A/N: This is for my wifey, Joy, on her 22nd birthday. I know it's early, but you know how my life goes, and it was either now or two months from now. I hope you enjoy! You've been the greatest over the past (almost) year, and I don't know what I would do if you weren't a part of my fandom life. Thanks for stealing all my ships! It makes me so happy that we can squee about Jate, P/O, Starpollo, and RHr together. Here's hoping we have many more years of squeeing to come! Love you babe!

Disclaimer: Don't own them.

You thought it would never happen again.

You thought wrong.

As he opened the door, and you saw his smiling face, you couldn't help but feel that maybe this time it would work out. That this leap wouldn't end with you flat on your face. And then he glimmered and you were left with nothing when it should have been everything.

That was three days ago. You hadn't seen him since.

You sat in your house and tried to pretend that eventually the pain would go away; you'd lost people before, moved on. But it had never been like this. You had never been alone.

You'd thrown yourself into work for the past three days, trying to pretend that your life was normal, that the man you had loved wasn't involved in The Pattern, that your best friend hadn't been killed by a shape-shifter, that the man you were falling for wasn't from another universe. For the first time in the past year and half, this series of strange events that had gotten you entangled into this whole mess sat in silence. If it hadn't you weren't sure you would have even cared. There was no team without Peter. There was no way it would ever work. The war had already been lost on the cusp of its beginning. One man had destroyed everything, and it was his words that rang in your ears.

"Please don't tell him."

Peter knew something was up when he came back with his jacket. He looked at you. Confusion and concern flooded his eyes, and your heart nearly broke with the weight of it all. You saw the flash of anger as he looked to Walter, and you pleaded with him. "Please, let me talk to Walter." It wasn't that you didn't think Walter deserved whatever bout of rage Peter was sure to give him; it was that you wanted to do it yourself.

He looked back to you and stared as if he was trying to read your mind. He was searching for an answer that you knew you could never give him. After a few moments, he simply nodded, and you followed Walter into the next room.

"Are you okay?" He said standing by the doorway as you put on your jacket to leave. You couldn't even look at him; you knew if you did, you'd only break down again (if there was anything left to be broken). You'd break down and he'd take you in his arms, and maybe in his embrace you could forget for a moment that everything was shattered. But sooner or later, you'd have to let go, and there was little to no chance that you'd be able to survive that.

"I'll be fine." You paused, and as per usual, he waited for you to continue, just listening even though you knew he wanted to know more than anything what Walter had done.

"I'm so sorry." You said, but the words came out hollow, as if you didn't really mean them. You hoped he wouldn't notice. You knew he did. You could practically feel the anger radiating off him, not at you, but at Walter, for ruining whatever could have happened that night. Your stomach clenched at the thought that this wasn't just his night that was ruined. If you had the courage to look at him, you knew you would see the tic firing in his jaw. Fury ripped through you, and you wanted more than anything to expose Walter for what he was and what he had done. And yet, you chose your words carefully.

"I wasn't the only one Walter experimented on. You and I both know that. " You knew it wasn't what he wanted to hear. But you had promised Walter; he would be the one to tell him. Anger boiled in your blood once again. You remembered the pain of waking up in the hospital, your hip screaming despite the copious amount of drugs in your system. You remembered the fear of passing through the door to the other universe. You saw a little Peter and wondered how anyone could put a child through that.

Peter put a finger underneath your chin, lifting your eyes to meet his. You tried not to focus on anything, and you knew he noticed your distance. You felt your heart tighten realizing how much you could be hurting him right now.

"They are probably sitting in their houses, living perfectly normal lives, blissfully unaware that anything ever happened to them." Peter said, looking you dead in the eye, trying his best to comfort you. That hurt worse than anything.

"That's what I'm scared of." You said, your voice wavering as your whole world crumbled beneath you. You grabbed the door handle and without a second look left. You knew if you turned back, his glimmer wouldn't be the only thing keeping him out of focus. You left a trail of tears in your wake.

Three days later, and you were nursing a glass of whiskey, trying to remain numb, trying not to think. But you would never be drunk enough for that, and the whiskey would only make it harder for you to get out of bed in the morning. So you sipped it slowly, focusing on the burn as it slid down your throat.

At first, you didn't hear the knock on your door; the pounding of your head was enough to drown out much other noise. But then it grew louder, more frantic, and you got up from your position on the couch to see who it could be.

You weren't ready for him.

You were so reminded of the man you had met over a year before; broken, angry, running from his past, himself, his father. And yet he was here and the ache for him overpowered you in a way you never expected. He pushed past you and stepped into the living room. You smelled the alcohol on his clothing, but he appeared sober despite his rumpled appearance and the dark circles under his eyes. You kept your eyes to the floor.

"Look at me." He said softly, so quiet that at first you thought it might all be in your head, but when you didn't lift your eyes, his frustration got the better of him.

"Look at me!" He nearly shouted, his voice shaking with so much intensity and pain, that you couldn't keep the tears from forming.

"I can't." You choked, as the tears streamed down your face.

You felt him move forward. He was so close now, all your nerve endings were aware of his presence. You wanted nothing more than to bridge the gap, but crossing universes had consequences. The pain that would follow would be inevitable. You used to be so strong.

"Please." He whispered, his breath tickling your temple.

You couldn't resist anymore, not with him. You met his eyes, and saw him searching your face. His expression was still pained, but he was looking at you with so much fervor, so much desire, that it was easy to forget that objects from two universes could not occupy the same space. He raised his hand to your cheek.

"Close your eyes." He whispered.

You obeyed and before long felt his lips on yours. It was achingly sweet at first, but as he pulled you waist closer to him, you felt his hand burn into you back, and you realized that you weren't scared anymore, not of this, not of them. So you kissed him harder, deeper, and you felt your core warm as he moaned lightly into your mouth. Your hands roamed his chest, and slowly made their way underneath his sweater. He helped you pull it off and backed you onto the wall, making slow work with the buttons on your shirt, and trailing kisses down your neck and finally onto your collarbone. As he pushed his hips against you, you felt him begin to harden, and you heard your breath come in short ragged gasps. You opened your eyes because you wanted to take it all in, you wanted all of him, and in the moment, as your eyes grew hazy, you realized how beautiful he looked in the low light.

Once you were in the bedroom, and he leaned you gently onto the bed, the look in his eyes told you that he wouldn't leave you. He made his way lower and lower down your body, his lips causing your body to quiver with every kiss. And as he began to thrust deeper and deeper inside you, and you tightened your hold on his back, you took comfort in his solid form. He was still here, not a ghost or a vision. He was real.

You came together, two universes living in synchronicity, and as he lay exhausted above you, you hugged him tight. Tangled together, you were only two people irrevocably broken, struggling to hold onto the one person that mattered when you were sure to be torn apart.

And as you watched him sleep and he continued to glimmer, you wondered how long it would be before he was ripped away.

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