The last episode before a hiatus is usually known to leave us viewers hanging, wondering if, after the holidays, we are going to find our protagonist with or without his or her reputation/job/life/something else really important or, in the case of Fringe, is still stuck in another timeline, away from the ones he loves.

It really is starting to feel as if Season 4 is, in a way, a study in Peter (Joshua Jackson) more than anything else: how he has changed since Season 1 and how he is going to overcome the adversity this new twist of fate has dealt him with. I love this Peter-centric study, just as much as I love the way we are delving into the alternate timeline. Putting the same Peter we have come to know during the last couple of seasons in an entirely new yet familiar environment is making us understand him in a very unique way. Interestingly enough, Peter is becoming the one constant in this show around which all other alternate universes and timelines are revolving.

No wonder, then, that he feels like he has become a Fringe event himself. But while that is no way to live, most would have a hard time dealing with this situation in any healthy kind of way. Perhaps this is why many fans seem to have a hard time understanding how Peter is managing to remain so, well, mature, seeing the extreme emotional pressure he is under. To be detached and rational to the point of understanding that the Olivia (Anna Torve) Lee (Seth Gabel) is falling in love with is not his is commendable, to say the least.

I am known for making statements that earn me the ire of Fringe fans. I am proud to present to you my latest such statement: I hope that Peter and Lee become friends, all the more that Lee is the only person who is treating Peter like he is normal. I must also admit that I fully understand Peter’s point of view regarding Lee, as well as his opinion regarding Lee dating Olivia. While a lot of Fringe fans hate that this timeline’s Olivia and Lincoln are on their way to become an item, fact is, they do make a cute couple and their personalities mesh very well. Peter belongs with the other Olivia, the one whose life he touched since they were children. And so, once again, I put my life in the hands of irate fans but supporting this timeline’s Lee-Olivia romance, and hope the fact that I want Peter to find a way back home to his (and our) Olivia will earn me a reprieve.

However, I do have a second ire-provoking statement for this review (which might annihilate my chances of being forgiven for my above-mentioned statement): there is a special place in my heart for this timeline’s Lee. He cemented his place in this episode when he shared with Olivia his state of mind, that is, the destruction of the basic rules that previously gave his life structure. Having worked for many years with young people between the ages of 11 to 15, it struck a very familiar chord. These preteens and teens oftentimes shared with me that, as their understanding of what is happening in their own home increases, the basic rules that governed their lives would either be seen in a completely different light or be shattered outright. I also felt a deep empathy to what Lee has been feeling because I, too, both as a preteen and as an adult, regularly felt like the rug was (and, at times, still is) been pulled out from under my feet when certain truths I used to believe in were completely overturned.

This links (quite nicely, actually) to another theme at the heart of Fringe, that of interconnectedness. The emphasis this time is placed on the fact that we all need each other and should not do things on our own – especially the really tough tasks that some of us are given. Of course, I am referring here to Olivia (all of them) and her relationship to Fringe Division (all of them). While Olivia is, in all universes and timelines, pretty amazing on her own, and that, as she puts it in this episode, she can do it – fact is that she does not have to do it alone, as Lee says before helping her open the bottle of migraine pills.

While Olivia’s migraines are intriguing in themselves (especially after the way the introduction to this episode was hinting that they are related to the Cortexiphan trials), the most interesting thing about them is that they show that this Olivia, just like all the others, wants to always be the strong one; Lee’s assertion that she does not have to be is yet another recurring theme, brought forward previously by Peter. I really hope Fringe will delve into the importance of team work, of constant consultation, and on the fact that while one person might have higher capacity and more talent than others to get the job done, the job should not rest on that one person’s shoulder alone.

These themes are all the more important because a current increase in consciousness and empowerment makes more and more people arise to better the world; remembering this important lesson will makes us all the more effective. However many capacities we as an individual might have, fact remains that we are fallible creatures, and cannot hope to permanently solve global problems on our own. In the case of the show, however amazing Olivia may be (and boy, is she amazing!), things are far too complicated and heavy for her to deal with alone. She is going to have to accept her limits, and start walking the path of life with other who can share the load of the burden, however humble their contribution might be.

This is why no person should be a wallflower, which happens to be the title of this episode (shocking, right?). We each have our role to play, and it is only when we all play our role, however small and humble it might be, that humanity can move forward. Our differences – the fact that Eugene is invisible, that Peter is from another timeline or that, most poignantly, Olivia processes things in such a unique way, should not keep us apart.

There is one character that has been something of a wallflower for a little while, someone whose plight I have been bringing to fans’ attention since Season 1, that is, the lack of screen time given to one Astrid Farnsworth (Jasika Nicole). Once again it was shown that perhaps our young prodigy is not being given the attention she deserves, that maybe she might be the key to helping Olivia reach balance in her life – and, consequently, reach her peak as an investigator and as a Cortexiphan prodigy. Astrid admits to Olivia in this episode that things do get to her in a way that they do not get to Olivia, and that she has a support network of sorts while the latter does not. Just to cinch my earlier argument about Lee (and, perhaps, a death warrant signed by angry Fringe fans), this is probably why she is doubly attracted to Lee: he is someone she finds physically attractive, but also is someone who knows what she is going through and with whom she can connect in a very unique way.

I also am hoping that being with someone like Lee, who is obviously going through a rough time because of his newly acquired status in Fringe Division and who seems to be the kind of person to accept others as they are (just think of his relationship with Peter), will be able to put Olivia at rest with herself. That is, I hope that Olivia will learn to not think about herself as being abnormal just because she does things differently, namely because she is stronger.  After all, normalcy should not be defined by conformity.

But then again, everyone wants to be loved, and sometimes it feels like it’s only when we are ‘normal’ that we are worthy of love and of being seen. Which leads me to believe that these are the major themes of this the episode, that is, all wants to have a place in the world, and all wants to be seen. Peter is finally seen but he still does not have his place in the world. The invisible man is not seen by anyone and therefore does not have a real place. However, at what cost? Eugene was willing to kill; Massive Dynamic is willing to run horrifying experiments on test subjects and run satellite facilities that are not monitored by headquarters.

Desperate Housewives is one such show. I spend a lot of time watching it, reading about it and discussing it. No wonder, as the show both fascinates and repels me. On the one hand, its portrayal of women as stereotypical, overly sexual and boxed creatures drives me nuts. On the other hand, it does greatly make up for it by using its four main characters brilliantly to underline certain unhealthy realities in our less than Wisteria-lane worthy lives, so much so that I can often be found nodding my head in silent approval. But while I found many fans of the show, I found it hard to find people who shared my passion for discussing the psychological, emotional, and social themes that can be so easily found throughout the show.

I have not been a fan of Smart Pop Books for long, as I quite unfortunately did not discover them until recently. But I am now addicted to their weekly essays (which you can sign up for either on their website or here) and despite an often exhausting 60-hour work week, I make time to devour their books. I recently got four of them: The Psychology of Superheroes: An Unauthorized Exploration, Taking the Red Pill: Science, Philosophy and Religion in The Matrix, Fringe Science: Parallel Universes, White Tulips, and Mad Scientists, and Welcome to Wisteria Lane: On America’s Favorite Desperate Housewives. What with my two years worth of Fringe reviews (which you can find here), one would think my first choice in the four books above would be obvious. But surprisingly enough, it was the Desperate Housewives book I reached for first. I don’t know if it is because of my love-hate relationship with this show, because the last season is currently airing or because of the recent release of the documentary Miss Representation. Whatever the reason might be, I was not disappointed.

Reading though Welcome to Wisteria Lane felt like reading through a collection of conversations I would have loved to have about the show, with friendly, humorous, and very frank friends. I got to explore themes such as the characters’ sexuality in Julie Kenner’s essay, “Sex and the Television Suburbs,” in which she explores the fact that although on a superficial level, the show seems cutting edge, its depiction of female sexuality is quite archaic. I also loved Laura Caldwell’s essay on cat fighting, aptly titled “Girl Power Witty or Cat Fight City?”, which once again underlined the archaic concept of the catfight that continues to survive even in today’s supposedly enlightened society.

The one essay that particularly stood out to me was the one penned by Whitney Gaskell, “Will the Real Bree Van de Kamp Please Stand Up”, in which contestants of a fake television game show, “Which One Is it?”, have to figure out which of three seemingly very different Brees is the real one: the perfect housewife, the sexpot and the spitfire – only to conclude that the three versions are part of the same whole. How often are we women of the twenty-first century given a certain, limited role to play? And if we choose to play a little out of the box, we are told that there is something wrong with us. Bombarded with images of the supposedly perfect, one-dimensional woman we are supposed to be, many women begin to wonder if there is something wrong with them, when in fact, they are just gloriously human.

Another essay that stuck another chord was Deanna Carlyle’s “America the Superficial? Watching Desperate Housewives with the Europeans,” which tackles the subject of the seeming dichotomy between America’s products, such as Desperate Housewives, which carry layers of themes and concepts, and America’s seeming superficiality. As a Canadian, I have heard way too many anti-America comments (granted, I hear a lot of ribbing about Canada, but that’s another topic of conversation) that are based on nothing more than weak assumptions. The way Carlyle explains it is pretty interesting: the way Americans are, for example, presenting details about their lives in the first meeting rather than being more reserved such as, say, Germans, is not superficial as much as it is a necessary way of life that developed because of the American way of doing things. Presenting details about their lives is a way for the very mobile and very multicultural Americans to get to immediately feel safe knowing that their new neighbor (the fifth in as many years) has common values and will not be disrupting the way of life around the neighborhood too much. As for the Germans, and the Europeans in general, although increasing in recent years, their mobility is nothing compared to that of Americans, explaining why this habit did not evolve as a part of culture – there was no need for it.

This episode puts an interesting twist on time-travelling, presenting it very differently than in “White Tulip” (Season 2, Episode 18). In “And Those We’ve Left Behind,” only the Greens’ house and the space immediately surrounding it travels through time for short periods of time. This space-confined time-traveling brings about unusual consequences at ever increasing distances from the house, the numerical value of which follows the Fibonacci sequence. In “White Tulip,” time travel is presented in a more familiar way, that is, as the travel of one man returning through time with no one around him realizing what happened and consequences remaining in the realm of paradoxes.

“And Those We’ve Left Behind” is not only unique in the way time-travelling is presented, but also in the consequences incurred. These consequences, ranging from slips in time (déjà vu to time loops) to reversals in cause and effect, were somewhat reminiscent of the events related to the infamous pattern we have seen in the last couple of seasons, albeit more limited in both time (they happen very fast) and space (the damage is contained to a relatively small area).  The team finally figures out that however different, all of these this time-related phenomena are a form of time displacement in specific locations at distances from a loci, the length of which follow the famed Fibonacci sequence (which we have of course seen many times before).

There is another type of drama unfolding in the central loci–the house of the Green couple–of the aforementioned event, inside the time bubble created by Raymond’s machine. His wife, Kate, was an incredibly intelligent and talented scientist, whose theoretical work on time travelling was cutting edge until early onset aggressive Alzheimer’s took that from her. In a bid to cure his wife, Raymond uses her incomplete research to create a time loop within the bubble of their house, allowing him to go back in time, when Kate was not afflicted yet, and encourage her to complete her work.

But, as Kate tells Raymond in the last lucid moment she shares with him, some things are only meant to stay theoretical, and with the destruction that occurred with each time loop Raymond created, many would agree. Kate’s integrity was so strong that instead of finishing her work, which she was close to, she heavily censored it, thereby destroying any chance Raymond had to travel through time. And in a final act of love, a still lucid Kate asked for immunity for her grieving husband.

Kate and Raymond’s story reflects in a not very subtle way that of Peter and Olivia. The Olivia in this timeline is not the Olivia that Peter fell in love with; how far is he willing to go to get back to her, and at what cost? Will he risk use science that should, as Kate puts it, remain only theoretical? If this happened, the most complete, ironical loop would occur: that out of love, Peter would be willing to cross the same line Walter crossed in 1985, a line that the former judged the latter so harshly for crossing. But just like with Walter, we cannot judge Peter too harshly if he does cross that line, for, as underlined in the opening sequence of this episode, the man is in quite an uncomfortable position (to say the least) which brings him deep emotional pain.

Interestingly enough, this dream also underlines a topic central to the show, that of perception. In it, Peter is called the problem. And, in a way, he is not only that – he is the anomaly, or, as referred to in the last episode, the paradox. In this timeline, he is the one ruining whatever perfect day the others could have been having, when for example one thinks of Olivia wanting to ask Lincoln out, discomfited by the knowledge that Peter is in love with a version of her.

We are at about a quarter of the way through the fourth season of the show, and yet I still find it equally fascinating and uncomfortable to watch.  It is as if I had found the most beautiful, comfortable pair of pants except that were stitched just a little, tiny bit off centre. The most surprising moment of this week’s episode, when Astrid asked who the Observers are, felt like a readjustment of said pants…in the wrong direction.  And this, despite the fact that this timeline is not aware of the Observers; after all, September did not dive into the lake to save Peter and so, did not reveal the existence of his race.

The other question that continues to puzzle just about every character both fictional and otherwise (except, perhaps, Walter) is where Peter came from. Do the laws of the universe as Fringe ascribes to allow not only for alternate universes, but also for alternate timelines? And what of the existence of yet another timeline? The producers of Fringe, Jeff Pinkner and J.H. Wyman, both repeatedly admitted the existence of other universes. However, they did deny and sometimes quite vehemently the introduction of another universe in the Fringe mythology. But we are forced to face the possibility of a plotline related to a third universe by none other than Walter. What if the producers were not planning for this, but that this is where the show is inexorably taking them?

Another uncomfortable moment occurred when we found out the nature of Nina and Olivia’s relationship in this timeline. While it was nice to know that someone took what seems to be good care of Olivia and Rachel after the latter killed their abusive stepfather (another previous uncomfortable moment in this timeline), I can’t help but wonder if Nina took in the girls out of the goodness of her heart, or if it was for more sinister motives, such as keeping the shining star of the Cortexiphan trials under close watch.

Another deeply uncomfortable moment, albeit for different reasons, was Bell’s ethical concerns regarding Truss’ research project, which, in light of everything Massive Dynamic has done, seems a little hypocritical (assuming that in this timeline, the company’s evolution followed pretty much the same path as the one in the previous one.) Truss worked on cellular replication, trying to develop a method to replace damaged cells with new ones. He was shut down by Bell because “Some things are not meant to be tampered with. Some things are God’s.” I highly doubt that, in this timeline, Bell is very different from the one we have come to know, and once again, my nerves were grated by the man’s arrogance.

The abovementioned fascinating study has been mostly focused on Walter’s strengths. While the last episode felt like delving into Walter’s reality and seeing how, in his own way, he is strong, this one seems to be taking a step back and analyzing Walter within the context of his surroundings, further bringing out his strengths but clearly delineating its limits. Last episode, we saw to what lengths he was willing to go so as not to return to Ste-Claire’s; this time, we saw his determination at conquering his fears of the unknown.

In a different way than in the previous episode, we saw how Walter’s fear of going back to Ste-Claire is a sort of veil between him and his genius. His fear taints his ability to better analyze the nature of the blue energy field. It felt like instead of taking time to figure it out, Walter was focused from the beginning on destroying it.

This was completely understandable, as the blue forcefield seemed like a potential threat to Olivia, Walter’s one of two protectors (the other being Astrid). For let us remember that in this timeline, Walter has no family; the only ones he could remotely associate with as such (if even) are the two women that take care of him. And as Walter himself mentions, that relationship is not one born out of duty, but rather one born out of usefulness. If that is gone, there is not much left.

Walter’s usefulness is also related to a negative perception of his self-worth, further strengthened by the label of being mentally unfit to take care of himself. Because of his weaknesses, Walter demands more attention and special treatment than others, increasing his feeling of self-loathing. It is interesting to note that the self-loathing he displays in this timeline is related to different reasons than the self-loathing he displayed in the previous timeline. That self-loathing was mostly created by his guilt at having torn the fabric between the two universes; I feel that this timeline’s self loathing is created by Walter’s inability to save either Peters.

If we push this thinking further, in the previous timeline, Walter could justify the tearing the fabric between the two universes because he had managed to save Peter 2.0. Whatever happened, he could take refuge in the thought in that. But in this timeline, the tear in the fabric between the two universes is all negative, with no associated good outcome. But in this timeline, Walter paid a terrible price and got nothing in return.

There are, of course, some things in this episode that were never seen before. For example, the demeanor of this timeline’s Walter screams of vulnerability, much sharper than the vulnerability of the Walter from the previous timeline. Interestingly enough, this timeline’s Walter also displays a certain strength that the previous timeline’s Walter did not have. Particularly striking is the ability of this Walter to control himself. He seems to be able to have normal social interactions, even with people who scare him (Dr. Sumner) or people who do things that bother him (Aaron touching Peter’s toy).

Is his ability to control himself a sign of maturity the grief of losing Peter twice in this timeline has given him? Whatever it is, somehow, in this timeline, Walter is able to think logically about ways to keep his ‘insane’ side under control, like when he is talking to Dr. Sumner, or when he apologizes to Aaron for shouting at him.

There is also a certain humility to this Walter that I greatly appreciate, having been frazzled for far too long about the arrogance of both Walters in the previous timeline. But, interestingly enough, this humility seems connected with insecurity in his ability to do great things, such as, in this episode, saving Aaron. While the Walter of the first timeline was arrogant and that made him use his genius in a way dangerous to the greater good, the Walter of this timeline is to a certain extent incapacitated by his insecurity. It’s interesting how moderation plays such an important role in ensuring that the capacities of both Walters can attain their full potential.

Another interesting thing is the difference between the way this timeline’s and the other timeline’s Walter deal with children the way. This timeline’s Walter is a lot less comfortable, but just as cute and loving – probably yet another of the consequences of losing two sons at a relatively young age.

I needn’t have worried; as it turns out, I could not put this book down. I was hooked from the first page of the preface, where the author takes the time to set her story (and you know the read will be good when you are hooked at the preface). In fact, I have author Lynn Voedisch to thank for depleting my already dwindling stock of concealer, as I read her book twice in a row in the span of a week. As you can imagine, I did not get a lot of sleep and looked like I climbed straight out of Pharaoh’s tomb.

Part of The God’s Wife is set in one of the most fascinating times in ancient history, further enhanced by Lynn Voedisch’s captivating writing style. Furthermore, her descriptions make Ancient Egypt jump out of the pages with no long-winded descriptions weighing the plot down. I was particularly struck by the way the smell of the gardens seemed to pour out of the pages at times: “At the Pharaoh’s royal garden, a graceful woman appeared on the bridge over the pond of blue lotus blooms and preening ibis. A small fountain dribbled water channeled from the Great River, and all about grew the most elegant plants that a royal gardener could obtain. Lilies and jasmine sweetened the dry air — hot as the breath of a fevered lover. Vines snaked along the bridge railings. Trailing flowers sprang from trellises all about the fecund square. A fish plunked in the lake, a bird reached out his graceful beak, and then there was silence.” Paragraphs such as these interweave the magic of Ancient Egypt tightly to the plot.

The talent of the cast and crew continues to shine through. With the meeting of the two universes, the production crew is taking full advantage of showing both versions of the same character in the same shot. One scene that particularly impressed me in this episode was the shot of both Olivias and John McClennan in the street outside of Alternate-John’s house. Similarly, the plot provided Anna Torv with an opportunity to yet again demonstrate what an amazing actress she is, portraying, in the same shot, two different people while wearing the exact same thing. Despite the fact that the two characters are identical, viewers know exactly which one is which within nanoseconds, underlining Torv’s talent.

The effect of Peter’s absence is felt in many ways. Some of them are obvious, such as said effect on Walter and Olivia. However, there are other changes in this timeline that are rather surprising. Most intriguing is the change in Astrid. She is still intelligent, professional and caring, but she is a lot less patient and a lot less of a pushover than she is in the other timeline. One only needs to think of the difference between this Astrid and the one with whom, in 2026, people feel comfortable enough to leave their trash on her desk (Season 3, Episode 22, “The Day We Died”).

Is there a way of explaining this change in her character through a past, unknown encounter with Peter? Or could the explanation be much simpler and yet, at the same time, more complex: that, just as the batting of a butterflies wings on side of the world can cause a storm on the other side (the Butterfly Effect), the presence of Peter in the previous timeline affected Astrid even if they had not met until three years ago. It makes you wonder how much of an effect you are having right now on people you might never even meet.

Fringe’s Season 4 starts with a relatively calm earthquake. Peter, having served his purpose, had been wiped from existence at the close of Season 3, but the bridge he’d created so the two sides could start fixing the tears in the fabric between them is still very much there.

Season 4 thus begins with Olivia and Altivia exchanging documents from their respective divisions, as well as some stinging words. We immediately notice that Olivia is different; we see an aspect of her personality we haven’t seen in awhile; she is an angry, justice-seeking vigilante with a thick shell not many, if any, have been able to penetrate.

This first scene underlines one of the things the executive producers of the show, Jeff Pinkner and J.H. Wyman, promised us: to take advantage of the two universes working together to contrast each version of one character with the other. Only Altivia telling Olivia that she has a trust issue would have that impact; how can it not, when the words are coming out of a mouth that looks exactly like hers?

It reminds me of the concept of self-reflection, i.e. when you take the time to ‘talk to yourself’ about something that is bothering you, be it verbally or in written form. Often, when it comes to dealing with a thorny subject, people shut out those who talks to them about it when they are not ready. But all it can take is a bit of tough self-love: writing it down in a diary, talking out loud to oneself, meditating about it. Whatever the technique, reflecting one’s own feelings and emotions can often help to clarify things in a relatively short period of time. Could this mean that both Olivia and Altivia, as well as all our other ‘dual’ characters, will be able to deal with thorny issues they haven’t be able to deal with before?

Which is a good thing; were it not for this complexity, I might have run out of things to say.

One of the things that has been portrayed in the alternate universe and that is bound to touch the hearts of any fan intent on hating said universe is the love and loyalty between Lincoln, Scarlie and Altivia. There is also a great deal of respect and concern from the three of them and Altstrid for AlterBroyles, whose fate has yet to be discovered. In the meanwhile, Lincoln has replaced Broyles, a big responsibility that doesn’t keep him from remaining involved in his friends lives.

Our sympathies are also nurtured through the human dramas that they, as individuals but also as a society, have lived though. The vaccine Silva was working on was to stop the Avian Flu, which seems to have killed many more people than initially assumed. Could the Avian Flu have affected the other side in ways that perhaps the Spanish influenza epidemic of 1919 influenced ours?

On the flip side, there are some things that these characters do that would drive a viewer nuts in any universe. I’m thinking of Frank trusting Lincoln with his wish to propose to Altivia while on a vacation, only to have Lincoln turn around immediately and tell Altivia. It was yet another very ‘real’ moment used to make the alternate universe as real as ours, thus drawing viewers deeper and deeper into the storyline.

Another little something that beckons viewers to invest emotionally into the alternate universe are the funny moments spread throughout the ‘red’ episodes as liberally as they are in the ‘blue’ episodes. Lincoln, Scarlie and Altivia stepped up to the humour plate during this episode and boy, did they deliver. First there was Lincoln’s “Spontaneous bug eruption,” a disgustingly hilarious reference to the case, then the awesome teasing Altivia put Scarlie through when it became quite apparent that Mona Foster, the ‘bug lady’, has a crush on him. Altivia seemed to have climbed the height of teasing glory with, “Come on, everybody is looking for someone who is going to love them for who they are on the inside, right?” — only to out climb herself a few minutes later with, “If you go on a date with her and you’re late, then at least you know that she won’t bug out.”

The references to the alternate, seemingly desolate version of Texas were quite amusing, as was Lincoln’s reference to the way Altivia and Frank met: “There is nothing like a little cholera outbreak to bring two people together.”

A less cheerful aspect of the episode is Peter and Altivia’s baby. Conceived in less than innocent circumstances, this innocent baby is of course going to play a major part in the Fringe mythology. On the one hand, it will play an important role in the of Olivia-Peter-Altivia love triangle. On the other hand, it might give Walternate what he needs to win the war against our universe, since a child of Peter’s might be able to take his place.

The baby’s conception does muddy up the water quite a bit for yet another reason: while its parents are both from the Other Side, it was conceived in our universe. I posited, in a previous review, that perhaps Peter, being born on the Other Side but raised on our side, could be the force to create stability between the two universes. Could it be that the baby is an even more potent force of stability?

With regards to the human drama of the conception of this baby, it’s going to be quite interesting as to what happens. Will Peter find out about the baby? It is quite possible, as it becomes quite the powerful bargaining chip for Walternate to lure his son back to the Other Side. What is he going to do? While he might emotionally choose Olivia over Altivia, he might be feel the responsibility of fatherhood so strongly that he will choose to go to the Other Side, however painful that choice might be, and however much he would want to stay on this side, just for the sake of his child. After all, he of all people knows the pain of not having a father present.

Peter could choose to travel between universes in an attempt at having joint custody; however, with what happened to Bell after his multiple jumps between universes, Peter can’t keep coming and going, if a new and improved way of travelling isn’t developed, and if it comes to light that, biologically, Peter’s unique upbringing doesn’t contribute to making travelling easier. I guess another option would be to bring the baby back to this side for Peter and Olivia to raise. But, again, because of Peter’s past, I don’t think that is going to happen. Waiting for the next steps is going to be quite stressful for Fringe fans, that’s for sure.

Another great part of Fringe, of course, is the fact that its production team gives us pieces of the puzzle in each episode. Being a Fringe fan is akin to being a detective; you have to hunt for these pieces and put them together.

One very important piece that was given to us in this episode is to the reason why Peter wasn’t kidnapped from our side and just taken to the Other Side: Walternate explains that he has to want to be on the Other Side, for the choice cannot be imposed on him. He has to exercise his volition, and it probably has to do with the fact that on his choice depends the fate of both universes. It could be compared somewhat to Lord of the Rings, as Frodo has to accept of his own volition the mission of taking the Ring to Mordor.

While many a hero became so out of circumstances, it seems that what differentiates a real hero from one who just happens to be in the right place at the right time is, again, volition. A real hero chooses to step up and make a change; and so, oftentimes, their acts of heroism, both big and small, are repeated many, many times.

I can’t help also but think of what the scope of heroic deeds is. We often think of epic adventures as the stage for acts of heroic deeds to be performed; such scenes are thankfully rare. Even in places where revolutions are taking place, the real heroes are not the ones who are physically fighting; the real heroes are the ones who are doing everything possible, from, say, physically fighting to striving to attain a level of personal excellence that will contribute to the society they are fighting for in the first place.

It really is flipping an entire set of beliefs on its head; for, in my opinion, it isn’t the doctor who is the hero in the hospital, but the janitors, who make sure that the entire place remains sanitary for the health of all who are in the hospital, and not just the sick ones.

Fans are focusing on Peter’s choice at the moment, and understandably so; but what if the real lesson in Fringe is that the hero is going to be the group, each playing their part, however small, in bringing forth the conditions needed so that both universes survive?