Peter Bishop | 3.11 Reciprocity

(asked by glyphtastic)

You know, I remember when we used to come down here during the summers. Mom and I. You were always still working back in the city. I’d stand out here on the beach for hours, looking at the ocean. It used to seem like it went on forever. And on Saturdays… I’d always wake up just before my alarm. I could smell the pancakes… which meant that you were here. I’d creep down the stairs, and there’d you be… standing over the stove, flipping pancakes. You seemed so big back then. I’d just stand there watching you. And you’d always flip one of the pancakes.

I realized at that moment that despite what I’d promised, what I fully intended to do, that I could never take Peter back. The way she looked at him, I saw in her what I feared most in myself when I saw him… I couldn’t lose him again. It was the first hole, Olivia. The first breach. The first crack in a pattern of cracks, spaces between the worlds. And it’s my fault. You can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a child.