SUMMARY: She does not want to share her name with that woman any more than she wants to share her sheets or her clothes or her hairbrush.
SPOILERS: Through episode 3x08 "Entrada."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: A little season three ficlet I wrote for steph0202 for leverageland's Halloween Week(end) Bash Gift Giving Challenge.
Olivia can’t bring herself to think of her doppelganger by name. Not by her own name, nor by any variations thereupon. Walter has come up with a succession of clever nicknames—Fauxlivia, Otherlivia, Altlivia—but she quells each and every one of them with an icy glare. She does not want to share her name with that woman any more than she wants to share her sheets or her clothes or her hairbrush.
Olivia loves a good single-malt scotch. But thanks to Her, she can also remember what it feels like to detest the taste of alcohol. Every once in a while she’ll take a sip and forget that she’s supposed to like it. For a split second she has to fight the urge to gag, before she remembers who she is.
Olivia does not love Frank. But she can’t seem to stop remembering what it feels like to love Frank. The sound of his laughter. The taste of his lips. The smell of him in her bed—their bed. Her skin crawls at the memory, yet sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night and reaches out for him before she remembers that he does not belong there.
Olivia loves Peter. She is almost certain this is true. Or maybe it just used to be true. Before She came and ruined everything. Now when she looks at Peter all she sees is betrayal. She imagines him smiling at Her, kissing Her, running his hands over Her body. And it doesn’t seem to matter that it wasn’t his fault. That he was just as betrayed as she was—more betrayed than she was, even.
She wants to love him. That should count for something. So she waits. One day, she tells herself, the false memories will fade, along with the sense of betrayal. One day, she will be able to love Peter again.
She almost believes it, too.