Title: Together We'll Face the Turning Tide

Author: Mel (accordingtomel)

Summary: Pregnant or not, Olivia is still Olivia. Lincoln just needs to figure out a way to not go crazy in the meantime. Thankfully, he's not alone.

Pairings/Characters: Alt!universe Lincoln, Olivia and Charlie. Sort of OT3 friendship with a slight Lincoln/Olivia slant.

Rating: PG

Spoilers/Warnings: Takes place prior to "Bloodline"

Word Count: 4,104

Disclaimer: Not mine. But at least I know they're in good hands!

Authors' Note: So, this is a birthday present to one of my best friends in the world - adelagia. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BB! 3 I thought I'd try something different and write a Fringe fic for you, since your love for the alt!universe is as strong as my own. I must say a huge thank you to shinychimera for being my first reader and providing me with tons of useful feedback! And then I also have to thank the lovely alba17 for her wonderful (and quick) beta, and amazing feedback/suggestions. Thank you both so much, ladies. Title was snagged from lyrics to the beautiful song "Dawn" by Poets of the Fall. The tone was very much inspired by that song, so I would recommend listening to it as you read. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, my friend :D.

Together We'll Face the Turning Tide

"How are things going? Any new leads?" Lincoln perched on the edge of Olivia's desk, placing a large file folder in front of her. It was filled with a plethora of information, most of it entirely useless, no doubt, but if anything could be found within its contents, then it would be worth perusing all the same.

Olivia smiled up at him, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. It hadn't in quite some time, if he was being honest with himself. Not since... well, not since everything had gone south with Frank. "We live in a city full of crazy, though mostly well-meaning, people. Have I ever mentioned that before?"

"Yeah, once or twice." He chuckled, feeling the laughter roll off his tongue, even if the sentiment behind it wasn't fully there.

"I assume you want me to go through this information, see if any of it is useful?" Olivia asked, tapping her finger lightly against the beige cover.

"Unfortunately, yes." He tried to look sympathetic.

"Cut that out," Olivia said, face scrunching up in mock displeasure. "You're not sorry at all. Now that you're the big boss you get to pass off the menial tasks to those of us on the opposite end of the food chain whenever you like."

Lincoln reached up and placed a hand over his heart, shooting her an entirely exaggerated look of betrayal. "You wound me, Olivia. I would never—"

"Don't believe him, Liv," a familiar voice cut in. "He's a pathological liar."

Both heads turned to Charlie, his face alight with an easy grin.

"Yes, and Charlie over here is about five seconds away from being unemployed."

This time it was Charlie's turn to look wounded. He pulled it off well, Lincoln noted wryly, lips pulling into a pouty frown. "Ouch. If you can't handle a little criticism, you're going to have a rough go at being boss man. Sir."

A bubble of laughter slipped past Olivia's lips, the sound settling warmly in Lincoln's chest. She laughed so rarely these days; a fact that filled him with immense regret. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

"Boys, boys. Do I need to separate you?" Olivia asked, looking far more gleeful about the idea than Lincoln thought was strictly necessary. Still, if she was smiling, then it was worth it.

"No. I think we can behave, right boss?" Charlie asked with a wink, as much for Lincoln's amusement as Olivia's, he suspected. Something warm skittered beneath his skin and a smile unconsciously tugged at his mouth. It felt like months since the last time they'd been able to joke around like this, even if it had only been little more than a week.

"Yeah, sure." Lincoln waved a dismissive hand in Charlie's direction. "Don't you have work to be doing, or something?"

Charlie grumbled softly to himself, words incomprehensible, but a soft smirk remained firmly planted on his face. "Lucky for you."

Leaning in close to Olivia, Charlie whispered something into her ear that Lincoln couldn't hear, before turning and strolling away. But whatever it was, it made her laugh, and so it didn't really matter to Lincoln, even if Charlie was making fun of him.

They both stared after him for several long moments before Lincoln remembered himself, and why he'd come to speak with Olivia in the first place. Aside from handing off the file.

"Are you all right?" he asked carefully, voice lowering a notch.

It was almost imperceptible, the way her smile shifted, fractured, eyes devoid of the light that used to fill them. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

Lincoln held back a sigh. "I think you know why."

Silence hung heavy between them, until finally Olivia spoke, voice soft. "I'm all right. Tired; more than I expected to be, actually. Then again, Rachel was always exhausted, so I suppose it's not all that shocking."

A wistful look crossed her features, eyes drifting to a point on the opposite side of her desk. Lincoln followed her gaze to a picture of her and her sister. They had their arms around one another and were beaming at the camera. He still remembered when Rachel had passed away during childbirth, and the impact it had on Olivia. He couldn't help but wonder if she feared the same fate.

"Do you need some time off work?" Lincoln already knew the answer, but he felt better asking all the same.

Fingers fiddled idly with the bracelet she wore on her left wrist, twirling the charms between her thumb and index finger. Frank had given it to her for a birthday years earlier. Funny that she was still wearing it, and hadn't for quite some time. "No. I'm just tired, and maybe a bit stressed out. But I think I'd be worse if I wasn't here. I need to be at work. You understand, don't you, Lincoln?"

"Of course." His chest tightened, but he forced a smile anyway. There was nothing he could do to change her mind, knew that without even having to ask. Hell, truth be told, he didn't know that he even wanted to. All he was certain of was that as long as he was around, both Olivia and her baby would be safe. Anything it took, he would do it. For her. For himself.

/o/o/o/o/

Lincoln discovered rather quickly that Olivia was not the type of person to take well to his over-protectiveness, much as his intentions were well-meaning.

"Lincoln, I can do this. I know what you're trying to do here, but I don't need your protection." She eyed him warily.

"It's too dangerous."

"No, it's not. You're over-reacting," Olivia asserted, jaw set in a stubborn line.

"Liv," he said, tone bordering on a plea. It was all he could do to hold back the urge to pull rank, to tell her that she was not going in there to face Jones and that was final. But he couldn't do that. Not without potentially jeopardizing the mission and calling unnecessary attention to Olivia. As far as everyone else was concerned, there was no reason why she wouldn't be able to take the lead on this. Hell, as far as Olivia was concerned, that was true. Jones wanted to deal with Olivia, for whatever sick and twisted reason that was spinning through his mind, and logically, there was no good reason to pull her from the mission.

Still, it didn't sit right in his gut. Jones was a monster, through and through, and he wouldn't blink twice at the idea of killing whoever stood in his way. Not that anyone was anticipating it would even reach that point, but all it would take was for one thing to go wrong, one minor miscalculation on their part, and both Olivia, and her unborn child's life, were on the line.

"I appreciate your concern," she said, expression softening ever so slightly. "But I'm doing this. Jones wants me, and if I don't show, we run the risk of losing this bastard again. You know I can't allow that to happen."

And he did. God, how he did. This was a case far too old, with far too many painful memories of failure associated with it. For the first time in years, they finally had another shot at taking the bastard down, and Lincoln would be damned if he was going to just let him slip through their fingers once more. But at what cost?

With a resolve of steel, shoulders pulled back and head held high, Olivia turned on her heel, marching towards the van which held all the necessary equipment. Lincoln closed his eyes, biting back the frustration he felt at the entire situation, anger welling up inside him. He took a step in Olivia's direction, not even sure of what he planned to say or do, but he would figure it out along the way.

"Lincoln." A hand landed on his shoulder from behind, steady and firm. It was a small gesture, but not without impact.

Lincoln blinked, swallowed, breath slowly ghosting past pursed lips. Charlie. Of course.

"She'll be fine. She's strong," he said, voice raspy and low, infusing both disobedience and respect in the way that only Charlie could. "She's not going in alone. We have a team watching out for her, and you and I will be there too. If Jones even thinks about trying anything, we'll be on him so fast he won't know what hit him. All in all, safety isn't a real concern here."

Pick your battles. It wasn't explicitly stated, but the implication was clear enough. Coming from anyone else, the words might have been perceived as insubordination. But from Charlie, it was sage advice, the kind Lincoln needed when he permitted his personal feelings to cloud his professional judgement. Without a doubt, there was an element of danger in sending Olivia in like this. Yet the reality of their jobs dictated taking a calculated risk every time they set foot outside of the Fringe Division's front door. Olivia had always been able to take care of herself. If pregnancy wasn't going to stop her from doing her job, neither would Lincoln.

Charlie knew it, and it seemed as though he needed Lincoln to catch on as well. They had a mission to complete, and that wasn't going to happen if Lincoln wasn't able to learn how to calm the hell down.

"Yeah, you're right. I know you're right." Lincoln scrubbed a hand down his face, watching as the team prepared to enter the perimeter. "It's just…"

He felt another squeeze to his shoulder, like the weight of a steady anchor, grounding him in the here and now, a reminder that he, too, was not alone in his fears. It was oddly comforting, though not entirely surprising either.

"I know," said Charlie. They were the words of someone who truly understood. And Lincoln felt the last of his resolve melt away with the calming presence of Charlie's hand and the strength of his convictions.

Lincoln nodded, gearing himself up for the task at hand. "Yes, all right. Let's get this show on the road."

"That's more like it!" said Charlie with an encouraging smile, clapping him on the back before jogging away.

His eyes trailed Charlie, following him until they landed on Olivia, and Lincoln swallowed. There was nothing to worry about, and he needed to stop wasting time. They had a criminal to catch, after all.

/o/o/o/o/

It was inevitable, that it should happen eventually. In a lot of ways, they all knew it was only a matter of time until she took a risk, made a bold move – as was often the case with Olivia – and the consequences could not be prevented. Lincoln had just hoped that it wouldn't.

He'd missed the original call, after somehow finding himself drawn into an interview with a particularly vile suspect who refused to cooperate. This wasn't even their case, officially, but since the orders had arrived from on high, his hands had been tied. It was with no small amount of relief that Lincoln finally dragged himself away from the interrogation room, only to discover that he'd missed four calls in the time it had taken to complete the interview.

Quickly scanning through the numbers on his call display, Lincoln was distressed to discover that they all originated from Charlie. All four of them. Charlie never called him. Well, no. That wasn't true. Charlie often called him. But not so many times in such a short period. Something was wrong, that was the only explanation; there had to be. Calling into his voice mail, Lincoln leaned back against his desk, the cool, smooth surface beneath his hands an oddly calming presence.

His heart hammered in his chest as he listened to the familiar voice drifting into his ear. "Lincoln, it's Charlie." A pause. Lincoln bit his lip, willing away the fear steadily rising. "Look, Liv's been in an accident. I didn't want to leave a message like this on your cell, but you're not answering, so…"

Lincoln was already halfway down the hall before Charlie even mentioned the name of the hospital, his hand clutching the car keys like a vise.

/o/o/o/o/

The hospital was unusually quiet, at least as far as hospitals went. Lincoln charged in, a man on a mission, only vaguely amazed that he'd made it here in one piece. It wasn't the actual driving that presented a concern, but the thoughts that had tumbled through his brain, a myriad of potentials and worst-case scenarios racing back and forth until he could barely focus enough to pay attention to where he was going. And yet, somehow he'd still made it.

"I'm looking for a patient who was admitted here about an hour ago," Lincoln said, flashing his badge at the first nursing station he encountered. "Her name's Olivia Dunham."

The nurse in charge eyed him carefully before turning towards the computer sitting on the desk. "Let me check for you."

Her fingers flew across the keyboard with practised ease while Lincoln tried not to let his impatience show.

"We don't seem to have a patient registered under that name, sir," she said at last, lips tugging downward into the smallest of frowns.

Lincoln's eyes slipped shut for a second, hands clenching into tight fists.

"Olivia Dunham," he repeated, speaking with deliberate slowness now. "I know she's here. Do you want me to spell that for you?"

The nurse's face pulled into a scowl at his tone, as if she'd just been mortally offended by his insinuation that she was incompetent, unintentional as it was. Usually Lincoln would throw out an apology or two, but at the moment he simply couldn't be bothered to care. As it was, he was barely managing to hold his frustration at bay. He needed to find Olivia right the fuck now, not stand around and wait for people to figure out how the hell to spell a name as simple as 'Olivia Dunham.'

"Lincoln!"

Turning on his heel, Lincoln saw Charlie rushing down the hall towards him. Relief filled his chest as he abandoned the nursing station, ignoring the voice calling after him as he hurried towards his friend.

"Charlie! What the hell is going on?"

A hand closed around Lincoln's arm, pulling him off to the side and away from the center of the wide hallway, where they would be holding up pedestrian traffic. "Olivia's fine, the baby's fine. She fell down a flight of stairs, but she's all right."

"Fell?" Both brows lifted high on Lincoln's forehead.

Charlie blinked guiltily, gaze momentarily falling to the floor as though too ashamed to look Lincoln in the eyes. "She was pushed. By Russell Scott."

"I thought you went in with her. How did this happen?" How could you have allowed this to happen?He hadn't intended for the accusation to seep into his voice, but it was clear the words struck Charlie like a low blow all the same. Lincoln regretted them the instant they left his mouth.

"We went to question Scott at his apartment. While Olivia talked to him, I was poking around a bit, to see what I could find, you know? Anyway, suddenly this guy's taking off down the hall, provoked by God knows what, and Olivia races after him, because we both know she lacks self-preservation skills in the best of times." Charlie tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace from Lincoln's perspective. "I was right on their heels, but obviously not close enough..." He trailed off, frowning openly now.

Lincoln folded his arms, trying not to cringe at the idea of a pregnant Olivia being pushed down a flight of stairs. It made him physically ill. "Did you at least catch the bastard?"

There it was, that accusatory tone once again. This couldn't be pinned on Charlie, much as he wanted – no needed – someone to blame.

"Yeah. We got him," was all Charlie said, but there was no mistaking the venom behind his words, a manifestation of the fury they both felt.

Later, when they weren't at the hospital, Lincoln would obtain all of the necessary details, but for now, only two things were important to know, and he was in possession of both pieces of information.

They stopped in front of what was presumably Olivia's hospital room.

"Look, she's pretty tired from the whole thing," Charlie said softly, gaze darting between Lincoln and the partially open door.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to yell at her," Lincoln attempted to assure him, raising both palms in a surrendering gesture.

A wry smile slipped onto Charlie's face. "I wasn't trying to imply that you would, just that she might not be as alert as you'd expect and I didn't want you to panic more than I know you already are."

"I am notpanicking. Wasn't panicking," he said, but the protest felt weak, even to his own ears.

"Right." Charlie smiled again, soft and almost affectionate, insomuch as one could call him that, reaching out to clap Lincoln on the shoulder. "I've been trying to reach Marilyn, but haven't had any success yet. She'll kill me if I don't let her know what's going on with Liv, so I'm going to try again. I'll be out front if you need me."

Lincoln found himself nodding. "Okay. Thanks, buddy."

He stood quietly, arm hovering near the door knob as he listened to Charlie retreating down the hallway, the steady sound of his footfall providing a momentary distraction from the nerves twisting in his gut.

Sucking in a deep breath, Lincoln braced himself for whatever sight would meet him on the other side and gently pushed the door open.

The room was bright, but not overly so, lit almost entirely by natural sunlight from the large window that spanned across the back wall, instead of merely the typical harsh fluorescent lighting that the hospitals liked to employ. It made everything look just a bit softer somehow, less sterile and more homely.

Olivia lay in bed, sheet tucked loosely around her frame, hands folded and resting atop her stomach, one wrapped in gauze across the knuckles. She looked small, almost fragile, in the spotted hospital gown that must have been at least two sizes too large for her thin frame, any outward signs of her pregnancy still invisible. An ugly, dark purple bruise was already forming under her right eye, the area swollen and obviously tender. There were a few small cuts scattered across her face, but aside from that, there were no other obvious signs to suggest she'd just been pushed down a flight of stairs.

"Hi."

The sound, loud and unexpected in the stillness of the room, jolted him out of his thoughts. "Hey, Liv."

Smiling softly at him, she gestured Lincoln to her side. He found himself releasing a slow breath and returned the smile involuntarily, propelling his body forward through sheer will alone. With every step he took, the same mantra filled his thoughts – she's alive, she's fine, the baby is fine, it's going to be all right – hoping that if he told himself the words enough times, he might start to actually believe them.

He took a seat on the hard, plastic hospital chair beside the bed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thigh, chin in his hands. There were so many things he wanted to say, a million sentiments that couldn't ever adequately express everything he'd been thinking and feeling. But Olivia saved him the trouble of having to navigate through the tremulous waters of his mind.

"Lincoln," was all she said, but the words carried a world of meaning: 'I'm all right', 'I know I should haven't done that', 'I'm sorry for making you worry', 'I'm sorry.'

"Liv, I—" His gaze dropped to her hands, fixating on the bandage. He needed to focus. Forcing himself to meet her eyes, he continued on. "You shouldn't have run after him. Charlie was there. He could've handled things..."

"And what would you have preferred me to do? Let him get away?"

"Yes! No. I mean. No." He shook his head. "Not at your own expense. Why do you always have to be so difficult?"

This was not going as he'd anticipated. The last thing Lincoln planned on was laying into her about this right now. What was done was done. Why did he have to open his big mouth at all? Thankfully, much to Lincoln's surprise, Olivia merely laughed, waving her un-bandaged hand in the air for a moment. "Pregnant or not, it doesn't change who I am. I wasn't thinking, just reacting."

Didn't he know it. "Well, then, you need to be more careful." He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. "I'm not sure how much more of this I can handle."

"Lincoln." A hand reached out for him, and he readily grasped it, fingers curling around her hand as she squeezed gently. It occurred to him that he should be the one comforting her in this situation. But then again, maybe Lincoln was the one who really needed it. "I can't help myself, you know? Knowing that I'm going to be a mother is both exciting and terrifying, but it still won't turn me into someone I'm not. I can't just sit by and watch the world move around me. I need to move with it."

"I know. And I'd never ask you to change who you are. I—" He stopped himself before he could admit too much, shooting her a tentative smile instead. "The Olivia I know wouldn't have allowed Scott to get away. I just... I worry. About you. And the baby. I just want you both to be safe."

"And we will be," she asserted, voice confident. "I have you, and Charlie, and my mom. What else could I need?"

In a lot of ways, he supposed, she was right. He, Charlie and Olivia had each other's backs, and it had been this way for years. Lincoln almost couldn't remember a time when the two of them weren't his closest friends in the world, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, he wouldn't do for either of them. One of the qualities he'd always admired in Olivia was the strength of her convictions and her unwavering commitment to justice. At times it meant she threw herself into situations with reckless abandon, often putting herself (and sometimes others) at serious risk. But that fearless impulsivity had served them well so many times in the past, and Olivia was more than capable of taking care of herself.

Love was a difficult thing to understand at times. It was overwhelming, a consuming fire that could easily overtake a person if they were caught unprepared. Of course, it also explained why fear gripped at his heart every time she took a chance, because the thought of a life without Olivia in it wasn't something Lincoln could even begin to comprehend. Now, or ever. He couldn't expect her to stop being who she was, which simply meant that he was the one who would have to change.

"Can you at least promise me one thing?" he asked, watching as she unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn.

"What's that?"

"Could you try not to endanger your life every day?"

A smirk slipped onto her face, even as her eyelids began to droop with impending sleep. "So just every other day then?"

Lincoln made a thoughtful noise, pretending to seriously contemplate the suggestion. "Yeah. Sure. I can live with that," he said.

Yawning again, Olivia gave him an apologetic smile. "I should probably, um, sleep, I think."

"Right. I'll just—" He gestured towards the door, making to stand. "I'll just leave."

But he was prevented from doing so by the hand still gripping his.

"You can stay, if you want," Olivia said quietly, eyes downcast.

It was the easiest decision he'd made in a long time. Nodding, Lincoln sat back down. "Of course I'll stay."

As he watched her drift off to sleep, their hands still entwined, something warm unfurled in his chest, a deep, swelling affection that ached in all the right ways. And he knew then that no matter what lay ahead, there was nowhere else he was meant to be than right by Olivia's side. Leaning forward, Lincoln placed a gentle kiss to her temple as a promise of his commitment. Whatever obstacles that may come their way in the future, they would face the storm together, as they always had.