SEA OF FRINGE: "Farrago's Legacy".
Chapter One : "Stigma and Stimulus".
"YOU'RE NEITHER UNNATURAL NOR ABOMINABLE, NOR MAD;YOU'RE AS MUCH A PART OF WHAT PEOPLE CALL NATURE AS ANYONE ELSE; ONLY YOU'RE UNEXPLAINED AS YET. YOU'VE NOT GOT YOUR NICHE IN CREATION".
Radclyffe Hall (1883- 1943).
"Well Of Loneliness" (published in 1928).
Book 2, Chapter 20.
Location: Scotland United Kingdom.
The van drove along the coastal path with the beach just a stone's throw away. Above in the sky, the moon seemed to cast down an eerie silvery light as the driver negotiated the twists and turns of the narrow path without the aid of headlights.
In the back of the vehicle two men were urging the driver to put his foot down as they looked worriedly at their cargo lying on the floor of the van.
"This one's close. For Christ's sake we're not gonna make it!. It's already starting!".
"Calm down!", his companion tried to keep his own voice steady and from betraying his emotions that threatened to overwhelm his sanity, "We'll make it!".
"Glad you're feeling optimistic!", the first man replied sarcastically, "You do realise if we're caught then we're going down for a long time and not to mention the fact that they'll throw the book at us for breaking not just the law but…"
"Pipe down!", the driver yelled, "The pair o' ye!. We're not too far now!".
A moaning came from the floor from something wrapped up in a battered tarpaulin and the sound resembled something between human and animal. Both men in the back of the van traded concerned looks not one of them daring to take a quick look and see what was happening not a couple of feet away from them.
The van, a few minutes later and much to the relief of the occupants came to a juddering halt just before reaching the beach. It was lucky that the tide wasn't fully out as their cargo was quite heavy and in more ways than one illegal. Being caught in the middle of the night with what they had was not in their immediate game plan.
The driver quickly got out and opened the back doors to the van and cast his eyes to the tarpaulin which was moving.
"Whit are ye waitin' for?. We've run oot of time!. Just get it as close to the watter as possible and let's get oot o' here!", his voice betrayed both anxiety and fear as he tried to focus on the matter at hand.
Both men noting the older man's mix of fear and impatience galvanized themselves into action and one grabbed the bottom end of the tarpaulin whilst the other took the top end. The older man who was the driver quickly produced a flashlight and set about guiding the two men to the beach.
"Watch yer feet as ye go!", he warned them, "They'll be hell tae pay if the pair o ye drop this and dae yourselves a mischief!. I'm paid tae drive no tae be yer nurse maid!".
The other men huffed and puffed as they carried the tarpaulin down to the beach and also noted their surroundings. This place they had come to was a small coastal village and it looked for all intensive purposes picturesque and quiet. They hadn't planned to stop here but had been given no choice in the matter.
The tarpaulin suddenly shifted and jerked violently and another moan, this time much louder filled the air around them and caused one of the men to drop his end he was carrying and backed away from the package they carried.
"I'm done with this!", he looked at the older man, barely making out the guy's features in the moonlight and the flashlight glare caused him to blink, his eyes hurting. "This is close enough surely!", he complained and looked to his companion for support.
"You bloody well could've warned me that you were gonna drop that thing!", he glared at his comrade icily as he staggered momentarily before letting go of his end of the tarpaulin. "Aye, I agree, this is far enough. The sea's there and I'm no' hanging around to find out what happens next!".
"Aye, let's say no more on the subject!", the older man with the flashlight knew that it was best that they got out of here as they'd run out of time.
He took out a large hunting knife and shone the torch on the tarpaulin severing the ties that bound it together to reveal its contents to the chilly night air.
"Poor bloody thing!", his eyes caught the shape that had started to writhe and moan louder now that it was exposed to the elements, the flashlight caught a small glimpse of some white skin and speckled markings, "It's your choice now…", his voice was regretful and he turned away.
"Let's go!" he motioned with the flashlight and added, "There's nothing' mair to be done here!".
The three men turned away from the beach and as quickly as they could headed back to the van and tried to put the memory of what they had just done out of their minds without a moment's hesitation. None of them spoke to each other as they just wanted to put as much distance between themselves and the beach as far as possible in the quickest time that was manageable.
The van started up and headed out from the beach along the same winding path that it had come and back into darkness leaving behind it's illegal cargo on the sands of the beach near the embrace of the tides.
Once they were on the road and a safe distance, the driver turned on the radio, wincing away at the grating guitars that blasted out of the ageing radio.
"Bloody racket!", he muttered gruffly under his breath, not personally his taste in music but it was to calm down the younger men in the back of the van. His two companions knew little about what it was they were involved with and the lure of some quick and easy cash dulled their more inquisitive natures. He on the other hand had experience and wisdom on his side from many years at sea and that stood him in good stead for this lucrative on the side business whilst waiting for the chance to get back to sea.
They had done what they were paid to do and kept their mouths shut. A handsome reward in the form of some remuneration and hopefully a visit to the local pub would be waiting when they got back.
Ignoring the banter that was coming from his two passengers, the driver took a look out of his rearview mirror and shuddered at what he had glimpsed under the tarpaulin as he tried to forget the image threatening to burn itself into his mind's eye. He knew of the old legends but this was something more and something that did not come from tales handed down from father to son in his culture.
The song with its screeching guitars and pounding drums and relentless lyrics jostled with the image of that cargo they had carried for supremacy and won out.
"Swing low in a dark glass hour, you turn and cower…see it turn to dust. Move on a stone dark night, we take to flight, snowfall turns to rust…"
Whatever they had left on that beach, he hoped to hell it would find its way back to the sea before first light before anyone started to ask questions about its origins.
The tarpaulin on the beach lay empty and its sole occupant slowly and painfully crawled towards its goal as it was in the process of transformation.
The open tide and the sea beyond was calling to it like an ancient siren song and the calling was just too strong to ignore. The eerie half light shone down from the sky above illuminating a human looking form but not something you would term as "human".
"And if you think that I've been losing my way - That's because I'm slightly blinded…And if you think that I don't make too much sense - That's because I'm broken minded…"
Dragging itself up by its still formed human legs, the creature took one look at the moon in the sky and howled in pain and grief before its legs finally gave way and changed from human form into something else entirely.
Its skin was now dappled grey and fur had started to grow all over its body and its face started to take on different dimensions and the eyes turned large and liquid black in colour.
"Here in a hostile place, I hear your face…I start to call.."
Falling onto it's stomach, the creature sensed the sea nearby and using its still human looking arms started to crawl towards the open water. Shells and stones scraped against its now ever changing form as it sensed that it was getting closer to its intended goal.
Closer and closer the creature came to the surf breaking on the shore but the effort to sustain it this far was slowly diminishing.
The transformation was taking its toll on the body and mind and even as the creature thought it was going to reach the sea, the final part of the process had started to change the arms it was using to drag itself to freedom to a different set of "limbs" if you could call them that, entirely.
Another howl escaped the creature as it realised that something was wrong and it stopped its journey to the open water and it turned on its back and shuddering breaths filled the air around it.
Alone and afraid, hearing the crash of the waves just too far out of reach and never to have the loving embrace of the sea, the creature breathed its last breath as the last image of the moon and the sky above was forever etched into its mind.
The moon light bathed the creature in a shroud of death, the only witness to its short but painful life and as the van which had carried the creature to its final resting headed out onto the motorway, the radio wailed the final apocalyptic lyric to the track that had served as the background to this whole sorry business.
"Don't keep it…inside…If you believe it…Don't keep it all inside…no.."
Dr Douglas Monaghan wondered just what the hell he was doing out here on a Saturday morning along with the other two members of the "Parapsychology" department of "Clyde University" namely his fellow assistants Justine McManus and Craig Stevenson.
He looked out at the scene before him and sighed. Being woken up at the weekend was bad enough but he'd been looking forward to seeing his beloved "Partick Thistle" play and that seemed to becoming a distant dream as he looked at the mass of police covered signs and tents that had been erected around this beach.
Heading east from Glasgow at such an ungodly hour to get to this part of the Fife coastline and a place called "Aberdour" was not exactly how he envisioned his first full day off after such a hectic week. Worse still…the police and pathologists investigating this event seemed to think that he and his research team were crypto zoologists rather than paranormal researchers and were now expecting answers.
Answers to which he and his team having just arrived here and being briefed by one Detective Superintendent Macintyre were sadly lacking!.
"Dr Monaghan. I must apologise for bringing you out all this way but a colleague of mine recommended you after reading about your work in a case over at the "Strathclyde" force. He got the impression that you may be able to help us as this case is somewhat…" Macintyre cleared his throat and looked somewhat embarrassed, "Somewhat puzzling some would say. I've worked in the force now for some twenty years and this case is just something which…", he looked at Monaghan with a troubled expression.
Monaghan raised an eyebrow, "Out of the ordinary Detective Superintendent?. I must confess my department is not really into matters concerning strange sea "beasties" washed up on some beach. We're more into researching and proving the existence of paranormal phenomena, not to disrespect your colleague but I think they may have got the wrong idea about what it is we do up at "Clyde University!".
He tried not to sound annoyed at being labelled as a "Fringe Science" department, that was something entirely different to what he and his colleagues were researching. Although, he found himself thinking back to his days when he had befriended someone of a similar background to his own whilst studying in the United States.
Monaghan recalled that he really should contact his old friend from "Harvard" and they should get together to recall the good times that they had whilst studying amongst other subjects "Neuroscience" and "Microbiology". Both men shared a good solid scientific hunger coupled with a desire to get to the truth of the matter at hand. Indeed, that wasn't all they shared and although Monaghan and his friend had drifted slightly apart unintentionally in the past few years or so, mainly due to personal tragedies of their own and also a severe workload hadn't helped matters either. However they still kept in contact and exchanged stories of their "glory days" when they had the chance, in fact Monaghan had just received such a letter several days ago.
"Perhaps you could gather your team and follow me, Dr Monaghan.", Macintyre's voice cut into his thoughts as he nodded towards Justine and Craig who were standing nearby looking and probably feeling the wind chill factor blow right through them just as he was feeling it chill him to the bone.
Beaches in Scotland were always chilly, no matter the season but now that summer was over, they were places reserved for a few hardy souls such as dog walkers or joggers.
"I hope this isn't a wasted journey", Craig's voice grumbled, "I had plans for today!".
"Boozing again with your mates Craig?!", Justine replied with a grin on her face, "Some plans!".
"You could always come out with me and have a drink Justine. No mates involved, just you and me!", Craig answered and knew that Justine would no doubt rise and take the bait, hook, line and sinker!. Craig liked Justine and not just as a friend, although he wished that she would just admit it and then this "little dance" of theirs could really take off to another level.
"Craig, we're work colleagues and nothing more!. Besides, you're letting that imagination of yours run away into something that just ISN'T gonna happen", Justine gave him a withering look that stated she was serious.
"Can you blame a guy for tryin'?!", Craig stopped and held his hands up as he reached the tent that covered a small section of the upper beach from the view of the public. A wry smile got the better of him. That woman was something else entirely!. Sighing and following both Justine and Monaghan into the tent, he wondered if Justine would ever let her guard down and let things develop into something more than they currently stood.
Macintyre stood blocking the view along with at least half a dozen white jump suited forensics and warned the team about what they were about to witness. The tent was a hive of activity with various people coming and going and muttering away to themselves and into their mobile phones coupled with a stiff breeze buffeting the material from time to time, the wind reminding them that this place was ruled by nature and that men were unwelcome intruders to her domain.
"Gentlemen and lady…" he acknowledged Justine who gave him a small smile in return, "I hope you can tell us what we have here. I'll be damned if any of us ken…" he moved aside letting Monaghan and his team stare at the body before them, lying there in a small, hollowed out depression in the sand. The remaining forensic staff also parting in a sea of white to stand and watch the so called "professionals" do their job.
"MY GOD!", Justine grimaced and covered her mouth, feeling bile flood into her mouth and desperate not to throw up with a captive audience waiting for their judgement on what lay before them. Decay and decomposition had started its long and laborious task of breaking down the necessary nutrients and chemicals to their most basic compounds.
"JESUS!", Craig sucked in air into his lungs and initially felt a wave of nausea threaten to overwhelm him as he turned to look at Monaghan who seemed to be rendered speechless at the sight before him. What looked like a mix of skin and fur covered the body before him and it just didn't look either human or animal.
"I think my two colleagues have taken the words right out of my mouth, Macintyre…", Monaghan moved in closer, grimacing and trying to contain both the contents of his stomach and temporarily distract himself from the smell that was quickly reaching his nostrils of decaying flesh as he shot a wry grin to the police Superintendent.
"Douglas, what the hell is that thing?!", Craig moved in for a closer look, managing to conquer the initial shock of seeing the carcass for the first time.
"I'd have thought this was right up your alley Craig!. After all, you trawl that damned internet in your spare time looking for "unexplained phenomena" and so called "abduction" experiences to try and debunk. Well, looks like that this one certainly defies explanation and do we even know if its human?", he grinned at Craig and looked to one of the forensic staff for an answer.
"We ran initial tests this morning…", the woman replied and looked over to Macintyre who gave her a nod of encouragement that it was okay to continue with this line of inquiry. "Inconclusive" she went on to explain, "As you can see, there's what looks like an arm on the body but it's in a severe state of…"
"I'd say metamorphosis, rather than decay at this stage. Although the smell is pretty vile!.", Justine piped in and joined in the discussion coming over to see the body in a little more detail, "Something was going on here. Something out of the ordinary and I'd say that it was something unexpected as well. I mean who on earth would just drop this…this…", she stumbled over the word, "Thing, on a beach in full view of the public?. This is like an experiment that went wrong and someone obviously panicked. Is that what you would conclude Superintendent?", Justine looked over to the policeman who seemed amused at this whole speech.
"Dr Monaghan, I think your assistant here would make a good addition to my force!. She seems to have the makings of a good investigator!."
Monaghan replied dryly, "Sorry Macintyre, but she's spoken for!.
Craig looked at Justine and as Monaghan and Macintyre began to discuss certain elements to the case, both men looking at the thing lying in the sand with both serious expressions and deciding the best course of action to follow next. He took her aside for a few words outside the tent to get a breath of fresh air, the atmosphere in the tent becoming a little two claustrophobic for them both.
"I think we both need to get that stench out of our lungs!", he began as he took in a few deep breaths, "That was the most BOUFIN thing I have ever come across Justine!".
"Aye Craig, it smells worse than your trainers!", she joked, "Seriously though, what the hell did you make of that thing in there?!", she looked at him questioningly. "What the hell have we stumbled into?".
"You seem to know a bit more than you're letting' on. Have you, you know…" Craig gave her a look, "Sensed anything?". He was trying to ask discreetly as he knew that Justine even after all this time was still unnerved by her special "gift".
"I'd have to touch that thing Craig!. The smell's bad enough!", she grimaced and added, "No, I haven't sensed anything, I just used some good old fashioned "woman's intuition", as I said Craig, someone obviously wasn't expecting this to happen and just dumped the thing on the beach to die alone…", she shivered as a gust of wind chilled her to the bone and buttoned up her coat up to the neck, and tried to clear the image of the body out of her mind.
The forensic staff were continually coming in and out of the tent and Justine looked back to Craig, "So, you don't have any idea what that thing might be?".
"Well, there's a radioactive beach down the coast Justine!. I don't think that counts although if we were actually further inland and closer to St Andrews there is a wee town called "Springfield" and…"
"Craig!. That only happens in the "Simpsons!", get serious for a minute!".
Craig threw up his hands, "You got me!. I'm officially out of answers on this one!", he admitted defeat and scratched his mop of curly dark hair, he was truly stumped by what he had seen in that tent and could offer no suggestions to his friend and fellow assistant on what might be going on.
"Let's get back in there Craig. I saw the look on Monaghan's face. I think he's going to take this case on and besides, he needs something for that book of his that he's never got around to publishing. This could be the "big one" he's been lookin' for!", Justine turned to head back into the tent and to the mystery within determined to find out what their boss was planning to do next.
"Sea Monsters!. So much for validating paranormal phenomena!", Craig muttered as he followed his colleague back into the tent and wondered when it was that cryptozoology had suddenly superceded that of Parapsychology.
"If there's something strange in your neighbourhood…who ya gonna call?!…", he started to sing under his breath as he prepared himself to get a second dose of decaying sea beastie in his lungs.
"Is everything okay Douglas?. You've been quiet, too quiet in fact…" Justine looked at her boss as they were driving back westward and back to Glasgow. Her normal dark hair had been tied back into a pony tail and she wore a look of concern on her face.
"No need to worry Justine. I'm thinking about this case and how we might need some expertise. Don't get me wrong, we're all good enough investigators but we're not specialized enough in this area to really help the police out on this one.", Monaghan decided to let his assistants in on what he was planning to do.
"And I take it you know of someone that happens to know all about the "Loch Ness Monster?" then?!", piped in Craig from the back of the vehicle trying not to sound too sarcastic, "Douglas, this case reeks and I'm no talkin' about the smell off that thing we saw on the beach!. It reeks of something that maybe we shouldn't poke our noses into. If that thing was dumped because it was a failed experiment then the police should deal with whoever it is that created that thing!. We're PARANORMAL investigators and there's nothing really paranormal about this case, not that I can see!".
"Craig!. How can you no see that this is an out of the ordinary event?!", Justine decided to correct her colleague, "In the first instance, that creature was CREATED in a lab, now that certainly ISN'T normal!. Secondly, where there's one creature then there has to be another and although I don't want to see anything like that creature in my life ever again, then it warrants SURELY investigation of some kind?!. Maybe we are out of our depth but I don't see anyone else in Scotland really qualified at even attempting to explain this and I for one would like to know who created that poor thing and why it was created in the first place. You have to admit, we need answers and if we don't investigate this then just where the hell do you think we're gonna get our answers from?!".
Monaghan grinned, "That's the spirit Justine!. I agree with you. I've made arrangements for the "creature" to be transferred over into the custody of our department and it can be kept on ice until I contact my old friend and see what he makes of it. He recently told me that he and his team investigated a case involving a transgenic creature, perhaps similar to ours and I believe that we could use his help."
"Whoah!. Wait a minute!. Douglas, did you say "TRANSGENIC" creature?!. That's a little bit, don't you think…" Craig piped in from the back but was interrupted by Monaghan.
"Weird and out of my usual "comfort zone?!", Monaghan retorted and looked at him in the mirror, "I can still surprise you Craig when you least expect it!. I have a more "open" mind than you think, more so now that my friend and I have started to correspond more now than we used to. I met him back in my old student days when I was at Oxford. We did a cross exchange type thing with "Harvard" University in the States, I went over there for a year and he came over here." Monaghan smiled, "Those were good times and we kept in contact ever since. He was institutionalised following some family problems but seems to be back on the mend."
"Sounds like an interesting guy!", Justine wondered just what Monaghan was planning, it sounded like he'd made up his mind to contact his old friend, "Who does he work for then?".
"The F.B.I.", Monaghan replied, "His name is Walter Bishop and it looks like he's the guy that can best help us out."
Both Justine and Craig exchanged concerned glances.
"Douglas…um…are you sure about this?", Craig decided to voice his concerns, "It's bad enough involving the polis but the FEDS?!. This isn't exactly what I was expecting from you!. This isn't some crossover buddy imported cop show we're talking here. This is real life and this case in particular could be more dangerous if we dig too deep and don't like what we find.".
"Craig. I understand your concerns but I've made up my mind. My friend Walter and his team are much more adept at this than we ever hope to be." Monaghan fixed him with a long, hard look in the mirror., "Trust me laddie, I know what I'm doing".
Monaghan cracked his fingers before composing his e-mail. It seemed that the contact details that his friend Walter Bishop had given him were primarily through the F.B.I and to the department head, a man called Phillip Broyles who oversaw the team that Walter was working with.
Monaghan stared at the stained page of headed note paper that bore the mark of "St Claire's Mental Institution" and wondered how on earth his long time friend had ended up in such a place. The last person he expected to end up there was Walter. Both he and Walter had heartache in common. Monaghan had lost his wife and son in childbirth many years ago. His friend Walter had also lost his wife but in different circumstances. Both men were broken by their loss but had found common ground in their grief but it seemed that Walter's tether had broken whilst Monaghan had thrown himself more into his work and this had helped him to keep his sanity whilst his friend had ended up institutionalised for the past 17 years.
"Douglas, my friend, it would be good to see you now that I have taken my first, faltering steps back into the land of so-called sanity!", Monaghan repeated Walter's words softly, "I expect that the F.B.I. will be keeping me busy on numerous cases for which my expertise will be called upon and as well as this, I have also been trying to re-establish a relationship with my estranged son, Peter. Until I can sort out something more permanent with regards to an address, should you wish to reach me, the head of the division that I work for is perhaps your best course of action."
Monaghan noted the man's contact details and decided that it was best to contact this Broyles and see where this would lead to and since the information about this case was a little more "unusual", sending this by email was his best bet.
"Mr Broyles, I got your contact e-mail address from my long time friend, Walter Bishop. First and foremost, I think you may want to hear a case that my team and I have recently stumbled into. In the last letter that Walter wrote to me, he mentioned that he was working within the F.B.I on cases that had shall we say, an element of the unnatural attached to them…"
Monaghan drank some wine from his glass and squinted in the glare of the harsh lighting above him. The University's lighting policy left much to be desired as he always inevitably could never sit at his desk for very long and compose e-mails. He should really be doing this from the comfort of his own, familiar surroundings of his home but as usual, he had dozens of papers to read and work was a hard task- mistress and another familiar "all nighter" session was here to stay. This new case called for some background research on strange animals unknown to nature and unlike his normal research, it was going to take time to acquaint himself on this subject matter.
"I work along with my colleagues at the "University Of Clyde" namely in the "Parapsychology" department where we investigate strange or inexplicable phenomena. Attached to this e-mail, I am sending a picture taken earlier today at a crime scene that my team was called to investigate. I feel that perhaps Walter may be able to help in identifying this "creature" as I am aware that he has an interest in this field of study more so than myself.", he continued to type.
"I hope you get this Walter and that this guy Broyles doesn't think that I'm taking the mick!", Monaghan muttered as he continued to type explaining how both he and Walter knew each other. He finished his e-mail with a quote and added, "Walter will know what I mean!".
He leaned back in his chair and pressed the "SEND" button. What was done was done.
All he could do was wait and see how his friend would respond, that's if the Feds didn't think that this was a wind-up and it was all for nothing.
"The ball is firmly in your court now!", he sighed and signed out of his e-mail account and headed for the nearest search engine.
"Let's see what's out there on the internet first shall we?!", he typed in the words "Unexplained Creatures" and leaned back in his seat.
Every journey had to have some starting point to it.
Meanwhile….Over In The United States..
Olivia Dunham lay awake in her bed, unable to sleep. It had been a few days since she had been back in the tank at "Harvard" to purge her memories of John Scott and now she felt, well, she felt…
In fact, Olivia wasn't sure what she actually felt. "Conflicted" might be the best word to describe her present mental condition. She figured at least if she could sleep then her mind might be able to make sense of what she actually felt, but it seemed like sleep was the last thing that her mind was wanting her to do. Or maybe it had been the case she had been working on that wouldn't let her escape into the land of nod, the last case that she had worked had been both personal and professionally draining and had left her with more questions than answers regarding both her ex-partner and her emotions.
Had John survived that fatal car crash, would the truth about his "black ops" missions have come to light?. Would he have managed to clear his name?. Could they really have had that future together that up until several months ago would have made her the happiest woman at the Bureau?. These questions and others circled her mind and continued to keep circling even though she knew that she had to move on. Holding onto the past was just plain stupid, those hopes and dreams were of the woman she USED to be. The new Olivia Dunham had "woken up" in a manner of speaking and the old Olivia seemed foreign, alien even when she recalled life before "Fringe Division". However, it wasn't just the memory of her ex-partner and her previous life that had been keeping her awake but more pressing matters concerning the current status of those closest to her that was giving her insomnia permission to run riot.
One person in particular seemed to be subconsciously wreaking havoc on her emotions on a daily basis, so much so, that Olivia felt she was on a high speed rollercoaster with no possible way to stop the momentum and direction as to where it was going to end up. That one person seemed to revel in keeping her on her toes and questioning just EXACTLY how many levels he was operating on and where exactly she fitted into his plans.
One name. One man.
PETER BISHOP.
Even thinking about Peter was becoming less torturous than it had been up until recently. In the beginning it seemed that the guy pretty much summed up her less than glorious expectation of him : "A PAIN IN THE ASS". Or should she have said a "SMART pain in the ass?".
However Peter seemed to have mellowed in the past few months since she had known him. Really, it wasn't until the case that they investigated with the strange metal cylinder that had disappeared in the woods that night when Peter had been kidnapped and the subsequent story of the "Observer" and Walter had told him that story of how the strange bald man had rescued them from the lake, that Peter Bishop had changed from "Pain In The Ass" to someone who Olivia felt she could trust with her life.
Indeed, for some insane reason, Olivia could not help but smile when she recalled seeing Peter dressed up in his best suit sitting opposite her in that hotel lobby waiting for Conrad's men to show up and how he exuded something which she couldn't quite put a name to but had certainly impressed her.
And that wasn't the only time either that Peter Bishop had impressed her either. There was that time of course when he showed concern about her after she had been kidnapped and held in the warehouse concerning the case of the "super sized cold virus" and those immortal words "I care about you" had slipped out.
Olivia felt a blush redden her cheeks even in the dark and tried hard not to think about how that made her feel, then of course there was the habit she had of having to go round to the hotel where the Bishops were staying and having to knock on the door and of course Peter would answer the door…
Just then her cell phone rang, saving her from probably not ever gaining the hope of sleep for the rest of the night as her mind was now too alert and ashamedly focussed on the image of the younger Bishop without a shirt on but with an expression that first conveyed annoyance at being woken up from a deep sleep but then drifting into one of acceptance and even amusement.
"Dunham", she answered the phone, clearing her mind of the image that somehow was finding her way more and more into her both waking and dreaming life and it wasn't such a bad image to dwell on really, much more comforting than liquefied brains and rapidly ageing humans to name but a few things that somehow would pop up in her head from time to time.
"Agent Dunham. You probably know what I'm about to say. I take it you were awake already?", the voice of Agent Broyles on the other end of the phone brought Olivia back to reality with a bump.
"Yes sir, I was actually. I guess you want me to go and get the Bishops and head over to "Harvard?" or am I being too presumptious?!", Olivia decided to call Broyles bluff on this early call.
"You're half right Dunham. Instead of "Harvard" come directly to headquarters. This primarily concerns Dr Bishop but all of you should be there to hear about this case. I'll expect you shortly.", Broyles replied dryly, "And Dunham.." he added..
"Sir?", Olivia queried and frowned.
"This may be involve ZFT. I'm running leads as we speak, I'll let you know what I find."
"We'll be there as soon as we can!", Olivia nodded and ended the call. Lying back on her pillow, she played with the idea of calling Peter and saying that Broyles needed their services and to get his father awake and ready as soon as possible. Her hand hovered over the buttons but instead a wicked little smile played over her features. Old Olivia Dunham would never have considered so fragrantly overstepping the bounds of a working relationship in such a manner as this, but then again, the rules of the game had now changed and the board was now an ever changing backdrop to this crazy job she was now involved with.
"After all" she sighed, trying not to speak her thoughts aloud and quickly threw together her standard issue F.B.I get up…it had been several weeks since her last PERSONAL visit to the Bishop's hotel room door, "I'll just have to come up with a plausible excuse on the way there…"
Peter Bishop was in the middle of a nice dream. In fact, it was nice to be feeling that sense of being somewhere other than in a hotel room in Boston and finally getting some well deserved rest. In fact, Peter decided that this was a much nicer place overall and that he was staying there and nothing NOT anything was going to put him back into reality for a good few hours yet.
His father had finally dropped off after what seemed hours of him reciting recipes for pies, puddings and desserts that he had loved before his incarceration in "St Claire's" for the best part of seventeen years and Peter was sure that he had devoted a large part of his subconscious memory into being able to whip up a culinary feast of delights at the drop of a hat!. Every time he would hear the end of a recipe his mind could actually envisage the finished product as his father chose to recite off yet another dish and yet another…
Counting "culinary delights" wasn't as effective as counting sheep and Walter's insistence at usually forgetting to add "that special ingredient" would drag him out of the arms of slumber and back into reality with a bang.
And so, to finally get to this special place that he hadn't visited in so long was an incredible feat and one which he was determined to hold onto.
Why he wasn't dreaming about food was also yet another miracle!.
That was until he was sure that he could hear someone insistently knocking at the door. There was no door in his dream but he could definitely hear knocking and it seemed so real that he woke up with a start unsure if he was still dreaming or experiencing a "false awakening".
He lay there for a moment on the couch of the hotel room, unsure where he was but realising that he must be "awake" for some reason or another, some primitive and instinctual part of the brain dragging him from slumber and dumping him back unceremoniously into the here and now.
"GREAT!", he felt really pleased with himself as he realised that he was awake and somehow must've dreamed himself awake, "Nice one Bishop!", he muttered as he decided to go and get a drink of water and try not to wake his father up in the process.
He yawned and fumbled for his watch, trying to see the time. It was still dark and probably early as he squinted at the figures on the watch face and realised indeed it wasn't anywhere near 3am.
Just as he was about to get a glass and fill it with water, there came confirmation of what he had just been dreaming about. Insistent knocking at the door and it sounded like…
"Say goodbye to the rest of the night Bishop!", he rubbed his eyes and headed towards the door, knowing full well who was probably on the other side. His intuition was still running on less than 2% the 98% still stuck in "Dream time" but there was only one insistent knock like that on his door every so often and he had learned to recognise and listen out for it and feel his heart glow softly as his intuition was always spot on where one Agent Olivia Dunham was concerned.
A smile played on his lips as he realised that she hadn't been around for one of those "personal visits" to tell him something important regarding a case for well over…he frowned…Was it at least three weeks now?. Maybe she realised it deep down that it wasn't JUST to impart some make or break information on whatever case they were currently investigating but maybe a little something more?.
Peter knew that Olivia had been on an emotional rollercoaster ever since they had met in that hotel lobby in Iraq. Okay, he admitted that he acted like a jerk for the first couple of months that they had known each other. He was too impatient with his father and himself, he hated being tied down to people and awkward situations and in fact there were times that he felt that he was losing himself in this situation that he had become involved with. THAT was the scariest thing of all, not knowing where your own life was heading and having someone else come along taking up your time and effectively cramping your style.
His father had effectively turned his life upside down and inside and out until he had NO idea of who he was and where he was heading let alone what day of the week it was!. Although initially disturbing and frustrating at times, Peter had began to know his father again and although there were times he still flared up, he had learned to adapt to his new life and surroundings remarkably well. His old life and old ways of doing things soon began to fade along with the man that he used to be.
Somehow though, somehow by a miracle, Agent Olivia Dunham seemed to tether him to this life and new existence. Her iron façade would crumble sometimes with a witty comment or a longer than appropriate stare and he could catch a glimpse of the woman underneath the suit and the badge.
Olivia Dunham was a work in progress, but a work that caused him many a sleepless night and he had to admit that she was in his veins like a narcotic and he was totally hooked, although he would not readily admit it in public. His father knew though and THAT was just plain embarrassing and made him feel uncomfortable and like a teenager again.
As he made his way over to open the door, he had to admit that despite the unlawful time of the morning that it would be good to see her again and try to raise her spirit's a little before "protocol" reared its demanding head once more.
She had been through a great deal of trauma regarding her ex-partner and lover John Scott and he had respectfully kept some distance between them until she could work through her emotions. Walter had told him that she had gone back into the tank to say "goodbye" to John Scott and the visions of him and his memories in her mind and he admired and respected her for doing that.
"Agent Dunham. We really have to stop meeting like this at the most ungodly time of the morning!", he opened the door and greeted her with a cheeky smirk and glint in his eyes, "And here I was thinking that I was going to get the best night's sleep in my life after Walter kept me awake for the best part of the night reciting recipes of days gone by!".
Olivia on the other hand had a look of appraisal in her eyes as he realised that he had been up and around with just his sweatpants on and shirtless which seemed to meet with Olivia's approval although she wouldn't admit to it.
"My uh…phone wasn't fully charged and I thought I'd…you know…drop by…" Olivia's voice seemed to suddenly become a little huskier as try as she might, the vision of Peter's unclothed torso was derailing her train of thought. "Besides…" her line of vision was drawn to a cluster of beautifully marked freckles that threatened to overwhelm her stern "F.B.I persona" and unleash her inner feline, "Broyles as usual gave me the order to get you and your father to headquarters as quickly as possible. Astrid's on her way already."
Peter held the door open and let out a sigh inviting her in. "I take it, we have a new case then?!. And what manner of the truly disgusting and hideous do we get to investigate this time?. Any clues Dunham?!", he teased her, raising an eyebrow and closed the door behind her.
"Sorry Peter, your guess is as good as mine. Don't shoot the messenger!. I'm only here to get you and your father there Asap!". Olivia managed to rein in her wilder instincts momentarily as she tried to regain her equilibrium. It HAD been too long since she'd been here and feasted her eyes on Peter and especially the way he moved closer to her now, way too close…in fact it was verging on the inappropriate as she was truly aware of the heat coming off his body and how dizzy she suddenly felt.
"If milady just waits here, then I'll go and wake my father and we'll try not to keep you here longer than is necessary..", his voice suddenly seemed to drop an octave lower and Olivia felt the temperature in the room shoot up by 100 degrees at least as they held each other's gaze for what seemed an eternity, no-one daring to break the connection that reignited something in the pair of them that neither wanted to admit.
"Peter!. Peter!. I thought I heard voices and knocking at the door!. Son?!. Are you there with a lady friend?!", the unmistakable voice of Walter Bishop broke the passion between the "F.B.I" agent and her civilian consultant colleague.
Peter let out an exasperated sigh and grinned ruefully at Olivia. "I guess waking up my father will not be a problem!".
He turned to see Walter standing in the room with a rather pleased expression on his face as the scientist realised that his son was talking to Agent Dunham.
"Olivia!", beamed the scientist, "What a LOVELY surprise!. Have you and Peter by any chance been taking my advice and engaging in any form of sexual -", he never got the word out as Peter quickly turned and cut him off from doing any further verbal damage.
"WALTER!", Peter turned and glared at him, "Agent Dunham dropped by to tell us we have a new case, NOTHING MORE!", he tried to keep his voice from betraying any embarrassment, his father in his own way was just, well…he was Walter being typically Walter.
"Oh!", Walter looked slightly disappointed, "Well…never mind son!. The room is always here if you need it. I can always make myself scarce if you change your mind!", he turned away muttering away about something which neither of them could hear.
"Glad to see you're not sleeping naked Walter. Things are improving!", he called after his father trying to compose himself before facing Olivia and offering his apologies for his father's comments.
Meanwhile Olivia managed to somehow keep from looking flustered and instead found her gaze roaming the expanse of Peter's back and trying hard not to think about what Walter had just said. In fact, the temperature suddenly did shoot up several degrees as at the same time Peter turned around and Walter's voice shot out from the room beyond…
"YOU'RE one to talk son!.", Olivia could make out the humour in the old scientist's voice, "You'll be giving Agent Dunham something to think about if you don't hitch up you britches boy!" he cackled as Peter realised that his father had just embarrassed him for the second time in less than a minute!.
With a flushed look he glanced towards Olivia and with a polite, "Sorry Olivia, I'll go and just help him to get changed…", he quickly made an exit.
Olivia managed to keep her cool for a few seconds and watched him leave enjoying the view from behind and keeping quiet about what she was seeing.
Walter was right!. Peter's sweatpants did ride quite low indeed!.
"That's a hell of a way to begin a new case Dunham!", she chided herself as she could hear Peter and Walter struggling to get ready in the shortest time possible.
From now on, she decided, she would DEFINITELY have to find more excuses to be knocking on the Bishop's hotel room door in the early hours of the morning…CASE OR NO CASE!…
Enjoy that then?. It's good to be back with another story which I hope may be to your taste. Without further ado, I'll explain the idea behind it.
As I'm Scottish, I decided to take the "Fringe" team out of their nice wee corner of Boston and the States as a whole and transplant them elsewhere, namely in my country and in particular a few places out and about. Cue a cult classic in my country called "Sea Of Souls" that was on the telly about 2004-2007. People dubbed it the "Scottish X-files" and it was really damn good for its time. Okay us Scots don't have JJ ABRAMS and a big budget to work from but this show and some of its storylines could give the big network series, a run for its money!. I would say that you should watch a few episodes of it and it's up on "Youtube" should you wish to check it out. also thanks to the lone person who wrote the short season one "Sea of Souls" fic on this site. Good to see that someone has seen this show albeit a while ago. Time to give a nod to "Season two" and Craig and Justine though as they were excellently played and portrayed and developed brilliantly as the show progressed.
As for this chapter of the story and others to come, I will be writing in a broad Scottish dialect, which for some of you might be a wee bit difficult to follow.
The rule of thumb is that you'd have a word like "to" and you replace the "o" with an "ae" which is pronounced like the name of the River "Tay" and so words like "from" became "frae or fae" no becomes "nae" and so on. This is lowland Scots here, a derivative of "English" not Gaelic ( that's further north they speak that and I'm a lowland Scot) and if you happen to be a sci-fi fan Scots sounds as gutteral as Klingon!.
"Boufin" means a really disgusting smell and "Polis" is slang for the police, there you go, two words learnt already!.
So strap in and set your "Universal translators to "Lowland Scots" and I'll provide a few word/phrase translations on the way and to any Canadians reading this, I'm sure with as many expat Scots and the historical connections with Scotland running rampant, you'll probably ken what I'm on about a wee bit more than anyone else.
So, I've kind a set the scene and I'll get through the thinking behind the first chapter.
The quote at the beginning of the chapter is from "The Oxford Dictionary" of Quotations", and I'll be using quotes at the beginning of every chapter from this and other books relevant to the chapter content.
The song is called "Inside" by "STILTSKIN" and their only Cd called "The Mind's Eye". You may remember the jeans commercials used to use songs to promote their product and this is one of those tracks from that era.
"Aberdour" is a wee place that has been called "Scotland's Riviera", and in the height of summer is one of the best places along the Fife coastline. Here's me plugging the "Scottish Tourist board", but it's worth a wee visit and it's part of the "FIFE COASTAL PATH" which is another cool thing about my part of the country!. "Springfield" truly exists as well and us "Fifers" COULD have laid claim to holding the "Simpsons Movie" premiere over here but it sadly it didn't happen although at the time there was talk of it happening!.
"Partick Thistle" are a football club that are also known as "The Jags" after the thistle part of the name and a "jaggie" is something which is quite sharp if you ever handle one or see it closely, generally also known as "sharp undergrowth" as well if you're a keen gardener!.
Finally, this as you've no doubt guessed is set in season ONE of "Fringe" and just after the episode "The Transformation", it would've been easier to set it after "Unleashed" but too obvious considering what's to come in the narrative.
As usual, have to get a bit of "unclothed" Peter into the narrative and this one goes out to the girls on "fan forum" and hope they enjoy it. More to come later on in the story…
Before I wrap up this opening chapter. Don't expect miracles with this story, it may or may not see a conclusion as I'm pushed for time writing these days. It might be a while before I post again, but I wanted to get the idea up for this story as it was too good to miss. Hope you enjoy it and be patient for more chapters…