SAMHAIN SCARE
Summary : When a mysterious high priestess opens a portal and causes the disappearances and eventual deaths of three young Wiccans, the team and new, mysterious consultant Peter Bishop are called in. Sometimes, desperation is strong enough to defy even magic and science. Three-part Halloween case-fic.
Disclaimer : Hmm... maybe for my birthday, you guys could come together and buy out JJ Abrams and the guys? Nah, I didn't think so, either.
Samhain Scare
One : All Hallows' Eve
"Dunham."
"We have a case. Round up the team and Peter Bishop. The address will be sent to you shortly." Her superior has a way of barking orders in a blunt manner which leaves no room for dispute, but Olivia tries anyway.
"Peter Bishop?" She questions, uncertain. The mysterious stranger had shown up a month ago, a figment of her and Walter's combined imagination suddenly real. Various tests have proven his claim to be Walter's long-dead son accurate, but the fact remains that he is, for all intents and purposes, a non-existent stranger who knows way too much classified and personal information… and elicits strange responses from her body, along with feelings that leave more to be desired and worry her simultaneously.
"Bishop has been briefed and is waiting. If Dr. Bishop refuses to leave the lab, then this man is our best shot at getting a proper preliminary examination. He also appears to have substantial knowledge and experience, and until cleared, is best kept under surveillance as an asset to the team. Is that clear, Dunham?"
Sometimes Olivia wonders if Broyles is capable of asking a real question, not a pathetic attempt at one that comes out as a clear order.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Bishop is waiting for you and Agent Farnsworth will meet you at the scene."
Just as she hangs up, the address of their scene appears on her screen as promised. She huffs as she memorizes the address; it will be a ninety-minute drive, at the very least, and she will be spending it in a confined space with a stranger who has a way of making her uncomfortably aware of his presence at all times.
Oh joy.
"We have a case."
"I could tell," His easy smirk does nothing to placate her and as he motions easily for her to come in while he gets ready to leave, she notices the small flicker of pain in his eyes. It irritates her - how well she can read this man. She knows her blunt manner hurts; there has to have been a reason that she had been the first he'd asked for in the hospital, and not his reluctant father. And apparently, the reason is an amazing, unbelievable romance that transcends timelines and universes. She knows better than to buy into it, but sometimes these little reactions from him manage to persuade her, even for a single second, into wondering if he is telling the truth, after all.
She remains outside of his door, the tiny hotel corridor uncomfortably warm. It takes him all of two minutes to gather his belongings and lock the door behind him, and another two for them to settle in for the long drive.
"So Walter never comes out?"
He's starting conversation, again, knowing that she's too polite and curious to ignore him; she hates him for knowing that.
"Never. The one time he left the lab was when we went to New York, when…" She falters suddenly, a whole day's worth of repressed memories suddenly leading an attack against her protective mind.
"When I burst into existence like part of an ancient mythology, fully formed." He has a good sense of humor, and a charming smile and oh God, why can't she control these thoughts? She is a grown woman, for crying out loud, and though it has been, admittedly, a while since she had catered to certain needs, the way this man makes her feel is downright ridiculous; it's as if her body recognizes him on some primal, basic level that her brain doesn't function on.
She's staring and he knows it. He shifts slightly, focusing on her and only her, and she knows he's going to say something; she hates that she knows these little things – hates it so much because it is proof of a life stolen from her.
"Eyes on the road, sweetheart." He says with a soft, genuine smile, saving them both from a potentially awkward situation. She turns to face the road, but only because she can feel a blush working its way into her abnormally pale cheeks and he really doesn't need to know that he gets her flustered.
"Why do you call me that?"
She's looking for trouble, unable to find contentment in the heavy, charged silence they share. She's asking questions she shouldn't be asking, because it hurts so much when he gives her a glimpse into that other life, the one where she doesn't have a hole in her; has never had one.
"Because I called you that when we first met, and you threatened me."
It is puzzling but entirely him to antagonize her, and so she accepts it with a curt nod, focusing on the road and the inner workings of her mind, hoping to coax some trace of this reality he dreams of. She shoots him a quick look and it is enough for her to catalogue the playful smirk tugging at his lips and the glint in his eyes.
"And besides, you like it when I call you that when we make love."
Stunned, Olivia can only offer a quick thanks to the powers-that-be for this empty stretch of road where she can't crash into any other car as she hits the brakes a little too hard.
Peter Bishop is a dangerous, dangerous man.
Peter isn't playing fair, but then again, fair's overrated.
And it's a matter of love, so he figures he has a free pass, anyway. All's fair in love and war, right? He needs to get the love of his life back and end a war between universes; his moral compass should probably take off for a vacation right now, because Peter knows he will do almost anything to get his life – and his Olivia – back.
And if that means playing dirty, so be it. Olivia is attracted to him, for the simple reason that her body remembers his. And if it's his one advantage, then he's going to work it.
But more than getting into her pants, he wants her to remember him; wants her to remember that this is the man she crossed universes for, the man she loves. He wants her to love him because he loves her and he wants her, in more ways than should be humanely possible. He wants, so badly, for her to look at him in that special way she reserved for him, with warm, trusting eyes and not these cold, lifeless ones he's been subjected to ever since his return.
She clams up after his, admittedly, inappropriate comment and they spend the next hour in silence; a silence filled with longing and curious looks and the ghosts of a past life.
"Hey, Astrid."
She flashes him a short smile before returning to her previous task – reporting back to Walter. The young agent has been the friendliest member of the team to him, probably because he isn't claiming to be her long-dead son or the forgotten love of her existence. He's just her friend; a friend she doesn't remember, but a good friend.
"So, what do we have?" He turns to Olivia, who's just walked away from a local detective. He misses how they would trade case details on the drive over, but all she does these days is give him the most basic details and leave him to his work.
"Last night, these nine ladies-" She points out a group of young women hovering at the edges of the scene, "- and three more, plus a stranger we haven't been able to identify, gathered in this clearing to celebrate Samhain."
"So they're Wiccans?" Peter surmises.
"Yeah. 12 of them and some lady they refer to as the High Priestess. Seems she just got into town, convinced them to let her join and took the lead last night, bringing them here. Precisely three minutes before midnight, this lady walks up, pulls three of the ladies and then they disappear."
"Dissapear?" Olivia's blunt manner of speech isn't lost on him; she can't make sense of this and she doesn't like it.
"Just like that. They haven't been seen since then, and after an hour, Clarissa Hubble-" She points out a redhead who looks to be in her late teens, "- called it in. Police department didn't take her seriously until reports of a dry thunder storm came in and then we were notified."
"Any theories yet?" Broyles comes up behind them, effectively preventing the sarcastic remark Peter would have made regarding the fact that when weird things happen, the Freak Division is called in. Astrid joins them after a quick circle of the area with multiple devices at her disposal.
"Walter thinks that something weird must've happened, because we've got spiked levels of energy and other weird readings, but until something else comes up, or these women show up again, I don't think we have anything else to go on."
"Spiked levels of energy?" Olivia echoes uncertainly. "Does he think that-"
"This is a possible soft spot?" Astrid finishes her sentence. "Yeah; he's not happy about it, too."
"Pack it up," Broyles orders, quickly taking charge. "Agents and trained scientists will guard the scene until further evidence shows up. For now, head back to the lab and see what Dr. Bishop can come up with."
Astrid nods a silent agreement and begins to clean up as Broyles leaves them to their own devices. "I just wish we had more to go on," She sighs, clearly dissatisfied. "I actually got caught in traffic on the way here." She complains to Olivia, who shrugs.
She's about to formulate a reply when a ripping sound echoes throughout the space, commanding everyone's attention.
In the stunned silence, Peter is the first to recover and use his dry humor.
"Be careful what you wish for, Astrid."
In the middle of the previously empty clearing, three bodies with a startling number of limbs fused to the oddest spots have appeared in a smoking pile.
"Get Broyles," Olivia comments in a low voice and one of the lingering techs quickly chases after their superior. Astrid's headpiece comes to life as she updates Walter. Peter and Olivia stand guard over the remains, the ramifications of this recent development running through their minds.
"Familiar?" Peter questions in a tone that suggests it is, to him.
"Yes," Olivia nods grimly. "They-"
"-were pulled into the other universe."
Happy Halloween!
Fresh off the high 21 Dreams gave me and here it is - my very first case-fic. And yes, of course it had to be a three-part Fringe Halloween fic, because that's just how my mind works. I'm hoping to achieve an even balance between the case and personal relationships, because there's just so much to write about when it comes to Peter's return – can you say Peter/Olivia angst? How do you guys think I'm doing so far?
Feedback is always appreciated, and if reviews aren't your thing, there's always e-mail, PM, my homepage and Twitter. Reviews make for great birthday presents, did you know? (Yes, I am not above using my birthday to get reviews. I am such a whore.)
E Salvatore,
October 2011.