Fandom: Fringe
Characters: Brandon Fayette, Astrid Farnsworth
Rating: T
Summary: What were you supposed to do when you found out that the alternate version of yourself was a sociopath?
Notes: Post-4x11 "Making Angels." Assumes (yes) that Brandon met his alternate previous to "Back to Where You've Never Been."
"Dependent variables are those values that change as a consequence of changes in other values in the system." - Wikipedia
Interacting with denizens of the alternate universe was supposed to be the culmination of his work as a scientist, the pinnacle of his life's vocation. The climax, as it were, of all his endeavors.
It was the worst day of Brandon Fayette's life.
What were you supposed to do when you found out that the alternate version of yourself was a sociopath?
The armistice with the alternate universe provided an opportunity for a select few to meet in the "bridge room" under Liberty Island. Brandon was among those few, by virtue of his work with Massive Dynamic and the fact that Nina Sharp had entrusted him with details about the other universe.
He tried not to lie awake at night, thinking of all the other things Ms. Sharp didn't trust him with.
He'd been looking forward to the meeting, imaging talking to someone who literally spoke the same language, someone who would understand his tics and oddities. Someone who would follow his skipping trains of thought and finish his half-started sentences and not stare at him blankly as he ran on about his latest theories.
Instead he was presented with the worst possible version of himself: seeing the cold expression on his own face, hearing words like "human experimentation" falling out of his doppelganger's mouth.
He'd left the meeting as soon as he could find an excuse and resolved never to return.
His resolution became moot shortly thereafter. His doppelganger had been revealed as a shapeshifter, exposed by the other Walter Bishop as part of a strategy to expose the two universes' mutual enemy. But for Brandon, the damage had already been done.
He wanted desperately to talk to the Fringe team about it. They were the only ones who'd shared these kinds of experiences, and he very much needed to hear someone else's perspective. Left to his own devices he would obsess about it, spend too many sleepless nights worrying about it, and thereby make himself less useful to Massive Dynamic. That would be unacceptable.
Olivia Dunham was off limits, Ms. Sharp had made that indubitably clear. Dr. Bishop was...erratic and far too important to be bothered. The new agent, Lee, was an unknown quantity.
There was only one person he could ask.
Brandon wrote out a script, knowing he'd only stammer if he approached the topic without preparation. And then, steeling himself, he called the Harvard lab before he could talk himself out of it.
"Astrid Farnsworth," his target answered crisply after the second ring. Brandon imagined she'd picked up that brisk tone from Agent Dunham.
"Agent Farnsworth, it's Dr. Fayette from Massive Dynamic. Brandon Fayette." Idiot, she knew who he was. Cursing internally, he went on. "I, I had something I wanted to consult with you about."
"With me, not Dr. Bishop?" She sounded dubious. "Do you want to set up a Skype session?"
This was the hardest part. "It's. uh. A private matter, I would really like to talk to you in person. I'm not asking you out!" he blurted, because if she thought that she'd never agree. "It's about, um, meeting your counterpart. On the other team."
The silence on the line screamed in his ear until Agent Farnsworth said gently, "I'd be happy to meet with you."
"That's. Thank you," he said, grateful. "I can take the train up to Boston so I don't disrupt your schedule. At your convenience, of course."
She laughed a little. "Dr. Fayette, I'm sure you can appreciate that there's no 'convenient' time when it comes to Fringe Division. But let me know when you're coming and I'll make the time."
"Yes, of course. I'll get a ticket for the Acela Express on Friday morning, if that's all right? I'd be arriving around 11:40."
"South Station? I can pick you up." Agent Farnsworth laughed again. "Trust me, you don't want to drive here if you don't have to."
He didn't bother to tell her that he'd lived all his life in cities with adequate public transportation systems and never learned anyway. "That's very kind."
The sound of breaking glass echoed over the line. "Not at all, I need to go," Agent Farnsworth said hurriedly. "E-mail me and I'll keep you apprised if I can't get away. Walter! Wait a sec, I'll get it!" she shouted, thankfully not directly into Brandon's ear. Her voice came back to him, breathless. "Trust me, Dr. Fayette, by Friday I'll need the excuse to get out of the lab. See you then!"
"See—" he started, but she'd already hung up.
The train ride was uneventful, giving Brandon some blessedly quiet time to peruse the multiple journals he was subscribed to and rarely had time to read. Massive Dynamic was far ahead on most technological achievements, but he made note of several small start-ups and names to investigate further. Legitimate breakthroughs in science were rare enough, and it was his duty to ensure they occurred under MD's aegis.
He didn't even have to wait once he'd arrived; Agent Farnsworth appeared promptly to collect him at the waiting area. She smiled, waving. "Perfect timing."
He could hardly claim credit for the train's adherence to schedule. "I hope I didn't pull you away from anything critical."
"Hardly." Agent Farnsworth waved him toward the parking lot and talked as they went. "Walter was examining a bunch of soil and rock samples this morning. Nothing explosive, he assured me. I thought it was safe enough to leave. Did you have a decent trip?"
"Fine," Brandon said. "Productive. Agent Farnsworth—"
"Astrid." She smiled at him, holding out a key fob to unlock her car doors. "I thought we'd go to lunch. I'd take you to Neptune Oyster for the best lobster roll in Boston, but at this time of day there's already a line out the door. So I thought, maybe Flour Bakery? It's not fancy, but they make my favorite sandwich in the whole city." She paused as he got in on the passenger side. "Unless you'd rather go for seafood?"
"No, that sounds fine," he said. "Agent—"
"Astrid," she said firmly, checking the mirrors and glancing behind her as she pulled into traffic. "This is a rare break for me, you said it was a personal matter, we should be on a first-name basis."
He had to laugh at her insistence. "I accept your terms."
She flashed a grin and Brandon decided the conversation could wait until they were at the restaurant. Astrid seemed to be a vigilant driver, but Boston was well known for its appalling traffic and intemperate motorists. He wouldn't have wanted to be distracted on these roads, based on the small sampling he'd already witnessed.
The reached their destination without incident and went inside. The menu was written out on a chalkboard, charmingly rustic. The smell of fresh bread was pleasantly overwhelming, accompanied by the low hum of pleased patrons.
"So my favorite," Astrid was saying, "is the lamb with tomato chutney and goat cheese. It's pretty amazing."
"That does sound good. I'll try it too." Astrid placed the order, but Brandon stepped up as she moved toward the cashier. "Allow me. You did take the time to meet me, and I appreciate that."
Astrid nodded, smiling easily. "I'll grab a table."
She procured a seat at a small table along the outside windows, private enough that they could talk without being overheard. Brandon gathered up their drinks, took their ticket, and went to join her.
Astrid watched as he doctored his coffee. "You wanted to talk about meeting your alternate."
Brandon took a deep breath and dove in. "He was horrible. I... I guess it could've been the shapeshifter I actually met, they don't know how long it had taken his place, but if it talked and acted like he would have..."
"He was their duck." Astrid nodded and it took a second before Brandon got the reference. "Believe me, I understand. I've spent a lot of sleepless nights thinking I should have realized when their Olivia took the place of ours, but she had all the right feathers and everything."
"The right...feathers. Yes." Brandon let out a brief chuckle, the sound unconvincing even to his own ears. "So whether it was the alternate I spoke to or the shapeshifter, my conclusion was the same. My alternate was a monster."
Astrid nodded slowly. "I've read the reports. It sounds—"
The cashier called their ticket number and Astrid got up to retrieve their lunch. Brandon wasn't sure he was still hungry, but the smells wafting off the tray when she returned were too tempting to ignore.
"Food first," she said, and her eyes rolled as she bit into her sandwich.
Brandon took a bite and paused, savoring the favors, then carefully swallowed. "That— that is really good. You're right."
"I'm glad you like it." Agent— Astrid sipped thoughtfully at her lemonade. "So your double on the other side of the bridge was a terrible person. Olivia isn't fond of her alternate, either, with good reason."
"I wanted to talk to you because I know your alternate is...different." He hesitated, not sure how to broach the topic, and plunged on regardless. "It's clear that some biological or environmental factor altered her cognitive functions. Not that— I mean, she's obviously very valuable to the team over there," he said hurriedly, in case she mistook his meaning.
Astrid smiled ruefully. "Trust me, I've spent quite awhile thinking about that. Who's to say that among all the Astrids in all the possible universes—because Walter's very insistent that there are more—that I'm not the anomaly? That maybe I was also supposed to have some kind of autism disorder?"
Brandon blinked at her, confused. "But— over there, they've figured out how to channel her disability into a useful form. You wouldn't have been on the Fringe team if—"
"Brandon," Astrid said gently, "what I'm saying is, I'm very aware of how fortunate I am."
"Oh." He looked down, embarrassed, and wiped at the condensation beading on the side of his coffee cup just for something to do. "I see. I guess...actually, that's probably a good perspective on what I wanted to talk about."
She nodded. "Your alternate?"
"Yeah. He was..." Brandon discarded a number of words before settling on the most direct. "He was evil. And I can't help wondering what that says about me."
"Nothing." Her response was immediate, and Brandon looked up in surprise. Astrid shrugged. "Honestly. Whatever shaped him into what he was, that's not a reflection on you."
"But we're the same in so many ways. I mean, he was. Before he died."
Astrid made a noncommittal sound. "Did you read the John McClennan case file?"
Brandon frowned. "I know Agent Dunham went to consult on the other side on a case involving him and his alternate."
"Yes. On their side, John McClennan was a severely disturbed serial killer. On ours, Professor McClennan teaches forensic psychology...with an emphasis on serial killers."
Brandon stared at Astrid as she continued. "We know that on our side, a boy had a formative encounter with a woman who helped him deal with his darker impulses. On the other..." Astrid spread her hands. "That McClennan never met her. That one moment made all the difference. Whatever that moment was in your life, whatever did or didn't happen in his...you're two different people."
He shook his head, feeling worse than ever. "But that's just it, what you're saying. What if I'm like McClennan, and what was in that other Brandon is in me?"
"Oh, no, that's not— I'm sorry, that was a bad analogy." Astrid reached over to pat his arm. The touch startled him and he jumped. "Sorry again! I was trying to say, you already know how you're not like that other Brandon. You both became scientists. But what you chose to do with your talents, that's entirely different. You don't have to wonder because you already know."
"So your hypothesis is," he said slowly, sounding it out, "because I've never sought to engage in unethical experimentation, that means I'm not suddenly going to turn into him."
"You're the living proof," Astrid said, looking relieved.
Brandon sat back, thinking. It was reductive reasoning, but that didn't necessarily make it untrue. Sometimes he had the tendency to overcomplicate things. Astrid seemed to have a clear perspective on the situation, so maybe...
"Brandon?" she asked quietly.
"Oh, uh, yes. I think...I think you're right. I was just horrified by the idea that I could be like him in any way."
"That says it all, don't you think?" Astrid's phone beeped and she checked her text messages, frowning. "I need to get back to the lab. Walter found something to blow up after all. Do you want to continue this conversation later? Over dinner, maybe?"
I, ah, have a return ticket for this evening." Astrid looked surprised and Brandon rushed to clarify. "I didn't want to impose on your time. And I can find my way back to the train station later. I might go by the aquarium as long as I'm here."
Astrid shook her head, gathering up the rest of her lunch to go. "It's not an imposition. There's no one else we can talk to about these things, after all. You can call me if you want to talk about it further."
Brandon considered. "I think we've satisfactorily resolved the conflict."
She tilted her head at him. "You can call me anyway."
He watched her go, smiling, and turned his attention back to the sandwich. It really was extraordinary.'
Neptune's lobster roll is totally worth the wait. I do honestly still daydream about Flour's lamb sandwich.
We never saw Our Brandon in s4, dammit.