before she managed to press the receive call button. Hardly ten seconds had passed and she had placed her phone back in her pocket. It was obvious that work was beckoning them once more.
"They know who the suspect is," she told Peter as she tucked a fifty under the napkin holder on their table. She then put the box of taffy in her coat pocket and made her way towards the exit.
"So much for lunch." Peter stood up and followed suit. She was already three steps ahead of him. "Where are we off to?"
"Logan International Airport," she said without looking back.
The chimes rang as the door closed behind them. Unknown to them, a bald man clad in a suit was watching as they boarded their SUV and sped off.
And there goes my first Fringe fic. Hope I pulled their lines off right. Review s'il vous plait? I have peanut butter and bacon sandwiches!