fringe, lincoln/olivia, burnt coffee

Olivia strode into the lab. Lincoln looked over from where he was standing behind Astrid, peering over her shoulder at the computer screen.

"Beat you here," he said cheerfully. Olivia glared. "Bad night," she said shortly. "Is there any coffee?" She headed toward the coffee maker, pulled out the pot, and stared at the brownish crust in the bottom. Her nose wrinkled at the burnt odor.

At once she was hit with a wave of vertigo. Suddenly, the thought rose strong and clear in her mind: "Peter hates burnt coffee." What? Who? She put out a hand to steady herself. Lincoln, noticing, moved to her side and grasped her by the shoulder. "Liv? You okay?"

Olivia shook her head to clear it, and looked at him. "Uh, yeah, sure, just...I need coffee."

As she moved to the sink, she tried to push the unwanted, unfamiliar thought from her mind, but it persisted, like a waking dream.