Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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glaring imperfection blinds

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It's like looking into a mirror - her hips slant at the same angle when she walks towards the center of the room, an exact match in gait, red hair swishing with the swagger and a wry smile formed seconds before Liv felt the impulse.

"Ready to send me back?" the other Olivia Dunham asks, sauntering to her chair. She and Lincoln come to a stop at the edge of the interview table, and neither of them opt to sit down. They tower over this alternate Liv, though she shows no sign they are intimidating her a single bit by this action; she clearly knows their moves like they were her own.

"The equipment was right where you said it would be, and fortunately for you, the Secretary's feeling generous."

Liv leaves out that he'd deemed it safe to use – or at least no more likely to break the universe more than it was already. Lincoln understood the particulars of the matter, and the other Olivia had been deemed not a threat, currently. Purportedly, her world wasn't quite as bad off as theirs anymore, but enough to be sympathetic for the struggle and drive to find answers. A world to learn from. The term 'ally' had only been set by her willingness to cooperate and that she'd come bearing the gift of foreign science scrawled in formulas across her skin, tattoos she claimed were temporary.

"Good, my husband'll be going nuts with the mission overdue."

"You're married?" It strikes her as incredulous that in contrast this woman so like her would be married. She'd had Frank once upon a time and thought that might come to something, but not any more. There'd been no one for an age, work was it for her these days.

"You're not?" the other her replies tartly, amused.

"So...who's the lucky guy?" Lincoln says casually, aiming to diffuse the tension.

The other Liv glances at Lincoln and holds it for a moment too long. Lincoln looks between them, brow furrowed in an expression she knows as his version of utterly confused, thinking he's been ignored.

As she stares at Liv curiously, her doppelgänger breaks the silence, "Doesn't matter. Different universe, different history."

Except from all accounts it isn't, not really, not until recent events when their paths diverged technologically. Liv swallows and averts her eyes, feeling she's lost an unspoken contest with another version of herself, left with a pain that shouldn’t feel familiar.

Chapter Text

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what is deserved

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They get a shipment from another universe. Which is still a hard thing to wrap her mind around and it hurts to think about the ramifications, but years of working at Fringe Division have at least semi-prepared her for it.

Literally a ship. The licks of lettering spelling out a hastily painted "Save us" on the hull. They get to that later though - ever practical, they think of their universe first.

Lincoln is all over the tear before they get to the ship itself, ready to amber the dockside – the difficulties of sealing a rift near water notwithstanding - but the tear seals up on its own shortly after the ship passes through.

Later, he’d share with her his hypothesis for why, and after reading through the document addressed to her, she doesn't doubt it.

"It's gone, the other universe. The tear didn't lead to anything anymore so our end just closed up on it, with nothing to hold it open."

She doesn't tell him what she's read of the initial data already, the file Agent Farnsworth flagged for her attention. He'll read it eventually, though maybe not for some time considering just how much data was on the vessel. They don't even know how it was possible to open a hole this big and the science hot-shots, Lincoln included, have a long night ahead of them verifying the safety of the area. What she knows she isn't keen to discuss, so she neglects to mention that this breach had been caused by another Olivia. Grief stricken, cognizant of the impending doom for her universe, she sent the ship through with one last hope – them.

I couldn't save them. My colleagues, my friends, my family. We're all as good as dead, swallowed whole by vortexes. There wasn't enough amber in the universe to save us. Everyone prayed for salvation but it isn't coming. That's why we did this. It's too late for us but I wanted to save someone's future, it just can't be mine. - Olivia

The note doesn't say what that Olivia really meant; 'I don't deserve it' rests heavily in the spaces between the words, because there’s room enough in the ship that she could’ve saved herself, packed herself away in the hold with the rest of them. Because the data is the least of what the other universe had sent to them. The future that Olivia had wanted to save wasn't only theirs, but the future of every child huddled inside the cargo bay – and the future of a single child, a small boy found hours later as they processed their new citizens. He'd clasped a teddy bear with a data chip inside, information entirely separate from the stacks of drives and hardware stored away on the ship.

When Broyles had handed her the data pad with a solemn look, she hadn't been prepared for what it proclaimed.

The shock wears off, marginally, and she takes home this boy who isn't hers, who calls her 'Mom' and waits for her to respond, confirming it. But she can't lie, she can't slip into what he needs her to be so she tells him the truth.

"No, I'm not your mom, but I'm gonna be looking after you for a while."

He accepts her anyway, enough for the time being - a visual comfort in a world that isn't his own.

"Want Dada."

She thinks of how she felt when her father died when she was young, but doesn't attempt to address the issue. Any thing she could say sounds feeble to her ears and liable to confuse him further. Instead she tucks him into her bed, repaired teddy bear by his side and leaves the hall light on. The scotch Frank left behind when he moved out seems bewilderingly tempting about now but that would probably be irresponsible of her with a child in her apartment. As it is, she’s not really sure how to even look after a four year old.

Lincoln turns up at her door near midnight, unusually monosyllabic and lacking the cheeky grin he tends to reserve for charming his way into her home. Broyles has told him the details of the situation; the resultant melancholy the truth creates is easy to read on his face.

He watches Trevor sleep through the doorway to her bedroom before he joins her on the couch. She's staring at the wall when he finally speaks.

"We could look after him, you and I."

She can't bring herself to look at him as she blasts the fantasy out of the sky, "We're not his parents, Lincoln."

"We could be," he says. It's barely more than a whisper, an echo of a longing she pushes down.

She thinks of all that would entail. Sharing custody, swapping him from her apartment to Lincoln’s every week - that’d be too stressful on the kid. The likely outcome would be for Lincoln to come here, helping out with increasing frequency, eagerly trying to be a father to this boy. He'd end up nearly moving in and they'd probably move to a larger place together to give him his own room, making for strange sort of family, divided.

The thing is, she can picture them together; laughing, sharing in some joke, his arm linked around her waist, leaning in for a kiss and it being effortless in some future, a natural progression from what they have.

She might even want that more than just for this boy but then she thinks of the responsibility she has, to her world and the people living there, a whole universe depending on Fringe Division. Fringe Division is her life, Lincoln's too, and their best hope.

"He needs stability. Don't worry, they'll find him a home."

Lincoln doesn't correct her, doesn't highlight that being with them, or simply with her, would be stability enough since she’s almost identical to the boy’s mother. She's grateful he doesn't push her on the matter because as much as she might be like Trevor's mom, she isn't. They aren't his loving parents, just similar versions to remind him that it's not his first home, his true home.

The stability she plans to give him is a world that isn't broken.

Chapter Text

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a shadow of doubt

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She's speechless when she sees him on the Bridge. Smooth downed hair, chunky black glasses, a caricature of the Lincoln she knew - this one seems like the science dork she and Charlie would tease him about being secretly. Later during the meeting, she’d found that this Lee was quiet and contemplative. He's not much for words but still as sharp and competent as she'd expect from any Lincoln Lee.

Yet another thing their universe has that hers doesn't.

"You okay?" Olivia asks after the debriefing, in an unexpected turn of friendliness. Liv isn’t fooled; it's being polite more than anything else.

"Fine," Liv says, setting her face in a mask against weakness. She doesn't want anyone's pity, least of all hers.

But it doesn't get less shocking to see Agent Lee walking about, to see his unmarred face, to see him in motion whilst her Lincoln remains in her memories only as grotesque images on the report she'd read after her extraction – it was not the homecoming she'd dreamed of. This Lincoln wasn’t seared out of existence by a bomb with Charlie watching Joshua Rose's apartment going up in smoke; this Olivia never abandoned him (she knows it's because they hadn't known each other then - yet - but the accusation shows on her double's righteous face). They work as one, standing as a united front that is patient and reserved as they cooperate with her universe, in a partnership that hasn't burnt out.

He confronts her one day, probably concerned by her alternating stares and aversion to him. She tries to keep her hand steady as she pours a cup of coffee, keen not to spill any of the precious treat and trying to not let on how much his presence affects her. He may be Lincoln Lee, but he's from the other side and not her friend, not someone she trusts implicitly. She has to drill that difference into her, recondition herself, and she hates how she’s losing some of her Lincoln in destroying old habits.

"Olivia told me your Lincoln died, in the line of duty."

"Yep," she says curtly, simply confirming the statement.

"If you want me to excuse myself from meetings that you're at, I will. I can just as easily read the reports on my own."

"Why would I want you to do that?" she asks too brightly, faking confusion.

"Isn’t it hard for you to see me, looking like him?" he knits his brow as he asks, much like she remembers. It’s the small things like that which make it hard.

"I'm over it," she lies. It's easy to lie to him, as one of them; she learned to distance herself from people from their side while she was over there. Maybe they're not monsters in the sameskins anymore, what with the brokering of peace, however having the visage of a friend raised from the dead doesn’t make him less troubling.

But it’s harder to lie to herself and she thinks if anyone could tell, he would be the one. If he can, he hasn't mentioned it.

"Good," he doesn't sound like he means it. It’s evident to him that she’s pushed him aside. The one word is said tersely, pained almost, despite that it isn't him she’s lost. "I'm glad we've cleared that up."

"One thing – you and her, you ever, you know?"

He blushes and looks down, blinking, "Uh, no. Olivia and I, we're just...We're partners."

"You?" he prompts in return, with an inquisitiveness and daring she recognises, catching her off guard. They're not that different after all, a realization she's been avoiding since she met him.

She smiles broadly and forces a laugh as to indicate that the idea was implausible.

He purses his lips and leaves after a moment when someone calls for him, unsure what to make of the conversation.

His eyes had avoided hers as he'd answered, but she saw the look that he had given her before he'd fully composed himself and she knew that was his real answer.

It doesn't help to know it.

Chapter Text

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it's you and me

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"I love you."

He blurts out the words like an idiot. They’re heartfelt and sincere but it’s really just trying to avoid saying goodbye, trying to stave off the inevitable.

And he promises to save her child, clasps her hand tight until he hears the cries of her baby.

"He made it," Lincoln exclaims, elation creeping into the words alongside the desperation he feels.

Then he looks down at her, motionless and he holds his breath, willing her to take one, to live. She can't die like this. He'd imagined her going out in glory, you and me together. She can't die before him - it's inconceivable, wrong on a universal scale.

"He's fine," the reassurance comes out strangled, his voice wavering as he tries to breathe even though she's not. He says it like it makes any difference to her, like it's all she needs to wake up. Tears roll down his cheeks and drop onto her hand, fingers loose around his now.

He reaches for the baby and the taxi driver helps settle the boy on Liv's chest, so he might know his mother just this once.

Lincoln cradles her and tries to smile at her closed eyes and too peaceful face. Only small blue eyes stare back up, "You have a son. Hear that Liv, a son."

Then there's an ambulance and paramedics pulling him away from her, taking the baby away too. He protests, but they insist there are procedures to follow.

"Are you the father?" they ask.

The paramedic kneeling beside her checks her pulse and shakes his head and Lincoln's torn between staying with her, stealing a few precious moments with Liv, and staying with the baby.

He promised.

"I have to stay with him," he instructs. The paramedics nod and that gets him in the ambulance with Liv's son as he watches them place his friend on a stretcher.

“We’re sorry - she didn’t make it.”

The lie comes later. He's questioned by the authorities, he updates them and Charlie both with details, keeping it to the point so he can stay functional in front of them. He should be trying to track down who did this, but Liv is dead and her son is the other side of the plexiglas. His priorities are different now and he can't rest yet and, frankly, Fringe Division isn't top of the list anymore. He trusts Charlie to hold the fort for the time being, to cover for his absence.

The earlier instruction turns into an assumption which turns into his name inked onto paperwork and it propagates till the hospital staff think he's the father. The medics are careful with their queries, but he doesn't bother correcting them, using it to his advantage to earn a place by the baby's side. When they ask for his name for the birth certificate, he spells it out for them and prays that he can get away with it for long enough. If anyone contests it, then they’d be forced to do a DNA test and his claim wouldn’t hold. But Peter Bishop doesn't exist here, and the only person with enough interest would be the Secretary of Defence. He's sure that the Secretary would put up a fight if he did want his grandson, but he hasn’t made any motions so far and in the meantime, Lincoln figures that he can manage.

Much later, he realizes he'll have to lie to Marilyn too, and the thought pains him. But when she's standing next to him on the brink of tears looking at her grandson the words come easily because he wants to believe them and he thinks that she does, too. She envelops Lincoln in a hug and he's anchored a little bit against the nightmare playing out behind his eyes. He thinks the lie isn't quite so bad - it’s a protection and almost a comfort to her mom but he doesn’t know if it’s an attempt at self-justification. Either way, it is done.

The Secretary politely requests for him to visit him the next day, and Lincoln makes sure Charlie is with Marilyn at the hospital, in order to have more eyes looking out for Liv's baby.

Naturally, the Secretary is less than pleased at the turn of events but Lincoln already has hashed out justifications that he'd come up with in the sleepless night. Peter's non-existence here, Lincoln's position at Fringe Division and his awareness of the other universe are enough points for the Secretary to accept it as the simplest solution, as anything else would risk further complications. He suspects the Secretary would’ve preferred direct custody of his grandson, but the Secretary seems to be willing to settle for this for his own reasons.

Before he steps out the door, he turns to the Secretary, "I want you to know this isn't just a job to me. I promised her I'd look out for her son."

The Secretary looks at him, expression unreadable and Lincoln meets the man’s gaze. He wonders what possessed him to make a thinly veiled threat to the most powerful man in the nation.

Lincoln reminds himself that he isn’t the boy’s father. Except the world seems to think he is and in honesty, he wants to be and he needs to be. He had always been willing to do anything for Liv and now that she’s gone, her son is the last remaining link to her that he has.

He moves into Liv's apartment with the baby, if only to help immerse himself into the role and it's a good thing that he knows his way around, since Marilyn insists on helping in raising her grandson. He can't visit them as often as he wants with the increasing frequency in breaches, but he's there in Tarrytown every morning and night.

Marilyn brings up the topic of naming a week in, and he drops the feeding spoon on the tray of the high chair, all too aware of the enormity in naming Liv's son. He tries to have Marilyn name the boy, but she’s insistent and presses him for a name.

"Oliver. Oliver Henry." he declares without thought. Marilyn's face crumples and he’s convinced it’s completely wrong but then she smiles.

"It's perfect," she cries and surprises him with a hug, reminding him how tactile Dunham women are (or were). He surprises himself with tears, the fear and grief tight in his throat because it isn’t his right and it should be Liv’s choice. The truth wells up and threatens to escape, but he promised to look out for Liv’s son (Oliver) and that’s the path he's on. He prays that it leads to safety and will take them out of the woods.

In the days that follow, he's not so sure if it's perfect and he regrets acting in haste. When he catches himself pronouncing the start of another name, he wonders if it really was a good idea at all even if they never called her by her full name. He'd loved the name, Olivia, same as the woman who bore it. But Liv was who she was - fast paced and spirited, gone from the world in a flash of fire warming and burning their hearts, leaving an indelible mark.

"Hey there, little Ollie, time for a nap."

He doesn't regret his choice to lie the rest of the world, even if he’s sure that it’ll backfire on him eventually. Charlie likes to remind him about it and reckons that either Frank or Secretary Bishop will come for him eventually.

They’re both aware something is going on with the head of the D.O.D that they aren't privy to. Lincoln's patient though - he'll figure out what he can with Charlie and somehow he'll keep his promise.

He feels a gut wrenching guilt when he catches himself enjoying his time with Oliver, before he closes in on the fact that she's never walking through that door to join him.

Realities shift, their lives reshape into something else.

He wakes up in the middle of the night with an inescapable urge to talk to Liv. It's 2.23 AM and since he isn't near death or at a Fringe event - the two seem to come together - he forgoes phoning her because he'd like to retain use of his limbs. He lets the suffocating feeling pass, tries uselessly to get some rest. He can't describe the sense of relief he has when she walks into the office in the morning and he has no clue why he's that happy to see her, but it's Liv, so he writes it off as the stupid thing he has for her that he's never been able to get past.

"What you grinning at doofus?" she acts like she might actually want to know.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," he attempts to dial down his cheer a notch, "How's Frank? He finished curing half of Iowa from the next big pandemic yet?"

Chapter Text

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spot the difference

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He moved to another universe, to her universe, but she isn't egotistical enough to think it's for her.

Maybe a small part for her, but it's probably more to escape his Olivia and Peter Bishop. An Olivia who he confessed chose to forget who she was to become another Olivia, erasing any relationships she had previously. It's obvious that he likes her as well, and it surprises her to see it on his face when he’s looking at her. It’s strange to think that there’s a Lincoln that’s so open, compared to her Lincoln who always found circumstance to hide his feelings. Sometimes, she thinks there's a comfort in how different he is and sometimes it's a comfort how alike they are.

But it never gets to be both. His presence is a mixed bag, leaving her with an ache that he can't fix by being.

He offers up anecdotes about his life to her when there’s time. She already knows so many of them but doesn’t tell him and lets the awkwardness belong to her alone. He's happy and she wants to be happy for him, with him, but it isn't working. He grows familiar and it only hurts to pretend – this isn’t normal, this isn't right. She's on edge by his side, off-kilter when she looks at Lincoln Lee. She wants to see her Lincoln Lee; he can change his clothes, take off his glasses, learn habits and humor but there's no fooling her into thinking he's hers.

She can't meet his lips when he leans over to kiss her, a daring move that flares deja vu because this will be it. Another step and he’d surpass her Lincoln, who had only a single kiss, and then he'll become her Lincoln but she isn't ready. He's handed her his heart and she can't take it.

He puts in for a transfer eventually and the first he informs her of it is when it's accepted, with a slim smile and words of how much he's going to miss her. She already knows how he feels - life won't be the same. It might be worse for him, out of place in a different universe, to lose the same woman twice by her own choice. Of course she's not the same woman, any more than he's the same man as her previous partner. Which is exactly why she couldn't continue accepting him as a replacement - it isn’t fair on either of them to keep the wound open and festering.

She knows Charlie will miss Lincoln as much as her but he breathes a sigh of relief as they watch Lincoln leave, farewells done.

"You did the right thing in the end, kiddo. We all gotta move on."

But Lincoln never really did, neither here or there. She's forced him to move on, this other him as well as herself, and that feels like a larger betrayal to the man she knew. He'd want her to be happy and she's floundering, lost without him even though she never thought she'd needed him. She knows she doesn't need anyone, but she does want someone and that’s another dead dream she needs to forget.

Chapter Text

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No one ever realises how their fate hung on the intent of one man, who would give himself up to save his family and condemn another, including his own son, unknowingly. This time he has slightly different words in his head, a slightly different bent to the emotions.

Everything is different this time, everything stays the same.

---

Liv never has to have a conversation with Peter about his son, which is both a curse and a blessing. She doesn't escape talking about it with Olivia; she doesn’t try to avoid it as Peter should know about his son and it seems like an easier thing to say to herself. Odds are it won’t ever matter since they can't extract Peter - he's powering the Bridge somehow and the Walter from the other side had been speculating if Peter would even survive if the machine was turned off. But it doesn't change her desire to tell their side about Peter’s son - she owes them that much.

Predictably, neither one of them wants to have a discussion but they have it anyway. Olivia avoids asking Liv about her feelings and asks only for necessary details, sparing an accusatory glare when she meets Liv's eyes. Olivia doesn't ask how did you let this happen? Did you want it? Do you want him? Nothing is going to allay her concerns - Liv knows because she wouldn’t be satisfied in that position.

Olivia does want to see Henry. She takes a photo with her phone, asking Liv to put him down on the couch. Olivia is trying not to take a photo of Henry with her, Liv knows. The memento is for Peter, for the day he steps out of the machine. Behind her Lincoln, there for moral support, bristles at the behaviour and she knows he disapproves of dancing around the fact that she is the mother of this child, that Henry isn't only Peter's son.

Henry starts crying and Liv leaves the room to fetch a bottle, but he stops wailing in short time, before she comes back, and Liv discovers why when she reenters. She finds Lincoln gently rocking him, with Olivia standing near, and Henry has his hand fisted around her finger. Liv realizes that it's the first time she's seen Olivia smile genuinely. She feels a pang of something like jealousy at seeing that woman with her son and Lincoln, looking as if she could belong here, like she had been in those weeks they'd been swapped.

"Hey Liv, come here. We're not done with the photos. One last snap."

She frowns a little, spying the exchange of looks from Lincoln to Olivia, the subtle nod the woman gives. She isn’t sure just what Lincoln said to Olivia to make her more relaxed, but Liv doesn’t get a chance to ask as he hands Henry to her. Once Henry is suckling on the bottle, Lincoln makes to move but doesn't shift away, out of shot, instead he slinks his arm over her shoulder and presses against her, beaming at Olivia.

"You'd make one hell of a cute family," Olivia says as she readies the camera.

"At least one Dunham recognises my charms."

"We're – I mean, we're not -"

Lincoln nudges her and raises his eyebrows in a look that says not now, muttering, "Liv, just take the compliment."

She smiles and with a click the deed is done and Olivia departs shortly after. Lincoln’s not let off so easily - Liv stands in front of the door, even though he hardly looks inclined to depart. Given the amount of time he's been spending here, she'd probably have better luck withholding entry as a tactic instead.

"Linc, you're not leaving until you tell me what you said to her to make her so damn cheery."

"I didn't say anything."

"Uh-huh. I believe you."

"Who can resist a good looking guy holding a baby," he says with a shrug, rocking Henry and grinning at her.

"Me, for one," she removes Henry from his arms and places him in the bassinet resting on the couch.

"Honestly, I didn't say anything," he pleads and moves to sit down, "Really. It was more what she said."

"I'm listening."

"She wanted to know where Frank was"

Suddenly she couldn't quite look at Lincoln and he’s focusing on Henry in his bassinet.

"I told her you had plenty of people around to help out; your mom, Charlie... Me."

"That answer satisfy her?"

"She cares, you know. Or maybe you don't know, but she does."

"She's just scared I'll want Peter for myself."

He doesn't ask'do you?', but she's sure he's as desperate as Olivia to know.

"She told me thanks," he’s attempting to distract from the point in question that neither of them wants to address.

"What for?" her tone is sharper than she intends.

"For being her friend when she was over here."

He's still gazing at Henry. She's looking at him though and she wants him to look at her and recognize how hard it is for her, how hard the mission was. He must know already - he avoids missteps in his phrasing and manages to make her sound distinct but Liv doesn't want to avoid the issue anymore.

"When she was me you mean."

The blunt statement gets him to look at her, his expression unguarded and earnest, "That doesn't change anything. I happen to like all Olivia Dunham's, so shoot me."

Her lips twitch into a lopsided grin, "You know, I could."

She slouches onto the empty space on the couch with Henry between them, all attention on him as she strokes his tiny foot and Lincoln makes absurd faces at him.

"Just so long as she doesn't get any ideas about stealing you in retaliation."

"Watch it Liv, you make it sound like you have some sort of claim on me," he tilts his head and his lips quirk into a smile, "Last time I checked, I'm my own man and your boss."

She smiles at him weakly in return, amused at the odd charade they play where they pretend like he isn't in love with her and she knows it. She almost reaches out across the air to touch his arm but thinks better of it and enjoys the moment, but not alone.

When it's time to turn the Bridge off in order to stop David Robert Jones' insane plan, Liv gives up on the idea of her son knowing his father. Peter is still hung up there, taut across the space of the machine with IV's and other cables maintaining his body. The overload designed to shut down the machine could kill him or free him, but everyone agreed it was worth the risk.

Olivia has dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes and Liv envies her since she'll know how it turns out. But Olivia has to live with whichever it is, while she gets to withdraw somehow blissfully ignorant.

"I thought you might want this," Olivia hands over half the strip from the photo booth, the shots taken when Peter had thought her his Olivia on a date, a souvenir she'd felt certain either Olivia or Peter would’ve destroyed long ago.

"I also thought you should have this."

She decides that this Olivia is big on pictures, as the second item she passes to her is a print out of the photo of her, Henry and Lincoln.

"I know you...loved Peter, in some way, because I do too. But I hope you'll let yourself love again, and I don’t just mean Henry."

Olivia doesn't say he's a good guy or he loves you – they're true but obvious. She's confessing to wanting Liv to be happy, and Liv knows in this moment Lincoln was completely right. Olivia does care despite every wrong Liv's committed - she might well be a better version of herself whose willing to forgive, one that deserves Peter. Liv remembers what she read of the experiments that Walter had done to Olivia as a child, and at the time she'd been unable to fathom how that could be put aside by the woman.

"There's a lot of things about you that I wish I had. There's a lot of things about you that I admire. And apparently there's always a bright side with you, isn't there. " Liv smiles, glad to see her in another light before they part and finally appreciating the opportunity to see her as not the enemy.

"Like a rainbow after the rain. " Olivia replies with a brief awkward smile, clearly bemused Liv sees her so differently from how she sees herself.

"We haven't had one of those in, oh, twenty years. After our world started to repair itself, I began to imagine that the people from my side would start to see them again. You know, something so beautiful. So perfect. I still find myself looking up after it rains. "

The countdown reaches the final minute and they separate, stepping back to their respective halves of the room. As they stand in line opposite each other, Olivia calls out to her, "Keep looking up. After it rains."

Liv replies, with a glance up to Peter, "You too. Keep looking up."

To her side, Lincoln faces Broyles on the other side, sharing a sharp accepting nod with his counterpart. In the last few seconds she reaches out, her hand finding his. Suddenly Olivia smiles warmly at her and Liv can't resist doing so too, even as she feels disappointed she'll never see her again.

She hopes they all get the happy ending they need.