Post #1

Apr. 16th, 2011 07:02 pm
fringekink_mod: Olivia, in bed and naked under the sheets (what? Totally!), eyes closed, smiling blissfully, hair fanned out on pillow (Default)
[personal profile] fringekink_mod posting in [community profile] fringe_kinkmeme
This is a kinkmeme. You may just be familiar with the concept.

If not: explicit, adult content; read at your own risk, and keep the kids -- wherever that arbitrary line is in your jurisdiction -- out. Also, please wear your seatbelt.

RULES

1. When prompting, use the comment field to jot down character, pairing, or moresome first, then the kink(s), then any other prompt elements; after a line break, you can elaborate via words, images, or links. Like so?



2. When responding, use the subject line for the original prompt (plus your title, if you have one).

3. All kinks are welcome -- sexual, emotional, conceptual, likewise all gen, het, slash, bitextual and other fic from crack to drama.

4. Anon is encouraged but up to you.

5. Mark all spoilers, mmkay?

6. Go for it!

REMINDERS

7. With a view to some prompts: Spell Check is your BFF. Don't make Alt!Astrid cry, please?

8. A kinkmeme's more than a promptmeme. Here's [personal profile] eliade's non-definitive and non-exhaustive (but pretty illustrative) List of Fan-fiction Kinks, Tropes, Clichés, and Fetishes.

9. Could you -- in the subject line or the first line of the body of text -- draw attention to the fact there's rape or non-con, major character death, underage, and/or graphic violence in your response (which is the Archive Of Our Own (AO3) policy).

Observer

Date: 2011-09-27 05:37 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
September; curiosity

Doesn't have to be adult, but you can if you want. ;)

C'mon, I can't be the only one who thinks the Observers are being a little left out here.

Re: Observer

Date: 2011-09-27 06:12 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
This could be cool... Do you mean like September observing a sexual act like a peeping Tom?

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Roadblock - Gen

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Re: Roadblock - Gen

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Red olivia/Blue olivia/Red Lincoln

Date: 2011-09-27 10:34 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Red olivia/Blue olivia/Red Lincoln,
when he looks at then both, together in the same room, Lincoln wonders if it's his birthday because hes never been this lucky before!

Date: 2011-09-27 11:47 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Lincoln Lee/Robert Danzig; bondage, sarcasm

Date: 2011-09-28 04:59 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
*twitches* Please, pretty-please. Someone, anyone, Bueller?

(no subject)

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Lincoln/Robert, bondage/sarcasm

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Re: Lincoln/Robert, bondage/sarcasm

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Blue!Lincoln/Robert/Jules

Date: 2011-09-28 04:01 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Robert and Jules have a solid marriage, and inviting Lincoln into the bedroom with them only brings them closer.

Walter/Rebecca Kibner

Date: 2011-09-28 04:03 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
From "Momentum Deferred." He took her up on her offer to come in, after all.

Re: Walter/Rebecca Kibner

Date: 2011-10-19 07:56 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Drabble for my own prompt. :p



Walter stands on Rebecca's doorstep. She invites him in, eyes offering...everything.

This woman was a girl when he knew her, but not a child. She was old enough to know her own mind, to agree to the LSD experiments with open and eager curiosity. She remembers him kindly and for that alone, Walter is grateful.

The mind is willing. He remembers Nina's white throat, and Belly's intensity. He is not too ancient to have forgotten this.

The flesh is surprisingly willing, still, even after drugs and shock treatments and libido-killing isolation.

Walter takes Rebecca's hand, and follows her inside.

Re: Walter/Rebecca Kibner

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Date: 2011-09-29 05:50 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Blue Lincoln/Red Charlie,
As Lincoln looked around the fringe headquarters on the otherside he noticed a man was watching him, a man he recognised as one Charlie franis,but this Charlie had a scar under his eye that he know the other one did not have. it looked nice on him!

Date: 2011-09-29 10:52 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Blue!Olivia/Blue!Lincoln, touch, sensation

Lincoln Lee is not the only one wearing glasses in the new Fringe division...

Olivia/Lincoln; touch, sensation, glasses

Date: 2011-10-11 04:40 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
He brushes against her side when he takes a seat at the bar, which has to be deliberate since it's early afternoon and the place is empty except for the guy at the end of the bar playing video poker. Lincoln meets her eyes in the mirror and smirks at the papers that are in front of her.

"You work here often?"

She lowers her head and looks at his reflection over the rim of her reading glasses. He's still pale from his earlier brush with the killer fungus, and her heart hurts a little at how utterly sure she'd been that he was going to die, that she was going to lose another partner. She takes a breath and smiles at him in the mirror. "Lincoln."

She must have been thinking about him dying longer than she realized because he looks worried, rolls a coaster back and forth on its edge between his hands. "Astrid told me where you were."

Olivia looks down at the files again and nods, mutters under her breath, "Of course she did."

"I hope you don't mind." He lets the coaster fall back to the to glossy surface of the bar. "I can leave if you don't want company."

She's been partnerless since John, save for a few brief attempts to pair her with someone that had ended with Walter traumatizing the agent in question to the point that they demanded reassignment. She wonders if Lincoln stayed because he'd been properly traumatized before hand or if there's some quality to him that makes him more resilient against the horrors of their job.

When the bartender comes to a stop in front of him and raises and eyebrow, Lincoln darts a glance at her tumbler of whisky, then orders ginger ale, earning a puzzled frown from the bartender as well as Olivia. Once the bartender has moved off, Lincoln shrugs.

"Not much of a drinker."

Olivia smiles and shakes her head just a little.

"Give it time."

He looks like he's going to say something more, and she's gearing up to tell him to mind his own business, when he drops his gaze to the papers in front of her. "What are you working on?"

"Going over a few files from the other division."

He nods like talking about an other universe has already become routine. Olivia uses the distraction of the bartender coming back with Lincoln's drink to flip the folder shut and drop it into the bag at her feet, sliding her glasses into a side pocket. "Just something to look at, really."

They sit in silence for a while until she touches the back of his hand to get his attention.

"How are you so okay with all of this?"

She's reluctant to move her hand away from his and rests it on the bar close to his. He shifts his hand off his glass to slide over her pinky, so their two fingers are hooked together. His finger is icy cold, damp from the condensation.

He laughs. "I've always been sort of a nerd."

She raises an eyebrow at that, smile tugging at her lips.

He glances at her, sidelong. "Shocking, I know. I devoured science fiction books when I was a kid, and it always felt like more than just entertainment. I felt like I was looking for something. My father…"

He lowers his eyes and the tightness of his mouth makes her shift her hand so that it's covering his. She doesn't want to have this in common with him.

"It's one of the many things we argued about. He thought it was a waste of time and intellect." He shakes his head. "Anyway, it's probably dumb since they may or may not be trying to destroy us, but this is closer to what I wanted the world to be like than I thought was possible."

He rolls his hand under hers and laces their fingers together.

"Thanks for dragging me out of the magic mushroom cave, by the way."

She turns towards him and meets his eyes directly. "Any time."

He reaches across the space between them with his free hand, touches face, tracing a line along her eyebrow, then circling below her eye. It doesn't feel encroaching at all, the way he's eased his way into her personal space. She feels no desire to pull away from him.

"You look good in your glasses."

He leans forward then and kisses her, warm and solid against her lips, and he's pulling back before she can really react, watching her closely, waiting for her to make the next move. She darts her tongue out over her lips and tastes chapstick and just a hint of the ginger ale that he's been drinking, and she wants more, wants to taste that on his tongue. She likes the way his eyes drop from hers to stare at her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye she sees that the bartender is staring at her too, so she nods towards the door.

"You wanna… um."

"Yeah." He says it quickly, then laughs at himself. "Yeah, I'd like that."

He follows her to her car, doesn't crowd her against the side for more, just waits patiently. Polite, she thinks, or maybe just smart because he's seen her in the field after all. She steps close to him and she does get a taste of the sharp ginger that lingers on his tongue, in his mouth still cold from the soda. His eyes are closed when she pulls back, lashes casting little shadows over his cheeks behind his glasses. Up close and in the sunlight, she can see the dark circles under his eyes and the red lines along his jaw.

"Lincoln…"

"I know." His smile is a little sad and it makes her stomach twist. "I've had a traumatic day. I should go home and rest. This is a bad idea."

Her fingers skid over his lips, soft against her skin, warm from the kiss. "You should let me drive you home. We'll get some take out on the way. There's a classic sci fi movie marathon on tonight."

His eyes go wide and his mouth shapes into a circle for a moment before he says, "Oh." Then he smiles, a grin that spreads over his whole face and lights his eyes. He leans in and kisses her, quick and chaste, before circling to the passenger side of the SUV.

Olivia rocks back on her heels for a moment, then smiles and turns to join him.

Re: Olivia/Lincoln; touch, sensation, glasses

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Re: Olivia/Lincoln; touch, sensation, glasses

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Date: 2011-09-29 10:57 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
C'mon, girls, I can't be the only one:

Blue!Lincoln Lee/Colonel John Sheppard, the persistence of memory

Yes, it's an SGA/Fringe fusion that basically writes itself. Go help it along?

Date: 2011-09-29 10:59 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
(Okay, fine, it's more of a crossover. Either way, it'd be the best things since peanut butter and jelly.)

(no subject)

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Date: 2011-09-29 11:02 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Astrid/Olivia, drugs

Why does Astrid always have to be the sensible one, taking care of tripping co-workers? I'm all for her and Olivia being both under the influence: a monster's sting, a time-traveller's poison, a Waltexperiment gone awry.

It's a new orange world, people -- go crazy! :D

Date: 2011-10-03 02:06 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Yesss!

Date: 2011-10-01 07:12 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Alt!Olivia/Our!Olivia/(Lincoln), post-4x02, alt!Olivia gets them all drunk or whatever the hell you want, just have them get it on pls!

Oh meme, has no one written this yet?! I... never thought I would want something with Olivia/Olivia but then 4x02 hit last night and BAM! The two Olivias has more sexual tension than I've seen in quite a while. Those eyes alt!Olivia was making, lol.

Date: 2011-10-01 11:17 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Lincoln and olivia were both making eyes at our olivia!!! I really hope someone does this fic

(no subject)

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Janus 1/2- spoilers for One Night in October - 4:02

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-10-10 09:45 pm (UTC) - Expand

Janus 2/2- spoilers for One Night in October - 4:02

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Re: Janus 2/2- spoilers for One Night in October - 4:02

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red lincoln/blue olivia 4x02

Date: 2011-10-01 11:26 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Red Lincoln/Blue olivia, 4x02
"did you miss me" he asked after a couple of minutes silences in the car.

Re: red lincoln/blue olivia 4x02

Date: 2011-10-01 11:46 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
sdfsjdfsalh hit ALL my buttons, won't you

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Re: red lincoln/blue olivia 4x02 - Mothman - An addendum

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Re: red lincoln/blue olivia 4x02 - Mothman - An addendum

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Re: red lincoln/blue olivia 4x02 - Mothman - An addendum

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Date: 2011-10-06 03:48 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Nina/Broyles in the Brown Betty 'verse, Broyles is a corrupt cop on the end of his rope when Nina makes him an offer that he can't refuse.

Wheelin' and Dealin'

Date: 2012-01-07 04:22 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
The rain hits the earth like fallen nails, a clang and batter against the pavement. Broyles flicks his collar against the chill, the brief flare of a match warming his fingertips. His dancing shoes are slick with wet, the puddles at his feet a reflected one-two jab of red and blue light. He breathes out and watches as Nina approaches, moving past his patrol car and entering the pedestrian tunnel. Sharp doesn’t hustle, her steps short, powered, never rushed, as if the rain wouldn’t dare dampen her over-priced suits and leather shoes.

“Phillip, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.” He’s seen corpses three days dead with more colour than Nina Sharp, black on black, gloves running the length of her forearm, face floating above the entire package like a disembodied ghost. Her concern’s as honest as a politician making the rounds on an election campaign. “I trust you’re in good health, my friend?”

The tunnel backchats. A forlorn murmur of friends…rends…ends… And don’t it know the truth.

“Doll,” he drawls. “We need to speak.”

He’ll make Lieutenant one day. Not mired in the beat, dragging in hobo’s, the disenfranchised, the nightly routine of aggravated domestics capped by booze. He’s got a wife and kid to think about; he’s got a new rookie partner with an acre of thigh, fire in her gullet, and a gift for noticing all the wrong, all the right, details.

Her mouth parts, lipstick fire engine red.

“I gathered as much when you summoned me.” There’s disapproval in her voice. People don’t summon Nina Sharp, no one but Phillip would have the gall to try. That she came at all is surprising.

Her nails are short, sharp; the same hellfire as her lips, he knows the purgatory of her kiss, the pain of her caress. Sharp’s all about the angles, playing them, cutting them, dragging her nails across his jaw, then upward from the point of his cheekbone to his brow. She tilts his hat rakishly.

“I was at the opera, Phillip, this better be important.” She exudes entitlement, wealth, the same way a homeless man reeks of urine.

“McKinski’s murder,” Broyles says bluntly. He thinks about the changes he’ll make, when he’s climbed the ladder. He thinks about the spare time he’ll have, stored up for Diane and Chris.

“Ah.” Nina’s eyes brighten. “I understood George Pauren was the chief suspect.”

It doesn’t sound like a question when she says it.

“Ain’t that a stroke of convenience.” He pulls back on his cigarette, the smoke curls in his lungs, warming him through before he exhales. “The Cap’s organised a warrant. We’re raiding his apartment tomorrow.” She looks pleased, her mouth a pleasant moue of satisfaction. “My partner thinks we’re looking in the wrong direction. Dunham thinks the evidence is circumstantial. She thinks, maybe, Pauren’s innocent.”

“Innocence is such a relative term.” Nina turns until she’s standing shoulder to shoulder with him, staring out at the darkness, at the rain pissing down. It’s a black hole night, then it’s red and blue and then black hole night. He can count his heartbeat to the flashes of police light. Somewhere nearby, a converted speakeasy trumpets Louis Armstrong into the night, big band swing and a cacophony of drums like rolling thunder. “Can she prove it’s not Pauren?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were concerned, Nina.” He flips the ash from his cigarette. “But we both know that’s never true.”

“Bitter, Phillip?”

“Only for you, doll.”

“I understand Captain Renshall is retiring soon, fortune is recognising opportunity, and I am a well connected woman.”

It’s why Broyles’ is here, why his stomach is churning with bile. “McKinski’s was selling Massive Dynamic secrets to the highest bidder. Or didn’t you think I’d uncover the little detail? Olivia seems to think motive, net gain, lies solely with your company.”

“Your investigative abilities aren’t in question, Phillip. They never were.”

“And George Pauren, genius IQ, patents on half a dozen discoveries, he’s about to start employment at Biotech, quite the coup for your competitor.”

Her smile hasn’t changed, there’s absolutely no tension in Nina’s frame. “And yet, instead of setting your hellcat onto me to…probe…for further answers, here we are, you and I.”

“Here we are.”

“Charming as this is, Phillip, let me be blunt. What do you want?”

“Promotion, job security. You don’t want Olivia Dunham searching through your affairs.”

“This Ms. Dunham sounds intriguing,” Nina corrects, almost a rebuttal, as if meeting Olivia is something she wants very much. “And in return, what do I get?”

“Evidence, strong enough to convict George Pauren.”

“Selling a good man down the river?”

The beat changes from Armstrong to Miller. Broyles tips his head upward, staring at the tiles on the tunnel’s ceiling. “I like the classics.”

Nina leans forward and kisses his throat, teeth a sharp drag against his Adam’s apple, mouth widening around his larynx. It’s uncomfortable, like the grip of a wolf, and something ages old rebels. He swallows convulsively until Nina withdraws. “I’ll bring you to the opera next time,” she murmurs.

A limousine pulls into the street, lights dimmed. Nina turns on her heel and slips into the waiting car. Broyles stares after her, utterly thrown, at a loss. He takes two steps out of the tunnel, feels the wind, the wet, cut him to the bone, and barely stops himself from cold-cocking a stranger as he melts out of the shadows. “Officer Broyles?” He’s bald, whiter than white.

Phillip’s balanced on the balls of his feet, old boxing habits rolling his shoulders forward, his chin protectively low. “Yeah?”

“Ms Sharp said you would know what to do with this.” It’s a package, wrapped up in brown paper, industrial string. The ghost tilts his head, voice pitched high. “When you place it in the apartment, do not to get your fingerprints on the evidence. Or allow your partner to see.”

Diane, Broyles reminds himself, a Lieutenant’s wage, raising Chris right. He tries not to think about how Nina came to the meeting prepared, with the ‘evidence’ at hand, as if all of Broyles’ countermoves had been published in the daily news. “Scat.”

The ghost complies, melts into the shadows as if never there, his feet muted by the rain. Broyles’ swings the door open, drops the package in the passenger seat and slides into his unit. Chilled through.

Re: Wheelin' and Dealin'

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Re: Wheelin' and Dealin'

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Peter/Broyles, 2x07

Date: 2011-10-06 08:26 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Peter/Broyles after Peter shoots him in the mind-control ep, "somehow you'll make it up to me"

Peter/Olivia

Date: 2011-10-07 03:14 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
S4
a strange man has started coming into Olivia's bed at night. Even stranger, she's willing to do ANYTHING to keep him there

red olivia/peter

Date: 2011-10-10 08:14 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
(red olivia/peter, blue olivia, henry)
"I'm missing someone at home"
"who?"
"my son"
From: (Anonymous)
A/N:I haven't really used the dialogue, though you'll find the concept is pretty much the same.
Also, the last part is pretty random and the ending abrupt, but I suck with endings.
This is not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.
Feedback is really appreciated (it's been years since I've written anything.
Without further ado, enjoy! :)

--
EVEN A BROKEN CLOCK IS RIGHT TWO TIMES A DAY

There's something tugging at the back of her mind as she watches them interact from a fair distance. She can't quite describe it, but there's an uneasiness within her that’s quite unusual and discordant. The thought alone makes her nervous, but she can't shake it off; they're standing a few feet away, distant enough that she can't hear what they're talking about; still, it takes no fool to read their body language: they're both standing, he's leaning forward trying to catch her gaze, a small smile (probably unintentional but still there) tugging at his lips whenever he catches her stare. She, on the other hand, can't bear to look up, finding comfort in the dullness of the floor, restrained, hiding behind golden waterfalls of hair. She notices how she hides from him, can barely stand to look his way, and when she does, it's only for a few seconds. It's unnerving, and again, that feeling of uneasiness.

She knows who he is, or at least who he claims to be; someone who knows them all, someone who knows their secrets and knows some facts, knows how they work and what they're working on. He's from another timeline, he says. Not a parallel universe, but another timeline. It's a hard concept to grasp, one she isn't sure she quite understands, but she takes what she can get. There's something about this man though, something about the way he looks at all of them, like he really knows them that puts her on edge, but she doesn't question it much. She doesn't get the chance either.

So she stands there, pretending to go over reports, all the while staring at the odd pair, when suddenly he looks up, his eyes distractedly looking her way and catching her gaze; she gets a cold feeling, a shiver, and again that nervousness. She can't help but notice how he flinches, how his demeanor changes when he looks at her. Microscopic but still there; there's something of the icy kind going through his eyes, minuscule and fleeting, lasting barely a second, but she can't help but wonder.

He returns to his actual conversation, the small moment forgotten, his attention full on the blond in front of him, kindness already back in his eyes. Still, she can distinguish a discomfort about him, as if looking at her triggered some kind of reaction inside of him.

Several minutes later they separate, and she pretends not to notice. She leaves him with a file, something to do about a case probably. He sighs and sideway glances at her, setting his jaw, something resembling reluctance crossing his features. When he approaches her, she pretends to be reading the report in front of her, and he pretends to believe her, all traces of his previous smile gone.

"Olivia told me to give you this," his voice is short, stern, military even. He won't meet her eyes when she looks up from the page in front of her (she'd be lying if she said she knew what the report was about) and her heart starts racing just a little bit. She pins it on being startled by him, nothing more. "It's about the new shapeshifter tech,” he continues. “We'll be back for the full review tomorrow." He drops the file unceremoniously and is about to turn when she speaks.

"You knew her, didn't you?" she asks. "Back in your timeline? You knew her," she's grinning, that lopsided grin of hers that doesn't quite manage to be a full smile. He's halfway turned but he stops moving. He doesn't completely face her again though. "You knew all of us." He doesn't give her an answer. She knows he's not leaving because he doesn't want to be rude, but his body language shows different; he's itching to leave this place. He's itching to not talk to her. He's itching to go back to her. Yet, she continuous, "Did you love her?"

She knows she's struck a nerve now, can see it in the way his body tenses.

He also grimaces, and his face shows nothing but antipathy. “That’s none of your business.”

Re: red olivia/peter "EVEN A BROKEN CLOCK IS RIGHT TWO TIMES A DAY"

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Re: red olivia/peter "EVEN A BROKEN CLOCK IS RIGHT TWO TIMES A DAY"

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Re: red olivia/peter "EVEN A BROKEN CLOCK IS RIGHT TWO TIMES A DAY"

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Re: red olivia/peter "EVEN A BROKEN CLOCK IS RIGHT TWO TIMES A DAY"

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Re: red olivia/peter "EVEN A BROKEN CLOCK IS RIGHT TWO TIMES A DAY"

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Re: red olivia/peter "EVEN A BROKEN CLOCK IS RIGHT TWO TIMES A DAY"

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Re: red olivia/peter "EVEN A BROKEN CLOCK IS RIGHT TWO TIMES A DAY"

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Re: red olivia/peter "EVEN A BROKEN CLOCK IS RIGHT TWO TIMES A DAY"

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Re: red olivia/peter "EVEN A BROKEN CLOCK IS RIGHT TWO TIMES A DAY"

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Re: red olivia/peter "EVEN A BROKEN CLOCK IS RIGHT TWO TIMES A DAY"

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blue Lincoln/Red Lincoln

Date: 2011-10-10 08:23 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Blue Lincoln/Red Lincoln after 4x03
"I just thought that with the dangerous jobs both you and I have, it would be nice for us to meet properly"
"Thats an interesting thought"

Date: 2011-10-15 10:48 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Amberverse Red!Olivia/Blue!Lincoln, good boy bad girl (or vice versa?), pillow-biting
From: (Anonymous)
Lincoln's supposed to drive her back to the Bridge, but they end up at his place instead beause of Walter. (And doesn't everything come back to Walter, sooner or later?)

"What-"

"Don't even ask." He holds up a finger to interrupt her as he clicks the fob to unlock the car doors.

"I think I already did." Olivia climbs into the passenger side and tilts her head at him. "Unless this is one of those style things that never caught on back home?"

"The hair?" He glances at himself in the review mirror. "Um, no. Apparently we're saving ourselves from ozone poisoning."

"Ozone poisoning? Didn't realize it was a problem here." There hadn't been any mention in the briefs she'd seen.

"It's not." He brings a hand up to push his slick bangs away from his glasses, but thinks better of it at the last minute and raps his knuckles against the hard plastic of the center console instead. "Dr. Bishop..." he pauses as he pulls into traffic. "...Dr. Bishop theorizes that greasy hair traps more ozone molecules than, uh, dry hair, and thus prevents the subject from breathing in an excess of poisoness gasses." He winces at how rediculous it sounds, and Olivia wonders how many times a day he does the sanity-check routine.

"Oh-kaaaay," she offers in sympathy, because she cane can. She'd spent enough time in that lab to know that Lincoln wasn't making things up. "And I guess Astrid wasn't around."

"Uh, no. Astrid got a call from Broyles just as Walter brought out the beakers. I'm pretty sure she faked it."

"Smart girl." Olivia watches him swipe at his forehead and then rub his fingers together and scrunch his nose at the oil slicking them. "Listen," she offers, "I don't technically have to be back for another couple hours. If you want to go take a shower or something."

There's a brief flush as he leans his head back on the head rest. "Hell yes." Then glances behind him at the grease stain on the fabric. "Shit."

Olivia pats him on the knee. "Relax. It's a fleet vehicle, right?"

So that's how she found herself wandering around Lincoln's attic loft, nosing through half-emptied boxes while she waited for the shower to stop running. Reminded her of a college date or two. Actually, the whole place reminded her of a dorm room. Same bachelor decor; microwave over on the counter, takeout containers in the sink, and the pile of socks and underware hastily shoved under the bed. Except the rent was probably higher. And the furniture nicer.

Actually, it's not a bad place at all, Olivia thinks as she toys with the flap of one of the cardboard boxes. 'Bathroom' is printed across the top in neat black letters. So either he hired a company, or there are a few things this Lincoln doesn't share with hers, penmanship being one of them. (because really, who needs to learn how to print well when pens are in short supply?)

"Uh, hey Olivia?" comes from the bathroom. She'd missed the water shutting off and jumps a little at being almost caught snooping. "Do you see any towels out there? I wasn't expecting company, or I would've cleaned up a bit."

"Oh, you usually unpack before you bring a girl home?"

There's a pause, just for a second, in which her Lincoln would have snarked something right back. And then, "So I guess it would be asking to much if you could grab me a pair of pants too?" Like they're just slightly out of synch. She passes a pair of towels from the 'Bathroom' box through the crack in the door.

"You want me to help you dress too?"

"You'd do that for me?" But it's not the teasing she's expecting. He sounds almost surprised.

Olivia look up. He's standing beside his bed, towel around his waist. His hair, clean now, sticks up in a dozen wild cow-licks. His glasses are sitting on a pile of books on the nightstand, and for a moment, (pile of books aside), she thinks she's looking at the same guy she's been partnered with for the last three years.

She shrugs, attempting to save face. "If that's what you're into." It was one thing to be over here, under cover, and alone. It's something else entirely to be here with a Lincoln she doesn't know but can't help forgetting she shouldn't.

He reaches down for his glasses, but fumbles them and they fall between the table and the bed. Olivia catches that flush again, spreading quick down his neck and gone again. She's feeling kind of warm, herself.

She retrieves his glasses and says, "We have this procedure, back home. Under an hour." and holds the frames out to him. "Never have to worry about these again. I could talk to Colonel Broyles, get a waiver, if you want. Lincoln said he had it done when he was in college." She bites her tongue when she realizes that she's comparing them again.

His fingers brush hers as he takes them. "I don't know. I kinda like having a secret identity." Olivia expects him to slip the frames back on and get dressed, so she turns to give him some privacy. He catches her by the arm instead and she turns.

He's still not wearing the glasses.

"I'm not him."

She's about to protest that she knows that, knows better, but he cuts her off. "And you're not her." He squints and she imagines him mentally sizing her up with his Agent Dunham. "And I don't know her as well as you know your partner, but it's still hard not to make comparisons."

Since all that uncomfortablness is all out in the open now, she asks, "So what are we going to do about it."

Deflect. It seems like the safest thing at the time.

Until Lincoln steps closer, steps into her space, and they're inches apart. So close he doesn't have to squint. His glasses have been forgotten altogether. That's when she notices that when he's naked, Lincoln's eyss are the exact shame shade of blue.

He doesn't taste like she expects. Actually, she doesn't know exactly how he should taste; with her Lincoln (and she still can't stop thinking of them as hers and hers), it's always different: sweat and adrenaline one day, the mellow flavor of aged liquor the next. This time she expects to taste uncertainty, maybe a bit of nerves, but he's all minty toothpaste and coffee, just this side of exotic.

She must have hesited because he looks at her like he thinks she might have second thoughts. But Olivia's never backed away from a challenge, not one she'd thrown down herself.

"Something wrong?" she asks, expecting this button-downed version to beg off, tell her this is all just a misunderstanding. A mistake.

He shakes his head no and steps behind her, presses closer yet. At some point she'd lost her shirt and pants and Lincoln's chest is now warm and firm against her back. He skims his hand down her ribs, the crest of her hips, and under the waistband of her panties. "Just thought this might be easier," is all he says, hot breath in her ear that makes her arch back against him. He pulls her tight against him again, thumb and soft fingers pinching at her nipples.

This is definitely not her Lincoln. When he enters her, it's almost with a reverence, gentle hands on her cheeks, fingers threaded through her hair. No, this, this is something altogether different. And yes, she thinks as they tumble to the bed, maybe a bit eaiser. She doesn't have to look in his eyes and see that terrible wonder there.

Then end up spooned together on their sides, one of his knees resting between hers. She can feel him hard against her bottom, breath against her neck, heartbeat steady against her back. They fit well together, even better than she expects. She shifts slightly, tries to angle her hips so he can slip inside. He grips her thigh, fingers curling into her flesh, and stops short, barely there, pressed against her, and then langurously, he's there inside.

He takes his time, deliciously slow, easing himself forward, deeper, holding her back when she tries to rush it. And then withdraws. She shivers, muscles clench in his absence, and he pushes again, slower still, and hovers, waiting. His mouth finds her shoulder, lips and smooth chin tracing patterns on her flushed skin. He doesn't ask if she likes this. doesn't need to when all he has to do is shift and her body tightens in kind. She feels the bend and tense of his abs as he dips his mouth behind her ear, along the pearls of her spine, his movements telegraph and translate as fractions of inches below. Finally... finally, he pulls back again, aching and gradual, and she bites down on the pillow to keep from crying out as he teases her, sliding into her, slick and steady until she can feel every damn inch of him against her folds and then inside her, and out. She pushes back, thrusts against the heat that's building and burning but he grabs her wrist as she reaches between her thighs, traps her a finger's length away from release.

He rocks into her again, sets a pace not as fast as she'd like, but steady and deep. And still his hand is a vice around her wrist, holding her back, making her wait for him. With her other arm, she clenches the pillow, tucks away from him, and his rythm stutters just a bit. Quicker now, and he's breathing hard aginst her skin. His hand loosens and he lets her finally guide his fingers down until they're pressing just right and he's thrusting wonderful tight counterpressure aginst his fingertips and against her. And then release.

Aftershocks ripple through her and he stirs inside her, but she's got nothing left, her pulse finally slowed. He pulls her closer to him again, but this time it's gentle, almost tentative, and she doesn't have to push thoughts of her Lincoln away, because they aren't there, not right now. This is definitely something different. And easy.

Too soon and they have to leave. She's expected home, after all, and if she wants to be allowed another furlough, there'd better not be reason to doubt that she'll return. "Next time," she tells him, as his button-downed self holds the apartment door for her, "maybe I'll even help you unpack."

He pushes his glasses up his nose. "I really hope not."

Re: Dance with the one who brung you (Amberverse Red!Olivia/Blue!Lincoln)

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-10-16 10:02 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Dance with the one who brung you (Amberverse Red!Olivia/Blue!Lincoln)

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Re: Dance with the one who brung you (Amberverse Red!Olivia/Blue!Lincoln)

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Re: Dance with the one who brung you (Amberverse Red!Olivia/Blue!Lincoln)

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Date: 2011-10-15 10:50 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Amberverse Blue!Olivia/Blue!Lincoln, bathing or water. Come on, let's get one or both of them dripping...

Date: 2011-10-15 10:51 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Any Olivia/any Lincoln, sleep and bedding themes (sharing a bed by necessity, such as in a hotel with only one room left; sharing a sleeping bag for warmth; sex while drowsy or sleeping; sex as a sleep aid; autonomic arousal from proximity; morning wake-up sex, falling asleep against someone's shoulder; watching someone sleep; dreams; nightmares; dream lovers, e.g., succubi; exotic or romantic beds, e.g., canopied; furs as bedding; silk sheets)

Date: 2011-10-15 05:25 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Peter/Olivia
Lingerie
Peter's been feeling stressed and Olivia isn't sure what she can do to help relieve his tension

SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW!

Date: 2011-10-16 01:00 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
peter bishop/lincoln lee, drinks, heart-to-heart (about olivia)

basically, it's the anti-bechdel scene. feel free to add porn too -- peter is definitely lincoln's type (see stowaway), and peter may be all about ~true love~ for olivia but must be hella horny after all that dimension-crawling...

Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW!

Date: 2011-10-16 02:31 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
I can give you a teaser (roughly 3000 words) or you can wait until it's finished, but either way this prompt is answered

Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW!

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW! - teaser. In the rough, about 1/3rd done

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Re: SPOILERS FOR 4.04 BELOW!

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Date: 2011-10-17 08:30 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Peter/Olivia, Courting and dating.

Basically, it's a canon prompt(or so I hope)! ;)

Date: 2011-10-18 07:26 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Red Lincoln/Blue Lincoln

Red Lincoln, just a little bit heartbroken over Red Olivia and maybe a bit drunk
Blue Lincoln also a bit drunk and just a bit more adventurous ;)
shenanigan ensues and takes place Over There.

Lincoln/Lincoln

Date: 2011-10-23 06:19 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Phew, okay, this prompt started eating my head. Three caveats: It probably needs a proper beginning; I won't be able to continue with it immediately, it'll be at least a week or so before I can keep going; and it seems to be going in a D/s direction, if that suits the OP. (And this is all very bad manners, but I don't want to stifle the creativity this kinkmeme is inspiring. So, snippet.)


He finds Captain Lee in the bar. By the way he's slumping on his stool the guy's already had a few, maybe more than a few.

Even his hair looks deflated.

Lincoln makes his way over. Even under the influence his double's senses are on high alert.

"Hey, Clark."

Lincoln just sighs. It's not the first time he's heard it, and it won't be the last. But-- in this case, the jibe might actually be *useful.* "Hello yourself, Kal."

The other man pauses with his beer halfway to his mouth. "I don't know which is worse, that you knew that piece of geekery, or that I know what you're talking about."

"Is there really a worse there?" Lincoln sits and raises his hand to the bartender. "What's so bad about being a geek? We rule the world, haven't you heard?"

"Maybe *your* world," Captain Lee snarks.

The bartender arrives with a beer and does a double take at the two of them, but doesn't ask any questions. Lincoln sees his alternate watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"So, the suit. Is that, like, hot schoolteacher fantasy?"

He's testing, pushing, trying to find a limit. Lincoln's not even close to his. "Do you want it to be?"

Captain Lee laughs, but there's an edge to it Lincoln doesn't entirely like. "Is this answer-every-question-with-a-question day? It's not really my thing, man, but maybe it works for you." He takes another swallow, waves the bottle vaguely. "It does work for you."

"Thank you," Lincoln says solemnly. He clinks his bottle against the other man's randomly swinging one and takes a sip and then another, surprised. The beer's sweeter than he'd expected, and very different. But tasty. "Our FBI doesn't have the...leeway your Fringe Division has. But I was thinking about relaxing the standards a bit, given what we're encountering. I might invest in a pile of cargo pants."

"Very comfortable," Captain Lee advises. "But I warn you, if you want to complete the transformation, the hair takes *practice.*"

Lincoln never really had any intention of going that far. "I think it'd take more than a change of outfit for that level of...makeover."

"I'm not Superman," Captain Lee mutters, sinking even lower on his stool. "Can't stop a speeding train. Can't even get the girl."

The door is open for the discussion, at least. "I heard the news."

Lee looks sideways at him. "She wasn't ever *mine,* you know. She was with Frank before we ever met."

"But you've been casually sleeping with her and your other partner for a few years, and you fell in love with her, and no one could blame you for that." Lincoln can't, either, even on his short association with his own Olivia. She's...eminently fall-in-lovable-with. Even without the fringe benefits enjoyed by the team on this side.

Captain Lee groans and completes his journey, his head thunking down on the bar. "God, I just want to forget about all this for awhile."

Those are magic words he knows precisely how to answer.

"I know what you need." Lee's head snaps back up at the tone, as he'd intended. Lincoln holds his other self's gaze steadily. "I can take care of you, if you let me."

Lee stares at him for a moment, then laughs. "Wow. That was inevitable, I guess. Funny, I thought it'd be me making the first move."

Lincoln smiles slightly, because now they're just negotiating over terms. "You're sure about this?"

Captain Lee snorts at him. "I'm drinking in a bar. I was going to go home with someone. Might as well be...me."

Re: Lincoln/Lincoln

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-10-23 06:39 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Lincoln/Lincoln

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-10-23 09:04 pm (UTC) - Expand

Lock the World Outside (part 6)

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Re: Lock the World Outside (part 6)

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Re: Lock the World Outside (part 6)

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Re: Lock the World Outside

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Lock the World Outside (part 3)

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Re: Lock the World Outside (part 3)

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Re: Lock the World Outside (part 3)

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Lock the World Outside (part 4)

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Re: Lock the World Outside (part 4)

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Re: Lock the World Outside (part 4)

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Lock the World Outside (part 5)

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Re: Lock the World Outside (part 5)

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Lock the World Outside (part 7)

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Re: Lock the World Outside (part 7)

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Date: 2011-10-18 02:08 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Lincoln/Olivia, pegging.

You know you want it...

Date: 2011-10-18 03:35 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
yes, yes I do. Already wrote that in a fic to be posted soon, so it's not for here. But someone else needs to write it too.

Beneath the suit - Olivia/Lincoln pegging

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Re: Beneath the suit - Olivia/Lincoln pegging

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Re: Beneath the suit - Olivia/Lincoln pegging

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Amberverse Nick Lane

Date: 2011-10-18 03:42 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Nick was never activated in the Amberverse timeline. What's he up to?

(It's a kink. Nick himself is a kink, I warrant.)

Back to Where You Once Belonged

Date: 2011-12-02 05:11 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
One moment Olivia knew her whole life, the pattern and weight of it; the next, she had two conflicting timelines warring for legitimacy in her head. One, the one she can verify with physical artifacts and electronic data, actually happened. The other, more convoluted than anything she could have imagined, is full of Peter.

She's still trying to sort out all the memories in her head and determine which ones are real--or more honestly, the ones she wants to be real. It's confusing enough that she's taken time off of work, with Broyles' blessing, to sit on her couch and just *think.*

There's a knock at the door.

Olivia clutches her drink more tightly. If that's Peter, she'll just-- she'll just tell him to go away. She can't deal with--

It's not Peter.

She checks the peephole again in disbelief, and then opens the door.

"Olive?" Nick Lane's face splits into a goofy grin."Olive! It *is* you."

"N- Nick?" she says, too startled for anything but a blunt, unfiltered response. "What are you doing here?"

"You mean, 'why aren't you dead?'" Nick's blue eyes are smiling despite the words. "Yeah, I've had a tough couple of days with that one myself."

And it's suddenly clear that the Fringe team members aren't the only ones who've regained the memories of the other timeline. Considering Nick's former (current?) powers and his involvement in the effort to rescue Peter, it only makes sense that--

"You'd...better come in," she says, and motions him in. Olivia remembers her manners, mostly as a delaying tactic. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure. But not that," Nick gestures to the forgotten whiskey glass in her hand. "Doesn't mix with the meds. Water is fine."

Olivia goes into the kitchen for a glass and flips through her memories for what she knows about Nick Lane.

She knew him as a child, in Jacksonville. She'd lost track of him until years later and a Fringe case started to involve her, intimately, with images of herself killing people appearing in her dreams. Eventually the team realized they *weren't* dreams, but Nick's own experiences bleeding into her consciousness. They tracked him down and found him on a rooftop, and Olivia put a bullet in his leg to stop his suicidal rampage that had already taken too many lives along the way. The next time she saw him was at a Massive Dynamic "research facility," along with two other Cortexiphan subjects, James Heath and Sally Clark. He'd gained impressive control over his empathic ability and was instrumental in convincing the other two to help Olivia and Walter cross to the other universe to rescue Peter. Things went bad, very quickly, and Nick had died in a shootout with Fringe agents, his body cremated along with Sally's as she unleashed one last fatal firestorm.

...except none of that happened. Olivia remembers Nick from the daycare in Jacksonville--he was the only one she missed after she ran away. And she'd never seen him again before today.

She walks back out to find Nick standing at military parade rest, alert and waiting for her. "Please, come and sit down. So-- I don't even know where to start. How did you find me?"

"Nina Sharp," Nick says, taking a seat on the couch and nodding his thanks for the water. And oh, of course. "I was still at St. Jude's, but when I started *remembering* all those things that never happened...well, at first I thought I was just crazy. Crazier." He gives her a lopsided smile. "But then once I sorted them out, everything started to make sense. All those 'paranoid delusions' were real after all. So I checked myself out, and thought that if Massive Dynamic was involved they'd know everything, and...here I am."

"And your...your abilities?" she feels compelled to ask. Olivia's not afraid of him in the least--the other timeline showed, definitively, that she was immune to his empathic ability--but his manifestation had gone so terribly wrong before.

"Nothing active. Just that kind of low-grade 'hyper-emotiveness' the shrinks tagged me with." He pauses, then adds with some difficulty, "I...wanted to thank you, for stopping me, that other version of me. All those people I didn't mean to kill, and--"

"You didn't, here," Olivia says firmly, and reaches over to take his hand. It's an unusual gesture for her and she knows it, but Nick...she remembers Nick's stuffed bear and his sweet smile.

Nick squeezes her hand but doesn't meet her eyes. "Yeah. I remember them, though. And everything else. I remember...I remember it was okay, that I was gonna die in the other universe, because at least I'd done something to try to make up for that." He glances up briefly. "So...how'd that all work out?"

He does deserve to know, after all. Olivia tells him, in broad strokes, about bringing Peter back and thwarting Director Bishop's plans, and then about how they built the machine over here instead to try to counteract them. "...and somehow, Peter was erased from the timeline and we all forgot him. But now he's come back, and...."

"...and all these memories came with him. Wow." He shakes his head. "That's just *crazy.* And I know crazy. But you know what? I feel so much better now that I know the truth."

"We should probably have Dr. Bishop examine you," she suggests, tentatively.

Nick frowns, then nods. "I-- I'm not sure I trust him. But if you say he's okay, then...okay."

Olivia has the strong, disconcerting feeling that he'd go along with anything she proposed. "Nick, you want to go get something to eat? I've been holed up here for a while and I need some fresh air."

"That'd be great. Olivia...." Nick's smile is as sweet as she remembers, now edging toward shy. "I missed you."

"You, too," she says softly, and goes to get her coat.

Over dinner they talk, mostly about Jacksonville and what they remember about the other children there. Olivia makes a mental note to follow up, in case any of them--especially Sally and James--are struggling with the recovered memories too. She mentions Sally out loud, and Nick sighs a little.

"Yeah, I thought about trying to find her. But that was-- that was such a special circumstance, the way we hooked up, you know? And from what I remember, Sally...." Nick bites at his lip. "She wanted to take care of me, she liked that, and I kind of want...to take care of myself right now. If that makes sense?"

It does, and she tells him so. Nick tilts his head and looks at her, his brow furrowed. "Olive, are you okay? You seem...I don't know. Down."

"It's all these memories, I..." she starts, but it's a lie, and she can't lie to the concern on his face. "It's Peter. I remember him, I remember loving him and I still do, but-- I also remember being without him and it's just, I'm not sure I want to go back." Her face hurts, aching with the truth she's been denying.

"But if you love him, Olive, then why...?" Nick looks honestly puzzled, but she doesn't have an answer.

They finish up dinner and go walking, choosing streets at random and watching the people moving along them. For Nick, Olivia understands, it's still a novelty to be out in the open and free to go where he wants. For her...it's a chance to see the city through new eyes, his eyes, in a way that more gently mirrors what they'd shared before.

As they walk he reaches instinctively for her hand, the way he did as a child, and snatches it back when he realizes. "Sorry, I--"

"No, it's okay," Olivia says, and holds out her own hand. His hand is warm and fits comfortably with hers and they walk together, no longer children at all.

"We were just kids," Nick finally says, very low, "but I loved you. I mean, I know I'm not supposed to say that now. But it's true."

It would be easy, Olivia knows, to deny his feelings. He'd been a child, with a child's raw emotions. They'd been paired together for the experiments, told to lean on each other for support, played and laughed and cried together. The experience would have created close, perhaps inappropriate bonds for anyone involved.

"I loved you too," she says, because it's true. She'd forgotten that, nearly forgotten him. But it's still true.

His face breaks into that wide grin again, and he hugs her hand to his side. They don't say anything else on the way back to her apartment.

Re: Back to Where You Once Belonged

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-12-02 07:33 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Back to Where You Once Belonged

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