Hated Old Friends

A/N: A mini fic, and my first one based off of Fringe (that would be the disclaimer). I usually write for Harry Potter. Anyways, just a warning, I have not seen all of season two. Actually, the only two episodes I have had time to watch are the one this is based off of (S2.E12. Johari Window) and Episode 14 Jacksonville. Bearing that in mind, if any of this doesn't fit with what actually has happened…oh well.

I could hear her footsteps as she approached me. They were slower than normal, almost cautious as she came to stand next to me. I could tell that she was waiting for acknowledgment, but I refused to oblige, preferring to stare off into the distance in deep contemplation. Though it was tempting to look at her face to see what I would find, despite the fact that I already knew. Inevitably she was the one to break the silence.

"There was no I.D. on the guy, so we're gonna run some prints."

Curious that she sounded rather subdued. I could tell that she wanted to say more, but my only encouragement was to shift my gaze toward her through the corner of my eyes before continuing my perusal of the foggy road ahead. But this was Olivia, and she took the nonverbal sign for what it was.

"You had no choice."

Olivia, Olivia. I knew that she would take the conversation in this directing. I knew that she would assume that I had separated myself to agonize over taking his life. She was right, but for the wrong reasons. And somehow I couldn't bring myself to meet her eyes.

"First time I killed someone the guy was a trained killer. If I hadn't pulled the trigger I'd be dead."

I turned to frown at her then, being perfectly able to imagine her in some sort of dangerous situation. I'll admit that she had me curious, and partially distracted, as the conversation had just taken a turn toward unfamiliar territory. I could see how the story could possibly relate, but I was too focused on unraveling another bit of her past, another part of what makes her 'livia.

"I still didn't sleep that night. Or the next."

She proved me right, and I couldn't help but wonder. It was times like this that I questioned how she could be so world weary, but still so naïve. I was aware that I had tilted my head and my facial expression had taken a more thoughtful tone. I was always aware of my facial expressions; it came with the line of work – that is, my previous work. This was why I wondered why she came out here to comfort me. She knew that I was a professional con-artist, a criminal, and that I'd had more than my fair share of shady dealings. Yet she was still assuming . . .

"I'm just saying the first time is rough."

I couldn't look at her then; not when she could stand there and tell me that. I still don't know what thought was more crushing in that moment: that she actually believed that this was the first time I had killed someone, that I wasn't going to correct her, or the fact that the feel of the gun had been all too familiar in my hands.

A/N: A peter bishop reflective peace. Sorry, but I've read through some of the fanfiction, and even in the show, I sometimes feel that people don't portray the darker side of Peter. Sure, he's funny, sarcastic, intelligent (190IQ right?), but he's also a criminal, and I have a hard time believing that he hasn't shot someone before in self defense. I mean honestly, when you have people scary enough to make you flee the country I highly doubt that you haven't at some point carried a gun. Also, being that Peter is highly intelligent, I thought this was a prime opportunity to show his more contemplative side, rather than just "The Walter speaker" he is usually portrayed as.

Take note that I have been having some issues with Fanfiction recently - trouble uploading files and with formating - so i'm not sure how well everything has turned out.

March.02.2010.