Olivia/Peter fanfic (post-Finale): In Reverse (VIII)
A/N: This is part VIII
Previous parts: I. // II. // III. // IV. // V. // VI. // VII.
IN REVERSE
VIII.
The last time Peter had seen Walter, he was being escorted out of the court room. They had shared one of these 'last looks' they had already shared too many times in the past. Except that this time, they both knew it was for good.
Walter had been declared guilty of 'provoking the slow degradation of the Universe'. He had been given three life sentences.
That was the last time he had seen him. The last time they had really spoken had been a few weeks back, before he went and 'offered himself up' to the police and the rest of the angry world. 'Angry' was an understatement.
The fact that Olivia lay battered up in his bed upstairs was proof enough. The hospital had only discharged her a few hours ago -not a minute too soon according to her, and she was finally asleep, highly dosed up on painkillers.
People were scared, people were confused, people needed someone to blame. It was not that surprising that in the short amount of time that had passed since the world had started crumbling, people had come to learn that the Fringe Division was somehow connected to the atrocities happening all around.
What was not acceptable however was that those stupid people thought they could beat someone up eight against one as a mean to get answers, or some sort of revenge. The doctors had said it was a miracle she was alive at all, but they didn't know who they were talking about.
This kind of behavior tended to make Peter want to murder people. Or torture them for many, many hours.
He had not been in a good emotional place back then, and having Olivia pay for his crimes in such ways hadn't helped at all, though weak and in pain she had already repeated too many times 'It's not your fault, I'm fine, it's not your fault.'
He had found Walter standing in the hallway, in front of the door. He had his coat on. Peter had stopped in the middle of the staircase.
"What are you doing, Walter?" His voice was tired and irritated. His own anger didn't seem to fade away easily those days, especially not today.
He was expecting some kind of ramblings about needing candies, or how a midnight walk would help his bowel movements or whatever insanity the man could come up with.
"I'm going to do what I should have done weeks ago." He had answered instead. "I'm going to go to the police and take responsibility for my crimes."
He was grave and lucid, more lucid that he had seen him in weeks.
There was no changing his mind, no matter what Peter said. He was as stubborn as a donkey with a nail in his head.
He had ended up standing in the stairs, too, a hand on his son's face; his wrinkled features had been constricted with pain and regrets.
"Don't you understand what is happening, Peter?" He had asked almost desperately. "The world is going mad. The world needs a villain. It needs someone to blame and hate openly. It needs some kind of justice, or it will keep on hurting those who try to save it. And the last person in this universe who deserves to be placed in such harm ways is Olivia."
"They'll imprison you for the rest of your life, Walter," was all Peter had managed to say, eventually, his anger suddenly gone to be replaced by a kind a fear that made him feel like a boy again. Even though he could never admit it openly, his whole life had now been reduced to the few people it was revolving around.
The truth was, he didn't want to lose his dad.
Walter had smiled his quivering smile, and Peter had felt the tremors of his hand on his cheek. "I know. But it's about time I pay for my crimes. I have done…atrocious things. Even though I would do it all over again to save you, I have to take responsibilities for my actions."
"I…destroyed an entire universe, Walter," he had managed to say. "I am the one who needs to pay."
"No, no," shaking his head, Walter had looked at him more gravely than ever. "You would never have had to make such a dreadful choice in the first place if it weren't for me. And I could never let you do this. Olivia needs you." Peter had tried to speak but his dad's trembling fingers had briefly touched his lips to shut him up. "I'm nothing but an old, broken man, Peter. I have lived my life, a life of blessings and sins. You still have your whole life in front of you, and most importantly, you have someone to love, someone who loves you and needs you. This is the most precious gift, son." He had smiled again, a heartbreaking smile. "For once, I want you to be proud of me, and not the other way around. I need you to let me do this."
And Peter had, just like Walter had let him do what needed to be done, mere months ago.
Because Walter had been right. The world needed a villain.
Peter and Olivia had spoken on his behalf of course, along with Astrid, Broyles and Nina. But it had been useless. The trial had lasted a week, even though it had been clear what the outcome would be from day one. Their world might be dying, it was still sick, always up for a 'good show'. Though Peter had faced accusations too, he had been cleared of all charges.
Because the world needed heroes as much as it needed villains, Peter had had to suffer through a short but unbearable period of unwanted celebrity. It drove him mad, that people saw his actions as something heroic, when he had killed billions of people, including his own mother and son.
All of this happened almost ten years ago. He hasn't seen Walter since. He is not even allowed to write him. The only piece of mail they have managed to get into the prison was their wedding announcement, five years ago.
So really, it makes sense that they would call him to let him know that he's had a stroke, to then refuse him access to his room.
Anger boils in his veins as he paces the hospital's waiting room. As always, he feels the urge to hit something -or someone, but he knows it wouldn't help in the least. This is simply unfathomable, though. The man had a stroke, for Christ's sake; he wouldn't even know Peter was in the room with him. But for someone like Peter, who has long ago embraced his need to care for the people he loves, being kept away like this is all sort of painful and infuriating.
"Peter."
The sound of her voice is a sweet caress to his ears, and so is the sight of her to his eyes when he turns around, as Olivia hurriedly makes her way to him, heels clicking on the hard floor. He accepts her open arms with a relieved sigh, and he clings to her maybe a bit desperately, grateful for her mere presence in this hostile place.
"How is he doing?" she asks softly, parting from their embrace just enough so that their eyes can meet.
He briefly closes his eyes, jaw set, shaking his head. "It's pretty bad, apparently. He's still unconscious, but from what they have agreed to tell me, it's almost sure that he'll have permanent physical damages."
She brings her hands up to his face. "I'm sorry," she says with pain in her eyes.
He drops his head in defeat, leaning his forehead against hers. "They won't let me see him," he says almost in a whisper, seeking comfort in the feel of her soft palms on his cheeks, as well as in the comprehension and shared ache he sees in her eyes.
"Maybe I can help," she says after a long stretch of silence, and he tilts his head slightly against hers. "I'm not the big boss just yet, but people owe me a few favors here and there. I can pull a few strings and grant you access to his room, even if it's just for you few minutes."
His first impulse is to say yes, of course. He hasn't seen him in years, and he knows it would mean the world to Walter if they saw each other, especially now.
But they live in a dying world. Through the years, Peter has developed an instinct when it comes to the politics of survival. Plus, they have discussed this possibility of seeing Walter in the past, even before this, and they had agreed that they should wait, in case they really needed his 'brain' in the future. Which is all kind of ironic, now.
After having parts of it removed, and now having suffered a stroke, Peter wonders how much of his capacity the poor man still possesses. What makes him feel even sicker is the realization that he could still be…'useful'. Though he would rather think of him as being 'helpful'.
Heart or reason, which one should he choose?
As always when in doubt, he relays on the two most important women in his life, past and present. One of them still has her gaze firmly locked with his.
The other one is a whisper in his ear and in a corner of his heart.
'Be a better man than your father.'
And he knows what Walter would choose.
He swallows hard and sighs, closing his eyes. "It's really tempting but…I don't think we should use your connections just yet."
He opens his eyes, and he knows she understands.
He just hopes his dad will understand, too.
(April 2021)
TO PART IX
A/N: Although it was not said during the episode, Walter did suffer a stroke in the future, you can see that he never uses his right side (and it was confirmed by the producers on Twitter). I felt like this story needed some Peter/Walter, too, because those two break my heart beautifully, along with P/O.
Previous parts: I. // II. // III. // IV. // V. // VI. // VII.
IN REVERSE
VIII.
The last time Peter had seen Walter, he was being escorted out of the court room. They had shared one of these 'last looks' they had already shared too many times in the past. Except that this time, they both knew it was for good.
Walter had been declared guilty of 'provoking the slow degradation of the Universe'. He had been given three life sentences.
That was the last time he had seen him. The last time they had really spoken had been a few weeks back, before he went and 'offered himself up' to the police and the rest of the angry world. 'Angry' was an understatement.
The fact that Olivia lay battered up in his bed upstairs was proof enough. The hospital had only discharged her a few hours ago -not a minute too soon according to her, and she was finally asleep, highly dosed up on painkillers.
People were scared, people were confused, people needed someone to blame. It was not that surprising that in the short amount of time that had passed since the world had started crumbling, people had come to learn that the Fringe Division was somehow connected to the atrocities happening all around.
What was not acceptable however was that those stupid people thought they could beat someone up eight against one as a mean to get answers, or some sort of revenge. The doctors had said it was a miracle she was alive at all, but they didn't know who they were talking about.
This kind of behavior tended to make Peter want to murder people. Or torture them for many, many hours.
He had not been in a good emotional place back then, and having Olivia pay for his crimes in such ways hadn't helped at all, though weak and in pain she had already repeated too many times 'It's not your fault, I'm fine, it's not your fault.'
He had found Walter standing in the hallway, in front of the door. He had his coat on. Peter had stopped in the middle of the staircase.
"What are you doing, Walter?" His voice was tired and irritated. His own anger didn't seem to fade away easily those days, especially not today.
He was expecting some kind of ramblings about needing candies, or how a midnight walk would help his bowel movements or whatever insanity the man could come up with.
"I'm going to do what I should have done weeks ago." He had answered instead. "I'm going to go to the police and take responsibility for my crimes."
He was grave and lucid, more lucid that he had seen him in weeks.
There was no changing his mind, no matter what Peter said. He was as stubborn as a donkey with a nail in his head.
He had ended up standing in the stairs, too, a hand on his son's face; his wrinkled features had been constricted with pain and regrets.
"Don't you understand what is happening, Peter?" He had asked almost desperately. "The world is going mad. The world needs a villain. It needs someone to blame and hate openly. It needs some kind of justice, or it will keep on hurting those who try to save it. And the last person in this universe who deserves to be placed in such harm ways is Olivia."
"They'll imprison you for the rest of your life, Walter," was all Peter had managed to say, eventually, his anger suddenly gone to be replaced by a kind a fear that made him feel like a boy again. Even though he could never admit it openly, his whole life had now been reduced to the few people it was revolving around.
The truth was, he didn't want to lose his dad.
Walter had smiled his quivering smile, and Peter had felt the tremors of his hand on his cheek. "I know. But it's about time I pay for my crimes. I have done…atrocious things. Even though I would do it all over again to save you, I have to take responsibilities for my actions."
"I…destroyed an entire universe, Walter," he had managed to say. "I am the one who needs to pay."
"No, no," shaking his head, Walter had looked at him more gravely than ever. "You would never have had to make such a dreadful choice in the first place if it weren't for me. And I could never let you do this. Olivia needs you." Peter had tried to speak but his dad's trembling fingers had briefly touched his lips to shut him up. "I'm nothing but an old, broken man, Peter. I have lived my life, a life of blessings and sins. You still have your whole life in front of you, and most importantly, you have someone to love, someone who loves you and needs you. This is the most precious gift, son." He had smiled again, a heartbreaking smile. "For once, I want you to be proud of me, and not the other way around. I need you to let me do this."
And Peter had, just like Walter had let him do what needed to be done, mere months ago.
Because Walter had been right. The world needed a villain.
Peter and Olivia had spoken on his behalf of course, along with Astrid, Broyles and Nina. But it had been useless. The trial had lasted a week, even though it had been clear what the outcome would be from day one. Their world might be dying, it was still sick, always up for a 'good show'. Though Peter had faced accusations too, he had been cleared of all charges.
Because the world needed heroes as much as it needed villains, Peter had had to suffer through a short but unbearable period of unwanted celebrity. It drove him mad, that people saw his actions as something heroic, when he had killed billions of people, including his own mother and son.
All of this happened almost ten years ago. He hasn't seen Walter since. He is not even allowed to write him. The only piece of mail they have managed to get into the prison was their wedding announcement, five years ago.
So really, it makes sense that they would call him to let him know that he's had a stroke, to then refuse him access to his room.
Anger boils in his veins as he paces the hospital's waiting room. As always, he feels the urge to hit something -or someone, but he knows it wouldn't help in the least. This is simply unfathomable, though. The man had a stroke, for Christ's sake; he wouldn't even know Peter was in the room with him. But for someone like Peter, who has long ago embraced his need to care for the people he loves, being kept away like this is all sort of painful and infuriating.
"Peter."
The sound of her voice is a sweet caress to his ears, and so is the sight of her to his eyes when he turns around, as Olivia hurriedly makes her way to him, heels clicking on the hard floor. He accepts her open arms with a relieved sigh, and he clings to her maybe a bit desperately, grateful for her mere presence in this hostile place.
"How is he doing?" she asks softly, parting from their embrace just enough so that their eyes can meet.
He briefly closes his eyes, jaw set, shaking his head. "It's pretty bad, apparently. He's still unconscious, but from what they have agreed to tell me, it's almost sure that he'll have permanent physical damages."
She brings her hands up to his face. "I'm sorry," she says with pain in her eyes.
He drops his head in defeat, leaning his forehead against hers. "They won't let me see him," he says almost in a whisper, seeking comfort in the feel of her soft palms on his cheeks, as well as in the comprehension and shared ache he sees in her eyes.
"Maybe I can help," she says after a long stretch of silence, and he tilts his head slightly against hers. "I'm not the big boss just yet, but people owe me a few favors here and there. I can pull a few strings and grant you access to his room, even if it's just for you few minutes."
His first impulse is to say yes, of course. He hasn't seen him in years, and he knows it would mean the world to Walter if they saw each other, especially now.
But they live in a dying world. Through the years, Peter has developed an instinct when it comes to the politics of survival. Plus, they have discussed this possibility of seeing Walter in the past, even before this, and they had agreed that they should wait, in case they really needed his 'brain' in the future. Which is all kind of ironic, now.
After having parts of it removed, and now having suffered a stroke, Peter wonders how much of his capacity the poor man still possesses. What makes him feel even sicker is the realization that he could still be…'useful'. Though he would rather think of him as being 'helpful'.
Heart or reason, which one should he choose?
As always when in doubt, he relays on the two most important women in his life, past and present. One of them still has her gaze firmly locked with his.
The other one is a whisper in his ear and in a corner of his heart.
'Be a better man than your father.'
And he knows what Walter would choose.
He swallows hard and sighs, closing his eyes. "It's really tempting but…I don't think we should use your connections just yet."
He opens his eyes, and he knows she understands.
He just hopes his dad will understand, too.
(April 2021)
TO PART IX
A/N: Although it was not said during the episode, Walter did suffer a stroke in the future, you can see that he never uses his right side (and it was confirmed by the producers on Twitter). I felt like this story needed some Peter/Walter, too, because those two break my heart beautifully, along with P/O.