Vision

by. Misery's-Toll

There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?

The first night she sleeps in what was once intended to be Walter's room, but had ended up a library of sorts after the good doctor had opted to take up residency in the sitting room.

Despite his better judgment, Peter offers Olivia his bed. He knows by the expression on her face that she's taken an almost personal offense at the unintended suggestion that perhaps she is unable to take care of herself. To lighten the mood he inserts a misplaced joke about never letting an opportunity to get a beautiful woman in his bed pass him by. She doesn't smile, and he knows it was in bad taste, given the progression of things that led her to be living with the Bishops. So following an awkward silence, he bids her goodnight and leaves the room.

He goes to bed that night straining his ears for any hint of distress. He is ready to jump out of bed at the first sign of a breakdown to reassure her that everything will be okay (even if maybe it's not his place to do so). But he hears nothing but silence. Not even the creak of floorboards or the shift of heavy hard-backed novels to make room for a pallet on the floor. He wonders if she's even sleeping with blankets or if the hard-ass Olivia Dunham doesn't need blankets in a house that Walter keeps at a constant temperature of 67 degrees. He considers fetching her a blanket or six, but decides that maybe it's in both their best interests to keep a safe distance for awhile. She'll come to him if she needs them badly enough. Not that he thinks she will be coming to him for anything anytime soon.

He discovers the reason for her silence during a 4:00 am bathroom break when he pats across the hallway to find the light from the library flooding across the floorboards. She is awake, if not alert, reading one of many books on preposterous conspiracy theories. A gag gift from Markham, celebrating their rekindled "friendship" thanks to Peter's ridiculous newfound profession in the fringe division.

Despite the urge to relieve himself, he takes a stand in her doorway. And being the ever on-duty FBI agent she is, Olivia immediately realizes his presence.

"Did you know that the moon landing was faked?" she asks with a wry smile, not looking up from her book, "And the Russians were in on it, too."

He's not sure which personality is on the surface at the moment. It would seem like Alternate Olivia if not for the fact that she is still garbed in her work attire, sans blazer. Alternate Olivia would be sprawled out on a stolen comforter in her underwear without a care as to whether it would be Peter or Walter to walk in on her. Maybe it's a mix of the two personalities. He wonders if that's possible. He will have to ask Walter in the morning.

"You know, I'm starting to wonder if maybe some of those conspiracy theories were started by confused citizens from our neighborhood alternate dimension," he says, immediately lacking tact. Perhaps his subconscious would really like to have this conversation now instead of later when Olivia will actually be able to make sense of things. That's the only rationalization he can come up with that explains his sudden foot-in-mouth syndrome.

But Olivia doesn't respond to his unintentional segue into dangerous territory, "Or shape shifters with a sense of humor."

He observes her, and after a few moments of extended silence, she closes the book, her finger inserted between the pages she was reading to mark her place. She doesn't meet his gaze, just allows him to watch her while she stares straight ahead.

"What are you still doing up?" he asks, breaking the precarious comfortability of small talk. He contemplates getting those six blankets and forcing her to at least pretend to nap. He wonders if there's any way he will be able to convince Walter to let her sleep in tomorrow instead of beginning the inevitable brain-invasion at sunrise. Maybe if he enlists Astrid's help they can distract him with pudding pops.

She leans back in the armchair she sits in, raising her arms and stretching her legs, cracking every joint willing to give. Definitely an Alternate Olivia gesture.

"My internal clock is waiting for Frank," she admits with upturned lips, "He was supposed to get back from Texas tonight. I haven't seen him in a month and I always stay up waiting for him the night he returns…"

Peter wants to remind her that after she hadn't seen him in three months, she's seemed less than thrilled to be in his presence since they left the apartment. An apartment that she can now never go back to.

"And that's the only reason?" he asks. Despite not properly acknowledging the discrepancies between the two Olivia's behavior, he knows Olivia Dunham. And he knows that the reason she has not either given in to her exhaustion or made the trek downstairs to start up the coffee maker is not because of a fiancée she will never see again that was never hers. Maybe that's part of it, but it is not the reason. She wants to hurt him, remind him that she was in love with someone that wasn't him, just like he was in love with someone that wasn't her. Did she sleep with this man, Frank? Does she suspect Peter of sleeping with her doppelganger?

She looks him dead in the eye. He's making himself crazy trying to figure out which traits belong to which personality and where they merge. It's hard to remember the differences when he had been so clueless to the fact that he had been sharing his bed with an imposter, "That's the only reason, Peter."

He nods, accepting her unwillingness to confide in him at the moment. Perhaps his even being in here is making things more difficult for her, "Right. I'm going to get you some blankets. In case your internal clock clocks out."

He brings back exactly six. He doesn't know what he's thinking when he does it. But Olivia gives him the stink eye for trying to take care of her again. There was once a time when his behavior would have been okay, he thinks. But then again, maybe that was only with the Fake and he's attaching connotations to the past where he shouldn't be.

He goes to back to a bed that feels wrongly empty and wonders if that space will ever be filled by the real Olivia Dunham.

Disclaimer: I do not own "Hallelujah" or "Fringe."

A/N: Is this a prologue or a one-shot? I have no idea. That depends on whether or not I feel like writing more. For now I'll label it in-progress.

I'm writing this because I'm a bit burned-out on my usual fandoms and I recently began watching Fringe with my father. I was inspired by last night's episode because I was really excited by Kevin Weisman's appearance. I love him to pieces.

Anyway, I'd very much appreciate feedback! Thanks for reading!

-MT