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fic: 'livia, pg

Title: 'Livia
Author: purely_distel
Rating: PG
Genre: Sad, dark
Characters/Pairings: Olivia/Peter
Spoilers: Hmm, not really. future!fic or AU, whatever way you swing
Disclaimer: not mine, it all belongs to the strawberries!
Summary: Peter writes Olivia a letter.
Author's Note: Well, another one of those little things for jjverse.


'Livia,

sometimes, strange things happen in your life, you and me probably know that better than anyone. And I am not just talking about multiple universes and teleportation or the fact that Gene ate my hat earlier ... to be quite honest I am not entire sure what I am talking about.
All I know is that right now, looking through the window, Walter and Astrid are working furiously on deciphering the code and you are off with Charlie and Broyles trying to find the missing parts and I am sitting here ... and I do nothing. I can't. All around us, the world is coming to an end, there is no denying it. We can try ignoring it, doing what we can to prevent it, fight it and I know that I will fight it until, well, the end. I know you will, too. Why then, you probably ask, am I sitting here, useless, lazy, doing nothing?
Because, for once, I am not the optimistic one. I mean, not that I am the most optimistic person anyway but between the two of us, you and me, somehow usually I end up playing that role. It doesn't fit me well but I try my best. And that is just the thing. Why do I do that? Why am I even here? three years ago, I would have told everyone to fuck off, packed my bags and made the best of my time in some other part of the world. Three years ago, if the world turned to shit I would have been the first one to call it what it is.
But I am not that person any more. I don't want to run, I don't want to hide and I don't want to be dark. And it scares the crap out of me.

I guess what I am trying to say is ... I am doing it for you. All of it. Knowing that you are here with me, with us, it makes me want to stay. I don't need to run any more.

I think this is what I needed to do. Write this, acknowledge ... this.

It's done, it's out there and now all we can do is hope for the best. Or some shit like that.

Please, live, get through this. How else could I love you, if you were dead?

Peter