Olivia's lying on the grass in a playground, eyes closed, possibly dead. I mean, not likely dead, because that would kinda put a damper on the rest of the season, but... anyway, a hand reaches down to stroke her face, and she smiles and says, "I thought I'd gotten rid of you." It's Peter, who's horn-dogging it up in the park while kids play all around, and he says it took him three years to finally get her, so she's not getting rid of him that easily.
She asks where he disappeared to, and the answer is not "into some netherworld between time streams" but he just went to check up on Walter. "He found the swing set, and you know how he feels about Newtonian mechanics," says Peter. Sure enough, there's Walter, gleefully swinging while being pushed by some poor little kid who probably would rather have a turn. On the plus side, Walter doesn't appear to have conducted any nefarious experiments on the little kid yet, but it's still early.
So Olivia and Peter start talking about how this is the perfect day, which is a conversation they've had before, and then they start kissing, and Olivia says it's too bad it has to end, and Peter doesn't understand why it does and asks what the problem is. Apart from this obviously being a dream that is. "You, Peter. You're the problem," says Olivia, so this episode is starting off promisingly.
That's when Peter wakes up, still in his holding cell in the Federal Building, which is a lot less fun than making out with Olivia in a park, I suppose.
Speaking of Olivia, she comes into his cell just a moment after he wakes up to tell him there's something going on. "And we think it has something to do with you, with your appearance here," she says. They're not actually sure what's going on, but they think it has to do with time, she says.
Over to Central Village in Boston, where a little girl goes racing through an apartment building to try to scare her mom with a fake spider and her mom, washing dishes in the kitchen, plays along for a moment. "I'm almost done here, and then we'll read together, OK?" she says, and the girl says OK -- they're going to read Burlap Bear -- but when the woman turns back to the sink, what had been a basin filled with soapy water is suddenly a burned-out sink coated in ash next to charred and melted and smoldering dishes and appliances. The entire kitchen looks like it's been torched, and her daughter is nowhere to be seen. OK, these anti-smoking messages are starting to get out of hand. "Samantha?" calls the woman, and she goes running down the hallway towards the sound of a crying infant. The woman pauses a moment, perhaps wondering why A) her five-year-old girl is now a crying infant in a crib and B) why the apartment is only burned out halfway through the kid's room -- the rest of it is fine. Then she just grabs the girl and runs outside, where people on the street are staring up at the charred and broken windows in the corner of the apartment building.