FRINGE
The Fabulous Bishop Boys.
No in FRiNGEment intended.
Note: filler for Ability. I listened to Josh Jackson's CCNY 2009 interviews and came up with that, no Bolivia, Olivia dealing with her lover's death blah blah blah. I hope you like it ;)
--I did some research on Boston but was never there so please bear with me.
Thanks to Steve Kloves and his Fabulous Baker Boys for the inspiration.
More Than You Know [Vincent Youmans / lyrics Billy Rose & Edward Eliscu – 1929]
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Peter's cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he grabbed Walter's arm to stop him from straying away.
"Hey, it's me… where are you? I checked your hotel, I checked the lab…" Olivia's voice was hushed and concerned.
"The always lovely Olivia Dunham, Sunday didn't make it to the top of your checklist, why am I not surprised, your sister warned me…"
"I thought that you were…"
"And you were right. We were at the lab. Walter wanted to work on his live cast project," Peter stated cheerfully.
He patted Walter on the shoulder and pointed at a store window on the opposite side of the street. They ran across the street and Walter stuck his nose against the window.
"I beg your pardon?" she said.
"Remember the blue preparation I was stirring when you came in?"
He took a few steps away from his father who was in awe before the sheer variety of bras and panties displayed in the boudoir-size boutique.
"I do."
"Well, that was alginate. Walter picks only the best sort, dentistry quality. He has high standards when it comes to live casting."
"Okay. You mean he wants to make masks? But why?"
"You're missing the point Liv, and now that you asked you're entitled to the full explanation. Remember he was rubbing Gene's teats with petroleum jelly before our friend Mr Jones made you click his lights off?"
"Yes, and I assumed it was some kind of treatment."
"Well no it isn't. He wants to make casts of Gene's udder."
"I-I… I don't understand."
"Rest assured that I don't either."
"But why?"
"Ah, the burning question. If you must know, he says that our casting Gene's genitalia is a prerequisite, and whatever he means we'll probably know soon enough."
"And you had to go back to the lab on a Sunday? You're locked in there for the most part of the week."
"Don't I know it but nevertheless we had to go back to proceed with this new experiment without Astrid spying on us. Walter's words of wisdom."
"Astrid? Can't she help you on the contrary?"
"Since you ask, yes absolutely. The fact is, usually, your subject lies down, and your only worry is that he doesn't suffocate when you apply the preparation on his face. Obviously, we don't have that kind of problem with udders. Ours problems are Gene being a cow and on the other hand gravity, due to the liquid state of our alginate preparation."
"Obviously," she smiled.
"You're probably not aware that you must adjust the product's liquid state or it will cause it to run, that is until it sets which takes an average five minutes. During these vital five minutes you must keep Gene steady and pick up at the same time the excess and deposit it back. And you have to pay particular attention to weak points such as the tip of the teats and edges of the udder… and avoid bubbles."
"Avoid bubbles, I see," she said, closing the door to the lab behind her. She started walking her way back to the parking lot in the deserted hallways.
"Once the alginate has set, you begin applying a shell of plaster bandage. You understand that it is a perilous task due to Gene standing up and moving around during the whole process -that is an additional forty minutes. Plaster provides a scaffold, so to speak, for the rubbery alginate skin you intend to produce because it lacks the strength to support itself once released from the udder."
"What has it got to do with anything?" she asked, reaching the entrance door.
"You really want to know? I have no clue! Once again, my father."
He checked on Walter but he was still inspecting the window.
She unlocked her car door with the remote. "You know Walter does do things just like that," she smiled and sat behind the wheel. "Maybe it's part of a grander project…"
"I doubt he appreciates the casts as a rightful art form. I would bet he's on generating prosthetic pieces. I'm just hoping he's not planning of expanding this to human breasts."
"And that's why you were back at the lab on a Sunday afternoon?"
"Exactly. And since you happen to be there, you may want to check the state of our casts. Be careful, plaster tends to be hot when it cures. Walter put them in Gene's stall on the top shelf."
"I'm in my car."
"No problem. Unlike Walter, plaster doesn't need to be taken care of. It should need around five hours to be perfectly dry."
"You sure you don't want me to go back and have a confirmation handy?"
"No, no, don't bother. I thought that would provide Walter and me with enough time to check the Stanley Kubrick retrospective at the Brattle Theatre in Cambridge."
"Oh really? I didn't picture you into a movie freak."
"I'm not, I only tend to. I used to have a friend who was quite the movie geek when I was in high school. But anything to keep Walter busy, you know."
"I hope I'm not interfering with your plans."
"You're not. We're done." Peter glanced at Walter but he was busy with checking the next shop.
"What did you see?"
"The honest truth? They're showing "Eyes Wide Shut" today. After the whole faceless induced debacle, I figured I was not up to it."
She chuckled. "Want to grab a beer or something?"
"Is this an invitation?"
"Sort of. Rach is practically having the life I should have, making friends with neighbours I know nothing about and socializing with every living soul in a two mile radius, and it feels like being a stranger in my own house."
"I'm not against ingesting an unknown amount of alcohol, but I'd prefer to drop Walter safely at the hotel before that. It wouldn't be fair to leave him alone so early in the day though. And as much as I suspect that he would love to meet your sister, I don't think that asking her to babysit him is such a good idea."
"I agree."
"That leaves us with sharing a meal, the three of us. What do you say?""
"As long as it involves pizza, pasta or veal parmesan."
"Perfect. Walter? Please get yourself together, you're drooling now. We're gonna have dinner with Olivia."
She heard Walter mumbling about eggplants and fettuccini in the background.
"We're not far from the Cambridge Grill. You could meet us there. What do you say?"
"It's a date!"
"You understand that Walter will be here with us the whole time don't you?"
-o-
"I had no idea they had a piano," she said with an appreciative nod to the small stage.
"Always be prepared to be surprised," Peter chuckled.
She smiled back and took a sip of her drink. Walter had been playing for almost a half hour and he seemed perfectly happy with the unexpected turn of events. She relaxed back on her chair and listened to his improvisation. He was being really creative, mixing Elton John with Gershwin, Cole Porter with Mel Tormé and Johnny Mercer with Ahmad Jamal. She had absolutely no idea that he could be that good. She was replaying Jones' escape and her investigation in the back of her head when she felt Peter giving her a gentle nudge.
"We have to stop Walter. Now."
"Why? He's enjoying himself…"
"My point exactly."
"Good evening. Welcome to the Cambridge Grill. My name is… my name is…" said Walter suddenly, his muffled voice booming in the speakers.
In two strides, Peter was behind him. "Walter? What on earth are you doing Walter?" he whispered. His voice echoed in the room and every guest in the restaurant stopped doing whatever he was doing and held his breath.
"… my name's Walter Bishop," continued Walter, his face radiant. "And no, you're not seeing double. This is my son, my son Peter, Peter Bishop. And we're in a very very special place, right now." He struck a few dramatic chords.
"Walter, please step out and follow me please. I don't want to remove you by force."
"A very special place indeed." Walter insisted. He patted the seat beside him. "Don't make me ask you twice and sit here with me Peter. And that place is this place, The Cambridge Grill…"
"Walter I'm not doing this."
"Of course you are Peter."
Walter covered the microphone with one hand, and whispered, "Let me show you."
He placed back his hand on the keys and played a jazzy intro. "Please give a warm welcome to a very special lady with a very special way of singing a song."
"Walter why do I have the feeling that I heard those lines before? What movie are you planning to re-enact this time?"
"Miss Livvie Dunham!"
"Oh god, stop it! Let Liv out of it. I'm sitting down with you, see if that's what you want. And I'm playing. We can play four-hand with you, see."
He gave a glance back to their table but Olivia was already on her way. He heard a few claps and shrill sounds of approval when she stood up and moved closer to the stage. He shook his head vigorously but she smiled.
"That's okay Peter. I've seen the film like a dozen times," she said softly. She took the mike and whispered, "Walter? Real slow, please?"
She faced the room while the elder Bishop improvised the intro. Olivia started to sing, her eyes locked on the shadows before her.
"More than you know
Man of my heart, I love you so
Lately I've found you on my mind
More than you know…"
Walter played some additional flourish and Peter tagged along. Her voice was husky and unpredictably sensual. Both her hands were on the mike and she was swaying slowly to the music.
"Whether you're right
Whether you're wrongMan of my heart,
I'll string along
I need you so
More than you'll ever know…"
She turned around to face the Bishops and Walter nodded and played some minor chords. She faced the room again.
"Thank you," Olivia said with a bow to the audience, "and good night."
"Come on, Walter, time to go back to the hotel," said Peter.
He took him by the elbow and retrieved his coat and Walter's. Walter offered no resistance to his son this time. He was positively beaming. Olivia took him outside while Peter was asking the waiter for the check.
"That was fun," Walter finally said when they reached the sidewalk outside the restaurant.
"You're right Walter," she said gently, "and I have to thank you for that. It was one of John's favourite songs, you know. I can't believe I almost forgot that it was. I'm glad you played it for me."
"My pleasure, dear. I could do this again if you like," he offered.
"Yes I would like that."
"Like what?" asked Peter who was only rushing outside. "Liv, you okay?"
She shrugged and brushed his sleeve with a light hand. "I have to go. I'd like to read Ella a story tonight and tuck her in. Thank you Peter for a lovely evening. And I'll take a rain check on those drinks, if that's all right."
"Of course. You just say the word. See you tomorrow then?"
"Tomorrow."
And with that, she was gone.
-o-
What do you think? Not a song fic per se…