Hyperion to a Satyr
It took a lot to awe Walter Bishop. As a scientist, he had seen some amazing, almost impossible things, and created even more in his lab. But the last few weeks of his life completely astonished him, in the best possible way – and he put it down to one thing. Well, one person, really.
If anyone ever wanted to know the impact one person can have on the world, they would just have to meet Peter Bishop. His existence alone was enough to confound Walter, but it was Peter himself that filled him with wonder. In the span of a few short months, just about every life this mysterious young man had touched had changed for the better.
His patience and strength seemed to come from an inexhaustible well; Walter was sure that well had run dry following his shooting of Olivia on Bell's ark. But instead of damning Walter, Peter praised him. Thanked him, even. Called him brave – which was, on the list of words Walter Bishop would ever use to describe himself, dead last.
The few weeks following the incident with Bell were a whirlwind for the Bishop family – and a family they were, however inexplicable it was to Walter - especially after the miraculous news of Olivia's pregnancy. Even September's ominous visit did little to tamper Walter's joy. They simply resolved to be on their guard, research began, and then they went on about their lives. Broyles was in the process of hiring new agents for Fringe Division, and had given Olivia – and Peter, by extension - strict orders to take some time off, so there were no bodies to dissect, no mysteries to solve.
Walter couldn't remember ever being so happy.
He spent a few days puttering around the lab alone; he missed Astrid, but she was out of the hospital, and on the mend. As a surprise for her return, he set about cleaning up and organizing everything. As he labeled beakers and test tubes, he pondered the thought of perhaps moving out of the lab and into an actual home. Peter had mentioned it to him a couple of days ago; not a few months ago, the thought of leaving the lab would have sent him into a tailspin. Yet again, he was reminded how times had changed; until recently, the bed in the lab and the four walls surrounding it had been the length and breadth of Walter's world, but this lanky young man with Elizabeth's eyes had blown those four walls into next week, and given him the world.
He was in his office one afternoon, cataloguing old issues of Scientific American, when he heard someone come in. "Peter, is that you?" he called. Receiving no reply, he rose from his desk and stood in the doorway. He spied Peter pacing back and forth, staring all the while at something in his hand. Walter couldn't help but grin.
He'd gotten a call that morning from Olivia asking if he'd like to have lunch. Astrid was invited as well – "just a little family get-together," she had said, then told Walter that she and Peter were going for her first sonogram that morning. "Maybe we'll have a little show and tell at lunch, too," she added.
Walter watched from the doorway for a moment as Peter finally stopped pacing, standing stock-still with the photo in one shaking hand. One shaking hand… Walter took a closer look at Peter, and noticed his breathing was becoming irregular. His other hand had gone to his chest, fisting in the center as Peter suddenly bent over at the waist. "Peter!" Walter called, rushing over to the distressed young man.
"Oh, my God, Oh, my God," Peter panted as Walter grasped him by the shoulders, mindful of his son's not-quite-healed injury.
"Peter," Walter repeated as he grabbed one of the rolling lab chairs with one hand, and guided Peter to it. "I need you to sit down, son." He also snatched an empty paper bag from the candy store, before crouching next to Peter. "Come on, now, put your head between your knees."
"Oh, God," Peter said again as he sat heavily, "Walter… can't breathe."
"I know," Walter said calmly as he held out the bag. "It's all right. Head between your knees, and breathe into this." He saw Peter raise his eyes toward him, confusion written all over his face. Walter smiled. "You're having a panic attack, Peter. And I think I know why." As Peter obediently put his head down and took the bag from Walter, Walter gingerly pried the sonogram photo from his death grip. He gently massaged Peter's neck with his free hand. "Now, let's have a look, shall we?"
The photo – or rather, a copy of a photo – wasn't much more than a black and white arrangement of blobs, but Walter's trained medical eye clearly saw that everything was perfectly normal; Peter and Olivia's baby was growing and flourishing, despite the circumstances of the past weeks. "Oh, how wonderful," Walter said softly, sniffing back tears. "How absolutely wonderful." He looked down and tousled the short curls on Peter's head. "You're going to be a father."
"I'm gonna be a father," Peter wheezed in agreement. After a few moments of silence punctuated only by Peter's hyperventilation and the occasional soothing word from Walter, Peter finally raised his head. "I don't think I can do this," he said.
Walter pulled another lab chair over and sat down opposite his surrogate son. "Nonsense. Why would you say that?"
Peter laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, right, I forgot. You don't remember. It didn't happen." At that moment in time, with the whole word ahead of him, Peter Bishop never felt more alone. How was he supposed to explain how he was feeling to someone who looked like his Walter, treated him like his Walter, but had absolutely none of his Walter's memories? George Bailey, welcome to Potterville, he thought to himself.
The truth of Peter's words stung Walter; he understood that Peter was in the correct timeline, but that it had been re-written, erasing everyone's memories of him but Olivia's. Intellectually, he understood, but emotionally, he despised himself for not remembering the extraordinary young man before him. "I'm so sorry, son. You deserve better."
"It's all right, Walter," Peter replied, his breathing finally evening out a bit. "I keep hoping that somehow you'll remember, but I really have to stop. It's not your fault. At least Olivia remembers." He smiled wanly at Walter. "And let's just say that there are some things I'm glad you don't remember. "
"What do you mean?" Walter asked.
Peter shook his head. "It's those same things that have me absolutely terrified right now. Walter, I don't know how to be a good father. Hell, until recently, I wasn't even a good man. How am I supposed to know the right things to do, the right things to say. Shit, I don't even know how to change a diaper!" His legs started bouncing nervously as he sat. "I mean, there are certain things a dad is supposed to be, right? Grounded. Morally sound. They're supposed to give good advice… what kind of advice am I gonna be able to give my child? 'Don't hit on 16'? 'Don't turn your back on an Observer?'" He grabbed his hair with his hands in frustration.
Walter placed his hands over Peter's. "Hyperion to a satyr," he said.
Peter's hands, entwined with Walter's, lowered. "Huh? Walter, you've picked one hell of a time to quote Shakespeare at me."
A fond smile crossed Walter's face. "So, you know it."
"Of course I know it. Every kid had Hamlet shoved down his throat in school. 'So excellent a king that was to this Hyperion to a Satyr.'"
"Very good." Walter placed his hands on Peter's legs to still them. "You are going to be a superb father, Peter."
"You don't know that. You don't know me," Peter said in a defeated voice. "How am I supposed to take the moral high ground with a child after some of the things I've done?"
"Said the man who saved two universes," Walter replied dryly. "Peter I may not remember you, but I most certainly do know you. You stepped into the Machine and created the bridge. Why?"
"Because I had to. I'd seen a version of the future, and I knew I had to stop it. Walter, what's this got to do with anything?"
"You did what you had to do – you erased yourself from the timeline – in order to save everyone. You put everyone's well being ahead of your own. I can't think of a better qualification for being a father." Walter patted Peter's leg for emphasis and sighed. "It's a quality I did not possess."
"That's not true," Peter protested.
"Yes, I'm afraid it is. I put my own happiness before the entire universe's well being. I acted like I was the only father who had ever lost a child. My arrogance was not only my undoing, but everyone else's as well." He grasped Peter's hands.
"But I think I understand that, Walter. Olivia's not even out of her first trimester, and the thought of losing our child… I'd turn hell itself upside down. I just feel it, you know?" He shrugged. "Maybe you weren't arrogant. Maybe you were just 'one that loved not wisely, but too well.'"
"Ah, touché, son," Walter smiled. "And you're very kind to say that, but if I could give you some advice…" He stopped and shook his head. "No, I shouldn't. I haven't the right."
"No, please, Walter. Please help me with this," Peter pleaded.
"Well, all I can really tell you is, don't make the mistakes I made. I doubt you will, though. You're brilliant. Almost as brilliant as I am. But you have something I lacked."
"What's that?"
"Generosity of spirit. A heart unbroken by what you've been through. You will give that heart to your child, and he or she will be the stronger for it."
"And I have Olivia," Peter added. "And Aunt Astrid," he said with a smile. He then squeezed Walter's hands. "And I have you."
Walter suddenly grasped Peter's face in both hands, and leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "Na einai kalitero anthropo apo ton patera tou," he whispered.
Peter gave a watery laugh, pulling away from Walter slightly. "Oh, I dunno… the one I have right now is pretty damn great." He drew Walter into a hug. "Thank you," he rasped, burying his face in the crook of Walter's neck. "Thank you."
"There, there," Walter said, returning the hug tentatively at first, but finally wrapping his arms tearfully around Peter. "Thank you… my beautiful boy." He moved a hand into Peter's hair. "I'm going to be a grandfather!" he exclaimed in wonder.
"You certainly are," Peter grinned. "God help us all!"
"Am I interrupting something?" Olivia said cheerfully as she came into the lab with Astrid.
"No, no, not at all," Walter said as he and Peter stood to greet the ladies. "May I say, you are looking absolutely radiant today, Olivia?"
"You may," Olivia replied, accepting a hug from Walter. "Peter, did you find my scarf?" At Peter's blank expression, she rolled her eyes. "I'm the pregnant one, and he's the one who's getting 'baby brain.' Fabulous."
Peter winced. "Damn. She dropped me off here to pick up her scarf while she went to get Astrid for lunch!" He looked around frantically, turning just in time to see Astrid standing before him, eyebrow cocked in bemusement, holding the missing scarf. "Uh… thanks?"
"Any time, Daddy," Astrid laughed.
Olivia noticed the photo in Walter's hand. "Well, I see Mr. Blabbermouth here couldn't wait for all of us to show you the sonogram, huh?"
"Not his fault," Walter covered. "It fell out of his pocket." He held out his arm to Olivia, who linked hers with it. "But I still want to hear all about your day, dear." As Peter and Astrid fell into step behind them on the way out, Walter leaned closer to Olivia, "I must warn you, Peter has a tendency to hyperventilate…"