The Shade of Poison Trees

[Agent Zero]

Author's Note: Hi! Thanks for stopping by! Those returning, nice to see you! Those new to my stories, welcome! I got this idea after watching 'The Day We Died', and decided to take a little different direction. This story is my interpretation with what happened between the gap of when Peter got into the machine and the end of 3x21. A little AU, but stick with me and I think you'll like it. The rest you'll just have to find out for your own!


Onward, my friends!

~*~
The Shade of Poison Trees
Fanfiction by: Stephanie
Agent Zero
~*~

Chapter 1: Aftermath

Every war had its casualties.

They came in all shapes, colors and sizes; of different creeds and beliefs.

Children. Mothers. Brothers. Cousins. Soldiers. Civilians. Lovers. Dreamers. Betrayers.

The spectrum of human loss was immeasurable as the stars, colors skewed from the realm of life with broken streaks of red death and black disaster. There were no more blues, yellows, or greens. Brilliant, life sustaining pastels now drained from existence, washed away by the violent rains of war, leaving behind an empty and blank slate. All that was left was endless dark nights and miles and miles of crimson red rivers. Each loss of life countless and growing as the days continued to tick against all odds. Even the sun burned red, bleeding rays of tinted light through the bellowing, angry clouds above him.

All around him buildings had crumbled and fell like fallen soldiers in the merciless rolling hills, their battlefield whose home ground betrayed them. With each penetrating wave of dismay they fell further, their structures collapsing and falling into one another, beams of concrete for bayonets and metal for bullets, striking and bringing down everything around it with a deafening roar. The ground quaked without pity, angered by the disruption of its peaceful slumber. Pipes burst, mixed with gasses and sent combustible, rushing fires everywhere- hungry, ravenous wolves consuming anything in its reach. Voices screamed in fear as they searched for any dismal speck of safety from the bursts of fiery blue around them, flattening whatever morsel was in its reach, grabbing and tearing, twisting until there was nothing left but a mere memory, scarred against the heated Earth.

In times of war, there was no distinction of human existence. There was no race, no color, and no creed, washed away by a shock wave of atomic destruction. Whites and blacks melted with Orientals and Hispanics, becoming one master race of pure and unaltered chaos and sorrow. There were no more races. No more discrimination. Their faces all burned with the unbelievable loss that caked them in blood and dirt. There was no more religion. Whatever God had existed turned his back on His people as the First Wave washed over, burning and scarring the face of the universe, changing it forever. There was no more fighting among countries or religions. There was no more belief in a higher power.

There was no more.

The only fight they could muster was a fight for survival.

Frank Stanton knew this as he stood and hauled yet another mangled body into the growing pile to be identified and sent to their respective families. It was now the chosen workforce for those who had been strong enough after their world was destroyed. This wasn't just a hunt for those who managed to survive, managed to defy all the odds and find someplace to shelter themselves from whatever came from that bright flash of Liberty Island. It lasted for only a few hours but led into four weeks of sheer terror, afraid to find what had hid behind whatever door they lay behind.

There was no more rescue. It was a mission of recovery and of closure to those who sought peace.

Dirt, grime and ice cold blood made his shirt cling to his body. Numb, wet and sticky, he shifted uncomfortably as he lifted the tiny broken body of a boy onto the truck and completed the last of the pile to be transferred. Gently Frank set the boy down as a tear rolled down his face and his hands shook. He knew this boy. God, he knew this innocent victim of war. He lived onto a few houses down the street from him. Last week Frank watched him happily buy an ice cream cone. Now, this day, he closed the petrified boy's lifeless eyes for the last time and said a small prayer to whatever entity would listen.

"God speed," Frank whispered into the yellowish gray haze and turned away as the truck drove over the potted road and pitched ever so slightly as to make the boy seem like he waved good-bye. 'If there is such a thing anymore…'

He chose to be a part of this mission. He chose to try and make the best of this world they now called home, a broken and cracked word that left no meaning behind. Where it used to mean warmth, safety, family… it now meant death, chaos and terror. His home was not a home. Not anymore. His world was shattered, torn apart at the very fabric that he swore to protect and now rested in sharp, jagged pieces around him.

He swallowed as someone called his name, patting his shoulder to pull him away from the decaying site. Beneath his heels glass and rocked grinded together into a fine, gravely mixture as he patted along, seemingly lifeless. He had seen his own fair share of death in his lifetime, between the incidents at North Texas and even Dakota, but this… this was too real. This life he lived now was not a life.

It was a routine; repetitive, tiring, and mind-numbing routine.

Each morning he would wake, shower and dress with robotic movement that left no emotion in his body. His face, he swore, had frozen to stone the very moment he had awaken after that doomed morning he watched the scattering people, the cries of sorrow and the blast that literally sent a shock wave around the world and destroyed whatever resemblance of existence it touch.

"Frank," called Gabriel as he watched his friend stare at the horizon aimlessly, lost as he gazed across the rapid waters that made up the Hudson, churning and gurgling with such fury it was almost beautiful. "Come on, we've got another section of town to do before noon. They've got one building that they've been able to stabilize, but not for long. We've got to get going."

Frank turned; his hair shaggy and matted clung to his pale cheeks. "I'm coming, just… gimme a second, Gabe."

The Latino man nodded once and turned, leaving Frank to turn back and continue to gaze at the sight before him. The bridge between both sides of New York was completely destroyed, separating Manhattan and the other side. Across the way bellows of smoke and sirens echoed, merging with the gushing waters of the river. On the horizon stood the Twin Towers; they were nothing more than twisted and jagged metal cutting across the skyline as it bled blue. The light dusting of an explosion would grace his ears as a small burst of light shown behind a building. When it first started he'd jump. Now they were ordinary moments in life. If this was just New York, he could only imagine the view from the other side of the world.

In the foreground the shadow of a decapitated and dismembered Statue of Liberty began elongate, a dark blotch designating a time when the human race reigned supreme as it graced the water's edge, turning the already navy blue waters into a black abyss where rusting pieces of copper poked through, the torch sticking out of the waters like a spike in the inky waters.

A once proud marker of freedom and choice rested in rust colored blood, auburn stained pieces; her ideas and representations died with her. Leaving the monument to his back, Frank turned and bowed his head at the fallen monument. There was no more peace. There was no more freedom.

Simply put, there was nothing.

Not anymore.

~*~

Tarrytown, New York
10:00pm

Rolling smoothly on his heels Lincoln carefully pawed around the creaking wood as gently as he could, careful to not disturb the small, feeding bundle in his arms. Angling the bottle to accommodate those miniature lips, Lincoln couldn't help but smile at the baby boy in his arms, his shining inky pearls gazing curiously into Lincoln's blue oceans. Lately he was fascinated by the small, almost microscopic miracles that happened, baby Henry being one of them. He survived the odds not once, but twice in his first two months of life alone, a feat worthy of recognition. Henry adjusted in his arms, his tiny fingers scratching at the lapels of his jacket. Lincoln's heart swelled as he ran his thumb over the bump of the baby's nose.

"Any word?" came the low-toned question of Marilyn Dunham as she came into the living room and walked over to Lincoln and the baby, smoothing the cap on his forehead. "Have you heard from Olivia?"

Lincoln shook his head, eyes still connected with the protruding orbs of the miracle he held proudly in his arms. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Dunham, nothing." He swallowed hard, his attention averting back to Henry. "It's been almost five weeks since I've even heard from her. Five agonizing and grueling weeks."

She huffed, trying to hide the pain in her voice. "That's all it's been? Five weeks? I can't believe it." Marilyn was silent once again, both afraid to speak aloud what thought was running through their heads. Tears welled in her eyes as she thumbed Henry's tiny brows, her hand shaking with the warmth of his skin. Quietly she asked, her heart breaking in her words. "I heard they're only giving the search for those who were missing another two weeks. Is that true?"

Lincoln didn't answer immediately, wanting to avoid the question completely. He drew in a deep, thick breath, adjusting the bottle again as Henry cooed against his chest. "Two weeks," his voice cracked, "Maybe three, given whatever circumstance arises. I'm not giving up though. Olivia's a fighter; wherever she is I'm sure she's trying to find her way back. There's collapsed bridges and sunken roads all over the state." He did his best to avoid her eyes, "I'm sure she's okay." God, she has to be.

Henry stirred in his arms, pushing the empty bottle away and stretched his tiny fingers. Shifting him again, Lincoln brought him to his shoulder and gently patted his back, cooing to him until a feint, miniscule burp erupted from his mouth, calming the baby once again as he nuzzled against Lincoln's neck, a quick jut of air pressed from his nostrils. He cooed gently before drifting slowly back to sleep.

"Do we know what caused it yet? The wave?" Marilyn asked quietly, wiping her worried tears from her cheeks. "It was nothing I've ever seen before. I mean, sure, there's been cracks, but this… this is something else, Lincoln. People are comparing it to a hydrogen bomb."

Lincoln swallowed. He knew the truth, but even he was forbidden to speak of it. "What we believe," he choked on his lie, "is that it's just like the other Fringe events. Holes tearing, but for whatever reason this one was more destructive. It didn't cave inward, instead it expelled energy. We… don't know what caused it, that's still under investigation."

Marilyn nodded, bringing her hand over her racing heart. "How many dead?"

Again, he shifted his gaze, his eyes cast on the small, downy hairs on the baby's cranium. "From what I hear… in the state alone there are over fifty-thousand deaths. Country wide? Millions. Missing? Even more." Rubbing Henry's back again the baby burped, nuzzling himself against Lincoln's shoulder. Lincoln pressed a gentle kiss to the baby's temple as he felt Henry's breathing increase, signifying he was once again asleep. "But there are miracles."

Olivia's mother smiled a tearful and sorrow-ridden smile. "There are miracles," she echoed, bringing Henry's hat down further onto his head, rubbing the sleeping baby's back. "There are definitely miracles." Silence. "You're very good with him, Lincoln."

Lincoln smiled up at her, placing a soft kiss on the baby's temple. "I guess it's just that natural parent instinct. Besides, he's Olivia's. She'd kill me if I wasn't."

At the mention of her missing daughter's name Marilyn smile faded, clouded by a growing fear of the whereabouts of her daughter. Five weeks had flow by since the day of the… incident. Five terrifying and seemingly countless weeks of not knowing where Olivia was, if she was safe or hurt. There was no way of knowing. The phones were down, roads, bridges and almost any means of transportation were destroyed. She and Henry had barely even managed to get into the old cellar in the backyard before the first wave hit. Three hours she spent clutching her grandson for dear life and simply praying for it to end. When it did, the phenomenon was all too real.

She was one of the lucky ones; her house was at least somewhat habitable. Others, not so much. Entire families, generations worth were gone in the blink of an eye. While the second story of her house was completely gone, she was able to salvage a bedroom, some clothes, and even a few supplies for Henry. When help finally came she was all too grateful.

Taking Henry from Lincoln, Marilyn smiled towards the baby in her arms as he fussed, making faces and rocking him into a deeper sleep. "Thank you, Lincoln, for stopping by and letting me know. If you hear anything-"

Lincoln gave her a subtle kiss on the cheek and stared affectionately at Henry. "You'll be the first to know, Mrs. Dunham, you have my word." Without another word he left, carefully stepping down the cracked concrete steps and headed towards his battered SUV. By some miracle it still worked, one of the few Fringe Division vehicles that survived the wormhole. The drive home was like it normally was. Silent, dark and hauntingly lonely. His apartment was destroyed in the blast, everything he had was gone. By some chance the Fringe Division Headquarters wasn't completely destroyed, giving him the option to bunk up there along with Charlie and a few other Agents who were without homes.

Pulling into the parking lot he exited, not even bothering to lock the door. Had someone wanted to steal the piece of junk he'd let them. Trekking up the stairs he was more than happy to find an office- now his make-shift bedroom still in one piece. That truly was the best news he'd received all day. Kicking off his shoes and changing into a pair of sweat pants, Lincoln closed his light and curled into the lumpy cot that was his bed. With a deep sigh he tried to find a comfortable spot lying on his left.

On the box in front of him sat the shadow of a picture frame. In it was him, Charlie and Olivia, one of the few pictures he was able to save before the fires broke out. His lip trembled as his breath hitched in his chest, simply looking at the picture. Olivia's bright, smiling face stared back at him, that moment frozen in time. With a trembling hand his finger rubbed over the shattered glass, his mouth running dry and silent tears fell. Every day he prayed he'd see her. Every single day was agony in the mystery of if she was alive or buried underneath a pile of rubble. Every night before he went to bed, before leaving his reality and waking into another, he would whisper words of sweet love and hope. He'd fall asleep with her name on his lips, a prayer in his heart and the words in his mind when he'd see her again. It'd take a miracle to find her, he knew. But Lincoln wouldn't give up hope in believing Olivia was still alive.

Miracles, after all, sometimes did come true.

~*~

Over Here
Brighton, MA, June 2011

A warm summer wind blew through the curtains ever so gently, rustling the bottom flairs and pushing them gently into the bedroom. A kiss of morning swept across Peter Bishop's face as he slept soundly, tucked comfortably beneath a light sheet, the pillow molded around his face perfectly. He groaned as the rising sunlight sneaked past the window rail and forced itself onto his closed eyes, illuminating the comfortable night with a piercing white and purple light. He squinted in any effort to stay asleep. It would figure the one weekend he had off he would awake way before his alarm would sound. He rolled over, finding a comfortable spot once again on his stomach and curled his arm around his pillow.

On the brink of his hearing he heard a door on the other side of the wall open, the squishy patting of wet footsteps on wood and the soft pluck of an acoustic guitar just beyond the wall. He rested precariously on the edge of sleep and consciousness, both fighting one another for his focused attention. A swift motion counteracted the breeze that blew across his bare back, followed promptly with a soft scent of strawberries and Dove soap. Opening his eyes he blinked as a pair of wet foot prints tracked towards the dresser that sat opposite the wall of the bed. He stole a quick glance at the clock as it blinked just past eleven in the morning. Rolling onto his side he blinked the sleep from his eyes and placed his hands behind his head, smiling from ear to ear.

The irresistible Olivia Dunham stood before him in nothing more than a deep red towel and her own beautiful skin as she rummaged through her drawers and pulled out her undergarments, laying them on the chair next to the dresser. She moved towards her closet and pulled the doors open and began to task of pulling her clothes out for the day. She chose an unusual pair of tan khakis and an emerald green t-shirt, his favorite in her collection of shirts. It was the one that made her eyes simply glow a beautiful, soft sea green.

Effortlessly she slipped on the black bra and underwear making Peter quietly pout, followed by her pants and socks. Rustling the towel through her hair her phone began to buzz on the opposite side of where Peter lay in her bed.

"Please don't tell me that's Broyles," Peter groaned lazily into his pillow, "It's supposed to be our weekend off. We've got three years of vacation time saved up; it's about time we actually get to use it."

Olivia chuckled and shook her head. "It's Rachel, actually. Ella's been packed for weeks looking forward to tomorrow. Ecstatic sounds more like it," she grinned as the messages kept popping up, making her giggle. "I think letting Ella use Rachel's phone to text message was an adorable mistake." Sitting on her side of the bed Olivia's fingers flew expertly across the keyboard as she caught up on the dozen or so messages that Ella sent and grinned as she pictured Ella's face in her head. Placing her phone on the table she twisted and leaned over, planting a light kiss on Peter's lips, the warm tingle of cinnamon still lingering on her lips.

"Ymm," Peter moaned approvingly as she parted, "Good morning to you too," he said, licking his lips, "New toothpaste?"

She smirked at him. "Sad you know that off hand, you know that?"

Peter grinned. "Well there's a lot that I know off hand," he said as he looped his arm around her bare waist and pulled her down into the sheets, kissing her again and felt her smile against his skin. Pinning her shoulders beneath his Peter adjusted until it was just his bare chest against the miniscule fabric on hers, his hands venturing down her sides as he felt her twitch, "And there's a lot I know on hand," he kissed her again as Olivia's arms wrapped around the strong muscles of his shoulder.

Olivia raised an inquisitive eyebrow, "Like?"

She had to ask and Peter happily obliged to give the answer. "Like," he kissed her again, walking his fingers across the skin of her lower abdomen.

She laughed as he hit one incredibly ticklish spot just below her navel. "I know exactly what makes you…"

She cut him off as she kissed him again, "You're a pervert, Peter."

"I was going to say laugh,Olivia," he muttered against her lips, "So whose mind is in the gutter now?"

Olivia poked an accusing finger into his chest. "I know exactly what you were going to say, Peter Bishop, and if it were any other morning I don't think either us of would be dressed at this point. However…" Peter groaned as she pushed him up off of her and onto his back.

"I hate that word."

She playfully slapped his shoulder, "I have some things I need to take care of before Ella and Rachel get here. You can tag along or spend the afternoon with your father."

Peter propped himself up once again, his rough cheek resting on her leg, "Well Walter and Astrid are finding plenty to entertain themselves with today, so looks like you're stuck with me for the day, sweetheart."

Olivia bit her lip, tossing him a playful glance over her shoulder, "Pity to be me then," At the widening of Peter's eyes she jumped from the bed, running just beyond Peter's fingers as he reached out for her. Glancing back she laughed seeing the fascination on his face. Throwing the sheets over his side followed her into the kitchen, sweeping her back into his arms as she pulled two mugs from the cabinet.

It had been one month since he stepped out of the machine. One month since he had made the decision to save this universe; the universe he was proud to call his,a decision he cherished each and every morning the sun rose above the horizon. Out of everything he had done in his life, this felt right. Walter was alive and well. Astrid was beginning to flourish as an FBI Agent. But most importantly, Olivia, his Olivia was in his arms once again, as bright and beautiful as ever. Having finally overcome the demons of her past, she opened her heart fully. It was easier to enjoy life then to fight it, she decided. That was a decision Peter was content with.

As she turned around in his arms again and cupped his cheeks he felt her smile again as he kissed her, a never-ending drink he could never get enough of. It was just him; just her; just… them standing barely dressed in her kitchen, hands roaming their nearly bare bodies as the coffee percolated in the corner, a delicious morning treat that left Peter with a singular thought roaming his mind.

He could get used to this.

Her lips lingered for a second more, her eyes gazing lovingly into his as he moved- his target one taunting crevice of her neck. "You hungry?"

Peter huffed against the skin of her neck. "I am hungry, but not for breakfast."

Olivia laughed, trying to sound stern, an impossible task against the movement of his lips. "Peter, no."

"Please?" He captured her lips again, feeling her smile again.

"No!"

"Later?"

She raised an eyebrow, her fingers tracing small circles at the base of his neck. "If you're good, maybe."

"You make me sound like a kid in a supermarket waiting for his surprise at the end of the trip." With one final kiss and a lip at his, he sighed, agreeing. "I'll take a maybe. In fact, changed my mind. Eggs?" Olivia laughed kindheartedly, pressing her forehead to his chest as Peter left her arms and walked over to her refrigerator and pulled out half a carton of eggs and bacon. "Go finish getting dressed, I'll cook."

"Ha!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening, "First you were just begging me to get undressed now you're ushering me towards my closet. Am I the only one who sees the irony in this?" Walking away from Peter she continued to laugh as she pulled a shirt over her head and ran a comb through her hair, making Peter roll his eyes as he heated the skillet, mixing the yolks and grinned.

"Since when are you such a smart ass?" He called, "I thought that was my bid."

Pouring the mixture into the skillet the liquid began to sizzle and congeal into puffy yellow morsels that made Peter's mouth water. The song playing on the radio in the living room changed, sending a soft twang through the living room, the sun rising higher into the sky and illuminating the doors in her kitchen that lead to the small balcony that overlooked the streets. He grabbed two plates and silverware, setting them on the table as he grabbed a cup of coffee, sipping it contently. Bacon began to sizzle and steam deliciously.

"I figured you could use some competition." She responded from across the room, "You're not the only one who can think of smart remarks on the fly."

Peter laughed, pouring another cup of coffee for her. It felt so natural, he thought. Just him, just her in her apartment enjoying a springy summer morning.

He could definitely get used to this…

~*~

Thanks for reading, updates coming soon! If you haven't done so, check out "Something to Fight For" as well as the completed chapter of "Crash into You."

Reviews are golden!

~AZ

[Mutsie]

Great job you did here, sweetie and I know that I was officially the first one who may read it {} and I say it again: I am not such a Fan-Fic reader to tell you the truth but when I read yours it could be definitely one of a "real FRINGE" episodes!!
&
I'm wondering now if Alt-Livje is still alive {I do hope so!!}.....

[Agent Zero]

Hi gang! thanks for being patient with me! I present chapter two! I hope you enjoy it!

The Witching Hour

Over There

June 2011
02:00pm

Of course it was raining, he mused bleakly. That's all it ever seemed to do nowadays. There were no such things as sunny skies in the world despite the heated rays that fell from the heavens. Even on cloudless days the Earth always seemed to cry. Today was definitely one of those days. Black, billowing clouds added to the gray scale landscape that sat just beyond the crack in his office window. Silver rain drops pelted the glass, casting watery shadows across his pale cheeks as he gazed across the saddened sky. Between the drumming of the thunder and the electric crash of lightening, for a minute moment Lincoln forgot where he was. White streaks of purple-white lightning split the sky in two, tearing and ripping apart before him. It cracked through the cotton clouds, sheering them to luminous shreds and called upward towards the high heavens with a scream in its own unique pitch of both anguish and pleasure. Arching back in his chair Lincoln let a heavy sigh escape his chest as he glanced across the broken skyline of what used to be his home.

Another week had passed without a speck of good news. To add to the horror of what they had witnessed, reports were finally coming in from all parts of the world. Global destruction, it was being described, had wiped the Earth clean of its most beloved features. Stonehenge was reduced to just pebbles. The great theater in Sydney was destroyed and lost to a raging sea. The pyramids in Egypt were broken and crumbling. Even their own famed monument, the Statue of Liberty, a figure of pride, power and freedom was rooted to the Earth, chained by the murky waters surrounding them. She was no more, cut down to size, dismembered and scattered across the inky rivers. Great bridges and walls fell like they were made of wet plastic, cracked and left to mold.

A tear came to Lincoln's face as he reflected at the new skyline; jagged pieces of twisted metal that he used to get lost in now cut his memories to pieces. Swallowing hard he turned away from the dark clouds and returned to the file on his desk that he now read by candlelight. Whatever files they were able to scour after the floods he had been combing through to try and find some sort of remedy for this distorted chaos. Food was scarce and water was untrustworthy, two of the more vital elements that kept the human race alive were slowly killing it.

"Hey Linc," called a voice through his non-existent door. Charlie Francis leaned casually against the cracked door frame with an unfamiliar pad of paper in his hand, an object he hadn't touched since kindergarten. It brought a small smile to Lincoln's face watching his colleague maneuver the rough edges of paper. "Reports from the collections yesterday are in, and what we could find in storage is on the floor. It's not much, but it's a start."

Lincoln forced a smile. "Thanks, Charlie." They both fell silent again, eyes falling on the skewed picture on his desk. "Have you spoken to Marilyn at all?"

Charlie sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I drove down to see her this morning. She's hanging in there and the baby's doing fine, although from the looks of it she's going to need to evacuate that house soon, the foundation's starting to go. I'm trying to see if we cans secure her a room here. Any luck on your current project?"

Lincoln leaned forward, the metal bars on his chair squeaked noisily. "No. I'm still trying to figure out a solution to present to the Secretary but I can't think of any. There are too many variables, and even Astrid is having a hard time calculating it all it. I've tried to run what data I could recover but with no power it's useless. Whatever caused the wave is still a God-damned enigma," he threw the pencil down, a useless tool he had almost forgotten how to use. "We don't know what happened. One person who does refuses to speak of it and the other… is still missing."

At the second mention of their missing comrade, Charlie and Lincoln fell silent, a single silent prayer spread between the two of them. "Any leads on where she is? I know you've been pestered about it enough, but the deadline-"

"I know the deadline's coming, Charlie!" Lincoln hollered, "I've had search teams scouring everywhere to try and find her! We can't get across to Manhatan, and parts of Liberty Island are too unstable to search." He sighed, his head falling into his palms as he muttered. "I shouldn't have let her go alone."

Charlie placed his hands on Lincoln's defeated shoulders. "You couldn't have know, Lincoln. You couldn't have predicted that her attempt to cross to over would have lead to this. We tore Liberty Island apart and she wasn't there, and the Secretary refuses to speak of it. She's not dead. Liv's a fighter and we all know that. She's probably on the other side of the river trying to figure out a way to get back home like we are. We'll find her before the deadline. I know you will."

Lincoln nodded. "There has been… one solution I have thought of. But it's not likely going to be accepted, let alone make it past proposal."

Charlie's face scrunched. "Care to share with the class?"

~*~

New Department of Defense
Fringe Division, upper level

"Out of the question!" growled the Secretary. "I will not bend and ask those buffoons for help! That idea is just as offensive as it is repulsing, Captain."

Lincoln bowed his head, trying to keep his composure as his hands locked tighter behind his back. "But Sir, it's the only logical thing we can do. Our defense networks are down, and our resources are destroyed. Our people, your people, are suffering! Your grandson is suffering because of what happened! We don't know what caused the wave and you refuse to give me any information to work with! You keep saying they are not to be trusted, but we don't have time to worry about trust or not. If the other side truly wanted us destroyed I'm sure they would have crossed over and finished the job." Lincoln drew in a deep breath.

Walter Bishop turned around, his brow low and furious. "Our side was destroyed because of what they did, Captain, and I will not let them come in and save us out of pity."

Lincoln raised his chin high. "Mr. Secretary, we don't have time for semantics and pride, our side is dying. If asking the other side for help is what it takes to get us back on our feet I think it's a risk we need to take. Perhaps they're not the monsters you make them out to be, Sir. When the other Agent Dunham came to our side she had no means for destruction. I could see it in her eyes. She was kindhearted and a good person, much like our Agent Dunham here. It's worth a shot, Sir; we've got nothing to lose." He swallowed, "Some of us have lost it all already."

He glanced at them once again as he stepped back in front of the window in silence once again. A moment later he turned around menacingly slow, his voice firm, and his back towards Lincoln again. "And what, Captain, are the advantages to this idea you propose, enlighten me."

"Closure," Charlie stepped forward, "For those whose loved ones are found but not identified, and those who are lost and won't be found. Let those who are mourning have the knowledge to know they can stop looking. The bodies we've pulled, we can't identify a majority of them because we don't have that ability anymore. Our computers are worthless. Asking for help can only aide in that process. We can ask for assistance with food, water, and help build shelters. Get those who are sick the help they need to avoid an epidemic."

Lincoln nodded. "The smallpox outbreak in North Texas is only getting worse, I've heard from a reliable source. The Avian flu is also starting to surface as is some diseases that are new. Our medical facilities aren't equipped to handle the possible new diseases and with hospitals down it's only a matter of time before this becomes a worldwide pandemic. They have medical care that can help avoid an outbreak that could very well wipe our world out completely. I'm sure if we asked they'd be willing to help if we asked for it."

With his back still towards them, Walter spoke again; too proud to admit what he knew had to be done. "Like I said, Agent Lee, we will not be asking the other side for help. I will not stoop to such a level from those worms. Find another way to help, Captain. For now, you're dismissed," he spat low.

Lincoln bowed his head with defeat and said nothing. Slowly him and Charlie backed out and left quickly. Walter stood alone once again, his eyes turned once again towards the shattered city as the storm continued to rage overhead.

~*~

Over Here

June 2011
06:00pm

Sipping her glass of wine Rachel smiled as she walked across the foyer of the Bishop's house and laughed aloud. Clouds of flour poofed into the air and settled across the broad shoulders of Peter and toothless grin of Ella as they stood in the kitchen, laughing and giggling. The mouth-watering scent of baked chicken, potatoes, corn and savory scent of cooked basil and parsley was enough to make her stomach growl under her hungry pretense. Glancing towards Olivia, who gathered the silverware from a nearby drawer, she rolled her eyes and chuckled at the sight before her.

"Now, stir, like this," Peter said as he whisked the flour, eggs and milk together in the bowl, his wrist flicking quickly around the rims. "The trick is blending everything together so that there are no clumps of flour. If the batter isn't the right consistency then the cookie dough will be all lumpy. Except for the chips, of course, but that's a different story."

Ella stood on the stool between Peter's arms and grabbed the whisk from him as he held the bowl, her tiny hands cranking the metal object around in arm length circles, a happy grin on her toothless smile. "When do we add the chocolate chips?" Opening a cabinet next to them Olivia grinned at her niece and pulled five plates from the shelf.

Rachel chimed in as Olivia handed her the plates and swiftly picked up her glass of wine. "After dinner, Ella Jay," Rachel called, "Any before and you'd ruin what Peter and his father both slaved to make. It is your favorite after all."

Olivia sipped her own glass. "Oh come off your high horse, Rach, you and I would always sneak treats before dinner. It'd drive Mom absolutely crazy." With Rachel's back turned Ella opened her mouth and Peter slipped a few of the semi-sweet morsels in as she chewed quickly, the remaining handful dropped into his own mouth. They grinned secretly at one another and allowed the smooth chocolate to melt before daring to talk again, their secret revealed instantly of a chocolate coated word was uttered.

"None for me?" Olivia teased Ella in a quiet whisper, "I am keeping your secret after all."

Placing a chip delicately on his lips Peter turned to her and chuckled, earning a loud giggle from the small girl. Plucking it from its perch Olivia popped the morsel into her mouth as Peter pouted. "That's not what I had in mind." She smiled and reached up, placing a gentle, chocolate coated kiss on his lips. "Better," he said and returned his smile as she went to stir the spaghetti.

Returning from the hallway closet Walter pulled his towel from his shoulder and checked on the dish in the oven. Nodding with satisfaction he closed it and shuffled towards Ella and Peter. "You know, when Peter and I used to make cookies we'd add marshmallows. They were simply delectable; crisped and chewy to absolute perfection. Washed down with a cold glass of chocolate milk… oh that takes me back."

Ella cocked her head at Walter. "Doesn't that kind of not make them chocolate chip cookies?"

"Ella!" Rachel exclaimed as she set the table, but Walter waved her off.

Walter winked towards the girl. "They were a Bishop family specialty for the holidays and not just for every day consumption, my dear. Instead of chocolate chips we'd use red and green M&Ms. On they were quite delicious, Mrs. Bishop's secret recipe," Walter smiled at Peter. "And Peter's favorite around the holiday season."

From next to her sister Olivia grinned, taking another swig of wine, "At least he's not telling that embarrassing story of when Peter was younger and got his-"

"Enough!" exclaimed Peter with wide eyes as Ella glanced upward at him.

Walter laughed, "Despite the outcome, the vacuum still worked, although Peter wouldn't go near it for a month, much like a dog. Looking back on it, it was rather humorous."

"For you, maybe," Peter said as he and Ella spooned globs of cookie dough onto a tray, "I was still cringe when one of those damned things turns on."

Ella glanced upward at Peter and giggled once again, another doughy spoonful fell into the tray, "Earmuffs?"

He shook his head, "No, no earmuffs required, kiddo," he glanced at Olivia as she sat down, "Don't worry I'll get your Aunt back for that later."

"How?" she asked.

Peter chuckled as he glanced at Olivia, "Oh don't worry, I'm sure she won't see it coming."

~*~

Midnight

Above her the night sky was sprinkled with stars. Millions upon millions of tiny, glowing orbs illuminated the vast black velvet blanket she found herself tucked under as she simply looked upon the spectacle before her. It went on for miles and miles beyond what her innocent eyes could see, and even further in the realm of her imagination. Pointing a finger towards the heavens her eyes glowed with fascination as she pointed towards the black glass carefully as to not break the beauty before her. There was no confined depth, length, volume to the cosmic landscape before her. It all simply existed on the same ration that beyond the sky there was something else. The mystery alone of what it could possibly be out there was purely astonishing. Smiling, Ella continued to gaze as across the milky atmosphere and into the stars, reflected in the deep pools of her small brown eyes, oblivious to the perils of the world around her.

Lying supine next to her on the soft Earth was Walter; his legs crossed and head resting on a patch of grass, a smile on his face. "You see that one right there? That's the Big Dipper, Ursa Major- the Big Bear. Follow the stars to the right up a ways and you'll see the Little Dipper, Ursa Minor- the Little Bear," said Walter as he traced the outline with his finger, Ella curled up curiously at his side in bewilderment. "On the end of the Little Dipper is the north star. Hundreds years before us, before the technology we have today, explorers would use the stars as their map, their guide to find the world that lay beyond the vast oceans. They believed that when all hope was lost, one could find their way home by using the North Star."

Ella turned to him. "They believed a star could bring them home?"

Walter nodded. "Yes, a star, for you see it designated north. No matter the location they could always find it because of its radiance, the sheer beauty of the constellation could lead them home and restore hope when all seemed lost. An elementary fact in itself but magical nonetheless, just like the night. They say that around midnight is the witching hour."

Her tiny eyes began to glow brighter than the heavens. "Witching hour? Like ghosts?" With her curiosity peaked Ella sat up from her grassy perch and leaned on her elbows.

He smiled to her. "Not necessarily ghosts, but a time when the rules of reality cease to exist," He grabbed a handful of dirt and turned to her, his voice low and majestic, "and the unimaginable can happen- almost like…," he blew the dirt into the slow wind as it began to somehow glitter with enchantment, "magic." Fascination carved itself into her inky eyes as she watched the dirt disappear into the atmosphere, vanishing like smoke.

"Alright you two you've star-gazed enough tonight as it is," Rachel said as she trekked through the grass, "You can watch more tomorrow. For now it's bed time." Ella went to open her mouth but Rachel cut her off, "Save the stories for tomorrow night." Rolling her eyes Ella stood and waited for Walter to follow suit, her tiny hand slipping into his rough palm as she smiled at him, her legs pumping to match his stride as Rachel stepped inside the house behind them and blew a kiss towards Olivia and Peter as they reclined on the old futon that rested at the edge of the patio.

A gentle wind blew into the night as the light behind them closed, leaving them alone in the calm, dark night. Peter rocked against the lumpy cushion and smoothed it out, his shoulders relaxing into the inclination. Wrapping his arm around Olivia's shoulders Peter couldn't help but smile. "Those two are becoming a dangerous pair, Walter and Ella. Although I just hope his talk of ghosts won't scare her."

Olivia chuckled as she pressed herself against his side and curled into the blanket he pulled over them, her own body nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder; her arm resting lazily across his stomach as they reclined and gazed upward towards the glassy sky. "On the contrary, she finds that stuff absolutely fascinating. That's what scares Rachel," she yawned with a laugh, "Do you believe it? Ghosts?"

He shrugged, "I believe that if I can see it and feel it, it has to be real. If not it's just a figment of my imagination. It's how I got over my fear of monsters under my bed. I built up courage to crawl underneath there with a flashlight and found that what I thought to be a monster was actually an old sweater of Walter's. There was nothing there; the figments I saw were exactly that- projections and nothing more. They weren't real. But the things we've seen I know are real. Like this," he motioned between the two of them, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her lips, "Us. This, this is real."

"And how do you know this isn't all just a dream that you're going to wake up from?" she asked with half-moon eyes.

Lifting his fingers underneath her chin Peter bent down and kissed her, enjoying the taste of wine and whiskey on her lips, "Because you are here. I can feel you, hear you, see you, taste you, and if my mind is playing tricks then so be it, I'm going to live this dream until the very end. I'm in this for the long run, Olivia."

Olivia smiled at him, "You get really romantic when you drink a little too much," she chuckled against his neck, "I like it."

"Well you should see what I can do when I'm smashed. Your mind will be blown."

He laughed as he curled his body around hers, his lips falling to hers like a shooting star, land marking his way home. He felt her smile beneath his lips as he caressed her cheek gently, their kiss sinking deeper and deeper. Above them a sudden shower of meteors began to glide through the atmosphere, illuminating the purple velvet above them. His fingers danced over her body in a delicate ballet as they sunk lower and lower beneath the blanket, curious hands following heated hearts on a cool summer's eve. Some of what Walter said, Peter knew was true. The magic did happen after midnight.

For weeks after he turned on the machine Peter wondered if he had made the right decision, lost in a forest of towering trees and unfriendly landscapes of his own indecision. For what felt like decades he rolled among hills that were so familiar and yet, frighteningly foreign. But like the explorers, when all hope seemed lost, in front of him he found his North Star after years of searching. Those secret feelings of abandon, loss and questionable existence sudden became clear and crisp- he had Olivia to thank for that. She had led him home; she was his inspiration for hope and his guidance back to humanity.

Words ceased to exist as they sunk lower into the cushion, creating another memory to hold on to. Beneath a cosmic explosion of stars they made love, slow and smooth as two souls often would, oblivious to the world around and above; the only audible sounds were the crickets around them, the creek of the old wood and the beating of their hearts. This night, like many, would be forever imprinted into their memories, a single thread of hope to hold onto; to represent that in times of darkness there was always a pathway towards the light.

Standing on a distant hill stood a man, his skin pale as the moon, his face neutral with emotion. Taking in the moment once again September raised his chin and gazed towards the bright night sky. In an instant he was gone, with nothing around him but the iridescent stars shimmering overhead.

~*~

Over There

Midnight

Thunder grumbled across the skyline once again as the rain cast wet shadows across the weeping city. All was quiet once again as the efforts of the day died off and left the city to quietly mourn once again. There were no dogs barking, no car doors slamming, not even the tick of a clock in the empty hallways. Everything sat still, frozen, immortalized in what felt like a pause in time. All was still before him- baron, abandoned and deserted as the echo of the storm continued to rage upon the broken city. Walter sat straight in his chair as he watched the rain pummel the window pane as he tried to imagine the sky beyond the clouds- crisp, clear and sprinkled with stars. All he seemed to do these days was live in darkness, the shadows of the night crept slowly across the floor and up the walls, dousing him in a shroud of never-ending black. His lips pressed tightly together, his brows sat low and curious as he silently cursed the souls on the other side. They couldn't possibly understand what chaos and pure hell they were living, all the while they sat in bliss, unaware of the terrors they had created.

The feeling of failure was not something Walter was used to. He had built an imperial fortress around the theft of his son; he took an oath to defend his country against threats that could jeopardize their harmony, their peace. In the blink of an eye that was torn apart, ripped to shreds by the one force he believed could heal the wounds of his world. The past five weeks had flown by without a second's glance. In that small time frame little progress had been made. The technology they found comfort in had suddenly become the cause of their demise and their inability to fix the damage that had been caused. As Walter stared across the black city with icy eyes one question replayed over in his head, a never-ending mantra he was sure would drive him mad.

How could a man of such power, of such prestige suddenly become that powerless?

A small voice echoed against the dark corners of his office. "Mr. Secretary," Brandon Fayette interjected from the doorway and bowed his head once. Giving a wordless permission for entry Brandon stepped forward, his heels clicking sharply against the floor. "A word, if you will."

"What can I do for you, Brandon? Have we made any progress?" asked Walter, his back still turned and his eyes dark.

Brandon shook his head, "No, I'm unhappy to admit, but something else. I couldn't help but over hear your conversation earlier with Agents Lee and Francis. If I may interject an idea," Spinning around slowly in his chair, Brandon crossed his arms neatly against his torso. "December 7th, 1941. The Chinese attacked the United States and brought us into World War II. They were hosting a false alliance, pretending to talk of peace agreements. It was one of the most famous treaties in our nation's history," said Brandon, "And the ultimate weapon that lead to our downfall."

"Your point?" Walter grumbled impatiently.

"In our talks, Sir, you've asked me to find a way to help our world, but I propose another idea. Take Captain Lee up on his offer, let him and Agent Francis cross over and ask for help. Create a stable doorway between the worlds. Trust, Mr. Secretary, is our ally. Trust is what can save our world." A sinister shadow fell over Brandon's face, "You said it yourself; the girl was what tore Peter from his home, who was the root for our universe's destruction. This is Peter's universe. Perhaps he should know what he's done to his people, to those who have made sacrifices so he could live." He paused. "Think about it, sir." Before leaving Brandon stepped forward and placed an envelope on Walter's desk.

Walter sat still for a moment and reflected on what Brandon had said, his brilliant mind turning over slowly. His eyes fell upon the stained, folded envelope before him. Reaching for it he grasped the rough paper and slid his finger beneath the flap, the glue coming undone easily. Inside was a photograph, bent and burnt but still intact, and the kindle he found to finally bring life back to his soul. Fire ripped through his icy veins, turning his blood into a scorching liquid that ignited the burnt ashes from deep within, the blue leaked from his eyes and replaced with a fiery, fierce red that set his face in stone. It was at that very moment he knew what the course of action to take was.

Indeed, he was not a lover of war. But this was a different war, he was convinced, and should be fueled on the need for survival, for love, and sanity. But as Walter stood and overlooked the storming city none of those precious words came to mind except for one. It was sinister in its own accord and the only thing that remained on Walter's mind as the moon began to rise behind the violent clouds. It wasn't just a war against the human race, for survival, and for love.

It was a war for revenge…

~*~

Chapter two in the books! I hope you enjoyed this, reviews are wonderful

Thanks for reading!

~AZ

[Agent Zero]

Horizons

Over There

For the third time tonight Lincoln felt like he was falling. Foot after foot, second after second he found himself in a dark abyss and in a helpless nosedive that left him spiraling out of control, his fingers causing small streaks of clouds as he continued to plummet faster and faster. Wind shrieked past his ears, howling like a wolf as the wind nipped at his skin, the teeth of the atmosphere was enough to make his eyes tear in pain and sorrow. This wasn't the first dream Lincoln had had of this. He knew where he was falling towards. It was the same dream over and over, his mind stuck on an endless replay of the day before his world ended.

"Hey Linc," came the blurry voice of an angel. Opening his eyes Lincoln found himself once again rooted into the ground, his boots planted as the woman before him materialized. As always, he found himself standing in her apartment. It was dim, but unusually bright. Quickly he scanned the room for the location of the voice. Footsteps echoed near the two closed doors of her bedroom. He knew what would happen next and deep inside his heart smiled. It was always her smell he'd sense first; a rustic, yet immensely feminine perfume Olivia wore always made his mouth water. Next it was her eyes; those wide green orbs would cut through the fog in his mind and look deep into his soul.

Lincoln felt his heart stop as once again, for the third time that night, Olivia appeared before him. "Hey," he'd whisper with a smile.

She grinned- that classic Olivia-grin. "Hey to you too. Where have you been?"

"I could as you the same thing, Liv," he would say, choking back. "What happened to you?"

"Is Henry safe?" Olivia would ask, always avoiding his questions. Lincoln gave no reply simply pressed his lips together and bowed his head.

"Lincoln," she'd say, her head cocked slightly towards one side. Lincoln knew that look.

He nodded, "Yes, he's with your mother. We moved her into your office at Headquarters. He's got a ton of people watching out for him, and your mother. They're safe."

Olivia would always smile. "I knew I could trust you Lincoln," she'd whisper and kiss his cheek. "Thank you." Her question that came next would always break his heart, turn his brain into mush and his emotions liquefy in a cascade of tears. "What's wrong, Linc? I've never seen you cry."

He could feel his body shake, frozen despite the warmth of her apartment. Licking his try lips he brought his gaze back up to hers. "You," he whispered, quivers racking his voice in his throat. "I should have gone with you. I s-shou-"

Her warm hands cupped his pale cheeks. "Lincoln James Lee, you listen to me." She would be so close, so close where he could almost taste her. Slowly he'd raise his hands over hers, her cold fingers circling the stubble on his chin. "None of this, I repeat, none of this is your fault. I chose this fate. I chose it, and I left you behind because I know you're the one person who can protect Henry, protect my mother, and who can protect our universe." It was always at this part he'd begin to cry, sobs pouring like sour honey. "Lincoln, honey, listen to me," she said, bringing his face eye level with hers; his tear stricken, blood shot eyes connected with hers. "When Henry was born you made me a promise. No matter the cost you'd protect him, so please. Let me go, Lincoln. He needs you more than I do."

He swallowed hard, his throat running drier and drier. "I can't Liv," he whispered into her palms, his lips grazing her soft, tender skin, "I can't."

"Yes you can," she restated, her voice firmer. "You have to. For Charlie, for my mother, and for Henry. Let me go, Lincoln. You promised to take care of them. So promise me again, Linc, and never let go of that promise."

He held his breath as he felt his blood turn to ice. "I love you, Liv," he'd always whisper.

The ending was always the same. She'd smile and press a kiss towards his forehead, a soft chuckle echoed in his hears. Encasing his trembling body in her arms Olivia would never stop smiling as he felt her disappear, her voice drifting past his ears in three final, fatal words.

"Never let go…"

Jolting from his sleep Lincoln drew in a hot, sharp breath. Calming his raging heart he sat up and immediately hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees as he cried into the night. It wasn't enough to remember those last few minutes with her, the years of anguish and protectiveness he felt was despairing, a mission he had been secretly granted and he failed at. He promised to protect her and each night, each time he visited her again should have been a blessing. Instead it was a nightmare. The guilt, the despair he felt over losing her was enough to drive him insane. He'd awake each night wracked with sobs, the stress of the day unrolling like a waterfall.

He should have never let her go.

Pounding his fist into the sheets he threw his head back and stared into the dark corners of his room, another wave of guilty washed over him. His body shook, his lungs burned and his muscles ached. Whispering her name into the navy blue walls he ran his fingers through his hair and threw himself back into control. It wasn't until the pounding in his head stopped did he hear a baby cry off into the distance. At first it was hard to place; after a few moments of listening he knew where it was coming from instantly.

Slipping into his shorts and a t-shirt Lincoln stood stiffly and exited his bedroom-slash-office and made the short trek down the hallway, the crying grew louder. With a hand trailing on the wall he finally came to the door he knew Henry resided behind. Gently he twisted the handle to see the baby wriggling in his crib, his hands and feet wildly thrashing. Before Lincoln could process the information he picked up the small child and cradled him in his arms. Instantly Henry quieted, his tiny fingers wrapped around Lincoln's finger and brought it to his lips, closing his gums around it and began to suck.

"Did you have a bad dream too?" whispered Lincoln as he began to circle the room's perimeter. Henry cooed in his arms, happy to have a bit of human contact once again. "Me too. I dreamed of your mother, my Olivia. You're better off not remembering the day before she… disappeared. I was with her, and you, but you were asleep." Sitting down in a chair Lincoln swallowed, reached for a stored bottle and began to feed him. "She loved you very much, Henry, almost as much as I loved her."

For hours Lincoln sat in the baby's room and discussed with him the heavy burdens that reside in his heart: the sorrow he felt for his universe, the disgust he had for the Secretary's lack of initiative and his secrets, but just as present, his guilt for not being able to help Olivia. He could forgive himself only once, and yet a thousand more waves of pressing guilt would surface, crash over him and again Lincoln found himself drowning in self hatred.

Mourning was a vicious cycle, he knew. Each day the wheels kept turning, pedaled by the power of human emotion. Spokes driving directly into his thoughts, his confidence, and either came out clean or left behind scar tissue, irreparable damage that made him feel a little less strong. But each night after he awoke from his dream he'd hear Henry cry; each night he'd come in to feed him, to change his diaper, or simply hold him. It was a reminder that somewhere in the vast landscape of the human mind that perhaps some good was left, that perhaps, someday, Lincoln could forgive himself.

That day, Lincoln knew, was a long shot at best. He had a promise to keep; he kept reminding himself as he held Henry in his arms. He was going to be a father, Marilyn had told him last week. She wanted Lincoln to adopt Henry as his own and be a part of his family. He needed a solid father figure, Marilyn had told him, and Lincoln was just that. Know this, knowing he was going to be a father had brought a spark of… something into his spirit. It was in those single seconds Lincoln felt a dying emotion that made him believe he could let his emotions go, that he could be the savior Olivia believed him to be.

Invincibility. With that power alone, Lincoln knew, he could do almost anything.

~*~

Over Here

Brighton, MA
8:00pm

"Wilbur never forgot Charlotte. Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders quite took her place in his heart. She was in a class by herself. It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both." smiled Olivia as Ella sat comfortably in the crook of her shoulder, her aunt's strong arms wrapped around her small body and locked securely by the book in her arms. Closing the object cover to cover Olivia glanced down at Ella's teary face. "I told you it was a good book, didn't I?"

Ella sniffed, wiping a small tear from her eyes, her glistening orbs shone in the dim light of Olivia's bedroom. "It was, but it was so sad. Why'd Charlotte have to die? It wasn't fair. She did all that for Wilbur and she had to die!"

"Charlotte did something noble for her friend. She made it her life's mission, her good deed, to help Wilbur," she replied, "And friends like that, one who would risk their life to save someone else, is someone who's truly rare and special in this world. Charlotte teaches that without selflessness, without sacrifice, there can be no good in this world."

Ella smiled brightly up towards Olivia. "Like you, Aunt Liv. You're like Charlotte. You help people."

Olivia couldn't help but laugh. "So then who's Wilbur?"

"Peter!" Ella exclaimed, "Because he likes bacon."

From across the room Peter glanced slowly towards where the small, innocent voice called his name and felt his heart warm for the small child in Olivia's arms. Rachel shook her head and folded the cards in her hands. "Big plans tonight, Pete?" Rachel asked at the hour long smirk on Peter's face as Olivia read to Ella. "I couldn't help but notice the amount of times you glanced at the clock and smiled." A red tint glowed on Peter's face. "Usually a man smiles like that for two reasons. One, there's some kind of sport on TV or he knows he's going to get laid. It's too early for football season and there isn't a baseball or hockey game on tonight so I'm going to guess the latter."

Peter chuckled. "Well, we were going to have a little evening to ourselves but your headstrong daughter got a hold of your sister before I could." Rachel offered an apologetic smile but Peter shook his head. "But this is okay, I don't mind it. It's adorable at how much Ella admires your sister."

"I think it's the other way around," nodded Rachel with a chuckle. "Since the day Ella was born, I've never seen Olivia smile more," she paused, "other than when you came into her life. You'll never guess what Ella wants to be."

He smirked, "I can only guess. After what you two went through with your stepfather, you guys deserve something to smile about."

"Liv told you about that," Rachel said, her voice dropping in volume. Peter nodded slowly. "She always got it worse than I did, for trying to stand up for us and for Mom. It was… terrifying." Glancing towards where Olivia reclined with Ella, Rachel sighed. "I had always feared that she'd have a mental breakdown or something as we got older, but after that night I always knew we'd be okay."

Reaching across the table Peter grabbed her hand and smiled. "I've always thought it's our past experiences that make us who we are, that shape and mold us into the people we were meant to be. Your sister, for one, is one of the most dedicated people I know, and after hearing what hell you two went through I'm proud to say I know her. She, and you, Rach, are perfect role models for Ella. Don't let that jerk off of an ex-husband let you think otherwise."

The patter of small feet flopping across the floor sounded off as Ella came galloping into the living room and jumped into Rachel's lap. "We finished the book!" Following suit behind her was Olivia, who chuckled lightly and rested her palms on Peter's shoulders. "It was a good book, sad, but a good book."

Rachel nodded. "Well I'm glad you enjoyed it. Pack everything up we're heading over to Susanne's house for the night."

Ella's eyes opened wide. "What? We're leaving? But it's only-"

"No buts, Ella Jay. You've spent every night with Aunt Liv and Peter, they need a night to themselves," she said, glancing at the sly smile on Olivia's face. Ella went to protest but Rachel cut her off. "Now." Grunting Ella stomped into the bedroom and gathered her stuffed monkey and their book.

As she walked angrily back towards the living room Peter scooped her up. "Just one night with your Aunt, and I promise tomorrow you can have her back."

"Promise?" she pouted and Peter nodded and squinted, earning a chuckle from her. Hoping off Peter's lap she grabbed her backpack and waited for Rachel to say her goodbyes at the door. After hugging Peter she squinted at him. "Tomorrow, Peter. If you're nice you can come too, we're going to the amusement park."

Peter grinned. "Well that depends on if we're dragging your Aunt onto a roller coaster again. I'm sorry to say I missed-" With Olivia's hand on the backside of his head she stopped and caught the embarrassing expression on her face as he chuckled. "I look forward to it, Ella." Kissing her good bye Ella and Rachel left quickly, the door closing behind them.

Wrapping his arms around Olivia's waist he pressed his lips against the corner of her neck. "I thought she'd never leave," he muttered against her skin, kissing her again. "Finally I get to have you to myself for the night."

"Oh stop, Peter, you know you enjoy having her here," she countered, his lips tracing the outline of her shoulder.

"I adore your niece. But I can't enjoy you with her here. Not in the R-rated sense at least."

Breaking his grip she parted and headed towards her closet to pull out a skirt and a shirt. "You've got a dirty mind, Peter Bishop, you know that?" she called from around the wall, making Peter smirk.

"I never hear you complain though."

"Is that all men really think about is sex?"

Leaning against her door frame Peter let himself indulge in the beautiful sight before him- a half dressed FBI Agent, unarmed for the first time in a few days which was a first by any standards. "No, right now I'm thinking about dinner. Then during dinner I'll be thinking about sex."

Running a brush through her hair she smirked at him in the mirror. "And during sex, what's going to be on your mind, if I may be brave enough to ask?"

Peter grinned as she applied a light layer of make-up. "Probably how the Sox are going to do in tomorrow night's game."

Rolling her eyes Olivia huffed. "Typical." Slipping into her shoes she grabbed her handbag and headed towards the door, hiding a small, amused smile that spread across her cheeks.

~*~

Over There

Liberty Island
Midnight

There was a reason why humans had evolved out of swinging from trees, Charlie decided. Monkeys made it look all too easy to scale the thick, rough branches and moves through the vines, their limbs defied the rules of gravity as they reached for threads and gave no second thought to the threats that lay hidden below. For Charlie and Lincoln, their ascent up the metal fence was far less graceful. Slowly, rung by rung they scaled the metal rings of a shaky fifteen foot chain link fence; each jolt of the loose links made Charlie curse his evolutionary ancestors for not gracing him with the ability to simply climb to reach his destination.

With every inch of his body he clung to the warm metal, his fingers and toes gripping desperately for whatever thin sheath he could find, chest panting and his muscles clenching as he as he slowly threw his legs over the top of the fence and fought to find his footing. Instead of grabbing his step he dropped towards the ground and landed on two feet, tripoding to catch his breath. Wiping a line of sweat from his forehead he watched as Lincoln did the same, toppling over the crooked fence and landed with a hard thud on the ground. "That was graceful," he commented as Lincoln stood and shot him a look.

"And the last time you visited a gym was when?" he replied, remarking at the quick, rapid breaths his partner drew in. "Come on, it has to be around here somewhere."

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder Charlie rolled his eyes and followed suit. "So the Secretary really gave you the go ahead to find a way to cross over? I can't believe he'd actually agree to something like that. I thought it was a far stretch in itself," he sighed, feeling his heart rate lower slightly, "I guess I was wrong."

In the black of night, Lincoln turned to Charlie and grinned. "I'll admit I was surprised when I got his letter giving the go ahead. I figure he's got a few different thought processes. Option A; we're going to find a way to cross over but not come back. Option B; we're going to find a way to cross over and come back with reinforcements."

Pushing past a fallen tree, Charlie spoke. "Option C?"

"We die trying to find a way. This place is a jungle gym from what Fayette said. I mean, this was the origin of the wave, God only knows whats left of this place. There were still people trapped inside when the statue collapsed-"

Charlie gagged as his skin crawled, suppressing the urge to suddenly vomit at the thought. "Alright, enough thought of carnage, if I walk into a body I'm puking in your lap." Silently they progressed towards the southern end of the island until they found the object they were looking for.
Hidden behind a twisted metal gate sat a medium sized door, cracked and broken with rust and decay. Glancing at one another they both sighed.

This was it.

There was no turning back.

It took both of them, a twisted crowbar and all the strength they could possibly muster to pry the mangled door to the base open. They pulled, twisted, and cursed at the rusted piece of wall in any attempt to pry it open. With one more heave and a loud snap! They flew backwards as it finally popped open enough for them to squeeze through. Turning on a flashlight Lincoln and Charlie squeezed past the debris and made a treacherous journey down the familiar hallway. All around them metal and wires clustered together like a mangled metal fence. Instead of red roses they found jagged petals of contorted beams, their roots twisted from the wall in metallic roots. An occasional curse could be heard muttered from either of them as they caught themselves on a metal sticker, bright blood oozed from the broken skin. What they hoped was going to be a walk in the park felt more like a run through a thorn bush.

Walking through the black hallways the only light they had to guide them was the flashlights they held onto. Blue-white lights that cut through the dark like lasers, slicing the invisible thicket down to a path where they could walk. Heat from the summer trapped within the buildings and made them sweat, their lungs heave with the thickness of the air. The stench was what got them next. It made their stomachs turn, and at least once either Lincoln or Charlie turned to vomit. It assaulted their noses and made their mouths sour. Lincoln knew they had animals somewhere in this building, but where was yet to be determined. They felt sticky and the walls moist with summer condensation. Neither wanted to admit but they were sure that beyond some of these closed doors a few trapped souls rested silently, unearthed and undisturbed for almost five weeks nor counting. In the staggering summer sun he could only imagine the horror show that sat a meager foot away, blocked by a wall of concrete- and a wall Lincoln was thankful for.

What should have taken them only a few minutes had ended up being an hour endeavor to pass through the treacherous playground that used to be one of the most famed locations in the world. Sweat mixed with silent tears to see the famed monument cut down to size, slaughtered and left to die in a pile of bloody rust and broken metal bones. Finally they reached the end of their journey and kicked down the half-broken door. Dust and mold few into the air as they coughed and gagged, covered in sweat, blood and whatever other substance was growing on the walls and floors. Falling to their knees they glanced at once another and shook their heads.

"Whoa," was the only word Charlie could muster as he looked upward at the gigantic shadow they found themselves in, a dormant creature that
sat towering in a disturbing, peaceful slumber. "Is that… the machine Liv always talked about?"

Following his gaze Lincoln too was speechless at the sheer size of it. "I believe so."

Charlie's brows scrunched in sudden confusion as he glanced at the scattered chaos around him. "Call me crazy but it still looks-"

"Intact." Lincoln muttered in astonishment, his eyes widening. "How is that possible? Everything here was destroyed, torn bit by bit and yet this thing looks… untouched." He stood and began to walk towards the device, his mind reeling with impossibilities. This technology looked clean, unscathed and unbroken. It was impossible, Lincoln knew. Based on the destruction on the outside this should be in pieces and yet here it was, clear as day, standing tall and true. They separated and began to scour the room for any hints on what happened in this room, a mystery still.

"Lincoln!" Charlie hollered from across the room, which sent his partner into a sprint, jousting past broken desks and punctured computers. Standing with his back turned Charlie was silent as he held a white jumpsuit jacket that was stained a sinister reddish-brown. "Look," he whispered and held the lapels. Lincoln swallowed as tears came to his eyes. A single word was stitched into the fabric, the threads broken and torn, soaked with blood.

Dunham.

"She's alive," Lincoln whispered into the thick, hot air around them as he slowly grasped a sleeve Charlie and squeezed it tight, tears welling in his eyes. "She has to be." He held in a heavy breath, "We need to keep on looking for a way to cross over," his voice cracked, "C'mon."

Charlie gripped the jacket tightly and kept walking in any last attempt to hold into the third point of their team. His knuckles turned white against the fabric in any attempt to feel the foreign heart beat Lincoln still believed in. The longer this went on, the more Charlie was beginning to lose faith. But he saw the passion in Lincoln's eyes, a passion he wasn't willing to let go just yet. In silence they trekked onward again and moved to another hallway. Going into the stairwell they carefully made their way down four floors.

"You know this would be so much easier if those damned elevators worked," grumbled Charlie as he placed a careful foot on the mangled metal.

Lincoln laughed, "Sure and risk plummeting three floors into a fireball of-" Before he could finish the platform beneath them cracked and screamed, breaking into pieces and sent Lincoln and Charlie falling almost fifteen feet straight to the ground floor. Landing on a pile of scrap they cursed aloud and groaned.

"You were saying about plummeting?" Charlie snickered. Helping one another stand and assess their injuries Lincoln shot him a dirty look and stepped slowly through the door. "What's down here?"

"A lab, if I remember correctly. Olivia said they may have some sort of generator down here; it's where she crossed back over when she returned from the other side all those months ago. If it's where she crossed over maybe we can too."

His partner huffed. "Yea, and if I remember correctly they had those rod things jutted into her skin. They had to chime on both sides, Mr. Scientist," said Charlie as they climbed over a broken beam. "So there's one idea shot."

Lincoln glared at him. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, pal."

Despite the circumstances Charlie smiled. Walking down the hallway, and one that wasn't too badly damaged for that matter, Lincoln turned into a wide room. Much like the room upstairs this one was also in shambles, however much to their surprise, somewhat intact. Walking into the corner Charlie pulled the cord for the electric generator. On the fifth attempt the engine hummed to life sending two computers and the tank against the west wall of the room. Most of the lights were broken and a few cracks graced the computer screen but it was something. Sitting down at the computer Lincoln brushed away a layer of dust and began typing away, thankful something was going right for a chance.

"We've got maybe ten minutes of power and after that it's lights out." Charlie began a careful walk around the room and came to a sealed metal cabinet. Prying it open he found a bag of red liquid, his eyes scrunching. "Linc take a look at this, I found it in the fridge." Walking over he handed Lincoln a bag as they both glanced at it in silence. "What the hell's Cortexiphan?"

"I've never heard of it, it must be something new." Lincoln muttered and took post at the computer once again and began a search. After a few minutes he spoke again, "Cortexiphan is a drug, it appears. It doesn't show up on any of the databa-" he paused, his eyes widening. "Wait. Charlie, I think you've found what we're looking for."

Charlie blinked. "What?"

Lincoln glanced over his shoulder, "We've found a way to cross over. It's all here in Fayette's files. It's an experimental drug from the other Olivia," he read, "Apparently they found it in her brain chemistry and it's what they believed that gave her the ability to cross over during those experiments. Get all the bags you can find and a few syringes, I've got an idea," Lincoln said quickly and stood, gathering the materials he needed into a bag. A low hum from the corner began to die down as the lights flickered. Without another word they left on hurried wings and began their journey back to the surface, leaving the room behind them in darkness.

A chill ran down Charlie's cut up arm as Lincoln injected another bag full of the drug into his shoulder, his teeth clenching together as Lincoln depressed the plunger. "So how long are we supposed to just sit here and let this stuff work?" Charlie asked as he rubbed the several needle sticks in his arm, as Lincoln injected the last of the bag into his partner. "This had better be work it cause that stuff hurts."

Lincoln shrugged, "According to Fayette's documents the drug worked on perception. So if you can dream a better world you can create it. They tried a few times with the other Olivia, but it didn't work. Not until they immersed her in a tank with water. It had something to do with sensory input, creating a womb-like atmosphere that enabled her to cross over. If all goes accordingly it should work," he glanced over the side of the base and into the rocking waters below, "We just need to clear our minds and think about the other side."

"Sounds more like a Jedi mind trick. So if this doesn't work then all that time was wasted," Charlie groaned.

"It's going to work, Charlie, have faith." Lincoln said as he drew up another few bags and injected himself with the red liquid. Once they were empty they both stood at the ledge and glanced down at the inky waters. "You ready for this?"

Grabbing Lincoln's jacket nervously Charlie nodded. "Just don't let go, Rose, and I'll be fine."

"Clear your mind, focus on the other side. Relax and it should work." Lincoln said as Charlie nodded. It didn't help that he hated the water.

"Ready?" He could hear Charlie swallow. "On three… one… two… three!" Launching off the side the duo fell another thirty or so feet crashed into the icy waters, landing with a rough splash as they barely missing the rocks below. Surfacing once again they treaded and caught their breaths and let their hearts calm. With a nod to the other they dove below the surface and grabbed a hold of a broken buoy line.

Lincoln squeezed his eyes shut and let himself relax, the only sound in his ear was the beating of his heart and the soft rocking of the currents beneath him. Relax he told himself. Just… relax… In his mind he found himself calming as his heart rate slowed, and the face of a woman he loved began to mold into the chilly darkness around him. He couldn't help but smile.

That's when it happened- a sudden uneasiness began to settle over. Suddenly he felt himself falling, pulled with the current, faster and faster as he spun, sucked towards the dark bottom below. Panic arose as he began to thrash with the sudden urge for oxygen. His skin tingled and his lungs burned. He couldn't take it anymore. Launching upward towards the surface he kicked furiously until his head broke the surface and he inhaled deeply. Next to him Charlie did the same, gasping and flailing in the waters. Coughing and shaking they made their way back toward the rocks of Liberty Island. Charlie cursed loudly as he clung to the rocks and breathed deeply.

"You're insane, Lincoln!" Charlie called from his perch, numb hands grasping the slippery rocks, "The currents are too strong."

"I don't understand it should have worked," Lincoln muttered with wet lips and chattering teeth, "We did exactly as the directions said-"

Glancing upward towards a light Charlie's breathing ceased. "Lincoln,"

His fist pounded on the rocks angrily, "We should have stayed under longer, we were almost there I felt it-"

"Lincoln-"

"We failed, all that effort and we-"

"Lincoln!" Charlie hollered and pulled Lincoln's matted head upward at the sight before them, "The Statue of Liberty, she's…." Standing proud and tall before them, skin oxidized to a soft sea green stood the infamous Lady Liberty, intact and true.

Lincoln shut his mouth and turned around slowly, lost for words at the landscape before them. "I almost forgot," he whispered. Behind them, car horns and sirens sounded at a distance as they stared off into the luminous background before them. The Empire State building shone brightly, illuminated in a soft blue light against the skyline as their eyes searched for the World Trade Center, but their search was short-lived. Lincoln glanced at Charlie as they both eyed the skyline in sheer amazement. In large lettering to their right read five words that brought Charlie and Lincoln into utter silence.

Welcome to New York City…

~*~

Over Here

New York Harbor
05:30am

Sunrise.

Lincoln had almost forgotten what it looked like; the way the ocean and the peaking sun would melt together in brilliant pastels of blue, pink, orange and an occasional streak red. The clouds, he decided, were his favorite. Instead of floating cumulonimbus they looked more like wisps of pink tinted cotton, strung together on a weave and frozen in motion. Back on his side there were no more sunrises or sunsets- just dark, toxic clouds that corroded the skyline with chemicals and no promise of a better day. Sun was a rare occasion nowadays and any chance he had to witness the sacred beauty he would. A split second glimpse of that burning star was just as precious as water; a single drop had to last for weeks. Here, in this seemingly untouched world, sun and warmth was as infinite as the stars it surrounded. The sky around it was clear, water colored blue and orange that brought a quiet line of tears of Lincoln's face; a sorrowful reminder of what they had lost, and how much they had taken advantage of something as simple as a sunrise. In a way they reminded Lincoln of a snow flake- there were never two of the exact same kind.

"It's beautiful," Charlie sighed beside him, silently echoing his own thoughts. Lincoln let a quivering breath he held release slowly. They had been there for almost an hour as they allowed their clothes to dry; wrapped in towels they managed to swipe from an unlocked boat in the harbor.

The chill they had previously slowly began to fade, their skin glowing a sun-kissed orange as they simply watched the horizon. It was a kiss of sweetness that one may find in any ripe orange. Reclining back Charlie and Lincoln sighed simultaneously as their feet dangling over the dock lazily. It almost felt for a moment they were home.

Almost.

"I had forgotten," whispered Lincoln as the sun began to peak over the distant horizon, "what it looked like. Liv used to say that this was her favorite time of day, you know. She said it's because of the promise of a new day, that all the prior worries would just… melt away."

Charlie placed a rough palm on his friend's shoulder. "Well, in this case she's right. Today, we find the other Olivia and hope they sympathize enough to help. If she's anything like our Liv I'm sure she will. We all need a little hope in this world, buddy." Turning towards him, Lincoln smiled at Charlie.

Hope. It was a small, innocent word that could change the views, alter the situation and perhaps even change the future. Somewhere, Lincoln knew, here, that despite the darkness he knew the world was just a little brighter, a little lighter, and with the promise of a better time. They sat for another hour or so and simply watched the orange globe rise higher, their hopes for help became a little brighter. For a moment, Lincoln felt invincible with the idea this could work, the reason he kept repeating over and over in his head. Seeing the sunrise had restored that small portion of his mind that drove him to keep going.

It was hope, he knew, because everyone needs just a little ray of that.

~*~