An Evening to Remember
No in FRiNGEment intended.
Note: set after AbilitY. Since we have plenty of time on our hands until the next episode, thank you very much, I'm planning a series of one-shot fics set after Ability, exploring various avenues and possibilities. So after "A Bar in Brighton", here you go for a ride with Olivia. Please review ;)
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You Passed
That arrogant bastard was really playing with her. She was right, it was merely a mind game but now Jones was gone and whatever had succeeded at breaking through that hospital wall had nothing to do with mind games. And she will have to wait to get answers to her questions.
She called Broyles and the Division immediately. She ought to keep Boston PD and their SWAT teams out of their hair asap.
With Charlie being busy with the repercussions of the previous alert, and working hand in hand with the bomb squad, she was on her own again. If she had taken Peter up on his offer for a drink, he would have probably insisted on tagging along but he was a consultant and it was not his place to deal with this kind of mess. In the end, she was glad he was safe and back at the lab. Walter needed to be taken care of.
And the night was still young, she thought, her anger subsiding.
She spent the next half hour coordinating each and every team, and monitored them until she was perfectly certain that not only the perimeter was secured but that every shred of evidence was wrapped up and everything under control.
It was also her job to have an explanation handy to feed to the hospital board. It didn't have to be plausible but on the contrary the more vague the better, suffice to say that she will be trusted with any kind of bold statement considering the extent of the damages and Jones turning into Houdini. She did her best at spreading disinformation. Once she would be gone, she had no doubt that with the help of the proverbial hospital rumour mill, her poor post 9/11 explanation would set new ramifications and eventually gain a valid life of its own.
She went back to her car and called Astrid. But on the other end of the line, there was only a continuing ringing and no one to pick up the phone. So Astrid was gone bearing the news of her success at defusing the bomb. She will learn soon enough of Jones' escape. This new development was jeopardizing their near future and with it was coming the threat of more havoc to come.
She dialled the Bishops' residence with no more success. They might be en route, or having diner downtown. She'll have to take her chances.
She started the engine, and accelerated in the traffic. She had to inform Peter about the current events and she was looking forward to the opportunity of toying with theories and explanations with someone who could not only listen but elaborate further.
Not to mention that she was now quite ready to have a drink, or five, as he put him. Her face was lit by a fleeting smile and she did her best to concentrate on her driving. She parked a hundred yards from the entrance and looked up to the windows on the fifth floor and spotted the lights.
She hurried inside, nodding to the desk clerk, and rushed up the stairs. She stopped in front of their door and waited for her breathing to return to normal. She rapped on the door and took a step back.
She could hear voices and muffled steps in the suite, and additional background noise from a television. She knocked at the door again, and heard a new sound, a persistent humming buzz which was going on and off. Walter must be on to something, she mused, resisting the urge to pound on the door.
"Walter?" she shouted, rapping again, "it's me Olivia! Could you come to the door and let me in, please? Walter?"
The buzz stopped and Walter pushed the door ajar. His head half popped in the crack five feet from the ground up. When he identified Olivia, he straightened up and opened the door with a large smile on his face and a portable electric milk whisk in his hand. The television was on and obviously Walter was watching the World Series of Texas Hold'em poker.
"Olivia, you're right on time."
"I am?"
"Yes, yes, I was attempting to produce a large amount of milk froth for our cappuccinos. I was afraid that you would be too early but this is perfect timing indeed. Please do come in."
"You were expecting me?" she quipped, her eyes searching for Peter. He was not in the room but she could hear water running in the bathroom. He was probably having a shower or something. She sighed and stepped inside.
"Of course my dear! Peter said that he asked you out for a drink."
"He did?" she retorted. How typical…
"And I figured that you would show up… eventually. Please be seated. I'm almost done with the froth. I'll make popcorn."
She slipped off her coat and slumped on the couch while Walter was closing the door behind her. There were several decks of cards on the table before her and a notepad filled with numbers and combinations.
"Walter, you don't have to go to all this trouble just for me. I'll just wait for Peter here."
"It's no trouble at all, I assure you. This popcorn is the best! It's the dead actor's brand. You have to try it, it's organic, butter flavoured, 94% fat free and non-salted," he read from the box. "You toss the bag in the microwave oven and it's ready in no time. It takes away all the fun you can get from actually making pop corn, it's fantastic!" he exclaimed with a puzzled expression on his face. "It does, doesn't it?" Now he seemed bothered. But he resumed his giddy banter. "Do you like pop corn agent Dunham?"
"Yes, very much," she stalled, desperate to find a way out of this conversation. "You're playing cards?"
"No, not at all." He went to the microwave and put a pop corn bag inside with extreme care. "I'm barely perfecting Peter's system."
"Peter has a system?"
"Of course he does. Doesn't everyone? Poker is not only about counting cards but surely you must know."
He grinned and locked his eyes on hers and remained perfectly still, except for his right hand which was beating along the popping sound of corn. She didn't know what to do or say. Was she supposed to tell him that she actually was very good at counting cards? Just when she was opening her mouth to put an end to their awkward silence, the microwave rang indicating that the popcorn was done. Walter sprang in motion and retrieved the fuming bag from the oven. Prancing around, blowing on the bag and holding it alternatively with one hand then the other, he managed to pour its content into the bowl sat on the table without getting burnt or spilling half its content on the floor.
"Dig in, I will be back with our cappuccinos. You must know that I have no espresso machine, so I had to improvise."
"Okay," she said softly, concealing a smile.
"I have no coffee either. Peter says it keeps me awake. No coffee for Walter at the hotel."
"Right."
"But you will be happy to see that I have the froth ready and perfectly thick. It acts as an insulator and retains the heat, allowing the beverage to stay hotter a lot longer."
"Let's say it's… lattè-lattè with extra foam on top."
"Yes, yes, very good! I can provide chocolate sprinkling though. But I'm not a big fan. I personally do not fancy chocolate with coffee," explained Walter.
"Of course," she was biting her lip now in a poor attempt at keeping a straight face.
"Here you go. Now we wait," stated Walter. He sat down in the armchair opposite the couch and took a sip of his cup. A thin layer of milk foam immediately graced his mouth.
"Wait? Wait for what?"
"Peter."
"Well my guess is that he can't stay in the shower forever."
Walter gave her a confused look. "Why would he be in the shower? You mean that he came back and I don't remember? This is not good, no, not good, not good."
He stood up again and started pacing. Olivia went to his side, and tried to calm him down. The last thing she wanted was to upset Walter and guarantee Peter another sleepless night in the process.
"Walter, calm down. Where is Peter?"
"In the shower," he was no longer mystified, but on the verge of throwing one of his usual tantrums.
"You sure?"
"Of course I am now, and I will prove it to you!" He wriggled away from her and threw himself against the bathroom door which slammed open. "Peter, I'm coming in," he chanted, "I'm hoping you're not playing with little peter again. Peter?"
Olivia heard the shower being turned off and Walter mumbling about steam bath, vapour density and mirrors. But he was back already.
"I-I… I forgot to turn off the shower," he said. "More cappuccino?
"You mean Peter is not in there?"
"Of course not. As I stated before, he invited you out for a drink."
"Yes he did. But I turned him down."
"Oh, I see, interesting," he mused. "Nevertheless, he's gone."
"So it seems. Walter, I have to go too, it's getting late." She grabbed her coat and headed for the door.
"I will fix you a doggy bag with some popcorn! Do you happen to have one of these evidence plastic zip bags? I find them very convenient."
"No, and no but thank you Walter. I think I'm going to go to bed as soon as I get home," she said, her hand already on the doorknob.
"If you're tired, you can stay here and wait for Peter with me."
"I-I… I can't, not tonight. But you'll be alright okay?"
Walter nodded. "You know that you two are always welcome to use my room."
"I know," she smiled. "Good night Walter. I'll see you tomorrow."
She turned around and left. She heard the door being locked and the volume of the television being turned up. She hurried back to her car.
It was time to get some sleep.
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So? Do you like it? Review please ;)