In his dreams, the sky is falling.

He doesn't know whose sky. All he knows is the sense of dread that has solidified in the pit of his stomach, a feeling of impending doom that he feels completely helpless against.

At least, he had been feeling completely helpless against it.

But not anymore.

xx

Peter has never seen the world in terms of black and white; he has spent a great deal of time living in the decidedly grey areas. He had meant it when he'd told Olivia - Fauxlivia, that is - that there was always another way.

But there's some sort of addage, right, about desperate times and desperate measures? These are nothing if not desperate times. Peter has had a revelation of sorts: it has to be "us or them", so to speak, has to be black and white. That's how the other side sees it. So Peter has picked a side, and who can fault him for that? If it's kill or be killed, he knows for damn sure that it's not Olivia he wants dead, or Walter, or Astrid.

There are these moments, though, when he's drifting off to sleep, hovering between awake and dreaming, that he has these bizarre moments of clarity. He hears something, somewhere in his mind, maybe Walter's voice: "This isn't you" and "So why didn't you tell us?" And the simplest answer he has for that question, one he can give without too much introspection but maybe still more than to his liking, is this: he never wants to see that look in Olivia's eyes, ever again. That look of betrayal, of disappointment, of heartbreak; he hates it. It makes him ache in ways he didn't even know possible.

But as much as he wants to keep Olivia safe - or not safe, at least, because she lives for that whole danger-and-saving-the-world bit and he loves that about her, but safe from that bone deep hurt that he can glimpse lurking at her corners - he wants to win this war. Because that's what this is; it's a war, whether they're saying as much or not.

Peter wants to win. He recognizes in himself a sudden ruthlessness, something battle-hungry and with fangs. What's wrong with that?

"Weaponize."

His mind whispers, frantic in its free moments, in the dark, in the shadows; whenever he's lying in bed late at night, with sleep creeping in on him, he's either losing his mind or finally grasping sanity.

(Maybe because he knows what's coming, knows and fears the nightmares.)

And his mind whispers. He woke up the weapon; what if it woke something up in him? And he's afraid.

But more than he's afraid, he's ready. He's ready to fight, ready to win.

He's picked a side.

"Weaponize."

xx

In his dreams, the sky is burning.

And he just burns along with it.

A/N: Short piece is short. This I know. But since I love doing angsty character pieces, and I love me some Peter, I had to.

But Reciprocity was a hell of an episode, right? I mean, I figured out the whole Peter-being-the-killer thing pretty soon, but that just meant I had more time to yell at my TV, going, "NO! PETER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! STOP IT! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" It's probably a good thing I don't have anyone to watch Fringe with right now; they'd think I was completely off my nut. XP