A/N: Bit AU for 2x01. I don't own Fringe.


Olivia Dunham was not dead.

Because really, how was that possible? Peter had watched her survive nearly everything that could be thrown at a woman, and yet some blowhard was standing in front of him telling him she was dead.

Really. After being captured by ZFT, after being trapped in a room with an overheating woman, after almost having her mind melted by a computer virus, the thing that finally killed her was a delayed car accident. He would have thought it was funny if she were someone else.

But she wasn't someone else. She was the kick-ass Fed that dragged him home. The kick-ass Fed who gave him his father back. The kick-ass Fed who he would have been loyal to until the end.

And she was lying dead on a metal table in a hospital.

Things just didn't add up. Wherever she disappeared to…why didn't she take him with her? If she did actually leave the universe, why couldn't he have gone? Maybe she would still be alive. Maybe they would both be dead, but it would give him comfort to know that he was with her. Of course, he didn't want to leave Walter, but…

Things didn't even work in his mind. So if he went with her he would be dead. With her, without Walter. If she hadn't gone, she might have lost her mind wondering about Bell.

Or, if he wanted everything to go perfectly, Peter Bishop would be a perfectly normal guy whose father was never in a mental institution. But then he wouldn't have met Olivia.

It was funny how much his life had started cycling around her. It wasn't really that he loved her, though he did. That wasn't what kept him there. What kept him was the way she could brush off disturbing images, the way she stuck up for everything she believed in, and the way she would fight until the end if need be.

Somehow all of that got through his brain in the few minutes before he realized he really needed to throw up.

He found a bathroom and crashed into a stall before he realized it was the women's room.

He didn't care. He was confused, and he was angry, and he was scared.

He didn't know why he was scared, but he was. Maybe it was her blank expression. Or maybe it was the head injury. Or maybe it was the thought that he could have saved her somehow but didn't.

He saw her crashing out of the window in his mind.

And then he realized that he didn't actually need to vomit. He just needed a hug. He really needed a hug.

He fell against the door of the stall and rubbed his face.

He needed a hug and a drink. Sex wouldn't be unwelcome, but it wasn't very high on his list.

He also needed to talk to her and ask her what happened. However, under the circumstances, that was not an option.

He didn't keep track of time locked in that bathroom. He just sat and let minutes slip away as he pictured her alive.

That was too much after a while, and then the crying started. It didn't last for very long, but the sobs shook him so hard he had to gasp for air. When he was done his eyes were bloodshot and his head was pounding.

He didn't have a chance to thank her, really thank her for all she'd done for him.

She'd given him his father back.

And he gave her nothing. She was his last high, and he'd taken her for granted.

You never know what you have until it's gone.


A/N: Please review!