A/N: I've been writing this story in my head and sporadically writing excerpts from it since about…December. LOL. It was one of the first things I ever wrote for fringe, before I even starting reading Fringe fan fiction. So it is pretty un influenced. That also means I have a lot of material planned out. Mostly AU, or more of a future!universe fic. The timeline will be explained as we go alone. Most of all, enjoy!

-Prologue-

"If you could have one wish, son, what would it be?" Walternate's voice was cold. The question was not a conversation starter, nor a way to simply get to know his son. It was interrogation.

"You already know the answer to that." Peter's voice was equally as cold. They had had conversations like this before, even if not in this context, the topic was always the same. He knew his father knew what the answer to that question was.

Walternate's expression didn't change, not even offering the slightest bit of sympathy. One of the painfully obvious differences between him and Walter, "Right. The girl."

"The girl." Peter scoffed in a mock tone. "You-you of all people know loss. Is it that irrational of me to think you could at least pretend to care, just a little?"

"I understand how you feel, but as you can see I got by just fine."

Peter was in utter disbelief at what he was hearing. And he Walter wad deranged. This on the other hand was something entirely different. "Yes, you are just fine," Peter sneered, "Brutally tearing apart another world, all because you couldn't let go of me. And I am open to believe that in the beginning this was all about 'love,' but not now, not anymore. For the longest time this was about revenge, and as far as I am concerned, in the back of your mind, it always will be.

"To some extent that is all true," Walternate admitted, "But correct me if I'm wrong; in the back of your mind you are equally as willing to destroy the world to be reunited with the people you love."

It hit Peter like a ton of bricks-or more like an entire building. Maybe it was true, but if the opportunity ever came about, he didn't think he could find himself selfish enough to actually go through with it.

'Be a better man than your father.'

He had to hold onto that.

"Maybe so," Was all he could answer with, "But I know that I can't."

There was a brief uncomfortable silence. "Peter, do you know how it was first brought to my knowledge that you were on the other side, after you were taken?"

Peter was honestly ready to throw back any negative comment at what he was about to say, but this caught him off guard. He had never really thought about it. He had always assumed that he just knew it was Walter. It was not something he ever even cared to think about. "No, I don't." He answered, once more, coldly.

"Six months after you disappeared I was sitting in my office. In Jacksonville-" It was amazing how Peter already wanted him to just shut up. As intrigued as he was, he had no reason to think that this wasn't just another lie. "It was a night just like all of the others. I sat there wondering, wondering what happened to you. Going through every possibility in my head just like I had every night before that, hoping that I would somehow reach a new conclusion. But no luck, as usual. I was at a loss. And then, out of absolutely nowhere appeared a young girl."

Peter's face immediately contorted into an utter look of confusion. He could have stopped his father right then and there to call out his bullshit. "Okay…" He drawled instead.

Walternate continued, "I remember so clearly. She was crying, making some plea to me about her stepfather. To be honest I was in such disbelief I couldn't say anything, I wasn't even sure if it were real. I was remarkably confused to say the least. And then came her confession about seeing another universe, this universe, sufficed to say."

Peter couldn't decide whether he wanted to throw up, or just kill his father right then and there with the first blunt object he could find. Was this some kind of joke? Was it still not enough? His 'father' had gotten everything he had ever wanted, and yet still he had to play these sick mind games. What was this? "What in the world are you saying?" His disgust was unavoidable.

"Let me finish," Walternate replied darkly, emphasis on every word, "She was gone as quickly as she appeared. But she did leave something behind."

Peter inhaled sharply, his blood was boiling, "And I don't suppose you still have whatever that was, do you?"

He didn't answer, getting up from his seat and retrieving said object from a locked drawer on his desk instead.

It was a notebook of sorts, as he got closer Peter could tell the cover was filled with illustrations that appeared to have been drawn by a child. Walternate handed the book to him, but Peter didn't look at it, he kept his eyes on his father the whole time. He ran his fingers over the tattered edges, until his eyes averted to the center.

There; in faded child's handwriting were brightly colored letters that spelled out 'Olivia.'

What was this?

Peter flipped through the first pages, finding typical children's drawings. "Keep going." Walternate urged.

And there it was. On now yellowed paper, was a drawing of two kids, holding hands. The writing underneath it simply read, 'Peter, Olivia.'

He swallowed whatever pain was now quickly growing within him. It all made sense now, kind of. If this were real, if Walternate was in fact telling the truth, and Olivia had in fact been the key to His discovery all of these years ago; then why did he hate her so much? She had answered the one single burning question in his mind. Maybe he could understand that-in a way- Peter had chosen Olivia over his father long before he even realized it. Long before it was intentional.

Peter had come to accept that he didn't remember most of his childhood, and eventually believed that it was a good thing. But oh how he wished to remember this. Because this meant he had forgotten Olivia before.

Did it mean it would happen again?

It couldn't. He didn't even know how to feel right now. Peter probably would have done nothing short of raging at his father if he hadn't been so incredibly confused. He didn't even know why either. Maybe letting himself be confused was easier than letting himself feel the true heartbreak that was breaking it's way through. And over all; he couldn't help but wonder if Olivia remember that time. Their real first meeting. And if she didn't remember now, would she ever?

Like it mattered.

He would probably never know.

A/N: Worth continuing? Let me know! Thanks in advance!