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Her world lies in tatters, chaos reigns all around them: universes collided, time lines were rewritten, histories changed at the drop of a hat or the flip of a switch or however the hell they managed it.
As she stands there, on a foggy night in some abandoned street on the outskirts of New York City, nothing makes sense anymore.
Almost nothing.
"Are you okay?"
Olivia looks at him. Special Agent Lincoln Lee, her colleague, her partner of five months, her friend (well, perhaps a bit more than a friend), but she doesn't answer his question.
She can't, not just yet.
A few feet away, she hears shouting — screaming; "Those bastards! How could they! They erased my baby! Your baby! And you started it all! You and that damned machine!"
It's the other Olivia, furious, hysterical, all wild hair and waving arms. She slaps Peter Bishop right across the face.
He flinches, but doesn't breathe a word. He acts like he actually deserved that. Did he?
Olivia swallows thickly. Her mind is reeling — a baby?
Lincoln grabs her hand.
She's reminded of a happier evening a few weeks ago, right before the world as she knew it collapsed around her ears, before she found out, before she started to remember... him.
Dinner with Lincoln, a good talk, some drinks, smiles, casual touches that lingered and really weren't that casual at all, an almost kiss.
She went to bed happy that night, or at least happier than she'd been in a long time, but then...
Peter Bishop.
Does she resent him for coming back?
Surely not. She loved him deeply once. Or some version of her did. It's hard to know exactly. It's difficult to tell them apart, the actual memories from the rewritten ones.
Either way, things change, as do people, and recollections of feelings from the past don't necessarily reshape the present.
Olivia notices their Walter looks relieved, clearly overjoyed to have his son back.
His counterpart from the other universe is nowhere to be seen. This is probably a good thing.
A Jeep arrives. Charlie Francis climbs out. He strides over to where the other Olivia continues to scream at Peter.
Charlie doesn't speak, just grabs her. Shrieks become anguished sobs, anger turns into despair as she cries in his arms.
Charlie doesn't say a word to Peter, either, he acts like the man isn't even standing there with his mouth agape and his brow furrowed in confusion and disappointment.
Olivia thinks she understands: the other Olivia lost her Lincoln to a sniper and grew closer to Charlie, whereas she, herself, lost her Charlie to a shapeshifter years ago and...
Two universes. Different, yet the same.
"Liv?" It's Lincoln again.
Olivia turns to look at him, his eyes worried behind those glasses.
She takes a deep breath. This is here, this is now, this is real. Nothing else matters; Not what went before, whichever past is truly hers, memories fade, and with enough time and distance, so do feelings.
She takes one more glance at Peter. Charlie and the other Olivia have left. He's talking to Walter now, and Astrid.
Things seem peaceful.
Almost back to normal.
And Olivia supposes they are.
Her world may lie in tatters, but life will go on. The sun will come up tomorrow and perhaps one day the shards scattered at her feet will turn out to be tiny pieces fitting into a much larger puzzle.
"Are you okay?" Lincoln asks her again.
"Yes," she says, as she moves closer and wraps her arms around him.
Surprised, but certainly not unpleasantly so, he returns the embrace.
"Yes."