Love. Fate. Hope. Forgiveness. Sacrifice. Love.
It always comes back to love.
In the end, it had to be Walter. When we were teased with a second syringe, it still had to be Walter. When Donald attempted to change the plan, everyone knew that Donald would die because, it had to be Walter. Walter started everything and Walter had to finish it.
Would I have done some things differently in the finale? Maybe. I didn’t like Michael hushing Olivia twice. I think Broyles should have died fighting. I would like to have seen several observers floating. When you become emotionally invested in something, it becomes a part of your imagination and you confuse ideas with expectations. The fact that every last little plot string wasn’t woven into a tight ball is just fodder for fan fiction writers.
What we did get from the finale was a little bit of our hearts manipulated like the marionette corpse and a lot of memories from the entire series. The revenge cocktail of Fringe incidents that was served to the Observer headquarters was perfect. Olivia fulfilling her destiny in the final battle against Widmark was a long anticipated payoff.
I laughed. I cried. I cheered. I got just the right amount of resolution.
I like to imagine that Peter is now a stay-at-home dad who blogs his missing father’s milkshake recipes and Instagrams pictures of Etta’s elaborate science fair projects that look exactly like something from Walter’s lab.
Now, I need to find a place in our house to paint Buckaroo Banzai and Walter’s tulip. I won’t tell you where it is. You’ll see it when you need it most.