HIIIIIII Its me. Um, this is my first fanfic. Hope you like it i guess.

October 31, 10:58 PM

The black corvette streaked down the highway at approximately 56mph beneath a darkened sky. The headlights casted a beam of light, making visible only three feet in front of the car. To most people, it was Halloween. To the driver, it was just another long day at work.

Scott Alder had been working on the case for quite some time now. Ever since Broyles, the director of Homeland Security, had formed Fringe Division, the strange events never seemed to stop. For months now, the FBI had been tracking a man known as the Author, who could kill people just by writing one's name in a notebook. Now that he had been apprehended, Scott could be at ease.

He didn't think of the thought in the back of his mind that told him that there could very well be another event that would need to be solved. All Scott could think of at the moment was of the worriless sleep that would overcome him once he finally got home. It usually took around forty-five minutes from Boston to Star City, including traffic. At this late at night, the roads were essentially empty.

Scott drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His wife would be asleep when he got home, but he didn't mind. It wouldn't be long before he too would go to bed anyways. All he had to do was go through a few files, then he could call it a day.

Little did he know that he wouldn't get a good night's sleep after all.

The first thing that Scott felt, once he stepped into the door of the late-20th century building that he called home, was hunger. After placing his bags in his study, he headed over to the kitchen. Judging by the dirty plates and the lack of meat loaf in the fridge, it seemed that his wife had had leftovers for dinner again. Fortunately, there was plenty of steak left to be had, so Scott helped himself.

After he finished eating, Scott stood up and carried the used silverware to the sink where they were to be washed. As he finished drying his fork, he turned to head upstairs. Instead, he came face to face with his wife.

She had a light blue robe draped on her shoulders, and was sporting messy brown hair. The expression on her face screamed trouble. Yet there was something off about her appearance.

Her eyes were closed.

Was she sleepwalking? Scott didn't think that that was a problem anymore. She hadn't sleepwalk for the past two years. Yet when she did sleepwalk, she usually fell down the stairs.

Not this time.

Scott's anxiety began to increase as his semi-asleep spouse continued to stare at him with closed eyes. After what seemed to be a few minutes, she turned around to head back to bed.

No, she wasn't going upstairs.

She was going to the silverware drawer.

Before Scott could even blink, she took a knife from the drawer, and with deadly accuracy, threw it in his direction. It was a direct hit to the heart. As Scott collapsed to the floor with a gasp for breath, his wife turned and headed up the stairs, back into the bedroom.

Blood was pouring out of Scott's mouth uncontrollably. His mind was still processing what had just happened. As he closed his eyes for the last time, he could only think of one thing.

How the heck did she learn to throw like that?

November 1, 9:31 AM

Olivia Dunham looked at her watch. It had been over an hour since Broyles had called her to tell the Bishops to meet them at the FBI Federal Building. Now Olivia was waiting outside of her headquarters, waiting for Peter and Walter to arrive.

Broyles hadn't given her any details about the new case, only that something happened to one of their own, Agent Scott Alder. Olivia was not familiar with him personally, but she knew the name. Not that it mattered anymore, considering that he was dead.

Olivia spotted Walter and Peter heading her way and ran to meet them. "What took you guys so long?"

Peter grinned. "Walter decided to take a shower with his cloths on, but not before repeatedly waking me up announcing his need to have biscuits…again".

Walter looked annoyed. "How does one sleep when the hunger pangs start kicking in?"

Olivia smiled as she and the Bishops entered the building.

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice", Broyles said in is calm yet stern voice. "We only discovered the body around an hour".

Olivia stared down at what used to be Scott Alder. Apart from the knife protruding from his chest, there was nothing unusual about the corpse.

"I don't understand. Why did you call us in?"

"Agent Alder's wife, Samantha told us that she had a dream where she threw a knife at her husband in her kitchen. When she woke up, it looked as if her dream had become a reality. We found the body in the kitchen, like the dream suggested".

"Has anything like this happened before?" Peter asked.

"Two other instances with similar descriptions have occurred within the past week", Broyles replied. "All three murders have taken place in Star City".

Olivia looked up. "That's twenty miles north of here".

Broyles nodded. "Which is why I want the three of you to spend a week there to investigate the case. We can't send any of our other agents there, it's too much of a risk". He turned around. "Doctor Bishop?"

Walter was busy examining the body, not that there was really anything interesting to look at. "Yes, after hearing what you have just said, three thoughts have come to mind. One; someone could have tapped into the subconscious and made the dreams reality and two; someone could have taken control of the body in its sleep state, causing the host to commit the murders while sleepwalking".

Peter gave his father an odd look. "You said that three things came to mind. What was the third thing?"

Walter beamed. "Ah! Yes, does anyone know where I could find some cinnamon biscuits? I could really use some".

Peter sighed. "Ladies and gentlemen, I proudly present: my father".

"We're leaving tonight".

It was Peter who had made the statement. The trio had arrived back at Walter's lab at Harvard University, and were debating on when they would head to Star City. Walter had decided that the conversation wasn't really important, so he went to go milk the cow.

Olivia frowned. "Peter, we don't have anything planned yet. This isn't like the time I went to Germany. This is a week-long thing, and we have no idea what could happen".

"You don't need to worry about anything", Peter said with a reassuring tone. "The place isn't as bad as you think. Sure, the crime rate spiked in the last couple of months, but even that is being handled. Besides, I know a guy. He'd be more than happy to give us a place to stay".

Olivia gave him a sideways glance. "Is he one of your 'special contacts'?"

Peter smiled. "You have no idea how special he actually is".

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