Title: Haunted
Summary: A new case—and the stakes have just gone up. But Peter's past has come back to bite him, and Walter is keeping secrets…watch out Olivia. This one's for real.
A/N: Disregard the last few scenes of "Safe" (the parts where Michael tells on Peter, and Olivia is captured). Otherwise, set post-Safe, ignoring the previews for Bound.
Disclaimer: Written because I've been Fringe deprived. I hope you don't actually think I own this show.
Prologue
It was cold outside, and windy. The first few drops of rain were beginning to hit the pavement with increasing frequency. Michael pulled the edges of his jean jacket in tighter, and bent his head against the cold. Just a few more steps. Should have worn a hat.
The bell on the door jangled as he pushed it open, hurrying to get out of the elements. Warm air enveloped him as he stepped inside, stamping the numbness out of his feet and scanning the room for his contact.
There. He zeroed in on an older man and a girl, sitting in a booth in the darkest corner of the room, as isolated as possible from the bustle and chatter of the rest. He made his way over to them, winding through the maze of tables and chairs. A barmaid carrying a tray of empty glasses bumped into him as she made her way across the floor.
He frowned at her. She blushed and mumbled an apology. He continued on, shaking his head. Any other day, he might have used the opportunity to cop a feel. But this wasn't just any other day.
"Michael," the old man greeted, "have a seat. You must be starving."
"Thanks. I am."
"You're late is what you are," the girl observed, slouching and flipping a strand of wildly curly brown hair over her shoulder. Her eyes, lined thickly with kohl and topped with glitter, regarded him with mild irritation. Close up she appeared older, maybe in her late teens or early twenties. It was the hair, Michael decided, that made her look younger.
"I was…unavoidably detained," he told her, matching her for irritation and raising her a glare. She sat up straight and appeared entirely willing to play, but the old man put a stop to it, placing a hand on her arm.
"Now, now, Nicolette," he chided. She sank back against the red leather of the booth and assumed a bored expression. It didn't entirely work—he could still see the annoyance in the backs of her eyes, and the set of her shoulders.
Not that he was feeling so relaxed, either. This pair made him nervous. Always had. But they were useful, so he kept coming. The problems he sent their way got fixed. Quick. And this was a problem that needed just that.
"So," the old man continued, "Why is it that you wanted to see us?"
Michael took a deep breath. "Peter Bishop."
The old man raised an eyebrow, and Michael forced himself to continue. "Peter Bishop…is back in town."
The old man went very still. Nicolette looked shocked, and then delighted before her face slid back into its impassive mask.
"We need him gone. He can't be causing trouble around here."
"Indeed," the old man mused. "Very well. Peter Bishop is no longer your concern, Michael. He will be taken care of."
A wicked smile slid onto Nicolette's lips. Michel thought it had a slightly disturbing edge to it. But the dismissal was clear. He got to his feet and bowed his head slightly.
"Thank you, Julius."
He didn't know the man's real name, Michael thought as he left, and that gave the other man an edge. But if worst came to worst, he could always skip town and start over. Peter seemed to have done alright. At least, until he was stupid enough to come back that is. For a supposed genius, he wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed.
Julius and Nicolette watched him go, very aware of what must have been going on in his mind.
"Do you think he'll run?" Nicolette asked.
Julius shook his head. "No. He'll wait it out. If things heat up, we won't see hide nor hair of him for weeks. But we don't need him anymore. We have what we came for."
"Finally," Nicolette complained. "I'm sick of this town. Nobody ever does anything fun."
"Your definition of fun, my dear," Julius remarked absently, "is probably quite different from that of the average citizen. But don't fret. There will be plenty of opportunity for you to stretch your wings once we find—"
"And Peter?"
"I want you to get him. Bring him in unharmed. We need information before you damage him with your antics."
"And then?" she persisted.
"Then? Why, then he is all yours."
"Good."
Nicolette stood and sidled out of the booth, shoving both hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Julius stood up and passed in front of her, heading toward the same exit Michael had just taken.
Patiently, she watched as he walked out. Then she turned and examined the prospects. The bar was about half full, which was not bad for a week night. But it only amounted to a baker's dozen, even so.
Somewhere else, then. She exited the pub and turned left, letting her feet wander until, fifteen minutes later, she spotted the bright lights of a supermarket shining against the night sky. Perfect.
She walked through the automatic doors and strode purposefully toward the center of the store. When she decided she had reached it, or was as close as she was going to get, she stood still. Her arms hung loosely by her sides, and she cracked her neck. Preparing.
And then she let go. The screams of the civilian shoppers echoed in her ears as she walked out again, a smile on her pale face.
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I was trying to set this up like an actual episode. Which would make this the beginning of the case--the part where someone dies, or is kidnapped, or sees ghosts. You know. I'm hoping not to introduce too many OCs (two in the prologue alone!) but because Peter's past hasn't been really gone into, that will be difficult. Please be patient. This is my first foray into the world of sci-fi/mystery. Let me know if I'm overdoing it.
Please respond, and tell me what you think.