fringe fic!: the many faces of olivia dunham;
fringe fic!: the many faces of olivia dunham;
olivia; olivia/peter; 1,103 words; g; spoilers for olivia. in the lab. with the revolver; for killmotion for totally dragging me into this fandom without me knowing it. XD
a.) this is olive. she’s a lover, you see; her hair is in tangles and she doesn’t know how to unravel truths and physical wonders. the only thing she ever knew was defense, defense, defense.
she avoids his eyes when they begin to clean up at her apartment.
he’s all smiling, asking if he can put her on speed dial- speed dial, for heaven’s sake- and she’s fumbling for her keys, looking for a distraction. this is now. this is her, standing in the room, asking for questions that she shouldn’t be wondering about.
nina says that there’s always a way out. she can’t find an exit in this situation.
her mouth opens and she mumbles something about dinner and cell phones. her ears ring, and when she looks up, he’s still smiling, and the gut feeling that’s swallowed her up only twists further.
when the agents are done, examining her house the only question he has left for her is why so many boxes? and she’s left open handed, her jaw unhinged, her heart spilling all over the floor because somehow, he’s got a key and she hates how he can just open her fragile self , like she’s a broken toy that he wants to put carefully back together.
dinner tomorrow at eight is all she can say before he begins to shimmer black and grey, black and grey.
b.) this is liv, she is a wanderer and doesn’t know how to party. she misses her partner and sometimes her eyes stare at the ceiling for five hours, waiting to close.
she goes to the bar at two in the morning and orders two shots of hard whiskey. the thrill of a burn in her throat makes her feel as if she’s awake for a reason, because she doesn’t want to go back to small nightmares of killing her best friend, her best and only partner. her fingers carelessly leave oil streaks on the glass counter, and she slips out some change before carefully walking out the exit, ignoring the hoots of drunk men before her.
she feels like going to her sister, her niece, the only blood bonds she has left in her life, but her baggy black trenchcoat stops her from heading in their direction. instead, her mind wavers on other subjects- names, events, memories- insubstantial things. this is her, this is now. she hears a sound, and instantly, her mind is clear, and her hand is on the trigger of her gun. pull, and a gunshot will be heard. but liv’s eyes swivel toward only nothingness, as a cat slides out of the shadows, and melts away into nothing.
nightmares. they haunt her like dogs.
c.) this is livvie, she is a soldier who accomplishes so much only to fail a little.
broyles lets her sit down as she explains yet another case- a man who excretes a sticky substance which releases dangerous gases. this is a strange one, but she is used to the unusual by now. disfigured people, twisted bones, piercing screams- they all come with the resume, she thinks.
broyles nods and she knows that she’s finished her work here. go home, he tells her. you look like hell.
livvie feels the circles under her sharp eyes. she tastes the blood in her mouth when she clamps down on her tongue too hard like she usually does when she thinks about everything and how it’s all related. she hears nina sharp’s words of false comfort, of fake promises and the touch of her mechanical hand as she strokes her cheek and comments on how pale she looks. this is all part of some plan, you see. this pattern, this ZFT, this idea of parallel universes and god, stealing a child from another universe and this interdimensional war- what is she doing? she looks back on herself and sees the olivia that kisses a guy named john. her hands aren’t cold but are warm and alive with the touch of a forbidden love.
but people change. livvie’s hands are cold from the touch of dead bodies and corporate secrets and the boundaries of universes. she can no longer perceive what is normal and what is not. she has lost faith, and has regained it through working with the craziest family she has ever known. all to protect a society and a world so unaware of the difficulties and the impossibilities that turn it over every day. at the end of the day, what was it for? sleepless nights? painful discoveries? unanswerable truths?
but livvie is a soldier. she does not hesitate, and she does not back down. her eyes glance over the landscape of the city, and an idea bursts through.
her heels crush the snow as she turns her body the other way to head over to the FBI department again.
d) this is olivia duhnam. she doesn’t know who she is. the paper on her says that she’s an fbi agent who’s classified. walter’s list says she’s a cortexiphan subject. william bell calls her a guardian of a gate, and her sister calls her a tough girl. nina sharp replies that she’s intriguing in all the right and wrong ways, and peter says that he’s never met anyone like her.
yet all of these descriptions, these ‘names’ and identities, all of these insubstantial things melt away when olivia duhnam looks into the mirror. her mouth is set in a firm line. her eyes do not smile. and yet, she feels the blood pulse richly through her veins. she is alive, and she is here, now. she has strange families, strange friends, and a strange job, all that came together in just one full year and has changed her to the point where she can’t recognize what she’s becoming. she doesn’t know where she’s heading or what questions will be asked and answered tomorrow. in fact, the only thing olivia does know is that she has something to protect. people, this world, truth, and herself.
and they are all worth fighting for, in every aspect.
fin.
olivia; olivia/peter; 1,103 words; g; spoilers for olivia. in the lab. with the revolver; for killmotion for totally dragging me into this fandom without me knowing it. XD
a.) this is olive. she’s a lover, you see; her hair is in tangles and she doesn’t know how to unravel truths and physical wonders. the only thing she ever knew was defense, defense, defense.
she avoids his eyes when they begin to clean up at her apartment.
he’s all smiling, asking if he can put her on speed dial- speed dial, for heaven’s sake- and she’s fumbling for her keys, looking for a distraction. this is now. this is her, standing in the room, asking for questions that she shouldn’t be wondering about.
nina says that there’s always a way out. she can’t find an exit in this situation.
her mouth opens and she mumbles something about dinner and cell phones. her ears ring, and when she looks up, he’s still smiling, and the gut feeling that’s swallowed her up only twists further.
when the agents are done, examining her house the only question he has left for her is why so many boxes? and she’s left open handed, her jaw unhinged, her heart spilling all over the floor because somehow, he’s got a key and she hates how he can just open her fragile self , like she’s a broken toy that he wants to put carefully back together.
dinner tomorrow at eight is all she can say before he begins to shimmer black and grey, black and grey.
b.) this is liv, she is a wanderer and doesn’t know how to party. she misses her partner and sometimes her eyes stare at the ceiling for five hours, waiting to close.
she goes to the bar at two in the morning and orders two shots of hard whiskey. the thrill of a burn in her throat makes her feel as if she’s awake for a reason, because she doesn’t want to go back to small nightmares of killing her best friend, her best and only partner. her fingers carelessly leave oil streaks on the glass counter, and she slips out some change before carefully walking out the exit, ignoring the hoots of drunk men before her.
she feels like going to her sister, her niece, the only blood bonds she has left in her life, but her baggy black trenchcoat stops her from heading in their direction. instead, her mind wavers on other subjects- names, events, memories- insubstantial things. this is her, this is now. she hears a sound, and instantly, her mind is clear, and her hand is on the trigger of her gun. pull, and a gunshot will be heard. but liv’s eyes swivel toward only nothingness, as a cat slides out of the shadows, and melts away into nothing.
nightmares. they haunt her like dogs.
c.) this is livvie, she is a soldier who accomplishes so much only to fail a little.
broyles lets her sit down as she explains yet another case- a man who excretes a sticky substance which releases dangerous gases. this is a strange one, but she is used to the unusual by now. disfigured people, twisted bones, piercing screams- they all come with the resume, she thinks.
broyles nods and she knows that she’s finished her work here. go home, he tells her. you look like hell.
livvie feels the circles under her sharp eyes. she tastes the blood in her mouth when she clamps down on her tongue too hard like she usually does when she thinks about everything and how it’s all related. she hears nina sharp’s words of false comfort, of fake promises and the touch of her mechanical hand as she strokes her cheek and comments on how pale she looks. this is all part of some plan, you see. this pattern, this ZFT, this idea of parallel universes and god, stealing a child from another universe and this interdimensional war- what is she doing? she looks back on herself and sees the olivia that kisses a guy named john. her hands aren’t cold but are warm and alive with the touch of a forbidden love.
but people change. livvie’s hands are cold from the touch of dead bodies and corporate secrets and the boundaries of universes. she can no longer perceive what is normal and what is not. she has lost faith, and has regained it through working with the craziest family she has ever known. all to protect a society and a world so unaware of the difficulties and the impossibilities that turn it over every day. at the end of the day, what was it for? sleepless nights? painful discoveries? unanswerable truths?
but livvie is a soldier. she does not hesitate, and she does not back down. her eyes glance over the landscape of the city, and an idea bursts through.
her heels crush the snow as she turns her body the other way to head over to the FBI department again.
d) this is olivia duhnam. she doesn’t know who she is. the paper on her says that she’s an fbi agent who’s classified. walter’s list says she’s a cortexiphan subject. william bell calls her a guardian of a gate, and her sister calls her a tough girl. nina sharp replies that she’s intriguing in all the right and wrong ways, and peter says that he’s never met anyone like her.
yet all of these descriptions, these ‘names’ and identities, all of these insubstantial things melt away when olivia duhnam looks into the mirror. her mouth is set in a firm line. her eyes do not smile. and yet, she feels the blood pulse richly through her veins. she is alive, and she is here, now. she has strange families, strange friends, and a strange job, all that came together in just one full year and has changed her to the point where she can’t recognize what she’s becoming. she doesn’t know where she’s heading or what questions will be asked and answered tomorrow. in fact, the only thing olivia does know is that she has something to protect. people, this world, truth, and herself.
and they are all worth fighting for, in every aspect.
fin.