Title: Barely Getting By

Author: SamSpade

Rating: T

Summary: Peter is lost in nothingness (post 4x01) and Olivia is lost without him.

She's different. Darker if at all possible. Hopeless maybe. He doesn't want to use that word to describe her. He thought doing this over again, saving her would be better but he's not sure it is. A lifetime without her – for the right reasons, to save her and the world he can justify but this – he can't.

He's a flash, barely even that and he's behind her when it happens. She doesn't see him and he wonders even if she did, if she would remember.

It's barely been two weeks but for Olivia it's been a lifetime without him. A lifetime not knowing him, feeling all alone. He wishes he could hold her, wrap his arms around her and tell her it'll be okay. He can't do that. Not like this. He's a ghostly image if at that. He no longer exists in the sense that you or I can understand. Traces remain though that bleed through and that's how he sees her. She will likely never see him. He's afraid he'll never have one last chance to tell her what he missed out on, how he loves her, how the world is a better place now even if she can't see it. He wants her to be happy but she's not, she's different.

He watches her and knows if it were any other way it'd be creepy but its Olivia and he's Peter. He doesn't leave the lab. He's afraid that if he did he wouldn't find his way back to her. Besides there's no reason to leave. Someone is always here – specifically Walter.

He's saddened by the fact his father's life has changed as well. Peter never considered the repercussions of going back in time through the machine. How could he? His focus was on saving Olivia, changing the outcome of destroying the other world and just maybe writing a few other wrongs if he had the chance.

He feels now though looking back maybe he's done more harm than good. He doesn't have the opportunity to change things now. Only Olivia can but he's not sure she's capable. His timeline is flawed. He sees only what's been for the last two weeks. Olivia's had an entirely different upbringing, a different life. He watches as she comes into work and wears a teal shirt. He's certain he's never seen it on her before and briefly wonders if she hadn't been one of Walter's test subjects. Maybe this life for her was better without Cortexiphan?

He can't be certain though. There's really no way for him to know. He examines her closely, watches between the shadows as he wills himself to be visible but it doesn't happen. It works best in mirrors – something that casts a reflection. He startled Walter in doing so and almost feels bad for it. What makes him feel worse is that Walter had no idea who he was. His confidence in ever returning is shot. Walter is unlikely to help him. He glanced at Olivia from across the room. She's his only hope but he wonders if it's a lost cause.

He dares outside of his realm of comfort and follows her. He's hopelessly optimistic that she will see him. That she will in time will herself to see him. Beyond that there is no hope. It's the first time he's beginning to feel how she must have when she was taken by Walternate. This though, it's his own doing.

He watches her go home and follows her inside. He's nothing and everything and she fails to see him. She drops her coat by the door, her shoes slide off and tosses her keys onto the table. Even her gun and badge make their way to the counter with a thud. He examines her eyes, the sadness he knows he's caused and it pains him.

"Olivia." He breathes and he's just inches from her but she fails to see or hear him. She walks to the hallway, turns up the thermostat. Peter wonders if it's true what they say about ghosts making someone cold. Is that what he's d one to her? She shivers and he steps closer. He swears to himself he's not a ghost. He feels real. He remembers a life with her, a life that hasn't happened and didn't happen but it doesn't matter. He tries to reach out to touch her. It fails. His hand merely slips through as if a projection. He winces in pain, wishing he could comfort her and maybe find comfort for himself.

She walks to the kitchen, finds a bottle of scotch and pours herself a glass. She's not hungry. Though she knows her stomach should be growling and she should eat – she doesn't. She sips the amber liquid, feels the slight burn as it moves down her throat and her eyes widen dropping the glass shattering it across the floor.

She's staring at him.