Recollection

A/N: This takes place in 3.22 'The Day We Died' during the scene on Liberty Island. This is the fourth and final part of the 'Moments' series. This is a little late from the rest of series, but I'll admit my mind was completely blown after the finale and it took me a little while to regain my composure (and my mind ;P) in order to write.

Annnndd... this is my 25th story on fanfiction :D

Disclaimer: Now let's think about this for a second... if I owned Fringe, would I have had Peter disappear? ... Short answer... NO.

[Now]

"Olivia..." Peter whispers in astonishment, his voice bright like sunlight, "You're alive."

She gives him a strange look, her eyebrows knit together with an invisible string of curiosity as she helps him down from the machine. But she doesn't ask him questions; she waits as he explains to Walter what he's learned.

He'll wish later that he'd given her a moment.

He's halfway through a word when his face fizzles and then disappears, fading into the air like wind.

But he can still see them, he watches Walternate and his father bicker; voices rising like the crests of violent waves, but they never quite crash.

Then he watches Olivia... and her.

There's something calm and languid about the way Olivia moves, caution settling on the tips of her shoulders as she watches her double.

She stalks Olivia like a tiger, and Peter imagines a great striped beast slinking through shreds of bamboo ready to pounce.

"Olivia," he warns, but she doesn't turn her head.

"Olivia," he says with a little more force, pushing the pendulum of his voice a little farther.

She's still out of reach.

He walks over to her and tries to grab her arm, only for his to pass through her own. He instantly recoils, frightened by the possibility of some disease from the sight.

It's then that he realises why they don't see him.

They can't.

A moment later the world begins to bend, Olivia's face warping into whirls of colour and her hair swirling into a blonde storm.

"No, no, no... Olivia, no," he begs, reaching for her. He needs her, he can't leave her; not like this, not near the man who'd tried to kill her and the woman who'd impersonated her.

He can't leave her vulnerable.

"Please, no. No, no, no, no," he cries, his eyes watering as the only form he recognises is his own.

Olivia... please... I need her, he thinks.

But there's nothing that stops the world from fading.

Under the watchful eyes of Lady Liberty, December stands, hands stoically at his sides as he says to September:

"You were right, they don't remember Peter."

September turns slightly, his black fedora bleeding shadows onto his face: "How could they? He never existed. He served his purpose."

December pauses before saying: "He tried to get the girl to remember him."

"But she didn't," September says, "How could she remember someone who exists in the future?"

After that there is silence amongst them and then nothing more.

In a place that has no name and no location is Peter Bishop.

He doesn't know where he is, or where he's going, but he knows where he should be.

He remembers her long golden hair and her emerald eyes; seas of deep, roiling green before him. He imagines her before him, smiling.

With a soft thought, almost a prayer he thinks: Don't give in Olivia.

And then with another final thought he adds: I'll find you again sweetheart.

Fin

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