Title: Never Was This 'Verse
Author: Katany
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or Fringe, but I own the plot to this story because I wrote it down. Still, there was no money made from this adventure.
Summary: Somewhere in the infinities, a butterfly flaps its wings and Peter finds his father.
Warnings: Minor Character Death
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0. Six Four Nine Point Five
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Harvard students were all so terribly vacuous and staid. It was rather a good thing that the administration had banned Walter from teaching as none of the students would appreciate how his classes would reveal what daddy's money had really bought them thus far: nothing. With the education the kids were receiving, they would continue reactively sifting through their lives with their minds turned off to any possibility outside of money and social affluence. Walter couldn't be bothered to correct such small minds anymore. Yes, the students were monotonous, except for the rare days when one of them found the gumption to pull a prank; someone had been clever enough to move the halls on him, again.
Over a year had passed since he returned to his lab. And his lab had been his lab for countless years before that - though admittedly the years were mostly countless due to his and Belly's research methodology. Thus Walter knew the building like the back of his hand. It was just that his hand had become wrinkled and gnarled and shook at times when he wasn't looking at it; someone must've replaced his hand with that of an old man's at some point. Probably those infernal doctors at St. Claire's taking him apart and stitching him back together improperly. So he knew the building like the back of his hand, only not one of the ones currently attached to his body.
But that wasn't the point. The point was that the students had managed to get their heads out of their pocketbooks long enough to move the halls on him. Which meant that the way back to his lab wasn't and Walter wasn't quite certain which way was. Peter had given him protocols for when he was lost, whatever protocols they were, but none of them could really be applied when the building had been altered spatially.
Hunching over, Walter frowned down at his hands then drew his left hand across his body. His head turned to the right as his eyes first followed his hand, then continued up the hallway. "No," he shook his head, "that's not correct." He returned to his center then repeated the movement with his right hand up the hallway to his left. He stood frozen for a moment, squinting at the end of the corridor. "No, that's not correct either."
Pivoting on his heel, Walter turned to look down the first hallway then the second, until he was confused as to which was the left hallway and which was the right one. "I suppose the only thing to do is follow one's toes." But when he looked, his toes were pointing in different directions. His left toes were slightly closer to actually pointing down a hall then his right ones, which pointed at the wall. And that had to be at least as scientifically sound as following bread crumbs.
As he approached the corner, Walter couldn't help but look back over his shoulder. "It's follow one's toes, but right foot forward. And I started with my left." He glanced down at his unfamiliar hands. "Peter would know what to do." Walter wrinkled his nose. "But I don't need a babysitter."
He collided with the person speeding around the corner, sending him backwards until strong hands clamped on his elbows. "Oh." Looking up, Walter smiled, elated his son had found him despite his earlier thoughts. "Oh, Peter. It's good to see you. I was just saying to myself-" He paused, aware he no longer had any idea what he had been saying to himself. But then again, Peter wouldn't know what Walter had been saying either, so it wasn't like his son could prove him wrong. "I was just telling myself that-"
Walter had just enough time to notice the red veins in Peter's eyes, the dark circles under them, and the way his son's typically perfect kept unkempt stubble was uneven before he was clasped into Peter's chest. His breath rushed past his lips. "Oh." Sliding his arms around his son's frame, Walter rested his head on Peter's shoulder and closed his eyes.
Briefly he was reminded he only had Peter because had destroyed the laws of physics and his own ethical code. He had broken through the wall of the universe and likely broken another family. He had endured his son's accusations and suspicions, you're not my father, and lost Elizabeth. But wrapped in his son's arms everything faded along with his guilt. For a moment, he could just exist and share that existence with his son.
The universe shook. It took Walter a moment to realize that the violent tremors were emanating from the body pressed closely to his. "Peter, son, it's all right. I'm here." He attempted to extricate himself but the hands on his shoulders squeezed so tightly he thought he might bruise.
"I lost you." Peter's whispered words carried an anguish which echoed in his own chest. He swallowed, fighting down the twenty-four year old grief. With a final push, Walter was able to pry them apart, his fingers still stubbornly knotted in his son's shirt.
Though Peter would never let him get away with it, Walter attempted to redirect the conversation. "I know we've had this discussion before and my independence-"
"No, you don't understand. I lost you, and I can't lose you again." Peter's eyes darted back and forth across Walter's face. Walter held his breath under the scrutiny, dread weighing down his limbs at the familiarity of that statement. For once he didn't fear that Peter had discovered the line in the sand which Walter had crossed for him; he feared the line his son had discovered for himself. He would give almost anything to remove that knowledge from Peter, but he had nothing left that would interest the universe into bargaining with him.
Peter's eyes settled on Walter's. "Maybe you do understand. Of all the possibilities, maybe you would understand the most." The left corner of Peter's mouth twitched into a half smile as self-deprecating as the laugh which followed. "Aren't we the pair."
There was a puzzle there, something to observe, measure, and unravel - something far more important than wondering how Peter found him within the twisted corridors. And as painful as the discoveries would be, Walter knew that some traitorous part of him would be fascinated by the whole process. But that was for later when he had to return to his lab and Olivia and the consequences of his decisions.
"Peter, no matter your past or decisions you've made, here you will always be my son." Walter smoothed the wrinkles he had created in Peter's shirt, unable to completely remove the lines. He smiled at the eloquence of his words which often abandoned him at important times. When his son's smile became genuine, Walter could finally smile back at Peter. "My son."
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2012/05/10