A/N: Unbetaed. First Fringe fic. I wanted to play around with style which is why capitalization and punctuation is all over the place. I wanted Walter's thoughts to be lowercase and rambly and when the real world cuts in, everything goes back to what's proper. IDK. Let me know if it works for you. Post - 2x19, The Man from the Other Side.
he has these memories that float through his mind, images of a dark-haired little boy on a tricycle and he has trouble remembering if that is peter the first or peter the second or even peter at all. memories of red-checkered blankets on the ground intercut with peter's expression from yesterday and he cannot begin to process that pain, that hurt.
in the fireplace, his plea for forgiveness rests as gray ash. the peach pie cools on the table.
walter's mouth twitches. he feels thirsty, itchy. he feels like a disconnected buoy - he once had a tether to the world, once had purpose, and now he is floating in the great ocean without direction, without perspective, and it's frightening though he recognizes he can do nothing to stop it. the ebb and flow of the ocean is eternal; the moon controls the tide, it is entirely out of his power. time ticks on.
the pie on the table, beneath the napkin, grows tepid.
olivia and astrid are then moving to stand by him, and he holds onto someone's wrist. he doesn't think about what happens, cannot register who is holding him or who he is holding. he just knows that his knuckles are white as he clutches onto something he hopes will take him to safety but peter is gone peter is, peter the second is gone and he cannot lose him again, could not take him back because he loved him, and now, peter is gone peter has left him because he was not good enough and he knows it even as peter called him dad weeks ago.
things are running through his mind, inconsequential things: mashups of syllables, letters, consonants, phonemes - strings of algorithms and equations that never meant anything except for how it related to, to the cure, and now and now
"Walter," Olivia says, sharply. She tries to be comforting. "Peter just needs some time."
astrid pats his wrist.
"Yes," he murmurs. "Time, yes, yes, time."
he repeats the words over and over again as if they will yield some answer, as if the root of peter's disappearance - no, peter's absence, peter's leaving, peter's voyage - can be boiled down to a single element on the periodic table, something that can be reached via process of elimination.
he takes a breath. "do you think i could get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"
astrid smiles that thin smile whenever he asks for something and she nods. "Yeah, Walter, sure," she says in that casual offhand way that reminds him of peter and suddenly his head hurts and he doesn't need a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, just needs there to be less people in the room, needs the room to stop being so suffocating. so still.
he hears the tinny high-pitched notes of a carousel played on an old piano.
"Walter," Olivia tries.
he turns to look at her. "do you think he'll come back?"
she opens and closes her mouth. "I really don't know."
astrid offers him a white-bread sandwich and he takes a bite. the peanut butter is supposed to be crunchy. it's supposed to be crunchy peter only likes the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with crunchy peanut butter and grape jelly with the crusts cut off that's what he likes. he spits it out. "What is this?" Walter roars.
"It's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Walter," Astrid stammers.
"Where's the crunchy peanut butter? The peanut butter's supposed to be crunchy!"
Astrid takes the plate from him, hands shaking. "You only had creamy. I'll - I'll run out to the store. Olivia, do you think you can - "
"Sure," Olivia says.
and he knows they are thinking of taking care of him like he is a child but he's not he's not a child, he's lost a child and how can a child lose another child? it's illogical. walter reaches for her hands and she smiles at him as he settles his hands on top of hers. he had thought one day maybe olivia could have been
"Peter is never coming back, is he?" he says.
"He just needs to come to terms...with what he learned," Olivia says.
and yes she is just oh so reassuring ever in control and he has destroyed them, he thinks, olive and peter (the first and the second). he begins to cry. she pats him once on the back.
"Walter," Olivia says again and he gets the feeling that there is more. "He left this at the hospital reception."
She presses something into his palm.
it is cold. cold and round and he knows what it is but he doesn't want to look at it because because that is the principle that schrodinger's cat exemplifies; if he does not look, it both is and isn't real just as the cat is and isn't dead. he clenches his fist even as the edges press against his palm and he knows what it is he knows but he cannot look because then it will mean that peter (the second) will be really gone and peter (the idea the person) will be really gone and he cannot lose him again.
"Walter?" Olivia asks and he wishes she wouldn't sound so concerned.
his hand shakes as he drops the coin onto the table.
"His lucky silver dollar," he whispers. His voice shakes as he adds, "I gave it to him when he was a boy."
Olivia looks down at the floor.
on the table, the pie grows cold. he forgets about it.