Spoiler: for the three seasons.
Pairing: Peter/Olivia. Astrid/OMC for the last chapters.
Rating: T
Warnings: Violence, and possible torture scenes for some characters, but only regular TV. Some Language.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe, nor it's characters.
CHAPITRE I
"You are my home. Wherever you are, that's where I'm meant to be." — S.L Naeole.
Unknown Place:
Something felt wrong. Peter was pulled back to his senses with a startle, his heart weighted against his chest. A deathly quietness submerged what little perimeter was engulfing him. Incoherent Thoughts resumed echoing furiously through his brain in an eerie chaos. He quickly blinked, twice, as if it would help him decipher things about the here and now.
Olivia? Walter? ... The machine? The bridge? ...
He shut his eyes tight in an attempt to block out the dizziness threatening to overwhelm him. It wasn't easy task, so it took a moment to find out he was alone, and not in liberty Island anymore. Letting his eyes wonder some more he figured it was a windowless, dim lighted room, with a small white wooden door. A locked room? A cell? … His stomach lurched at the realization. Pissed the hell off someone lately Peter Bishop?
His Head gingerly lifted off the cold floor. Numb muscles shook slightly as he tried to stand. He wondered if it was enough prove that this wasn't a bad dream. That, indeed, this was a bad reality.
Once upright, the room swung alarmingly and he had to brace himself against the gray painted wall for support. How much trouble was he exactly in this time? Among all the billion questions shooting at his mind right now, he was pretty sure this was one he had no intention of hearing an answer to. But, hey, bad answers seem pretty banal sometimes.
A deep extraneous sensation emanated through his veins. He stopped, right in front of the door. The room was weird, had a choky ambience to it. And calm. Nervously calm. He assumed it was either in an abandoned area or deep underground. Sighing, he decided the former would be less uncomfortable to focus on. Not that he had any choice in the matter…
His hand drove itself instinctively to the lock on the door. And, to his own surprise, it was open. Pandora's Box? Don't open, don't open… Shoving that thought aside, he pushed the door open revealing the big sight.
It was a Bathroom.
Okay, a bathroom is good. Actually, if they'd decided to keep him here a while longer, a bathroom would have to be perfect. Only, after checking twice, he was damn certain he couldn't find any other possible exit. Door-less prison? What the hell?
"HEY!" he shouted. Feeling a mild surge of anger, he continued, "Not that I don't appreciate the hospitality," no mattress, a fine bathroom, and a high tough ceiling with enough tiny apertures not to suffocate nor escape, Clever! "But, I'm really having some serious touristic guiding issues here!"
He waited… No answer. Great. Aside from being cut out when delivering the most important speech in his life, the one that could bring two sides into working together on a linking bridge for a common goal, only to wake up here, which was bad enough. The stillness of this place was really beginning to click on his temper.
"Would somebody be kind enough to tell me what's going on here?" he gave it a good ten seconds count, then raved "DAMN IT!' slamming his foot hard against wall and instantly regretting it as it stung like crazy. Serenity kept ringing his ears…
After some futile attempts of … checking walls, he gave up, propping himself against one of them, exhausted. Whoever had taken him, kept him alive; they wanted him for a reason. He figured that much should give him enough patience, so he decided waiting was the only viable option. He even convinced himself it may not be that awful after all. For he'd spend the next moments thinking about some sweet memories; his own heart as it warms blissfully whenever Olivia would part her lips drawing a breathtakingly natural charm on her feature. Walter remembering his birthday. And yeah, the very moment he'd came back from the future, Olivia had been smiling back at him, alive. He'd stepped out of the machine, understanding its function at last. His heart had hammered in uncontained delight, because Olivia was Alive … He'd had yet time to decide differently. To protect her… To …
Did it work? What happened next? What if…?
No, they were alright. Everything was fine, at least for everyone else back on the island. He blocked all the scary assumptions away. Wait, how desperately was he now trying to force events the way he wished they had happened, when they had already happened? Hopeful as he might be feeling, the thought terrified him. He took a deep, uneven breath. Pulling his knees up in a huddle, his fingers quivered momentarily. Funny how happy memories proved to be a bad idea after all.
Liberty Island. The bridged-room:
"Whatever you've both done," The voice immerged through nervous space, filling distance between two irritated men, wherein, fiery ferociousness had ignited. A detonated blast in large bomb storage. Eyes burned at each other beyond odd coolness and legible loath. "We're here now, so maybe it's time we start to fix it." Agent Dunham held her expression firm. Her unusually pale, red headed doppelganger kept staring. Piercing eyes through oblivious wonder.
Silence right then swallowed movements and voices alike. Short-lived glances were exchanged like meteors. The foursome stood wordlessly dubious, confused. Each froze aback at the very late realization; how did they all end up here, together? Well, 'two strangers in the same room' is a bit uneasy. 'Two enemies in the same room' … Is bad.
Broyles could see the tension building up for a second round of yells and blaming comments. And, had his own fingers not closed the fixated eyes of his dead alternate self months ago, he hasn't much doubted he'd be now standing in front of a person sharing his shape in dreadfully similar features. He'd be thusly wearing the same shocked mask the four persons in front of him are now sharing. Not that his own blinding jolt of disbelief was any lesser. Nevertheless, this was his turn to step in. He was to be the objective voice. No matter how anger he'd sense facing Walternate and Fauxlivia, cognation he'd involuntarily feel for Agent Dunham and Dr Walter Bishop. This was substantial. The fate of two universes held much due consideration in his book.
Stepping forward, through the hard-pressed air between Dr Bishop and Walternate, he called "Dr Bishop, Mr Secretary. I can imagine how hard this must be on both of you," Barely getting an attention from Walternate, and an inaudible chuckle from Dr Bishop, he went on "And I understand that each of you is, by his own means, trying to protect his world—"
"Or cease it, stupidly." Fauxlivia vacantly interrupted, shooting Walternate an accusing, almost amused glare. Walter seemed disgusted by her presence, he couldn't stand the woman who'd hurt Olivia, either that, or he thought she'd meant him by 'stupidly'. Olivia's face gave nothing away. Calm; she was waiting for Broyles to continue.
He drove his attention back. Clearing his throat, He added "However, this is no more about two individuals; this is about the destiny of thousands of billions of people, people who have ultimately no idea about whatever is going on around them. Do you really think they'd care who's at fault?"
"Of course not," Dunham snapped, because she, too, had noticed that Dr Bishop was cracking his mouth in a protest mood. Broyles thanked her innerly, "As agent Dunham pointed out earlier, we're here now. That's what matters most."
Dr Bishop's reaction was the first to catch his attention. The man had immediately let his eyes focus on a single spot on the ground in utter guilt. Fauxlivia nodded, and crossed her arms. Apparently, she was expecting a dangerously quiet Walternate to say something. He didn't.
Dunham seemed suddenly confused, as if she had just recalled something. "Our—Our two universes are inextricable," Broyles could see her struggling to remember; "If one side dies, we're all gonna die. So … So someone had created this," she moved her arms, in a gesture to the whole room. "Hm ...Room—Or Bridge, in order to fix this problem. We're here for a reason. We must save both universes!" She concluded, in a serious, assuring tone.
The words struck him in the vein of a sonic wave. They sounded too fixed, too familiar. As if he'd heard them from someone else before. And, judging by the look on their faces, he could tell that the others were as sank in their thoughts as he was right now, likely, for the same reason. Walternate was the first one to step out of the momentarily disconcertion. "Who told you this, this reasoning? Inextricable, how can we be sure?"
Dunham seemed disorientated. She even took a scarcely noticed step back. And Broyles couldn't blame her. The very man who'd brainwashed her into believing she was another person was now addressing her.
"Well… I…" She gathered herself. Slowly. Perhaps she and Broyles, simultaneously, were trying to make the same connection. The bridge… who told them about it?
Inextricable.
"I can't tell you. Honestly, I can't remember. But I know this for a FACT. It also sounds reasonable. Look, we should save as many lives as we can, starting from now!" She told him finally.
"This is nonsense," A voice barked from the back, and Broyles recognized it as Alternate Brandon's. This was totally the bad time for him to show up.
"Sir, you're definitely not believing this, Are you? With all respect, sir, we should leave now. The soft spots were getting worse because they'd done something, which we must figure out quickly. They're just trying to lull us into believing we're the bad guys here!"
"So you're not thinking it is possible the two universes are linked, and none of them should be destroyed?" Walternate asked, he was now interested of what his confident scientist had to say. Of course.
"Definitely not, sir, this is a pathetic attempt to gain our trust just to betray us afterwards. Those—"
"You and I have a completely different definition of 'nonsense' Mr whatever!" Walter hastily voiced Broyles thoughts, in a bit unrestrained way.
Fauxlivia merely shrugged. Apparently the conversation was beginning to sound boring for her. Quite the opposite, Dunham's face was displaying countless emotions. Broyles could only read the last two before she spoke, disbelief and wrath. "Are you seriously considering aborting this opportunity? We have to work for everyone's sake. People from both sides are DYING unless we do something! "
That must have got Fauxlivia's attention, because she resumed studying her double, from head to toe.
"You are putting your own people at stake here. This is serious; both sides are equally heading to an inevitable end."
It is the likes of those moments that makes Broyles proud of his young blond agent.
Walternate wasn't taking any of it though. He offered the other Brandon a reassuring look. Not good.
"War casualties. Besides, your theory is uncertain. And if people have to die for the survival of our universe, then so be it. Victory is ours." The words were cold, delivered in a deliberately fast pace. He was ending the discussion.
"Yes, yes! Why am I not surprised? Because HE wouldn't have a problem destructing a whole universe, as long as HIS stays untouched." Dr Bishop sneered. His expression switched back and forth from sad to nervous. He slowly turned his attention to Walternate, irritated now. "That's what you are, a DESTROYER OF WORLDS!" And Dr Bishop wasn't helping.
Walternate was instantly shocked. Dr Bishop's words had hit home. He remained still, quiet. He did not reply. Fortunately.
Or not.
In a matter of seconds, the man's face reddened in blind fury. Brow recoiled and lips curled viciously in barely contained rage. "Strange as it might be, I've been longing to tell you those EXACT terminologies for years. Mr Bishop!" He raised an accusing finger fast at him, so fast Broyles thought he could hear the sound of air being traversed. "YOU! And only YOU had brought this on us. Maybe I should remind you that you shattered the fabric of the universe, because, carelessly, you and your greedy, self-centered, mean intentions had caused the deaths of unimaginable numbers of innocent people!" Walternate fired back. And it started all over again. This wasn't good. Dunham must have thought the same because she shut her eyes, sighing.
Walter had been preparing for another comment, but his features changed abruptly after Walternate had pronounced the words 'greedy' and 'mean'. Broyles was about to repeat that those past events don't matter anymore when Dr Bishop cut him short, "What do you mean by 'greedy' and 'mean'? You have no right to call me that!"
"Really? Could you tell me the reason you crossed universes the first time?" Walternate asked him.
Broyles couldn't recall being briefed about the real reason he did that. Although, he knew, above all, that Dr Bishop is not a 'greedy' man. A very passionate scientist perhaps, but not a greedy man.
"I… I…" Dr Bishop seemed utterly panicked. He couldn't remember. "I can't remember, I'm sure I did it for a good reason. I did it to bring back something. Incredibly precious. Something I lost," Broyles believed him. Dr Bishop looked miserably sad. So close to actually cry. "But I can't remember. I—"
"Then allow me to refresh your MISSING memories Mr Bishop," He emphasized on 'missing'. Does he know that Dr Bishop had lost his …? "Brain Parts, Mr Bishop, your lost memories. I know very well that your brain isn't whole. I always wondered what would make you do such atrocity. But then I figured how small you are, eventually. You risked the fate of my world. To abduct me and steal from ME, your missing brain parts." Walternate shoved it in his face. But there was something inside Broyles that told him this wasn't true. He didn't believe it. Neither did Dunham, for she muttered something like "Impossible."
The other Brandon, seemingly satisfied, reiterated "Sir, we must leave. There are many things to be taken care of." Broyles hated him. Fauxlivia's action was next. She shot him a disgusting look before she moved towards the door. "Idiot!" She mumbled. She also hated him? It didn't matter anyway because Walternate and his confident scientist were leaving too. This was over.
Walternate didn't turn back when he said, "Everything about this place must remain classified." Although he stopped until Broyles brought himself to the present and uttered his agreement.
"Maybe we should give it more time." He heard Dunham say, bitterly. Yes, this was the only option right now. To Wait.
Dr Bishop was another story. Since Walternate's merciless words had slapped him. He sank into deep silence. Broyles could see he'd just reached the edge of his resistance. He could notice the man's left hand grabbing at the fingers of his right arm as they wouldn't stop trembling. The first tears as they trickled down his palpable frustrated face that drew dissimilar emotions within the last few minutes. None of them seemed tempting. He could see him shaking his head in denial. Over and over. And over. He could see…
He could see the man was broken. Dr Bishop had nothing left to say. Neither did Broyles, nor Agent Dunham. For a well considerable time, they just stood there. Silent. Motionless. Until, caringly, Dunham took Dr Bishop in a long hug. Telling him something Broyles wasn't concentrated enough to hear, though he understood she was trying to ease his burden. Tell him what he needed to know. Tell him it was all going to be fine. Rest assured.
But Dr Bishop was Broken. And this was yet another pungent reason to stand by, Waiting.
TBC...
Autor's note:
* I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I'll be updating regularly, and as soon as I can. Please feel free to express whatever you want about my story. Writers are addicted to reviews. And, of course, feedbacks are very very well appreciated.
* The bold letters are like glyphs in a fringe episode. Just to add some fun.