"Walter, turn it off."
Walter continues to bustle about, measuring this, monitoring that, fidgeting with an electronic device that he believes will allow them to cross universes. "We've only just gotten started, I have this theory, regarding soft spots…but first I'll need licorice-"
"We're done."
The finality of her tone stalls him, and he falls silent, staring at her. The agent looks jaded, aged, and she doesn't look at anything in particular. Just stares off into space, looking pained.
Even Astrid has stopped in her tracks, looking nervous. "Olivia…what do you mean, 'done'?"
Olivia melts onto the nearest stool, head in her hand, silent.
Astrid creeps forward, one tentative step at a time. "Is everything ok?"
A muffled "no" escapes behind a waterfall of mussed blonde hair.
Astrid continues her cautious approach, until she's close enough to lay a gentle hand on the other agent's shoulder. "Olivia…if you want to be done for the day, we can stop."
The woman on the stool doesn't so much as twitch.
"Okay…we'll just, pick up tomorrow. Right Walter?"
Walter is still frozen to the same spot, looking wild-eyed. "Y-yes, yes of course…tomorrow…"
"NO."
Walter shies away and Astrid pulls back abruptly. Olivia raises her head, and there's a steely edge in her gaze. Now, she looks at them, and repeats quietly, "No."
Her nervous companions hang on her exclamation, waiting silently for some explanation.
She obliges. "We're done. No more tomorrow. No more the day after that. This stops today."
She sees the silent why? in their eyes, and a glimmer of distrust as they begin to formulate exactly what she means.
"Olivia…?" almost in unison.
She stands slowly, a creaking willow in a hanging black coat. She pulls a cigarette and lighter from an inside pocket and lights up, puffing slowly (a very recent habit, since Broyles caught wind of the liquor bottle in the bottom drawer). After a long drag, she runs her fingers through her hair and sighs. "I can't do this anymore."
"You're…you're giving up." It's less a question and more a statement of disbelief.
A bitter smile creeps across her lips at the accusation. She takes another drag.
Anger begins to bubble in the old man, in the face of stark clarity. "You're giving up on HIM."
There's a flicker of pain across the agent's face. Of anger of her own.
"HOW COULD YOU?" and the yelling begins. Beakers and metal stands and test tubes are thrown, knocked about, airborne, very abruptly. "How could you give UP on him, after EVERYTHING he's done for YOU?"
Olivia is seething. Poison and smoke and fire glower in her eyes. But she is silent. Ice cold, silent.
Astrid has stepped far away by now, made her way toward the door while sidestepping between hucked lab equipment and spat venom. Walter is scaring her, but she's more afraid of what a provoked Olivia might be capable of. She saw the file. She knows enough.
"HE. IS. MY. SON! I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON HIM! HOW DARE YOU ASK THAT OF US! HOW DARE YOU JUST QUIT!"
An overlooked beaker on the table beside Walter bursts spontaneously. Another pops and cracks, and the metal in the room begins to vibrate. Walter grows still, eyes wide in fear.
Several lights flicker and crackle, going out with a buzz and hiss. Olivia is poised forward like a predator, the bewildered scientist the only thing in her sight.
"Olivia, stop!"
Astrid stands trembling a few feet away, panicked that her own outburst will redirect this supernatural wrath toward herself. But Olivia stands stock still, shocked. Afraid.
She crumples to the floor, mumbling, "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"
Astrid rushes to her. Walter remains where he is, understandably still too alarmed to approach. "Olivia…it's ok, it's going to be ok…Olivia…"
The blonde agent collapses in on herself, sobs wracking her frame. Astrid holds her close, murmuring reassuring things into her shoulder, looking worriedly at Walter. Walter looks broken, confused. As his heart rate declines, he begins to wander aimlessly across the lab, gingerly picking up a glass shard here, a bent metal bar there.
When Olivia finally stills, the last shudder escaping her, she murmurs, "I have to let him go."
Astrid nods quietly. She knows Walter won't give up; she won't give up; but she knows something has happened. Something so painful that Olivia, who would cross universes for this man, is throwing up the white flag. She doesn't ask questions. Just leads the shattered agent to and out the lab doors.
Cleanup takes over an hour. Walter regains himself and mumbles his discontent, while Astrid mulls over everything in silence. Olivia has not returned. When Astrid and Walter approach her office to retrieve a thrown beaker, they understand why.
On the far side of the small room, plugged into a multitude of laptops and jerry-rigged devices, is Walter's inter-dimensional window. It has been propped up and turned to see into a universe beyond the one Walter watched so observantly, fanatically when Peter was a sick child. Now, they see Peter – their Peter – on the other side, smiling with eyes full of love at a beautiful woman. Her blonde hair cascades down around her bright hazel eyes, and she kisses him gently.
Walter slowly unplugs the device, and shuffles from the room. Astrid turns off the light. They shut the door quietly without a word.
In the dark, quiet room, all seems at peace. In the dark, aloneness, no one can see a desperate plea carved roughly into the bare wood of a desk…
If you love somebody, set them free?