FRINGE
Fourth Time is the Charm
Fringe doesn't belong to me. Stargate either. I'm merely borrowing the characters and I promise I will put them back in their box when I'm finished.
Note: An early Christmas story. Not episode related.
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"Most likely nanites," Dr Bishop nodded, his eyebrow raised. "Wonderful piece of engineering. Apparently silicon and silver based. It is so uplifting, --never seen anything like this before… have I?"
He twisted around in his chair to Peter, cheerful apprehension written all over his face.
"I'm thinking low intensity electromagnetic fields," he added, going back to his computer.
Peter shrugged and leaned to the microscope.
"That's a wild guess Walter, you of all people should know that it cannot exist," he trailed, with a quick glance to calculation spreadsheets. "Walter? Have you got anything to do with that 'thing'?"
He turned to Olivia and Astrid.
"By any chance, did he work on nanotechnology two decades ago, please, anyone? 1991, I imagine it would be possible," he muttered to himself.
He was displaying a big crease in the middle of his forehead and looked unsettled. Both women came closer. Agent Astrid Farnsworth took a quick look into the microscope and made a face.
"You mean nanites like in… Replicators?" Agent Olivia Dunham's voice was hesitant.
Peter shoved his hands inside his jeans pockets and turned to her.
"Oh, a Stargate fan, are we?" he smiled. "Nanotech has been a fantastic scientific breakthrough and its applications are endless but we're not quite there yet. We can't replicate humans, or guinea pigs not even amoeba, if it is your concern."
"I, … --I don't understand. You're actually saying that this 'thing' doesn't exist?"
"I'm saying that nanites are really, really small. A nanometer would be the length a man's beard grows during the split second he takes the razor to his face," he offered with a grin.
"Ok…" she said, her eyes intent.
"At nanoscale, everything you learn in your typical Physics or Chemistry 101, you can forget already. Copper turns transparent, aluminium is inflammable, gold is liquid, silicon becomes conductor. Nanotechnology is used just about everywhere today. In drug delivery, treating waste-water or even reducing unwanted odour in your underwear…"
"Marilyn didn't wear any!" rejoiced Walter who span away from his lab bench with energy. "Boop-boop-a-doop…" he hummed, taking Astrid in his arms for a few dancing steps.
He let go of her to sit in front of the piano and improvise a cartoonish tune. She went back to her filing and Gene gave him a moo of appreciation in the background.
"… making clothes water and stain-repellent or wrinkle-free," was continuing Peter. "We use nanotechnology to produce more environmentally friendly energy systems such as LEDs or rechargeable batteries, to build integrated circuits, memory storage. Even in our food."
"Ok, ok, I get it. Everywhere. But what has it got to do with anything?"
"Walter seems to think that this… 'thing' is man-made. You have to imagine a combination of trillion tiny pieces bonded together to make an actual device. If it is, it's quality craftsmanship because it is merely impossible."
"Massive Dynamic?"
"Yes, my thought exactly. Their Quantum-Digital Networking is proof enough that they master the technology."
"Olivia!" Walter called from the piano. "Is she in the lab?"
"Yes she is, Walter."
"You need anything Dr. Bishop?" Olivia volunteered.
"You can call me Walter," he stood up and turned to her, raising his hand to shake hers. "Good morning, I'm Dr. Walter Bishop and this is my lab."
"She knows who you are, Walter."
"Excellent! Olivia, I will need an ATM."
She cast an inquisitive glance at Peter.
"An ATM is an atomic force microscope," he explained. "It's a very high-resolution microscope, which demonstrates resolution of fractions of a nanometer."
"I see. Now?" she asked, reaching for her phone.
"Obviously now! How do you expect me to work if…" Walter yelled before returning to his cool when he faced Peter's disapproving stare. "As soon as you can my dear," he continued in a gentler tone. "Oh… and, --Ingrid? I will need a pound of sour raspberries and a bottle of Triple Sec."
He went back to his desk but stopped in his tracks.
"Could you get me a jeroboam of Perrier-Jouët too?"
"A what?" Astrid was standing between Peter and his father, her arms full of files and test tubes.
"A very large champagne bottle holding the equivalent of four standard bottles, I'd say, 108 fl. oz?" Peter explained.
"Yes, yes it is!"
"And just to clarify, Walter, you want her to get only Perrier-Jouët Champagne? Specifically… why?"
"I like the name, it's a good name," Walter said flatly, "and a gallon of guava juice."
"Here you go Astrid. I think that Walter is willing to fix a Christmas cocktail for us."
"Don't forget the bucket. And glasses, Asteria, glasses!"
"Martini glasses Walter?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "And macadamia nuts, and olives, green olives. Lots, lots of olives. I shall go and make some ice."
"You do that Walter. Astrid, buy us a turkey please, just to be on the safe side, ok?" said Peter.
-o-
-141-
She could not believe that she was in front of the same hotel door at five in the morning for the third time. She flipped her ID at the two surveillance agents and stood before the door for a minute. She bent her head, took a deep breath and rapped loudly on the door, then stepped back. If Walter had kept Peter awake for the best part of the night, it was going to be the first challenge of her day to have him up and running quickly. She tucked her hair behind her ear and waited.
The two agents gave her the thumbs up and she smiled back, vaguely embarrassed. She had been thinking over this whole Bureau façade, the staying-at-the-hotel-while-we-look-for-the-right-place-for-you-to-stay. As far as she knew, nobody was really trying to find an apartment for the Bishops. It had been two months already and she knew for a fact that Homeland Security possessed a complete catalog of flats, condos, and other various accommodations; they were not just ready to trust them yet with independent housing.
On the other hand, her place was huge --far too big for her anyway with John out of the picture and her personal life on permanent hold, and she had plenty of room to put them up. She wouldn't even have to see them except for kitchen arrangements and the occasional morning ride when Peter's car would fail him. She was on the verge of knocking again when the door flung open.
Peter was standing in the doorway, haggard, his eyes reddened by another sleepless night, sporting his usual stubble and he was fully dressed.
"Dunham," he said matter-of-factly. "The more the merrier, come on in."
She shook her head. "Actually, Broyles sends me…"
Peter gestured her to keep quiet.
"I bet he does and he simply will have to wait. How much time do you have? Does he need Walter too? Or does he need me?" he asked.
She hesitated. He was right. There was no emergency, just her usual eager response to orders.
"Err… half an hour, an hour at most; only you."
"Perfect. Come on in then. We're almost done."
"Done? What… Oh," she said, stopping before the coffee table, "I see."
Walter was facing a chess board and seemed totally out of this world.
"Walter learnt of Bobby Fisher's death only yesterday and it broke his heart. He decided he was in the mood for re-enacting the Match of the Century," said Peter. He sat down and moved the knight to queen's bishop. "You have to see it as a tribute to the Man. We are playing every game that took place between Fischer and Boris Spassky for the World Chess Championship in Iceland in 1972. I'm playing Fisher. Walter thought he could beat me."
"I don't understand. Fisher won, didn't he?"
"Yep. And I will."
She took a look around.
"Where do you keep the original game records?"
Peter tapped his head with his forefinger. "Everything is in here. Don't ask."
"Ok."
"Make yourself at home," he said. "We've got vodka, tequila, gin, whisky…"
"Coffee?"
"Sorry, don't have."
"That's ok."
"It won't be long. It's the 21st game. Walter played badly in the endgame. We're almost over. In less than five minutes, he will have no other choice but to resign the game and go to bed."
"Did you get any sleep?"
"Nope. But I will -in the car, eventually. Fill me in," he asked, attentive to his father's game. They were playing so fast she could not keep up.
"We found another device. Broyles wants us to make a general sweep with the scientific teams and canvass the area asap."
"Walter. Your move, please, we don't have all night," said Peter.
"Yes, yes, sorry, I was hoping Olivia could get me something."
He moved his pawn, Peter his Queen.
"Checkmate," Peter announced.
"Of course Walter," she said gently. "What do you need?"
"An escort, I need. I am in great need of companionship," he said forcefully, avoiding Peter's glare.
Olivia went beet red and closed her eyes briefly. This was not happening. Peter brushed her hand with his fingers.
"Walter don't take advantage of Olivia's natural heedfulness, you should be ashamed of yourself. I told you I'll take care of it."
"You will?" Walter was heading to the bathroom.
"Yes, I will Walter. Now it's time to go to bed. Your toothbrush is…"
"White for Walter. Yes."
"Excellent. Shall we go Liv?"
"Peter?" Walter was standing still in the middle of the hotel room, his hair dishevelled, in his pyjamas and staring at his son with puppy eyes.
"Yes Walter?"
"May I have a hug?"
"Of course. Here you go."
Walter managed to bear hug him long enough for Peter to protest. He released him and went to Olivia, extending his arm with a disarming smile. She let him hug her.
"He likes you," he whispered in her ear. "Don't hurt him, he's my little boy."
-o-
"Don't tell me you were anticipating that we could actually find something?" said Peter with a smirk.
"I don't know what I was anticipating," she said in a toneless voice, putting a flat hand on her forehead with a sigh, "but I was expecting a result, a sign, a clue, something, anything."
She bit her lip and letting off steam, she kicked into a pile of dirt and slush and faced him more briskly than she intended.
"The more we search, the less we know."
"Isn't it the name of the game?"
She smiled.
"Yes, you're right, I need to focus."
"No, you want to see the big picture but you lack perspective."
"Yes, it's frustrating."
"And what you NEED is the Bishop treatment."
She frowned and felt that her cheeks were turning bright hot. She pursed her mouth. God, she was an open book. She stared at him tentatively with no idea where his teasing banter was actually going.
"Don't panic just yet," he smiled aware of her embarrassment and apparently enjoying himself at the view, "and hear me out. First you've got to relax and try Walter's potion. I called Astrid this afternoon and she was not making any sense, so I guess this is a good year."
"Try Walter's potion. Can do," she smiled.
She walked back to the car, signalling to the scientific teams they were leaving and gave her attention back to Peter.
"Then a night on the town, nothing fancy, just the two of us over diner," he added, opening the car door.
"Japanese?" she prompted, sitting inside the car.
"Italian?"
"French?"
They slammed the doors shut at the same time and found themselves wrapped inside a silent cool bubble. He turned to her.
"Ok," he nodded. "Then a walk in the park."
"A walk in the park?" She clenched the steering wheel and her mouth twitched a little. "You're kidding right? It's freezing hard after 8:00pm."
"Scratch the walk then," he shrugged.
"A last nightcap, perhaps?"
His smile went wider than ever.
"At this point, neither of us can drive so we will have to share a cab," he nodded.
"You'll drop me at my place; it's closer to town."
"Don't get carried away," he urged her.
Their cosy bubble popped and she could almost hear the sharp sound. He continued, ignoring her trouble.
"First thing first. We have to make some arrangements."
"I'm listening."
"The day after tomorrow is Christmas eve, and trust me, I can't believe I'm actually saying that, --but what if –and it's a big 'what if' I'm talking about here--, what if the four of us were having a casual Christmas Eve dinner at your place? You understand it can't be at the hotel…"
"The four of us?"
"You, Astrid and the Bishops."
"Astrid is going to spend the week in Chicago with her folks. She's leaving tomorrow."
"I see… Charlie then?"
"He won't be around either. The Bureau sent him away on the West Coast on a mission; I don't think he will be back in time."
"That's just the three of us then, unless you want me to invite Broyles."
She grinned.
"I don't think so. What do we need?"
"Astrid bought the turkey already, unless you want to order some dinner, I can cook."
"I'm afraid that apart from salt and pepper, there's not much you can improvise on at my place," she confessed mulling over lonely evenings with Jack Daniel chewing on old fruit loops.
"Don't apologize. We'll just have to run some errands. Walter will help with cakes and cocktails, that leaves you in charge of decorating the place. So do we have a plan?"
"Absolutely."
"Will you do me the honour of joining me in my quest for the ultimate Christmas food?"
"Now?"
"Why not? Oh, I almost forgot. By any chance, do you have any dress that you could wear for the occasion or do you want me to help you pick one?
-o-
Please please review!! Is it any good? Should I write the rest???