Many, many thanks to OConnellAboo for her invaluable contributions and support.

Fringe and characters belong to WB, Fox, Bad Robot

This is set late in Season 3, after LSD but before the end of the world as we knew it! Olivia has a few questions about shapeshifters.

Peter ran his hand through the blond hair cascading over his bare chest, eliciting something akin to a purr from the naked woman draped over him. Olivia liked the sunrise, the early morning, but he'd always liked this time of day with her: the end of their day as they lay tucked into each other. Sometimes this would be the prelude to lovemaking, or the moments afterwards, satisfied and sinking into each other, or, on occasion, a few minutes in between to catch their breath before starting their dance again. Sometimes, their stillness came from the exhaustion of the day, or days without sleep, and sometimes, they were quiet and content just to be there together. It was reassuring to him to know that the odds were in his favor that he'd wake up like this, with Olivia nestled next to him, seeking his warmth and the feel of his arms surrounding her.

This was also the time when the darkness cosseted them and made them bold; it enabled them to lower the walls that kept them sane amid the ghosts of their past and the chaos of their present. It was a night like this when Olivia finally told him everything about Over There; about the experiments, the injections, the endless blackness of her cell, the terror she felt as their Brandon used a Sharpie to plan her dissection. He held her as his stomach roiled at the thought that his father was responsible for all this, for the nightmares that still woke them occasionally. He kept his breathing calm, controlled, and continued to stroke her back, her arms, her cheeks, instead of clenching his fists and punching something, although he silently vowed that she would never suffer like that again.

It was a night like this when he told her about seeing his mother, his REAL mother, after 25 years. How he'd felt a rush of affection as he hugged her, and then a wave of guilt and betrayal as he thought of the Elizabeth on this side, who had raised him as her son, whose own guilt had eventually overcome her. How they'd talked for hours, over steaming cups of precious coffee. That he'd even told his mother about her, about the woman in his life that was so important to him, and his confusion about his feelings for her, the despair he'd felt when he learned that she and Walter had kept his history a secret from him.

The darkness made it easier for both of them to hide eyes that might've glistened in the light; and the quiet let them speak in hushed tones lest their voices trembled or cracked. They were able to speak to each other with fingertips, lips, reassurances when words would fail them, when words were inadequate to describe the feelings that they were still hesitant to voice.

Olivia shifted in his arms, and raised her head as she stroked the soft stubble of his face.

"Peter," she said in a low voice as she looked at him with a gentle smile that he could feel as much as see in the dim light of her bedroom.

"Hmmm?' He continued to stroke her hair, running his fingers through the strands to caress the soft skin underneath.

"Before Bell... Before he took over?"

"Hmmmm," Peter wasn't sure where this was going.

"We were in your lab in the Engineering building. You'd asked me to meet you there."

"Yes. Do you remember being there?" Still stroking gently, giving her the space to continue at her own pace.

'A little. It's jumbled, and I'm still not sure what are my memories, and what are his," Olivia ran her hand down Peter's arm, and he jumped a little at the coolness of her slim fingers.

"Peter," she said as she raised her head to look at him. "Tell me about the shape shifters."

He tensed minutely, but knew Olivia would notice. Already, she knew all his tells. "Shape shifters… why I killed them?"

"Why you lied about it, Peter. Why you lied to me. All the time we were trying to find the killer, going through her files." Olivia's voice was still quiet, but held an undercurrent of anger and frustration. "You knew. You lied to me. To all of us."

He knew he could deny it, or deflect her questions, but he also knew how determined Olivia could be when she was looking for answers.

"I knew if I told you, if I told you HOW I knew… what would you've done?"

Olivia's eyes narrowed. "Peter, you shouldn't have taken it upon yourself to track them. You can't … Walter said you were almost killed.'

Peter rolled to face Olivia. "I knew you would shut me down, well, the FBI would shut me down. I knew you would shut me out. I had to get answers and I didn't – don't – know any other way to do it."

"But why the secret lab, Peter?"

"You know how Walter feels about the Machine. It freaks him out. He didn't want me to study it in his lab and it wasn't worth upsetting him. And it was easy enough to find a little space. I didn't need much, and I could borrow any equipment I needed from Walter's lab."

"Why did you lie?" Olivia's voice was bitter. "Full disclosure – was that just a game to you?" Her eyes flashed in the faint glow from the street lights. "I trusted you, Peter. Again." She rolled away from him, facing the wall. "I was trying to reach out to you and you lied about more tests in New York. You were leaving to kill Alpert, weren't you?"

'Olivia…" Peter touched her shoulder gently. She was very still, with her back to him. He stroked her hair, not wanting to lose contact with her, but knowing anything more would make her withdraw. As hard as this was for him to answer, he knew it was just as hard for her to confront him. They were both new at this 'full disclosure' thing.

"What else did you lie about?' Her voice was bitter. "All those times I called and you never answered… Peter, how can I keep trusting you when you keep secrets like this? How can I trust anything yo-"

Peter withdrew his hand. "Aren't you walking on thin ice there, Olivia? I'd say concealing my universe of origin trumps killing a few enemy drones."

Olivia sat up; his last remark had touched a nerve. She was silent for a moment, then spoke quietly. "Peter, we were doing everything we could do! We could've worked with you."

His voice was terse when he replied. "I couldn't wait for the FBI. Whatever the shape shifters were doing, they were doing more of it. They were preparing for something while we were just sitting around."

"We were working on it, Peter. You and I – we could've done this together."

Peter sighed in frustration. "Olivia. It wasn't happening quickly enough. I had to… I have to have answers now. I'm tired of being reactive."

"Didn't you trust me, trust us enough?"

Peter sat up now, and leaned against the headboard, rubbing his face the way he always did when he was frustrated, or tired. "Olivia, I did – do – trust you. That day in the truck, when we were on our way to the Repository… that's when I knew I had to tell you, that I had to talk to you about all this. That's when I decided to take you to my lab. That's why I wanted to tell you then, why I WAS telling you – before Bell invaded your consciousness."

"After you'd already killed, what – five? More than that? More than we knew about?" Olivia was already sliding out of bed, looking for her robe. "Why did you wait so long?"

Peter reached for her hand and gently pulled her back to sit on the bed. He continued to hold her hand, caressing her knuckles lightly with his thumb. "Please… Olivia."

Olivia tugged her hand away from Peter and rose again, turning toward the door. "What else is there that I don't know, Peter?" Her voice sounded tired and small as she wrapped her robe around her and looked back at Peter. "I need a minute, I'll be back."

Peter ran his hands through his hair, over his face, rubbed his eyes. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he thought. Out of everyone, he expected Olivia to understand. She'd been there, she knew what they were facing, what they were up against. He thought she'd understand the pressures of expectations you never asked for and didn't know how to fulfill.

He got up wearily and walked over to the window. Even though it was late April, the Boston nights were still cool, and he shivered slightly, clad only in his boxers. He could look around for a t-shirt, but he wanted to take this minute alone to compose himself. He didn't want to argue with Olivia, but he needed her to understand this, and to understand him.

He heard her walk back into the bedroom, but he continued to look out into the street, the silence broken only by the occasional car passing. Finally, Peter spoke, still facing the window.

"I've lived most of my life not knowing for sure what's going to happen next, but I always had a plan, and a backup plan. And a bailout plan. I knew I could deal with anything, even if dealing meant running away." He took a deep breath and his shoulders slumped. "I can't run away from this. And I don't know enough to make any kind of plan."

"Peter, we're all here for you, we're all working as hard as we can…"

He turned to face her, his eyes dark. "It's my face on that drawing, dammit. Not yours, not Broyles, not the FBI." Peter's voice was low pitched, but thick with anger. "I'M the one in the machine. I'M the one that needs to know what's happening." He took a deep breath. "And if I can learn something from the shape shifter disks, or the machine schematics… I don't give a damn what any of you think. I have to figure out what I'm dealing with."

"I didn't ask for any of this. Not for Fringe Division, not for Walter, and certainly not for this fucking Doomsday machine that seems to know my name. I could still be in Iraq – at least I knew what I was up against there. So don't talk to me about lies and keeping secrets. I'm here because you wanted me here; you don't get to dictate all the rules this time around."

Olivia was frozen. She knew Peter had a short fuse and a volatile temper – she remembered the early days, with Walter in the lab; they used to go at each other with words like knives, holding nothing back. She'd felt the sting of his sharp remarks from time to time as well, but not since they'd been lovers. She stood silently, waiting for him to speak again.

Peter glared at her, his jaw clenched, as if daring her to challenge him. He turned back to the window and gazed into the street. The silence dragged on interminably.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was low and measured, but Olivia could see his fists were clenched even though he stood in the shadows cast by the street lights. "Olivia, I'm scared."

Olivia walked over to Peter and circled his waist with her arms. She leaned against his back as he wrapped his arms over her own. She hugged him and rubbed her cheek against his back, counting on her touch to convey what Peter needed.

'I wish you'd told me sooner." She spoke in a low voice to match his own.

Peter flashed back to a conversation a few weeks back. He hadn't seen the Machine on this side yet. The nightmares hadn't started yet; he just had a vague uneasiness that things were slipping from his control. He opened his mouth to remind Olivia of that discussion, but caught himself before he spoke.

That conversation had taken place only a few feet away, on the couch in her living room – but it was the OTHER Olivia he had confided in and turned to for comfort and reassurance. Comfort and reassurance she'd provided in the form of an interrupted make-out session. If that had been HIS Olivia, he had no doubt that the conversation they were having right now would have a different tone – but she didn't need to be reminded of what she'd missed.

"If you'll remember," he said dryly, "We weren't on exactly the best of terms at that point. I didn't want to do anything that would push you further away..."

It was Olivia's turn to sigh. It had been a difficult period for them. He was trying to earn her forgiveness and to forgive himself; she was trying to make sense of her own feelings, to regain her place in this world, and to understand Peter's jumble of emotions as well as her own. Reading the other Olivia's file hadn't been easy, but she'd gotten through it because she thought she had to, because of the case.

Peter disentangled himself from her embrace and sat down in the armchair next to the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair again, making it even more disarrayed, then put his head in his hands and looked at the floor.

"I don't know what's going to happen to me," he said softly without looking up.

He remembered seeing the Machine for the first time, seeing it come to life as he stood there, blood dripping from his nose. It was bad enough when the smaller piece grasped his wrist when he was on the Other Side; seeing 15 foot panels moving under their own power in a machine almost as tall as an airplane hangar still made his heart pound with anxiety.

"I had to do something, to feel like I wasn't just sitting back waiting for things to happen. I thought I'd be able to read the disks. Maybe I could understand what Walternate was planning. Or why the shape shifters were here. Something. Anything." He looked up at Olivia, still standing by the window.

"Walter thought the machine had weaponized me, that it made me kill them. He didn't…'

Olivia looked at him sharply. "You told Walter? And you didn't tell me?" She turned away and leaned her forehead against the cool windowpane.

"He knew. He found the lists in my room and followed me to Zach Alpert's," Peter sighed wearily, leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs to full length.

"Why did you lie to me about more tests at Massive Dynamic? I thought we were going to get past all this, but you were lying to me about that, too." Olivia's voice was still quiet, but with an agonized edge. Peter could almost see the tension building in her body as she continued to gaze out over the empty street. "Was that another con, too?"

"It's not a con, Olivia. None of this is a con." Peter didn't move as he replied, his eyes closed and his legs still stretched out. "I didn't want to put you in a compromising position with Broyles either."

"Peter, don't you think that's for me to decide?"

"No, Olivia, not this time. At the risk of sounding narcissistic, this one's all about me."

Olivia snorted and shook her head. "Peter, we're ALL in this."

He sat up and looked at her, her posture as unyielding as her voice. He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his forehead, finally resting his head in his hands again. Olivia was his refuge, and he felt like even she was turning him away.

She continued to gaze into the empty street, until Peter exhaled shakily. His face was still buried in his hands, and his breathing was deep and deliberate. It was obvious to Olivia that he was struggling to keep his composure as she knelt in front of him. She placed her hands gently over his and stroked his fingers.

"Peter, talk to me," she whispered. The Machine terrified her – not only for its impact on the two worlds, but what it might do to Peter. Olivia did what she always did with fear; she compartmentalized it and locked it away, refusing to acknowledge it until she had to.

Peter mumbled something and tried to ease away from her, but she clasped his wrists.

"Peter, please."

"Olivia…" He raised his head and looked at her with reddened eyes. "Fuck it, I'll go. No need in both of us being up all night." He pulled his hands away and started to stand, but Olivia grabbed his forearms. He couldn't move without causing her to tumble, so he gave her a look of resignation and leaned back, pulling her into his lap.

He was always surprised when he held her this way. She seemed larger than life when she was Agent Dunham, striding down a hallway talking to Broyles, running down an alley with her gun drawn. It was only when she tucked herself under his arm, rested her head on his shoulder, and nestled her face into his neck that he realized how tiny she was.

Tonight the roles were reversed. Olivia circled his shoulders with her arms and drew him to her, as he hid his face in the blond hair cascading over his shoulders. She ran her fingers through his hair as she felt him shudder against her.

Finally, he leaned back and rested his head on the back of the chair. His eyes were closed but Olivia could see his eyelashes were damp with the remnants of tears. She relaxed into him and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. He still breathed in and out mindfully, almost as if he was afraid he would stop altogether if he didn't concentrate.

He spoke in low tones. "I dream about it every night." His arms tightened around Olivia. "Sometimes, it's quick – just incredible pain, and then… nothing. Black emptiness." His breathing hitched.

"Sometimes, I feel like it's tearing me apart – pulling me in a million directions. Sometimes… sometimes, I open my eyes and there's nothing there. Nothing. I don't know what happened. If I saved you? Or the other world, or if I saved anyone..."

They sat in silence. Olivia laid her hand on his bare chest, and found comfort in his steady heartbeat.

When Peter spoke again, he sounded like the small boy from the photograph Walter had brought him for his room. "I even tried Walter's cure for nightmares… his mantra. Remember?"

Olivia nodded against his chest and spoke softly. "Please don't dream tonight. Please don't dream tonight… Did it work?"

Peter laughed ruefully and rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. "Nothing works. It's always there."

He gulped a breath to cover up what might've been a sob.

"I've never felt like I belonged here… for reasons that are obvious now," he chuckled darkly. "That's why I kept moving around – if I didn't try to belong, it didn't hurt so much when I was reminded that I didn't… again. And I didn't belong Over There, either."

"Olivia, for the first time since I was a kid… I have something that I don't want to lose. Walter… Astrid… doing something good, not just something to put money in my pocket. I have a family. I have you."

He slid his fingers under the sleeve of her robe, seeking the warmth of her skin. "I don't want to lose you… I just got you back… for the second time. I don't want to give you up. I'll never be ready to give you up."

Olivia could feel her tears spilling now. All her worries were being drawn out of their hiding places.

"I don't know what to do. I can't run away from it." He held her close. "God, I don't want to do this."

Long moments passed with their ragged breathing the only sound in the darkened room. Peter had never spoken so openly to her about the Machine; he'd always exuded a calm confidence or deflected conversation away from the tasks that lay before them. Olivia thought it was to protect Walter, but she understood now that Peter was trying to protect her as well.

Olivia thought about the first time she'd seen the drawing of Peter in the Doomsday Machine. She remembered how her heart seemed to stop beating, how she felt cold inside, seeing Peter's face.

"Peter... I've tried not to think about it, about the machine and the drawing. It's too hard to think about it, and about you." She buried her face in his neck. Her tears were flowing freely now, and she didn't want Peter to see her crying. "I don't want to lose you, either."

"I see that drawing every time I close my eyes."

"Does Walter… has he come up with anything yet?"

"Walter can't talk about it. I don't know… I'm sure he's thinking about it, too. It's tearing him up inside, thinking that he's the cause of all this, and…"

"The cause of what's going to happen," Olivia finished his sentence softly.

"Yeah. The destruction. He started it, and I'm going to finish it. 'The destroyer of worlds'." Peter muttered grimly.

"You and Walter always find a way, Peter. You'll figure this out, too. You have to." Olivia's voice quivered and Peter leaned his head against hers.

"All this time, I kept thinking there was another way to solve this, a way that both worlds could survive. I don't know if it's possible, but I think this is what I'm supposed to do, Olivia. "

"I have to believe there's another way. I can't lose you."

As she shifted closer in his lap, Peter slid his hand inside her robe, caressing her back. He wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure, but he continued his gentle movements until he shivered involuntarily with the cold.

Olivia stood up and reached for his hands, and the sudden movement untied her loosely knotted robe. She leaned over him and brushed his lips. "Come back to bed. Please."

He stood up and put his hands on her shoulders. "Livia, I wasn't trying to bullshit you." He sighed wearily and leaned his forehead against hers. "I'm not used to having someone in my life… someone that's strong enough."

Olivia wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling the chill on his bare skin. "You know, somebody told me once that the point of having people who care about you in your life was to have someone to talk to when you're scared."

He slid his arms around her and pulled her in. "What smart ass said that?" he said sardonically.

She tugged at him gently. "Come to bed," she whispered, "And I'll tell you everything I know about him."

ooo

Peter dragged the comforter over Olivia's bare shoulders. More tears had been shed, more confidences shared, more sins forgiven. If sex was comfort food, he thought in his post-coital lethargy, then tonight's lovemaking was meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Olivia snuggled closer to him. It might've been chancy early on, but the odds were still in his favor that she'd be here when he woke up.