Title: Something that I try to hold on to
Prompt: Writer's Choice - Comfort
Characters: Clare Warren/Peter Bishop
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Fandom: Clare is a Fringe AU OC (no specific time frame is set but it's before season 3)
Summary: AU. It is a week after the Fringe event in New York and the young girl found in the building has come around in the hospital. Broyles and the team wish to speak to her and so visit the child after she regains consciousness. However the meeting takes a downward turn after Olivia and Walter trigger memories of the girl's past few weeks on the other side – and Peter finds himself trying to comfort the frightened girl after she latches onto him.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe, but I do own Clare =]
Timeline: This story arc is AU to the Season 2 episode 'Jacksonville' - The Arc's time frame (for this collection of pieces) is between 'Jacksonville' and 'Peter' (I will start off a new collection when I reach the Peter episode).
References: Indirect references to Walternate and FauxLivia and the end of 'Over There part 2'.
Note: Thanks to everyone who took time to read the first chapter. I forgot to mention, this is being written for the LJ OCChallenge, hence Clare being a main character. Each chapter will have it's own summary unless stated otherwise. Now, time to say 'Hi' to Peter :) Wont be updating again for another few days (depending on when I write the next prompt)
Six Days Later – Mount Sinai Medical Centre, New York City
The beeping of a heart monitor was the first thing Clare Warren heard as she drifted slowly back into consciousness after her long sleep. Sunlight filtered through her closed eyelids as she became aware of voices filtering through around her. Taking a deep breath, Clare felt herself wince slightly as she tried to move a little in the bed, as the memories of what had occurred in the building she had taken refuge in returned.
She had been hiding from people from the Defence Department in an old building after three days on the run from them...
She remembered the mini-earthquakes and the ceiling tiles falling down around her, the small pieces cutting her and embedding themselves into her skin...
She remembered two distinct voices – a man and a woman's – as they searched for her...
She remembered the Amber Quarantine procedures being put in place and the earthquakes getting worse as the Amber device was turned on and activated...
She remembered herself waking up after the last violent quake to find herself staring into the eyes of a dead man who hadn't been there before, killed by a fallen beam which had come out of nowhere, and the feeling of not being able to breathe as she felt the small metal pipe inside her...
She remembered the Fear that had erupted inside her when she had woken up to find flashing lights reflecting off the steel structure, and the fire-fighter finding her, and then how scared she was when he had called the Doctor lady and her paramedic partner...
She remembered the pain as the doctor moved her forward so that the firemen could cut the piping so that she could be taken to hospital, even with the medication the Doctor had given her through the drip she had been put on...
Blinking against the bright light, Clare slowly opened her glazed blue eyes to find herself in a half lying- half seated position in a hospital bed in what seemed to be a private room of a hospital. Blinking to clear her blurred vision, Clare immediately noted that the walls were a light cream colour with small coloured pictures in frames hanging from them. Her bed was by a large window, which allowed the warm sunshine to spread across her bed (as the blinds had been left open), and she could make out several tall buildings off into the distance whilst a field of grass seemed to cover the ground before them.
Looking down, Clare noticed she remained attached to the IV that had been inserted by the doctor back in the building, and the cuts and scratches on her arms had been tended to. On her left forefinger was a pulse meter, which was hooked up to the machines by her bed which gave read outs of her heart rate, pulse rate and O2 stats. The site where she had been caught by the pipe felt itchy, and a dull ache seemed to emanate from the area – with another dull ache a few centimetres above it.
Just as Clare was about to move the t-shirt of the child size scrubs she had been changed into, to check her injury, the door to the hospital room opened, to reveal a motherly-looking nurse, who was carrying a tray with a couple of IV bags. When she noticed Clare was awake, the nurse smiled brightly. "Hey there, how are you feeling?"
"I'm okay." Clare whispered hoarsely, suddenly realising how thirsty she was.
The nurse, whose name badge read ''WATSON', placed the tray she had been carrying on the moveable table at the foot of Clare's bed, before picking up a plastic cup containing several ice chips.
"Here," Watson said, offering Clare the cup as she came to the girls side, "Take a couple of these, they'll make your throat feel better."
Clare held her hand out palm upwards, as Nurse Watson tipped the cup and allowed three ice chips to fall into the girl's smaller hand. Clare closed her hand around the chips and popped one of the chips into her mouth – allowing the ice to melt on her tongue and sooth her sore throat as she popped the next one in.
"Better?" Nurse Watson asked lightly, as she returned the cup to the table and turned her attention back to the small girl, who she had been caring for over the past few days since her arrival.
Watson's shift had just started when they had wheeled Clare into the Intensive Care department of the Mount Sinai Medical Centre, hooked up to a variety of machines after coming out of several hours of surgery. On that day, it had been hard to tell whether or not the frail girl would pull through, after she had gone into shock en route to the hospital and had later crashed in the ER after the Doctors downstairs had removed the metal that had pierced her. But as the days had passed, Watson had seen the improvement in the girl as her colour returned, the fever she had contracted had been taken care of, and she had been taken off the ventilator nearly 48 hours ago.
Clare nodded and gave the nurse a small smile in response. She did feel better – a lot better than she had been over the past few months- and she also felt her appetite returning to her as she watched Nurse Watson change the empty saline bag she was attached to via the IV with a new one, and then did the same for a bag of coloured liquid.
"How long have I been here?" Clare asked timidly, as Nurse Watson moved around her bed to check the monitors and readouts.
"You've been here for six days." Nurse Watson answered her grey eyes warm. "But you've been in and out of consciousness for the past 36 hours or so since the Doctor took you off the ventilator."
Clare nodded silently as Nurse Watson moved back around to her right side and paused momentarily.
"I'm going to have to check your surgical sites now, just so that I can check the incisions and change the gauze pads. Is that okay?"
"Okay." Clare answered quietly, lifting her arm from the top of the cover to allow the older woman access.
Lifting up the hem of the scrub t-shirt, Nurse Watson revealed a large gauze pad - running up her side. Clare watched as Nurse Watson gave her a smile before placing one hand above the pad, and used the other to gently peel back the white pad.
Clare hissed slightly as the sticky material was removed from her now slightly pink skin, to reveal two incision sites; one larger than the other where the surgeons had repaired the damage caused by the penetrating wound, whilst the smaller incision was made from the chest drain that had been inserted. Clare noted that the smaller incision area was still a slightly angrier shade of red, whilst the larger incision was now a red line running from just below her ribs to near her hip.
"They are looking good, and are healing nicely." Nurse Watson said, pleased with the progress of the healing, as she inspected the surgical scars and brushed the tip of her pinkie finger over the scar with a feather light touch before moving to pick up another gauze pad to cover the wounds.
"Was it bad?" Clare asked as she watched the nurse work.
"Well it wasn't good put it that way." Nurse Watson smiled as ran her hand over the edges of the newly laid gauze. "You are done."
Clare smiled. "Thank you."
"You are welcome." Watson assured. "Are you hungry?"
Clare's eyes lit up, causing Nurse Watson to chuckle. "I'll get the kitchens to send something up for you, okay?"
"Thank you, Miss." Clare answered quietly as Nurse Watson walked toward the door.
"You're welcome. Get some rest, okay?"
"Okay." Clare answered as her eyes once again began to drift closed as the medication in the bags began to take effect.
Nurse Watson smiled as she watched the young girl drift back into sleep, before heading over to the nurses' station, and spoke to one of her colleagues.
"Hey Jeff, the FBI Agents who have been popping in asked to be informed when the girl in room 8 was awake. Do you think you could call them and let them know she's awake?"
"Sure thing, Kelsey." Jeff answered as Kelsey Watson went to order some food to be brought up for the little girl, knowing that in the next few hours, she would need her strength when the agents came to speak to her.
As Nurse Watson predicted, Phillip Broyles, Olivia Dunham, Peter Bishop and Walter Bishop arrived at the Nurses station of the Mount Sinai Children's Intensive Care, now accompanied by Astrid Farnsworth, after being informed that the young girl who had survived the building merge had finally woken up after nearly a week since the incident had occurred.
"I'm Special Agent Phillip Broyles of the FBI, and this is my associate Olivia Dunham," Broyles said by way of introduction as the two agents produced their Federal ID's to the nurse seated behind the counter. "We received a call informing us that the patient in room 8 had regained consciousness."
"Ah yes, we were told to expect you. Hold on one moment please." The nurse said as she turned to the small microphone on the desk beside her and spoke into it. "Nurse Watson to the Nurses Station please. Nurse Watson to the Nurses Station. She won't be a moment"
"Thank you." Broyles nodded as he turned back to his four companions, just as a woman in her mid-to-late thirties came around the corner from one of the wards and headed toward them.
"Hello, I'm Nurse Watson. I'm the nurse in charge on this ward. How can I help you today?" Nurse Watson asked, noting the federal badges.
"I'm Phillip Broyles, we were called regarding a patient – a young girl – who we have wanted to talk to, who has regained consciousness. Her name is Clare –"
"Oh yes, you're the Federal Agents I asked to be rung about the young girl in room 8. Would you like to follow me?" Nurse Watson said, gesturing for the group to join her.
Broyles matched Watson's pace as they walked toward the private rooms near the end of the corridor, whilst Olivia, Peter, Walter and Astrid followed silently behind them. "So what can you tell us about the girl? Did she speak to you?"
"Yes, a little. Only to answer a few questions, and to ask how serious her injuries were." Watson supplied as she slowed her pace in front of an observation window, with its curtains pulled back to allow the group a look at Clare as she stared out of the window – a colouring book and pencils forgotten on the table in front of her. "She's been mainly sleeping after waking up this morning – she's still on pretty strong anti-biotic and pain medication after the operation."
"Do you think we could perhaps have a quick word with her?" Olivia asked, as she watched the young girl from her place between Broyles and Peter, whose arms were folded across his chest as he too watched the young girl rest.
"Perhaps, for a few moments. But please try not to over-excite her. She's had a rough few days and we don't want her to aggravate her surgical sites."
"Thank you, Nurse Watson." Broyles answered, as with a glance at the group, opened the door and led the group through – allowing Nurse Watson to enter ahead of them.
Clare was woken by a hand placed gently on her shoulder. Blinking owlishly, she met the kind face of Nurse Watson, who gave her an apologetic smile.
"Hi, honey, I apologise for waking you, but you have some visitors. They'd like to speak to you, is that okay?" the nurse explained as she moved over slightly to allow Clare to see the newcomers. Clare's brow furrowed slightly when she noticed the strange badges that a couple of members of the group wore on their coat flaps – it was a shield of sorts.
After a few moments, Clare gave a reluctant nod toward the nurse who seemed to make a quick analysis of Clare's response before nodding slowly to the group.
"It's okay," Clare whispered to Nurse Watson, who was still watching her with concern. "You don't have to stay."
"Are you sure?" Nurse Watson whispered back. "I'm not supposed to leave you alone."
Clare nodded. "I'm sure."
"I'll be outside." Nurse Watson said, addressing the group, before giving Clare's hand a gentle squeeze before leaving the room.
At the nurses exit, Peter, Olivia and Broyles moved closer to the girl on either side of the bed - Olivia and Broyles on the side with the IV Pole, whilst Peter moved to lean against the Window Ledge.
"Hello Clare, my name is Phillip Broyles – I'm with the FBI. This is my colleague, Agent Dunham, and that is Peter Bishop, he's a civilian consultant." Broyles said by way of introduction, gesturing to his two companions whilst Astrid stood apart with Walter, who found the pictures on the wall fascinating.
"FBI?" Clare asked, before she could stop herself. The term was unfamiliar to her, but the man's voice was recognisable somehow, and so she kept her eyes low.
"It stands for the 'Federal Bureau of Investigation' – It's who we work for." Olivia said gently, causing Clare's eyes to dart to Olivia's face at the sound of her voice. Broyles and Olivia shared a glance at the girl's question, filing it away.
That voice sounds familiar.
Clare nodded, her eyes refusing to meet Olivia's, which caused Olivia to send a questioning glance her way.
"How are you feeling?" Peter asked gently, as he took in the girl's body language with his sharp Blue gaze – noting the slightly withdrawn attitude.
"I'm F-fine, thank you, Sir." Clare answered, not wanting to reveal too much, but sparing a quick glance in Peter's direction. Something about the two people with the strange badges made her uneasy, and a familiar feeling settled in the depths of her stomach.
"That's good." Peter answered, offering the girl a smile, which caused a faint flush of colour to rush through Clare's slightly pale cheeks.
"Clare – do you have a last name?" Broyles asked.
"Warren." Clare answered quietly as she turned her gaze to her hands, which were resting in her lap, the IV line running from the crook of her arm, and off the edge of the bed to the IV Pole.
"Miss Warren, do you think you can tell us what happened on the night of your accident in the building?"
"Take your time." Olivia added, noticing the slight hitch in the girls breathing at the question.
Clare bit her lip, her heart rate unconsciously elevated at the question as flashes of the night danced across her vision, as the fear returned. The beeping on the monitor increased ever so slightly with her heart rate as Clare played with her hands.
"I remember the earth shakes." Clare began in a whisper, before swallowing. "I remember the ceiling falling, and then everything went black."
"That's good. Anything else?" Olivia asked, encouragingly, as Clare gave an unconscious flinch at the sound of Olivia's voice.
"Waking up and my side hurting, and then the Doctor Lady was there." Clare concluded with some hesitance.
"Did you notice anything strange when you woke up, anything that seemed out of place to you?" Olivia queried.
Clare shook her head, as if the question was unable to be answered. She couldn't tell these people, that one minute the man in front of her wasn't there and the next he was, in a structure that was unfamiliar to her.
"Oooh, Astra, look at that!" Walter's excited exclamation sounded in the quiet room, breaking the silence.
"Walter –"Olivia began, in a slightly stern tone of voice as Peter turned to his father with a raised eyebrow.
How did they find me?
Clare's Blue eyes widened suddenly as her heart rate spiked. Her brain making connections between the voices and the tone's she had just heard. She had heard those voices a few times before, and it always meant pain. Clare could feel the breathe leaving her lungs as she began to hyperventilate – the voices of the woman and the older man triggering flashbacks of two similar people, who she had met just under a year ago in a place similar to this but different.
The sound of the monitor alarms brought Nurse Watson back in, as Olivia and Broyles shared a look and moved out of the way. Peter, who was alarmed at the girls reaction, sprang into action as the nurse ran into the room -after taking some observations on another patient ,- and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, placing his two large hands on the girls small, heaving shoulders.
"Hey, hey it's okay." Peter said gently, as Clare's eyes darted unseeing around the room, coming to rest on Peter's shoulder but not really seeing it.
How did they find me?
"Please don't hurt me." Clare whispered over and over in a mantra, as her small chest heaved, causing pain to spike from her surgical sites, which took her breath away and caused a whimper to leave her.
"Nobody is going to hurt you," Peter said, trying to assure the girl above the increasing noise of the monitoring equipment. "You're safe."
Clare shook her head vigorously at Peter's words, as images continued to dance across her vision – mixing with the voices she had heard before and then in the hospital room. Voices, which were devoid of emotion, full of authority and power. She wasn't safe – not while those other people were in the room.
Can he be trusted? Can anyone be trusted?
Clare's mind whirled with questions are her gaze fixed finally on Peter as nurses rushed in.
"I must ask you all to leave. Immediately." Nurse Watson barked as she raced around to Peter's side of the bed.
Peter looked into the fearful Blue eyes, but had no choice but to comply with the nurses orders. He was getting ready to stand when a small hand sprang up and gripped the fabric of his jacket sleeve in an iron grip. All movement stopped as Peter sent the hyperventilating girl a questioning look.
He's different from the other people. He won't hurt me.
Clare turned her terror filled eyes to Peter's face, a silent plea plain to see in her wide eyes. Please don't leave me.
"I'm not going anywhere." Peter said, partly in answer to the girl's silent plea, and partly to Nurse Watson who saw the distress in her young patient – who seemed to be using the young man beside them as a life line.
"I must ask the rest of you to leave," another nurse said to the other four team members, ushering them out of the room.
"But Peter-" Walter began as the nurse gently placed a hand on his back, and guided him toward the door.
"Everything's going to be fine, Walter. Just go with the others. I'll be out soon." Peter called behind him, as he gently retook his seat on the edge of the bed beside Clare, who watched his every move with her hand still holding onto his sleeve just as tightly.
"Prepare a light sedative." The other nurse said, "We need to get her heart rate back under control."
"I'm right here." Peter whispered, as he met Clare's gaze steadily, as he used his free hand to place it on Clare's shoulder once again, while allowing Clare to bring the hand whose sleeve she was gripping to her lap, where Peter gently took hold of her other hand.
At the motion, the alarms died down as Clare's Heart rate returned to normal and Peter gave the fearful young girl an encouraging smile.
"You're going to be fine." Peter said, nodding his head and giving Clare a reassuring smile, as Clare began to regulate her breathing under his watchful gaze.
Nurse Watson watched the scene before her, as she let out a small sigh, shaking her head toward her colleague who was about to use a syringe to inject a mild sedative into the IV Saline bag. Checking the monitors, Kelsey could tell that heart rhythms were returning to normal, and the O2 levels in her blood were rising back up to the usual levels.
Looking from the frightened young girl, to the man sitting beside her, Watson could almost see the spark of a connection forming between them. Clare laying back hesitantly against the pillows as she tried desperately to blink away the wave of tiredness that was enveloping her after what had just occurred, whilst the man moved his hand slowly off her shuddering shoulder to wipe a few stray tears that had slipped down the girls face during the mini episode.
It was not unheard of for a child who went through such a terrible trauma to latch onto an adult as a lifeline, but it was strange that from what she had been told, the pair had never met before today. Either way, the man didn't seem to be making any move to discourage such a feat. Even though, he had been just as surprised as the other adults in the room at the girl's actions.
"Are you alright here, Sir?" Kelsey Watson asked, as she looked between the man and her patient.
Peter Bishop, his gaze not wavering from Clare Warren's face, remained silent for a few moments as he took in the situation at hand. His brow furrowing slightly in thought, as he watched the mix of emotions flicker across Clare's face.
"Yes." Peter answered, looking to Kelsey. "I've got this under control. Thank you."
Nurse Watson nodded. "Very well. I'll leave you alone."
Peter nodded, as he turned his attention back to the girl in front of him, who watched the nurses leave the room as she continued to hold onto his sleeve in a death grip. At the sound of the door closing after Nurse Watson, Clare loosened her grip on the man – Peter's – sleeve as her eyes fell onto her lap where he held her small hand in his larger one; feeling his gaze on her.
"You feel better?" Peter asked gently, so as not to startle Clare as she began to settle uneasily back in the bed.
Clare swallowed loudly before giving a small nod. Peter smiled weakly as he gently brushed his thumb over the back of the small hand he had taken hold of.
"What happened back there?" Peter asked softly. "What frightened you?"
Clare didn't answer verbally, but instead shook her head in response as she kept her eyes down. The monitor she was attached to indicated to Peter that Clare's heart rate had elevated slightly at the question.
Will he hurt me? Can he be trusted?
"That's okay. You don't have to tell me." Peter compromised as he continued to brush his thumb over Clare's small hand. He could almost feel the girls minute shakes as he held her hand.
What had happened to this kid, to make her so afraid of everyone?
"My name is Peter," Peter continued conversationally. "The rather loud man who startled you was my father. He can freak many-a-person out when they first meet him with his eccentricity."
Clare's brow furrowed at the information. The man's voice had been so familiar to her at the time. She had heard it many times before, but he looked different to the man she was used to.
*Flashback*
She wakes up in a darkened room, lying on an uncomfortable surface. She doesn't know how long she has been here, but she thinks it's been at least a few days. As she moves around, a sound is heard off to one side of the room as a bright light comes on overhead and an observation window is revealed from the wall facing her position.
"Sir, she's awake." A man's voice said, on the other side of the window.
She blinks at the bright light as she turns her eyes to the window from where she is sitting on the cot in the corner of the room, to see the blurry image of a man in a white lab coat standing beside a slightly older man, who was dressed in an expensive suit and had greying – slightly curly – hair.
"Good." The older man replied. "Let us begin."
*End Flashback*
Clare gasped slightly at the memory, as she tightened her fist around Peter's sleeve, her face scrunching up as she tried to remember the face of the older man, whose voice was similar to Peter's father.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Peter asked with concern. He spared a quick glance at the observation window where Olivia, Walter, Astrid and Broyles watched him interact with the girl. Peter didn't even know why he had stepped in when the girl had begun to hyperventilate, but there was something about her that drew him to her – something he couldn't explain.
Clare shook her head once more as she kept her eyes shut, her light brown coloured hair falling about her shoulders as it released itself from the back of her scrubs. Peter exhaled as he closed his eyes momentarily before opening them in time to see a small tear trace its way down the young girls cheek.
"Hey, it's okay." Peter murmured as he shifted himself slightly so that he sat on the edge near where the bed curved to allow Clare to sit up. Pausing for a moment, Peter moved his free hand to the side of the girl's head, to slowly bring her small frame to his in an awkward embrace. He felt Clare stiffen under his touch, noting the flinch as she allowed him to comfort her.
"It's okay." Peter murmured as rested Clare's head on his shoulder, his arm between them as Clare held it.
No, no it's not. Clare thought as she buried her head into Peter's shoulder. Slackening her grip on his sleeve and moving to hesitantly wrap her arm around the side of Peter's jacket and using her hand to grip the hem of it instead. This was the first time in what seemed like a life time, that she had been held this way by anyone – let alone a grown up. It felt weird, but a good kind of weird, as it helped to sooth away the fears settling in her stomach.
Peter swallowed at Clare's motion. Growing up with Walter, Peter had grown used to the distant parent routine with Walter working all the time – but he remembered that when his father was around, he at least felt comfortable around him. But this girl, Clare, seemed to have been starved of the most basic form of comfort.
Outside the hospital room, Olivia Dunham turned away from the scene, as Peter hesitantly removed his arm from between himself and the young girl and brought it around her small shoulder as she put her other hand on the top of the arm Peter had used to put his hand on the back of her head.
"She's so scared." Olivia murmured, shaking her head as she leant back against the wall as Walter looked on, a feeling of pride spreading through him as he watched his son interact with the obviously traumatised child. He had come a long way from the angry young man he had been reunited with just over a year before.
"Something happened to her," Walter said off handedly. "Something happened to her and she's beginning to remember events, by making connections."
"What do you mean?" Olivia asked.
"She's identifying tones of voices and our actions with past events. She may have heard our voices and associated them with emotions of fear from the Other Side. The fact that she has made a connection to Peter could just be a survival instinct. She feels safe with him."
"Walter she's only just met him." Olivia pointed out, as she watched a strange flicker of emotion cross Walter's expression.
"I am aware Agent Dunham." Walter said rather sharply, before softening his tone of voice. "But I have a feeling that she will open up to Peter in a way she will not to us. Perhaps when she feels safe will she speak openly to us - but for now, it's up to Peter."
TBC
End Note: It may seem a little slow going, but Clare is a traumatised kid, and she is latching onto someone she feels safe with in this piece – so I'm trying to remain true to a child who could be in this situation. In season one, we see the boy in "The Inner Child" go to Olivia as someone he feels safe with, and so I am kind of using this as a base for Peter and Clare's interaction.
