Disclaimer: I don't own anything and I dont make any money at this. Dont sue me because I'm poor and you wont get anything. Fringe rules.

Peter Bishop drifted through the throng of emergency vehicles converging on the abandoned hospital, leaving a stunned Olivia Dunham in his wake.

Peter had intended to - well, to be honest, he hadn't known what he intended to do. So he found himself aimlessly wandering the dim streets of Boston, in a sort of Zen state of not wanting to think, until his late night meandering brought him back to the campus of Harvard University.

He found a familiar bench along the river and, gathering his coat around himself, sat down. It was here, ages ago and universes away, he had brushed his fingers across the back of Olivia's hand and told her she wasn't alone.

Peter smirked at the irony. He watched the sun rise, and the crimson light brought him a measure of peace.

When the sun was once again a golden orb, he decided to get the day started. Out of habit, he fished through his pockets for his phone, and found to his muted annoyance that it was missing. Oh well, who would he have called?

He was dimly aware, on some airy level of his consciousness, that he wasn't exactly of sound mind. The effects of over twenty four hours without sleep, the revelations while in the Observer's mind, and general stress were definitely taking their toll on his mental faculties.

Peter let his feet decide where to go next, and soon found himself back at the lab.

"Peter!" Walter looked up from the electric griddle he was bending over, "I was just about to start break..."

Walters eyebrows raised in alarm when he took in the sight of the young man before him. Peter was disheveled, with rising bruises on his head and neck, skin pallid, with dark circles underneath his eyes.

"Uh...Oh dear. Peter have you...slept?" Walter asked.

Peter merely shrugged and peered about.

"They're looking for you, you know?" Walter said. "Agent Van Buren called about a half hour ago. Have you talked with him?"

Peter shrugged again, and swayed like a tree in the breeze. Walter took his elbow and guided him to a nearby stool.

"Here...you have a seat. I'll go get something for those cuts..."

Walter disappeared into the bowels of the lab. When he reappeared at Peter's side, he was carrying his medical bag.

"Now...let's see what we can do about this..." he said.

Peter dimly saw a metallic glint at the edge of his vision, and felt a sharp pain in his neck. He stared dumbly at the empty syringe in Walters hand.

"What was that?" Peter's voice was hollow, Walter thought, uninterested.

"Thiopental. You're getting some sleep, whether you want to, or not. Now put your arm across my shoulders...there we go. I'd rather not have to drag you all the way across the lab, if I can help it."

Astrid Farnsworth walked into the lab, half an hour later, expecting to find Doctor Bishop making breakfast. When she found the electric skillet out, but no insane scientist, she became alarmed and started a search of the lab.

She found Peter, naked and unconscious, sprawled on Walters bed. Walter appeared at the doorway, his hands carrying an assortment of surgical tubing and a tube of lubricant.

"Ah! Aspergillis! You're just in time to help me with Peter's catheter!"

Lincoln Lee nudged his eyeglasses up from his nose and rubbed his eyes.

"So did Doctor Bishop have a scientific reason to put Peter into a medically induced coma? Or did he just need a guinea pig?"

Walter cut Astrid off before she could reply.

"Of course I had a reason! I suspected his trip into the Observer's mind may have disturbed his mental processes considerably. The Thiopental will tamp down the electrical activity in his brain, and hopefully he'll wake in a...reasonably normal mental state. I explained all of this last night!"

Astrid shook her head. "No, you didn't."

Walter looked puzzled. "I didn't?"

"No." Astrid insisted.

"Oh. Well I certainly meant to." Walter said remorsefully.

Lee sighed in exasperation. "We should get Peter to the hospital."

"There's nothing a hospital can do about this that I can not." interrupted Walter, "Actually, there is a lot that I can do that a hospital can not."

Lee glared at the older man. "Putting him in a coma is dangerous!"

"Nonsense! I put myself into a coma all the time!"

"My point exactly." Lee sighed, "How long is he going to be out?"

"About eighteen hours. Give or take an hour." Walter said.

"Eighteen hours? Ugh. We need someone here watching over him constantly. I'm going to go pick Olivia up from the hospital. So Astrid, stay here with Walter and keep an eye on Peter."

Astrid covered Peter's naked form with a blanket. Fortunately for everyone involved, she'd managed to convince Walter that he didn't need a catheter.

She could only imagine the father-son battle that would ignite when the younger Bishop woke up with a rubber tube up his urethra.

And truthfully, Astrid secretly hoped he'd wet the bed. Walter deserved no less.

She turned and screamed when confronted by the sight of a man wearing a grey suit and fedora. Then she drew her gun and leveled the sights on his chest.

"Don't move!" she commanded.

Walter appeared at the door, drawn by her scream.

"I need to speak to the Boy." The Observer declared.

Astrid and Walter looked at each other.

"If you mean Peter, you can't. He's in a Thiopental induced coma to recover from his ordeal." said Walter.

The Observer showed emotion for the first time they'd seen. He looked distinctly annoyed.

"That is...inconvenient." The Observer said.

Then both the Observer and Peter disappeared.