Olivia opened her eyes to absolute darkness. It took a moment for her to remember where she was. Frank's side of the bed was cold, and the subsequent realization that he was gone for good left her hollow.
She rolled onto her side and eyed the clock. 7:15. Not wanting to think about working, she buried her face in the pillow.
She couldn't breathe, but she kept her head where it was. Suppose I just lay here and suffocated, she mused, how long until someone found me?
It would be pleasant to die this way. Here in her own bed, in the silence, she could find peace. These were dangerous thoughts, she was well aware, but this newfound morbidity had been finding her more and more lately.
Get up, she ordered.
Her arms and legs obeyed, pushing her into a sitting position on the bed. Sighing, she swung her legs over the side and felt for her slippers.
The TV echoed from the next room as Olivia pulled on her boots. It was Monday in mid-February, and the weather forecast was for heavy sleet. Still heavy-eyed from sleep, she turned up the collar of her raincoat and opened the hall closet to look for a sturdy umbrella. There was a gap on the rack where she usually kept it.
She frowned, trying to remember, then realized that Frank had moved it into the kitchen by the back door. He had used it to check the solar cells one night after a storm while it was still drizzling.
She shut several open cupboards and clicked off the light above the stove. In the living room she shut off the TV. Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. Oh boy, Lincoln's gonna kill me.
The wind was bitingly cold as she jogged up the steps to the building. After checking into the lobby and wiping her boots, she rode the elevator up to the division's designated floor.
The doors slid open to chaos.
Agents flitted around from desk to desk. Her two partners, agents Lincoln Lee and Charlie Francis, were hunched over a digital map at the far corner of the large room. Lincoln was talking quickly into his earpiece. None of them seemed to notice as she dropped her bag at her desk and began flipping through the papers that had been placed there for her.
Her eyes had been trained to pick up significant points, so she was able to scan through the pages quickly. Two homicides and a burglary were the only new cases. They were still hunting the Chesapeake killer, a madman who induced cell crystallization in cryogenically frozen bodies. Although he was not technically killing his victims, his actions had horrified the public and were highly illegal.
Fringe protocol dictated that homicides took precedence over burglaries. The first killing involved a pregnant teenager whose child emerged covered in keratinized spikes. There were several photos paper-clipped to the file. Olivia did not bat an eyelash at the gore, but hesitated a moment at the victim's school picture that had been included for decorum.
The second homicide involved a man in his late fifties who had dropped dead while mowing a neighbor's lawn. Autopsies revealed a series of internal burns along his neural pathways. It was as though his brain had been forced to exert an inhuman amount of energy in a short amount of time.
Olivia was in the midst of setting these aside when she sensed people behind her.
"Look who decided to show up," came a low voice that she recognized as Charlie's. She spun her chair around to find herself face-to-face with her two partners. Charlie, the shorter one, looked happy to see her. Lincoln, his hair unusually un-spiked and soft-looking, raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"Again?" he asked.
"Traffic." she shrugged. She felt her captain's disapproval. "It won't happen again."
Before Lincoln could say anything, Charlie picked up the papers on Olivia's desk. "You won't be needing these. We lost all three to another ground team."
It took a moment, Olivia glanced back and forth between the two of them. "You've got to be kidding me."
Lincoln sighed. "Liv, if your personal life is interfering with your work..." He stopped when he saw her expression. "You ok?" he said.
He and Charlie each took a step back as she stood up and walked rigidly past them towards the colonel's office. She saw them exchange a look.
"If you need to take some time off..." Broyles held her gaze as she stood on the other side of the desk, arms crossed.
"I've assured agents Lee and Francis that it won't happen again. I don't know what else to say." She was always a little too firm with her superiors for her own good.
Broyles was used to her attitude. "Dunham this is the second time this month I've had to reassign your cases. Do you know how many minutes that costs us daily?"
She nodded. "And I apologize for my tardiness, but I think my record speaks for itself. I've been on time for two years, one mistake and my cases for the entire week are being reassigned?"
The colonel surveyed her darkly, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke his tone was sharper than usual. "We don't tolerate mistakes, agent. Maybe it's time for you to decide if you can handle this job."
When she came out of the office she could see Lincoln staring at her. He did that too often, she thought. She must have looked miserable, because he sidled up next to her as she walked back to her desk.
"You ok?" he said quietly.
She nodded.
"Well here. I'm assigning you a desk case." He handed her a new file. "There's a meeting at two."
She felt horribly embarrassed as she put the old case files in the shredder. She was not an emotional person, but she felt despicable for depriving her partners of the chase. That's what their job entailed: hunting out key locations for clues, tackling criminals firsthand. It was a rush like no other, and she knew the others felt it too. Feeling frustrated, she flipped open the new file.
A much-needed break came at noon when Lincoln offered to take her out for lunch. They decided on a soup-and-sandwich place a block away from headquarters.
"Liv?"
She looked up. "Hm?"
"Is your tea really that mesmerizing?"
She looked out the window at the New York skyline. "My brain is just... Not here today."
The cafe was covered in inspirational quotes; now her eyes settled on one above Lincoln's head that read, "Of all the pleasures life can bring, friendship is the sweetest thing."
Lincoln smiled and sipped at his cup of Earl Grey. "I know what you mean. I hate Mondays."
She hesitated. The quote had nagged at her, though she couldn't tell why.
"Lincoln..."
He looked at her, eyebrows raised.
"Does it ever get to you?"
"What?"
"You know, the job." She paused, considering. "I feel like two people sometimes, split down the middle."
He didn't say anything.
"I know we deal with strange things every day, but I feel like I'm losing myself in the grind."
He set down his cup and surveyed her across the table. "Sure I do." A beat. "But I also know that the world needs people like us."
She looked down. "Yeah, I know it does."
"We signed up for it Liv."
It occurred to her then that he was studying her more intently than usual. She felt her cheeks begin to flush.
Mercifully their earsets went off at that moment. Charlie was starting the meeting an hour early.
They both leapt out of their seats and fumbled in their wallets for cash.
"Keep the change." Lincoln called as he and Olivia bolted out the door.
It was 2:15 when Olivia was startled awake the next morning. She felt her heart and found it was beating fast. Must have been having a nightmare, she thought. She flopped back down onto the pillow, trying to get comfortable on her side, then her stomach before deciding to get up.
She put on a tank-top and cargo pants, then padded out into the kitchen.
Bleary-eyed, in the middle of spreading a thick layer of peanut butter on stale toast, she remembered that Lincoln had planned to stay late. She dialed the kitchen phone, slipping her earset into her thigh pocket.
"This is Agent Lee." A man answered sharply.
"Lincoln, it's Liv." She was pulling on her division boots as she held the phone to her cheek with her shoulder.
"Liv, hey." His voice softened, becoming rather boyish. "What's up?"
"You at the office?"
A pause. "Yeah. Why? You coming in?"
"I know it's early. I can't sleep. I figure I can do a little catch-up." She saw her reflection in the mirror above the hall table and realized that her face looked pale and drawn. She wondered if Lincoln had noticed the change in her over the past few weeks.
"Alright." he said, sounding cheerful as always. "I'll make us some tea."
Olivia smiled into the phone in spite of herself. "It's a date." She joked, "See you soon."
She hung up and pulled on her coat and a scarf, feeling much better.
As she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel between green lights, she decided that she admired Lincoln's ambition. He was driven and dependable, and she and Charlie would probably have died on any number of occasions without his level-headed approach to danger.
"You're My Best Friend" began playing on the radio, as if mocking her newfound sentimentality.
Lincoln was waiting for her in the lobby as she entered through the outer glass doors. There were two sets of doors for security, the second requiring strict ShowMe verification.
"There she is, Miss America…" he sang as she buzzed in with her keycard. He looks tired too, she thought.
They waited for the elevator car to reach their floor, and Lincoln took her coat in the meantime.
"Thanks," she said. "So what are we working on?"
The car doors slid open and they walked in. Lincoln pressed the button and the elevator started upwards.
He looked sidelong at her. "Remember the spike-baby case? Well we've found more instances. Keratinized spike growth in fetal babies have killed seven women in the past month. I'm cataloguing the cases by relevance."
"Right." she said, shuddering slightly at the thought. "Sounds grisly," she added, glancing at him.
He nodded. "I just hope you ate already."
Several agents were there working the night shift, so Lincoln guided her into a spare office. When he left to get her a cup of tea and some of Charlie's leftover crullers she took some time to look around.
Lincoln had evidently been here all night- there were fast-food packages in the trash, and a half-eaten apple sat next to a stack of manila folders on the desk. The large map of the U.S. behind the desk was studded with thumbtacks. Lincoln was evidently looking for some pattern or consistency in the victims' geographical locations.
When he returned and she was settled in a chair with a cup and a doughnut on a paper plate, he shut the blinds and they began reviewing files.
There were several new cases that day. They reviewed each folder and began to sort them. For two hours they bounced theories off one another and made markings on the map.
At one point she glanced up to see him rubbing his temples, eyes closed. He looked exhausted.
"Lincoln, are you alright?"
He kept his eyes closed momentarily. "Yeah… it's just been one of my later shifts. I'll get used to it."
Within another hour he was clearly nodding off. She paused mid-way through rattling off a list of rare medical conditions.
"Here. You have a lie-down on the couch. I'll finish up."
"Liv, you really don't have to-"
"I insist." She noticed the dark circles under his eyes had become more pronounced over the past week. He looked like he had lost some weight as well. "I'm not going to let you work yourself to death."
He looked at her and sighed. "Alright, I know better than to argue with you."
He found a pillow in the closet and made himself comfortable on the couch. Within a minute she could hear soft snoring.
While Lincoln slept, Olivia ranked the cases by importance and jotted down notes on each in the margins.
It was cold in the room. Lincoln's jacket was on the back of the chair. After a moment's hesitation she slid it on. It was too big for her, but it was comfortable.
She glanced over at her friend several times. He lay on his side facing away from her, one arm curled under his head.
She studied the photographs of the dead women. One of them was called Geraldine, and her eye caught on something Lincoln had scribbled in red ink on the side of her college graduation picture. English Lit Major- Byron.
For some reason he had included a passage from "She Walks in Beauty".
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Olivia felt a lump in her throat as she looked back at the photograph of Geraldine's corpse in the morgue. So calm, yet eloquent. Rest in Peace.
In the silence she became aware of a loud ticking sound. It was the clock on the far wall, the black hands pointing to five after five.
As quietly as she could she got up out of the chair, walked over to the sofa and knelt by her sleeping friend.
"Lincoln." She whispered. It occurred to her that she did not like seeing him asleep. He looked lifeless.
He had a light stubble along his chin and jawline, she realized, probably because he hadn't been home in over 24 hours. His eyelashes, unusually long and dark for a man, fluttered slightly. She realized she had been drawing nearer and nearer, fascinated by his vulnerability in sleep. Their faces were inches apart when his eyes opened and he looked at her.
She froze. She felt as if she had been caught stealing.
"Hey," he said softly, seeing his jacket around her. "you look kind of like me in that."
Quickly, before he could touch her, she drew back.
"Sorry for waking you." she whispered. "Thought you might like an update."
"You don't have to whisper." he said, "How are we doing?"
She looked over at the papers on the desk. "Well, for now I think we should ring up Memphis and ask them if any of their officers suffer from genetic diseases affecting bone growth and keratinization."
He nodded. "Alright. Tell you what, take today off, you've put in your hours already."
She stared, incredulous. "The day off." She repeated.
He looked surprised at her reaction. "Yeah… I thought…"
"No way Lincoln. We're making progress here.
He held up his hands. "Ok, ok. Charlie should be in in about two hours. We'll give him Memphis. I want you on field duty."
"Now you're talking."
Charlie seemed unhappy at the prospect of spending the day on the line with Memphis P.D., but he wasn't up for an argument.
"You kids be careful." He said, checking them out by the front door.
"Always am." Lincoln said, strapping on his thigh-holster.
Olivia was accompanying him to a chemical plant that Broyles confirmed was the source of some of the drugs the women had been prescribed during pregnancy. Olivia wanted to bring along extra agents as backup, but Lincoln shook his head.
"What are we up against, a couple pharmacists? Besides, they know we're coming to look around. The colonel assured us there won't be any resistance."
They took a black two-seater division-issue vehicle. As Lincoln drove out of the downtown area and gunned it down a country road, Olivia turned the dial on the radio. She was searching for something other than morning shows and traffic reports.
"Ooh, Violet Sedan Chair." She turned it up.
Lincoln grinned, eyes on the road. "This was actually my favorite song growing up."
"No kidding? Mine too."
They mouthed the words to the song as the car raced past the city limit sign.
The plant loomed above them, dark against the sky. The air was suffused with an unhealthy-looking haze. Before getting out of the car, Olivia and Lincoln slipped on surgical masks.
Halfway across the parking lot, Lincoln stopped.
"There's no one here to meet us." He looked worried.
Olivia felt too that something was wrong.
She could see now that the only other cars in the parking lot were covered in bird droppings and dead leaves, and the windows in the enormous building were blacked out. There was something else…
She put a hand on Lincoln's chest. "Shhh. Listen."
He stood stock-still. "I don't hear anything."
"Exactly." She said, "The factory's not operating."
"What do you think?" Lincoln asked. "Should I call for backup?" They were both speaking in whispers now.
Olivia nodded. "I don't like this."
Lincoln put a hand to his earset. "Call Fringe."
Olivia waited.
"No reception." He said, exasperated.
A distant screeching sound made them both spin around. A black van was barreling up the twisted road that led into the parking lot. The windows were tinted. Lincoln took Olivia's hand and stepped back. "Come on." He hissed.
Staying as low as possible, ducking from car to car, they sprinted to the front entrance. The doors were heavy without automation, but they pushed hard and found themselves stumbling into a dark interior.
In the darkness Lincoln tried his earset again, but to no avail.
Olivia realized her foot was up against something bulky. She reached down and touched soft cloth.
Recoiling, she gripped her partner's arm.
"Lincoln, I'm standing on a corpse."
She felt him shift, probably to reach down and check for himself.
After a moment he straightened up. "We need to find a back door."
She nodded, then, realizing he couldn't see her, said "Alright."
He pulled her along by the sleeve, feeling his way around machinery and boxes. Their shuffling steps were the only sounds on the factory floor.
Olivia heard voices behind them, coming from outside. "They're here." she hissed.
Lincoln pulled her sideways, and she realized he had found a door in the wall. Her adrenaline was pumping as they opened it as quietly as possible. Lincoln pushed her inside and shut it behind them.
He was just in time. Somewhere a switch was pulled, and the next moment the crack under the door was illuminated.
The light from the door was dim, but by it they could begin to make out other shapes in the room.
Lincoln looked around, eyes wide and anxious. "This is a problem."
Olivia had to agree with him. They were in a small side-office. There were no windows to the outside and no hiding places. If someone decided to open the door they would be seen immediately.
Lincoln locked the door as quietly as he could and stepped back.
"Did they see us?" Olivia asked.
"I don't know." He whispered.
Olivia looked around, searching. The air vents? One look told her it was a no-go. The opening was no bigger than a Christmas card. The whole place is designed with chemical filtration in mind.
She looked at Lincoln. He was looking at her.
"What can we do?" she mouthed.
They both froze as an unmistakeable sound rang out from the main part of the factory.
Gunshots. Somewhere a woman screamed.
The doorknob rattled, making Olivia's heart race. She heard muffled voices. They sound angry.
Lincoln motioned to her to get behind him. She obeyed, slowly withdrawing her gun from its holster.
She didn't have time to get it out before the door exploded.
Lincoln reacted with the instincts of a soldier, flinging Olivia down and shielding her with his body.
Pressed under him, she felt his abdominal muscles tense as shards of wood and glass rained down upon them. When she heard him gasp in pain, she tried to wriggle free.
Lincoln rolled off of her, clutching his sides.
She sat up and aimed her gun at the black-uniformed figures marching through the doorway, crushing the rubble under heavy boots. They froze at the sight of her, covered in dust, hair disheveled, aiming the gun at each of them in turn, threatening.
She staggered to her feet, taking care to position herself between the intruders and Lincoln, who was breathing heavily on the floor.
"Who are you?" someone barked. She could barely see through the light they were shining through the doorway.
Still aiming the gun, she scrabbled in her back pocket and held up her ShowMe.
"Agent Olivia Dunham, Fringe Division. You're in a lot of trouble." She shouted.
In response she saw them readying their stun-sticks. She got ready to throw herself in front of Lincoln and open fire on the intruders.
A/N: To be continued