Crimson Web
Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe, although if there is some alternate version of me in another universe that somehow, by some bizarre series of events owns Fringe... I would be extremely jealous of said person.
A/N: This is set immediately following the season 2 finale "Over There." I'm ignoring pretty much everything that happened in season 3 in this story, just because it would muck up my plans somewhat if I didn't :P And when I wrote out the plan for this story, it was just after the season 2 finale. If there happen to be any coincidences between my story and any events of season 3... oh well ;P
Anyways, onwards!
Chapter One: Puppeteer
It was beyond eerie.
The lab was arranged with no particular organization that she could see, beakers jumbled amongst Bunsen burners. Test tubes were lined up alongside a microscope and a pink milkshake sat alone on the counter, condensation beading in liquid diamonds on the container.
Olivia Dunham stood by the worn staircase, hand delicately settled on the cold metal rail, something that should've been so familiar seemed so alien.
Of course, she was from another universe, so how was that to be unexpected?
After the first day she'd classified levels of difference from this universe and her own, the smallest being the face on the twenty dollar bill to the largest ones such as the absence of the Twin Towers in New York.
She'd considered this assignment to be very much one of her own control, pulling the strings in this little ruse.
"Hey Olivia, I'll see you tomorrow," interjected Astrid.
"Yea," she answered, still marvelled at the difference between the two. The contrast was like black and white, completely opposite ends of a gargantuan spectrum.
The door shut behind her and another voice interjected. "Livia?"
Peter.
He was one difference that held no category, simply something she had to act with; a prop in her little stage play.
"Hey, uhh, I was just headin' out for the night."
"Alright, I'll see you in the morning then sweetheart," and kissed her briefly.
She'd quickly become accustomed to that, just telling herself for the millionth time that it was the mission.
She picked up her coat and reached for her keys-that Peter held up for her with a comedic jingle. "Might need these."
She chuckled and snatched them from his hand as Walter shuffled out into the lab, pristine white coat draped over his sweater vest and peered into a microscope.
"Goodnight, Walter," Olivia said. The name felt strange and awkward on her tongue, as if she was trying to swallow a piece of fruit that was too big for her mouth.
He looked up swiftly from his work, a brief smile on his face before his beady eyes seemed to darken, tinted with shadow. "Goodnight, Agent Dunham."
With one final smirk to Peter she left. Her shoes clacked against the floor like a hollow metronome as she pondered the notion of this little show she'd orchestrated.
Peter and Astrid were the easy ones - the gullible ones. They were puppets, their strings invisible little lines of deceit attached to a web of deception.
But Walter, he was one who Olivia found difficult to control, a puppet who escaped the constraints of the strings. But surely a few tugs here and a jostle there would do.
After all, she was the puppeteer.
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