Final chapter! Thanks to all my readers and my beta, Uroboros75!

- CorwinOfAmber

There was a full minute of awkward silence after Peter finished speaking about his time in the Other Universe, and his realization that he didn't have a home there either. They each sat lost in their own thoughts, considering all that had occurred after.

Olivia broke the spell by rising to her feet and going to fill their cups with fresh coffee. She then produced her bottle of Bushmill's from the cupboard over the refrigerator.

"Irish?" she asked with a smile.

"Please," replied Peter.

She poured a finger of whiskey into each of their cups, then sat down and drew the envelope across the table to her and looked at the writing on the front. It was postmarked Berlin, 1998, and had clearly followed Peter on his travels over the years.

Olivia couldn't make the math add up. She looked at Peter, puzzlement obvious in her eyes.

Peter nodded, knowing what she was wondering about.

"I received it the year after she died," he said quietly, then sipped his coffee.

Olivia drummed her fingers on the envelope. "How?"

It was raining the morning Peter Bishop returned to Berlin. There was a certain cosmic symmetry to that, Peter mused; rain when he left, rain when he returned.

Peter had spent the last year and a half in the States. He had gone to visit his mother's grave as soon as he could afford a plane ticket, and hadn't intended to stay, but of course he hadn't the money to leave by the time he got there.

He'd visited the cottage at Reiden Lake, jimmied the lock and let himself in. Here, he wandered through the dusty rooms for an hour, staring at pictures of himself and Mom and Walter – the definitive happy family – pictures that he couldn't recall having partaken in.

Peter had even considered visiting Walter at Saint-Claire's, but that thought had died when he realized he had absolutely nothing to say to the man.

A series of short but profitable jobs followed. Short order cook. Mechanic. Electronics repair. German tutor. He answered a wanted ad and was flown out west to assist in fighting wildfires. After a summer of dirt under his nails and ashes in his lungs, he finally saved enough money to return to Europe.

Peter walked the streets of Berlin, and they felt no more familiar than anything else in his life. Whenever he went back to a place he'd visited before, it seemed surreal, unreal, like he'd never been there. It was unsettling, and it was this feeling of unease that acted as the fuel to his wanderlust.

His feet led him to the park where he once walked with Annika and played chess with Robert. It was morning, and Robert, at the least, should have been there despite the rain; but the cold granite bench where he would always play chess was devoid of occupants.

Peter played chess with a different elderly man, and won in five minutes. Frustrated, he wandered back into town, ignoring the man's pleas for a rematch.

He'd been window shopping downtown for half an hour, ignoring the drizzle, making plans for what to do after Berlin, when he heard a surprised gasp behind him.

"P-Peter?" a familiar voice said.

Peter turned and found Annika, sporting a shorter hairdo, but once again wearing a tee shirt and shorts and sandals, oversized backpack slung off her shoulder.

"It is you!" she said, something like a smile ghosting across her face.

They shared a very, very awkward hug. Peter had never run into an ex-girlfriend before, his relationships with the fairer sex being few and far enough apart that it simply had not happened until now.

She peered up at him, her amber eyes looking for something in his face. She must have found it, because she grabbed his wrist and tugged him down the street.

"Come on. You look like you could use a cup of coffee and something to eat. My treat."

"...So I thought I'd head up to Amsterdam, try learning Dutch, for my fourth language."

Peter had spent the last hour detailing his return to the States, and subsequent return to Europe, the longest he had talked about himself in his short life. Annika had listened with rapt attention, nodding occasionally, smiling when he told about something particularly Peter-ish, such as the time he got out of a speeding ticket in Vegas by convincing the cop he had diplomatic immunity.

While they talked and drank coffee, afternoon sunlight had replaced the rain. The company and the improving weather had greatly improved Peter's mood.

"I have something that belongs to you," Annika said.

Peter watched curiously as she bent over and opened her ever-present backpack and rummaged around inside. She withdrew an envelope and handed it to him.

"A letter from my mother!" Peter said, reading the familiar, elegant writing of the address. "I...don't know what to say, Annika."

"It arrived at the hostel the day after you left," she said quietly. "I'm sorry if it got a little crumpled. I didn't know where you'd gone, or how to contact you. Or what to do with it. So I just kept it."

"Thank you," Peter said.

"You're welcome. Oh! I have to get to class."

Annika closed her pack, stood up and shouldered it, and they shared another awkward hug, only this time she pecked his cheek and whispered. "Have a good life, Peter."

"Thanks again," he said as she walked away. Annika waved once, and that was the last he saw of her.

Peter sat down and stared at the envelope a long time, numbed by the gesture from someone he hadn't expected such kindness from. He traced Elizabeth's writing on the address with his finger.

Finally, he sighed, and carefully slit open the envelope with his finger, took out and read the letter inside.

Peter paused and sighed. "I should call Astrid, check on Walter. Feel free to..."

Olivia nodded, and Peter walked out into her living room, pulling out his cell phone. She picked up the envelope, carefully drew out the letter it contained and began to read.

Dear Son,

As always, I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are staying out of trouble. Vain, perhaps, but a mother can always hope.

Your birthday is coming soon, and I would dearly like to see you in person. I know you wouldn't accept monetary help from me, but please, come home, if at least for your birthday. It would mean so much to me.

As far as the situation at home goes, nothing has really changed since our last exchange of letters. Walter is still in St. Claire's, and he still loves you, even if he can't express it in a manner you would understand.

Peter, I want to emphasize that the situation at home after your illness was never your fault. Walter didn't abandon you, and I didn't start drinking because of you. Our problems were our own. What matters is, we're family and we belong together. If you come home, I won't insist on you enrolling at MIT, or even going to college – you've always hated school so much. We don't even have to stay in Boston, if you want to leave.

We're family, we belong together. Please come home.

Your loving mother,

Elizabeth Bishop.

Olivia sighed and replaced the letter in the envelope, then put it in the center of the table. She listened to Peter talking to Astrid in her living room, and considered the role of chance in life. She walked up to Peter, threw her arms around his neck and embraced him.

Peter chuckled, holding her against him, his right arm tight around her back as he finished talking to Astrid.

"...Yeah, Skittles are a decent substitute. Just don't let him have more than one bag or he'll never get to sleep tonight. Okay, I'll see you in an hour."

He hung up, and his left arm joined his right around her waist.

"I take it you read the letter?" he asked.

Olivia nodded, her head resting on his shoulder. She didn't trust words enough to say anything at that moment.

"For a long time, I thought that if I'd gotten that letter sooner, if I'd hopped a plane, if..."She felt him shrug." I kind of drove myself crazy for a while like that. But it all sort of worked itself out."

"Thank you," Olivia said. "For sharing. We're a lot alike, in that we don't like to talk about ourselves; so I know what it means when you do."

Peter tilted her chin up, his fingers caressing her cheek, and kissed her.

"You're welcome. But real life intrudes again. I need a ride to the lab. I heard Walter shouting something about wanting to order pizza for dinner. Want to join us at the house?"

"Wouldn't miss it." Olivia smiled. "Besides, Walter's going to have to find out about us one day or another."