FRINGE
Fourth Time is the Charm
Fringe doesn't belong to me though it would be fun. I'm borrowing the characters and I promise I will put them back in their box when I'm finished.
Note: Here's the next chapter! I know it's not much but I'm kind of having writer's block right now. Some feedback would be good to get me back on track ;)
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The lab was empty and a small Christmas tree was happily blinking near Gene. Instead of Christmas carols, Walter's laptop was playing "The Very Best of Peter Allen". She turned to Peter and made a face of apology. Peter went past her and rushed in directly to Walter's lab bench.
"You understand I had to answer that call, don't you?" she asked, following him to the desk.
She seemed more relaxed and her poised attitude contrasted with Peter's restive agitation. She sat down and started fiddling with an ammonite fossil, a personal artefact recently retrieved from Walter's hidden collection in the Boston area.
"I totally understand. As a matter of fact, I can see a pattern already. Of course you remember you did exactly the same thing yesterday when you left me Chez Raymond, don't you? You know I can't even begin to articulate what's worse, you leaving because of a phone call or the fact that you didn't give me time to have one single bite of my sole meunière."
"You should have stayed and finished you dinner instead of tagging along."
"The whole point of this evening together was to organize our special Christmas dinner not to spend another evening alone with Walter listening to his crazy obsessions. Do you know that he is into chemical elements lately, and rebuilding the periodic table from an historical point of view starting with actually re-writing history from his own perspective?"
He was searching the desk and seemed more and more edgy by the minute.
"I know I failed you and I'm sorry about that. But that's what I do," she said gently. She bit her lip. This did not come out right, she thought.
"You mean leave people or work yourself crazy? Even in Broyles' book, I supposed you're not compelled to be on duty 24/7, are you? Someone's got to sleep, and I'm pretty sure it's not me."
"I'm sorry. I know you pulled strings to get us this reservation…"
"That's not the point. It leaves me with barely half of what I need to make a proper Christmas dinner," he said, "and you with no dress…"
She chuckled. What was it with his new obsession to find her a dress anyway?
"I know, it's frustrating, the Department will have to make it up to you," she teased him.
"I would rather prefer that you did," he said bluntly.
She blushed, surprised by this unforeseen honesty.
"Aren't you glad we found at least our first real lead?"
"How shall I put it? I'm overwhelmed, beguiled, speechless --my best Christmas present ever!"
Peter gave a little shake to the Petri dish on the bench and turned back to Olivia.
"Those nanites, as far as I'm concerned, can rest or keep on living their nanite lives until next week. Are you the only American woman in her late twenties who does not conform to tradition? Astrid is gone too. She has a life. Look, even Walter's gone," he said waving a typed note from his father.
The sheet was stained with various compounds in different colours.
"Listen," he begins to read the note. "Project 899 - Exploration, well he scratched that actually. I guess he's just recycling his lab notes," he shrugged, "here is the part that's interesting. The lab I shall leave, Christmas is alive, rejoice, rejoice children, many other devices ought to be out there, off I go to see the Wizard, and the Wicked Witch of the West, thank you Peter and Olivia, best wishes to the Bureau and HLS, teeny, tiny bikini and a green tree…"
"What do you mean he's gone?"
"Well, it does make sense. We were supposed to pick him up at three and it's six already."
"Are you serious, he's gone and you're not worried?"
"I guess he didn't want to wait until midnight to get his present. Are you not listening? On the contrary, I'm relieved! He's gone to see the wicked witch, taa-taa!" he emphasized, "you want me to draw it for you?"
"Oh… the… oh, I see."
She frowned.
"The escort was supposed to be my Christmas present. Well part of his Christmas present anyway. He will have to wait for his cashmere scarf until tomorrow or whenever he's decent again."
"You think it's appropriate?"
"Appropriate to give him a scarf?" he joked half-heartedly. "Olivia, the man was in an institution for the last seventeen years for crying out loud. Give him a break. You of all people should know that he had not had much time to socialize outside this lab."
For whatever reason on his agenda, Peter did not want to acknowledge the fact that she was so obnoxiously embarrassed to discuss Walter's sex life with him.
"You're right, I'm… overreacting."
"You don't think he ever happened to be particularly good with women, do you? My mother always said that he was a pretty horrible husband to begin with. He just didn't think that being nice was a requisite back then, and you know first hand that he still doesn't."
She nodded, blushing again. Of course he had every reason to be angry, it was Christmas and Walter had failed him again as had she. They haven't seen each other in years, and he was certainly hoping that he could spend Christmas with a friend and his father. Walter wasn't here for him when he was a child, not the way a parent is supposed to be, so he learned to live without him. Against all odds, Peter was open to repairing their relationship. Certainly life was about making mistakes, but the mistakes you make with your kids they never go away, they just grow. Surely, Walter was supposed to wait and she was not supposed to ruin their moment.
"Well, it's certainly easier that way and you don't want to know," he said dismissively. "So, what's next? You want us to chase your nanite Leprechauns, follow your lead? If it takes too much time, we'll have to re-schedule."
"Re-schedule Christmas?"
"Why not? We can decide whenever we want Christmas to be, or if we cannot that should be a problem with your line of work. I don't want to celebrate one Christmas every ten years."
"Not to mention the fact that we already bought so much food."
"On the bright side, with Walter gone, no possible culprit to spike our drinks," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Are you sure?"
He smiled and waved his phone.
"Let me make sure he's good, and after that, I'm all yours."
-o-
Peter was right. She should have thrown away every single piece of clothes that remotely reminded her of John Scott long ago. It was bad enough that he was inside her head, --and it was not going away, not without Walter's help that is. She could not get rid of him but she did not have to bring back stupid memories by keeping stuff she did not care about.
While Peter was busy cooking, she had screened out her closets and discarded everything related to John. Peter had been dead serious when he meant everything. No stacking of t-shirts for shoe polishing or kitchen refurbishing purpose. Same thing with her three dresses. And no keeping of some souvenir sweaters with the lame excuse of an alternate use such as gardening.
"Who are you kidding? You'll never find time to have a rose garden and a pristine lawn, not in this lifetime you won't. Make it a direct-to-charity selection, god damn it!"
If she had kept her favourite blue skirt, the one she was wearing when she met John, she knew that eventually she would find herself raiding her dressing room and get no comfort into finding it. She mulled over some fancy underwear she retrieved while exploring her last drawer and finally put them back inside. They were brand new. She never had the chance to wear them, so she was supposed to be on the safe side.
It was the right decision to get it over with quickly and a spirited feel-good endeavour especially with Peter around. Bags of clothes were piled up in her garage already and she will take them to her favourite charity next week. Her closets felt weird with only strings of black pant suits and white blouses and she was glad that Peter had insisted on shopping for some "decent clothes" before going to her place.
She sat the last candle on the table and took a step back to admire her work. Peter was absolutely right on insisting upon having a Christmas dinner even if it was only for the two of them. They deserved to have a good time just as the next average Joe.
She had to check on him before going upstairs to her room and change. He has secluded himself inside the kitchen for the last two hours and if it has not been for the incredible smell and his continuing singing and drumming with and on kitchen utensils, she could have thought she was alone.
-o-
So..... what do you think?
