Watching the threads disintegrate
remain in the ruckus and you will get scraped
Three agents will walk into a bar at some point from now.
14 hours ago, Charlie woke up with his baby crying, flailing between him and his wife. He didn't remember bringing her into the bed.
A lot more had changed than that.
"Here is where the timelines diverge," Walter says, drawing lines on a chalkboard in his Harvard lab. "I guess the oldest divergence is that poor Peter." Walter starts with one line arcing up.
Secretary of Defense Walter says, "He said he had never been sick a day in his life." The man looks embarrassed saying it. Charlie guesses it's because he can't conceive of a world where he was the kidnapper, not his counterpart. That Peter is at the hospital for overdosing on homemade smack.
"Actually, I guess that should be two lines," Walter at the chalkboard says. He draws a parallel one next to the first one. "Two alternate universes linked."
Walter looks at the Olivia Charlie almost knows, and at the other Walter in his suit. "Now you two, you diverge later."
"Both Peters dead," Peter says.
"Right," Walter says. "And now we come to myself and Agent Francis, we diverge, from the remaining lot of you because your Agent Francis was killed by a shapeshifter."
"Not our Agent Francis," redheaded Olivia says. "But yeah, when I was here, people mentioned he had died."
"Right, yes, when you were pursuing your Mata Hari ways," Walter says. "You three," Peter, that Olivia, a Captain Lincoln Lee, "we'll give you two linked lines. So three primary timelines, and at least one more and what seems to have happened is that they all have been woven together. A novel solution!"
"Billions are dead," Lincoln says.
"Billions are alive," Walter in the suit says, with command. "However this happened it doesn't seem to have been initiated in any of our three timelines."
"Not that I heard about," Charlie says.
"Nor I," Walter says at the chalkboard. "And I think I would have."
"It seems like these three timelines, though, they're the ones we all came from," Peter says. "Except for our friend who nodded off for the apocalypse."
"Perhaps their universe was in the worst shape of all. The breakdown prompted desperate measures," Walter in the suit says.
"Yes," Walter at the chalkboard says. "Fascinating. Weaving all the universes together, or at least some of them, so frayed threads are repaired by strong ones, one seamless tapestry instead of the wormholes and blight we've seen here."
"It's chaos out there," Lincoln says. Charlie could grow to like that guy.
"Which is why we need to get to work," Walter in a suit says.
Before the three agents walk into a bar, three agents walk into a coffee shop. For the past six weeks, Secretary Bishop and other leaders have been trying to bring order into chaos. Fringe FBI, whoever Charlie works for now, is needed more than ever. They go out and smooth out problems. It's a euphemism for the day to day to work, but Charlie likes it. It's good work, it's necessary.
He goes home to his wife, his tiny child. Everybody's lost someone. They can't find any version of Broyles or Astrid Farnsworth. People have lost their entire family and now find themselves in a house with strangers. Charlie is doing okay. So he tries not to talk about it.
Charlie and Olivia order coffee, Lincoln gets tea. He says, "Have they even figured out the coffee situation?"
"Figured it out enough we can order it," Charlie says.
Lincoln smiles. "I'm glad at least one of you made it, Francis."
"Apparently I died in a lot of timelines," Charlie says.
"Not as much as Peter," Olivia says. She is smiling at her own almost joke. "He dies a lot."
Lincoln nearly laughs. He is clearly disgruntled, some form of rejected from the Olivia in his timeline. She works mostly with her timeline's Peter who is also, apparently, the father of her child. The kid's named Henry.
Olivia says, "Actually, we should stop that. I was thinking, we should stop comparing our pasts, our divergences. Live in the now. With what we have."
"I like that idea," Lincoln says.
"Works for me," Charlie says. "Less time we spend talking about all the times I died."
But three months later, three agents walk into a bar. It's been a long day. Tech so advanced Charlie thinks maybe it's alien in the hands of an utter idiot. They passed it off to Walter in his lab, for him and the Peter who was raised rich, spoiled and powerful to play with. "He swears he's sober," the other Peter says. Charlie is used to his Peter, disappeared with Broyles and Farnsworth, they were almost close friends. The non druggie Peter is still a good guy, but not quite Charlie's friend at all. They confer. They confer mostly about parenthood. Charlie's girl is about 7 months older than Peter's Henry.
"He swears up and down he's sober but I could beat a drug test and I don't see why he wouldn't. I get it, there's nothing of his universe except him and a few empty houses," Peter says.
"I don't trust him," Charlie says.
"I agree completely," Peter says. "Don't worry, I check in on him and Walter all the time."
Charlie isn't sure he trusts any version of Peter.
So their team drops off the tech and goes straight to drink. Charlie says, "I could have outrun that guy."
Olivia laughs. She says, "Maybe some other Charlie Francis could, maybe if we'd gotten one of those." The bartender looks offended, people just don't joke about that. Three months and it's still fresh. But he's from the universe where Fringe Division is known and revered so he just walks away.
Captain Lee laughs as well. Lincoln says, "You could not outrun that guy. But I just have to say, is anyone else struck by what an incredibly petty crime this was? Oooh, I woke up in a house that belongs to my double and it has incredible technology outside my possible reach and very small brain and therefore, I am going to steal my brother-in-law's pizza recipe?"
"And oven. He stole the damn oven, too," Charlie says.
"He stole the oven," Lincoln repeats. He's a good guy, fun to work with.
"He ran with that oven," Olivia said. "And Charlie had no chance of catching him on foot."
"I could have," Charlie said. "Let's remember he shot that oven with a shrinking ray, it was in his damn pocket. It's not like I couldn't out run some guy carrying a big hunk of rock oven."
"I sound like Walter," Olivia says. "But I really want pizza."
"It wasn't even great pizza," Lincoln says. "We were after this guy for three days and it all comes to down a footrace that Charlie loses, and all this technology, for an average pizza recipe."
"I had some," Charlie says. "It was not bad."
"Not bad. I could do not bad," Lincoln says.
"No, you could not," Olivia says.
"Gimme a fancy oven, decent ingredients, I can do not bad pizza. And this guy is wasting a shrink ray for that."
Olivia says, "You wanted him to have more aspirational goals for his crimes?"
"Yes," Lincoln says. "If I spend three days and there's a shrinking ray involved that almost hits Charlie -"
"Missed me by two feet," Charlie says.
"For pizza. And it wasn't even great," Lincoln says.
"I'm concerned about how upset you are about this," Olivia says. "Are you making better plans for that shrinking ray?"
"No," Lincoln says. "Not at all. I just like criminals that are challenging."
"That make good stories for you to impress someone with," Charlie says.
"Pizza recipe doesn't impress the ladies," Olivia says.
"You just have to tell it right," Lincoln says.
"To the right person," Charlie says.
"Which is no one Lincoln knows," Olivia says. "No one he knows is impressed by him."
"I liked you better when we first met," Lincoln says. "The cold, withdrawn Olivia who only made jokes with Walter, she was great."
"What can I say? It didn't take much to be smarter and funnier than you two," Olivia says. Her smile is broad and tentative for only a brief moment, then the hesitation is gone. Good for Liv, Charlie thinks.
"One drink and I'm done," Charlie says.
"Kid," Lincoln says.
"Wife," Olivia says, another smile.
"Don't get into any trouble," Charlie says. He goes home to his house. The one he had before now has an extra floor. It's more than they need so, for now, they just ignore it. Chaos into order, wormholes closed, one step at a time.
"For the record, I'm a great sprinter," Charlie says to his wife.
"Sure," she says. The baby sleeps between them still.