Disclaimer: If Fringe were mine, we'd have seen Liv blatantly hitting on our Olivia by now... just sayin', it would be totally hot. (see profile for a REAL disclaimer)
A/N: Written for LiveJournal's Mini NanoWriMo Day 5 challenge! Also, this is unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine.
Astrid wasn't quite sure what to think about the man who called himself Peter Bishop.
She'd known for years that Walter had lost his son at a young age, then later about the one from the other universe that had drowned at the bottom of Reiden Lake, and to say that it had always been a touchy subject would be an understatement. They hardly ever brought it up, a silently agreed upon pact between herself and Olivia to shield Walter from as much hurt and emotional pain that they could. Unfortunately, it wasn't always that easy. Astrid would have all of his favorite foods and albums close by, ready to distract him at any moment when, or if, something reminded him of his son, but it only helped to a certain degree. Most of the time, Olivia was the only one who could get through to him in his grief induced haze, the only one that could calm him.
So, when this man showed up, conveniently in the same spot that one of them had been lost, rising from the ashes, Astrid had immediately known that Walter wasn't going to take it well. She could see the terror in his eyes, the hope, and the guilt. He was a fragile man, hovering only inches from the precipice of insanity, and she didn't want this to push him over the edge. It was also one of the many reasons that she'd been surprised to find Nina Sharp having a quiet conversation with Walter when she walked back into the lab after running to the market, especially considering his rather vocal disdain for the woman in the past. But, just as quickly as they'd acknowledged each other with polite greetings, she was gone and Astrid had the distinct impression that whatever had been said had left them both more than a little shaken.
When pressed, Walter had refused to tell her what had just happened, but his quick exit into the back room had done nothing to hide the shiny layer of unshed tears coating his eyes.
Astrid hated seeing him sad.
The next thing she knew, only a few minutes after she'd finished putting the groceries away, he had stormed back into the room with his cap and jacket on, insisting that she drive him back to the Fringe headquarters so that he could talk to Peter again.
"Walter, you know you don't have to do this, right?" she spoke softly, worried about him, "You don't have to go back. Not if you don't want to."
"I need to do this, Astro. I have to."
"No, you don't. You've already done more than enough. We all understand how hard this is for you."
Walter froze, his gaze trained somewhere slightly to the left of her, down toward floor. She could tell that he was waging an inner war, one that both of them were going to lose. He could be downright stubborn when it came to something important and nothing would stop him until he got his way.
"If this man really is my son, a different version of him, I should at least hear him out," his voice wavered, "I owe him that much."
"Not when he shows up out of the blue, spouting lies about who he is and how he gained so much classified information about us and all of the Fringe cases that we've worked on," she argued, "You don't owe him anything, Walter."
He finally looked up at her, his lower lip quivering slightly. It made her heart ache.
A tear slowly slid down his cheek, "But, I do. What if this is my last chance to- I can't let this opportunity pass me by."
Astrid frowned, giving up the fight. All she could do now is be there for him.
"Alright. But, only if you let me wait outside of the interrogation room for you. I don't want to see you get hurt again, Walter."
He smiled, nodding nervously in the way that told her he was truly grateful, "Thank you, Agent Farnsworth."
Dread began brewing deep in the pit of her stomach as she grabbed her coat and ushered him up the ramp in the lab, out toward car. Nothing about this felt right, like life had suddenly become a puzzle that was missing a handful of pieces or a crossword without any of the clues.
Astrid had a feeling that she was going to hate Peter Bishop by the end of the day. He was going to break Walter's heart and she and Olivia would be the ones left picking up the pieces.
End.
