The finale OWNED.

This idea immediately popped into my head, because what will be up in the next chapter is something that I think about ALL THE TIME.

Plus, there was all that empty space between THE kiss and their arrival at the opera house, and I just had to take advantage of that...in the next chapter.

I hope you enjoy this!

It was late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. Quarter after four in the morning. Such an ungodly hour. He was walking around the Boston in which he grew up, it felt familiar and safe. He was just glad that it still was, unlike the Boston of the world in which he was born. He knew this city so well that although he was wandering the streets aimlessly, his feet knew where to go. His thoughts gathered in all at once, then simultaneously scattered amorphously in his mind. However, one thing was constant in his nebulous thought pattern: Olivia Dunham. His Olivia. She was just as equally his, as he was hers. "…you belong with me." Her voice echoed in his mind.

Their moment, the one he'd been waiting on for so long, the one they'd begun after their field trip to Jacksonville, he relived it. Every glorious second of it. He would never forget their moment. The way she unassuredly approached him, and hesitantly planted a tender, insecure kiss softly on his lips, as though she thought that he wouldn't reciprocate. The hand at the nape of his neck, holding on to him like he could disappear again, and the other one, on his chest, feeling his heart beating. How she pulled away, making sure that what was happening was real. Then she came back in for more, this time without apprehension. She was less inhibited, but still holding back, so he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her unyieldingly into him. He let her know that he wasn't going anywhere. She was right. He did belong with her. He was completely hers, and had been for some time. A wave of relief and fulfillment washed over him in her kiss, knowing that she felt just as deeply about him as he did about her.

Then he remembered what happened next. Followed by the car ride, and their discussion. She drove, just like she always did. He didn't mind. It felt familiar and very right to him. He watched her. Her eyes were focused on the road, and her hands gripped the wheel. Suddenly, her right hand left the wheel and grasped his left one. He had needed that and somehow, she had sensed it. She squeezed gently, letting him know that he had her. No matter what. She glanced at him momentarily, and told him, "You can stay with me. If you want?" He chuckled softly, raised her hand to his mouth, and planted a kiss on it. She smiled at him and then focused again on the road. He waited a minute before giving her an answer, "Olivia," he let out a heavy sigh, he couldn't believe he was about to turn her down, "Olivia, I can't. I need to work things out with Walter. It's going to take…time…" he trailed off, looking out the window. He heard her voice, "I know." She paused, he waited, and then she continued, "If you ever need to get out, away…" this time, she trailed off. "I know," he said, and he smiled at her. After a few minutes, he spoke again, "Olivia, I don't want anyone to know. Not yet, at least. I'm not ready to share this…" "Okay," she cut him off. He saw her swallow hard and heard her sigh. "I understand, Peter. It's okay." She was very earnest and he did not doubt her. She turned a corner and pulled her hand out from his. They were at the opera house.

When he snapped back to Boston, he came face to face with the door to apartment 2A. He wasn't surprised. Peter smiled to himself as he knocked on her door. Two minutes. No answer. "That is strange," he thought to himself. He knocked again. Three more minutes. Still no answer. What the hell? Maybe she was sleeping. He looked at his phone: 6:27AM. It was unlikely. He knew his Olivia. She wouldn't be sleeping. He called her. It rang several times then her voicemail picked up. Something was amiss. This was not like her. He pressed an ear to her door. For a moment, he felt a little bit like a stalker, but he didn't really care at this point. Nothing. It was completely silent inside her apartment. Where was she? He really needed her. To talk to her, to just see her. He was exhausted. He sank down into the floor and leaned against the wall. He folded his arms across his knees and lowered his head.

"Peter?" He heard a voice calling to him. "Peter?" He'd fallen asleep. "Hey babe," he said, sounding slightly more groggy than he'd have liked. She made a face. She looked a bit confused, and slightly shocked. His brow furrowed, and her expression warmed to him, but still, she looked…different. "Peter, what are you doing here?" she laughed nervously. He stood up. "You said anytime," he offered. "Oh," she said, crinkling her face and scratching her head, "right." She pulled out her key and opened the door, "Come in." She looked wrong. The look in her eyes was distant and cold, and her face looked burdened. "Hey," Peter said softly as he rested his hand on her shoulder, and drew her into a gentle kiss. After a second, he pulled back. She tasted bitter, and the way she kissed back was not anything like how his Olivia had kissed him. He panicked. How was this possible? How had they brought the wrong Olivia back with them? He cursed himself for not noticing the difference before they had made this devastating mistake. Where was his Olivia? He desperately wanted to know; however, he also realized that if he did this wrong, he could lose her forever. He instantly felt pain searing through his entire being. Peter was immediately certain that they had her, most likely locked up somewhere.

"What?" the wrong Olivia interrupted his panicking thoughts. He deflected, "Are you alright? You look upset." He cleared his throat, and swallowed his pain, part of which he was sure was the pain his Olivia was feeling. "Yeah," she said, "I'm fine." She smiled at him. "I, uh, I think I'm gonna go home now," he tried to sound as cool as possible, so as not to alarm the charlatan. "Alright," she said as he walked out her door, "bye, Peter." He knew exactly what it was he had to do. He would have to bide his time, and gleam as much information out of this woman as he possibly could. He'd have to be careful in making sure that neither he, nor Walter, Astrid, or anyone for that matter, gave this woman anything. He couldn't do this alone. He was going to need help. Peter dialed. Broyles answered. "We have a situation."