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quirkysmuseFandom: Fringe
Title: Open Sessions
Author: Paynesgrey
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,118
Characters/Pairings: Olivia Dunham, Sam Weiss (slight Sam/Olivia)
Genre: Introspective/Friendship
Spoilers: Season 2, "Dream Logic"
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe or make profit from it.
Summary: Olivia visits Sam again and realizes how much she needs him.
Pins crashing and loading, bowling balls groaning down the alley, are becoming familiar sounds. Olivia walks through the doors, her head craning to find the reason she’s even come here: Sam Weiss.
She finds him behind his desk, cleaning shoes, organizing paperwork and money, and humming the Steve Miller Band. He looks disinterested, and he doesn’t even inquire about her presence. She’s sure he’s known she’s arrived since her SUV parked in the lot.
She stops. Every time she walks into this place and sees Sam, Olivia thinks about turning around and leaving. She feels silly, as if he can really help her. She thinks Nina Sharp must be mistaken or politely exaggerating Sam’s talent.
He’s proved himself to her though, with vague wisdom and thinly-veiled encouragement. He angers her sometimes, pushing her resolve, when in reality it’s silly of her to even feel the annoyance. She wants to be fixed, and Sam is her only hope. Sometimes she thinks he’s delaying her for other reasons. Olivia thinks Sam knows a secret to heal her faster, and he’s just not telling her. He makes her suspicious; he makes her feel…
Shoes slam on the counter, her size, and Olivia comes back from whatever shadowed place she was hiding to meet his eyes, soft and eons older than what they appear.
Olivia watches him with suspicion still brimming at the tips of her senses. Dutifully, she takes the shoes. Her hands no longer shake as she picks them up and dips her hands underneath the laces. She sits at the lane she’s comfortable with, the lane she’s sat in before, and she sets her things in the cold plastic seat beside her.
“Not that one,” Sam says, and he points to the lane all the way on the other end of the building. Olivia’s mouth gapes, and she glares at him. Yoda-Sam just wants her to get a bit of exercise.
“How’s the leg?” he asks, following behind her down to the farthest lane.
“Fine, better,” she says quickly.
“And yet you still came,” Sam says with a small yet humorous scoff.
Olivia turns around, offended. Sam does that to her. She feels offended even before he opens his mouth, as if she knows she’s not going to like what he’s going to say or do to her. “But the headaches. Even though I remember everything, I’m still feeling these… sensations.”
They reach the lane, and Sam slips past her, picking up a heavy 16-lb ball already in the tray. Olivia waits for a response, feeling an odd sense of desperation. She still wants Sam to make her better, all of her, from the memories right down to the kinks and pops she’s feeling in her knees.
“Normal side effects,” Sam says, and Olivia’s eyes travel with the ball as he rolls it down the lane. He gets a split, and rather than exasperation, Sam seems amused.
“So… I didn’t need to come here,” Olivia says dejectedly. Maybe Sam can only do so much, she thinks. It’s depressing. As much as she loathes Sam’s methods, coming here was becoming a comforting constant.
“You can come here any time you like, Agent Dunham,” he says formally. “Though, I might have to start charging you for the shoes.”
Olivia purses her lips, unsure whether she should appreciate the joke. Sam smiles at her, and she feels oddly relaxed by it. She admits to never leaving this place disappointed. Instead, she feels lulled, satiated, with the memory of Sam’s touch as he ties her shoes, or how his eyes roam over her, seeing within cracks and nooks of her existence that no one else will ever dare to reach.
She wonders what he can see. Olivia imagines Sam can see everything, but her rational mind tells her Sam really sees nothing. He’s just a guy that’s been there before; who knows the answers to an equation that does not exist in this time.
Olivia sighs and leans back in the chair; Sam is still watching her as her eyes travel elsewhere. “Maybe I will come here. I haven’t bowled since…” She can’t even remember. She smiles lightly. “Well, it never crosses my mind.”
Sam steps toward her, and he sits in the chair beside her. Olivia can feel his thigh brush up against hers. He leans over and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares into her face; again, he’s searching.
“You’ll never be completely whole, Olivia. Even I can’t do that for you,” Sam states. Olivia nods, and Sam’s humility is refreshing.
“I know, but there are things…awful things are going to happen soon. I’ll be caught in the middle of it,” she says, feeling the sense of foreboding already clouding over her.
Sam’s eyes are in her lap as he takes her hand. “You’ll be fine,” he says, reminding her of their last experiment with the business cards.
“So someone has told me,” she says, and she gives his hand a squeeze, and suddenly she feels frozen there, with Sam, his warmth against her palm, and his soft eyes looking into hers again, calm and supportive. Her gaze shifts to his hair, and for the first time, Olivia realizes how attractive he is, that there are parts of Sam she hasn’t even seen before.
Idly, she’s curious and wonders about his past, his life, and to even pry that information from him exhilarates her. He lets go of her hand, and Olivia looks away. Before he can read the odd thoughts on her face, she’s working on the laces of her shoes. When she starts thinking of Sam like that, Olivia knows it’s ready to leave.
The thoughts don’t stop her, however, from wanting to come back.
He’s still throwing the ball down her lane as she’s walking out toward the exit. She glances over her shoulder at him, and he makes no motion to recognize her departure. If Walter were here, she thinks he’d start talking to her about third eyes and clairvoyance. The thought makes Olivia smile, and in that, maybe that’s where Sam is her kindred. She can only imagine the people out there, the people with special gifts who can travel back in forth between here and the other place.
Sam is definitely special, Olivia thinks humorously. The night air is cold when she steps outside and walks to her SUV.
She smiles and feels the muscles in her legs and hands no longer aching. Her head isn’t throbbing, and she can no longer hear anything beyond the faint sounds of a cricket at her feet.
Perhaps Sam is right. She will be fine, yet she can’t help but give Sam the credit he’s due.
END
Title: Open Sessions
Author: Paynesgrey
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,118
Characters/Pairings: Olivia Dunham, Sam Weiss (slight Sam/Olivia)
Genre: Introspective/Friendship
Spoilers: Season 2, "Dream Logic"
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe or make profit from it.
Summary: Olivia visits Sam again and realizes how much she needs him.
Pins crashing and loading, bowling balls groaning down the alley, are becoming familiar sounds. Olivia walks through the doors, her head craning to find the reason she’s even come here: Sam Weiss.
She finds him behind his desk, cleaning shoes, organizing paperwork and money, and humming the Steve Miller Band. He looks disinterested, and he doesn’t even inquire about her presence. She’s sure he’s known she’s arrived since her SUV parked in the lot.
She stops. Every time she walks into this place and sees Sam, Olivia thinks about turning around and leaving. She feels silly, as if he can really help her. She thinks Nina Sharp must be mistaken or politely exaggerating Sam’s talent.
He’s proved himself to her though, with vague wisdom and thinly-veiled encouragement. He angers her sometimes, pushing her resolve, when in reality it’s silly of her to even feel the annoyance. She wants to be fixed, and Sam is her only hope. Sometimes she thinks he’s delaying her for other reasons. Olivia thinks Sam knows a secret to heal her faster, and he’s just not telling her. He makes her suspicious; he makes her feel…
Shoes slam on the counter, her size, and Olivia comes back from whatever shadowed place she was hiding to meet his eyes, soft and eons older than what they appear.
Olivia watches him with suspicion still brimming at the tips of her senses. Dutifully, she takes the shoes. Her hands no longer shake as she picks them up and dips her hands underneath the laces. She sits at the lane she’s comfortable with, the lane she’s sat in before, and she sets her things in the cold plastic seat beside her.
“Not that one,” Sam says, and he points to the lane all the way on the other end of the building. Olivia’s mouth gapes, and she glares at him. Yoda-Sam just wants her to get a bit of exercise.
“How’s the leg?” he asks, following behind her down to the farthest lane.
“Fine, better,” she says quickly.
“And yet you still came,” Sam says with a small yet humorous scoff.
Olivia turns around, offended. Sam does that to her. She feels offended even before he opens his mouth, as if she knows she’s not going to like what he’s going to say or do to her. “But the headaches. Even though I remember everything, I’m still feeling these… sensations.”
They reach the lane, and Sam slips past her, picking up a heavy 16-lb ball already in the tray. Olivia waits for a response, feeling an odd sense of desperation. She still wants Sam to make her better, all of her, from the memories right down to the kinks and pops she’s feeling in her knees.
“Normal side effects,” Sam says, and Olivia’s eyes travel with the ball as he rolls it down the lane. He gets a split, and rather than exasperation, Sam seems amused.
“So… I didn’t need to come here,” Olivia says dejectedly. Maybe Sam can only do so much, she thinks. It’s depressing. As much as she loathes Sam’s methods, coming here was becoming a comforting constant.
“You can come here any time you like, Agent Dunham,” he says formally. “Though, I might have to start charging you for the shoes.”
Olivia purses her lips, unsure whether she should appreciate the joke. Sam smiles at her, and she feels oddly relaxed by it. She admits to never leaving this place disappointed. Instead, she feels lulled, satiated, with the memory of Sam’s touch as he ties her shoes, or how his eyes roam over her, seeing within cracks and nooks of her existence that no one else will ever dare to reach.
She wonders what he can see. Olivia imagines Sam can see everything, but her rational mind tells her Sam really sees nothing. He’s just a guy that’s been there before; who knows the answers to an equation that does not exist in this time.
Olivia sighs and leans back in the chair; Sam is still watching her as her eyes travel elsewhere. “Maybe I will come here. I haven’t bowled since…” She can’t even remember. She smiles lightly. “Well, it never crosses my mind.”
Sam steps toward her, and he sits in the chair beside her. Olivia can feel his thigh brush up against hers. He leans over and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares into her face; again, he’s searching.
“You’ll never be completely whole, Olivia. Even I can’t do that for you,” Sam states. Olivia nods, and Sam’s humility is refreshing.
“I know, but there are things…awful things are going to happen soon. I’ll be caught in the middle of it,” she says, feeling the sense of foreboding already clouding over her.
Sam’s eyes are in her lap as he takes her hand. “You’ll be fine,” he says, reminding her of their last experiment with the business cards.
“So someone has told me,” she says, and she gives his hand a squeeze, and suddenly she feels frozen there, with Sam, his warmth against her palm, and his soft eyes looking into hers again, calm and supportive. Her gaze shifts to his hair, and for the first time, Olivia realizes how attractive he is, that there are parts of Sam she hasn’t even seen before.
Idly, she’s curious and wonders about his past, his life, and to even pry that information from him exhilarates her. He lets go of her hand, and Olivia looks away. Before he can read the odd thoughts on her face, she’s working on the laces of her shoes. When she starts thinking of Sam like that, Olivia knows it’s ready to leave.
The thoughts don’t stop her, however, from wanting to come back.
He’s still throwing the ball down her lane as she’s walking out toward the exit. She glances over her shoulder at him, and he makes no motion to recognize her departure. If Walter were here, she thinks he’d start talking to her about third eyes and clairvoyance. The thought makes Olivia smile, and in that, maybe that’s where Sam is her kindred. She can only imagine the people out there, the people with special gifts who can travel back in forth between here and the other place.
Sam is definitely special, Olivia thinks humorously. The night air is cold when she steps outside and walks to her SUV.
She smiles and feels the muscles in her legs and hands no longer aching. Her head isn’t throbbing, and she can no longer hear anything beyond the faint sounds of a cricket at her feet.
Perhaps Sam is right. She will be fine, yet she can’t help but give Sam the credit he’s due.
END
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