Chapter Three.

Agent Broyals was waiting outside the door of the lab when they returned the university, his grim expression, as usual, was unreadable. Behind closed doors, he addressed them, "I am sorry to inform you that there has been no word of Agent Dunham or Peter Bishop as of yet. But we are still searching, and I came to ask you a few questions, Doctor Bishop."

Walter nodded, "Astoria, if you would excuse us," and they retreated to another corner of the lab for the quiet.

"What exactly did Peter say to you on the phone?" Broyals asked.

The conversation burned into his mind, Walter told him. Broyals nodded, taking down a few notes. "And, after you got the call and reported your findings to Astrid, what possessed you to go to the lab?"

Walter shifted uncomfortably, "I…I don't know. I couldn't sit still and wait. I had to do something."

"Why didn't you wait for Astrid to arrive and escort you? You know it's unsafe for you to be out on your own."

Walter nodded glumly, "Yes, I know. I just…I wasn't thinking clearly."

Broyals frowned, "Had you been drinking, or doing anything that might impair your judgment, Doctor Bishop?"

Walter looked at him flatly, "No. If you must know, I fell asleep on the couch playing videogames. Please stop questioning me. I'm certain you can do far more good seeing where they've taken your agent and my son."

Broyals nodded obligingly, "Alright, Doctor Bishop. I'll see what I can do." and he paused, "You wouldn't happen to know what the two of them were doing, or where they were going?"

"No." Lying was coming easy to him, now. Immediately he regretted it. But he could not allow Olivia to suffer the same scorn and disrespect she had when she had engaged in an affair with her partner. It wasn't fair.

Broyals nodded, "Hmm. Thank you, Doctor Bishop. I'm going to need to question Astrid, if you don't mind."

"She's her own person," Walter replied modestly, moving away to gather a fresh lab coat and pull it on. He tried not to listen to his own irrelevant, mixed thoughts that swirled about his ears, seeming to whisper and pull him away from his concentration like flickers of light, teasing him. He though, briefly, of a window, one he may or may not have actually seen, and a cement floor, cool against the palms of his hands and his cheek.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Astrid and Broyals had disappeared into the office, and he moved to the chemical cabinet, selecting his own compounds and mixing them on a plastic slide carefully. It took him only a few moments to create his medication and tap the powder into the pill press, and he slammed down the handle of the press, crushing the medications together into a solid form. He dropped the two white pills into his palm, then into his mouth, swallowing them and ignoring the bitter aftertaste as he retuned his equipment to its proper place.

He didn't have time for a relapse, right now. Keeping his thoughts sane was very important, until he found Peter and Olivia. He didn't do them much good crazy. He'd come too close in Sharpe's office, and now he was worried that the few threads of composure he had strung together might snap under the weight of his instability. The meds would do him good- they would anchor him to reality, at least for a little while.

Sighing, Walter continued on, turning on the computers and equipment to warm up as he contemplated where he could apprehend an éclair.

"I told you, I would have been perfectly alright at the lab," Walter said as they ascended they steps of Astrid's apartment, his arms full of brown paper grocery bags.

"And I told you that I couldn't live with myself I left you there by yourself," Astrid replied, fiddling with her key ring and unlocking the door, "And don't worry about it- there's plenty of room on the couch." She opened the door and lead him inside.

He took in the interior of the apartment- beige carpet, white walls, assorted, and quite random, furniture, "Just set the groceries on the counter here," Astrid tapped the linoleum top of the kitchen counter as she passed, tossing her keys and cell phone onto a side table. "This is the kitchen, that's the living room, down the hall is my room, this door leads to the bathroom- let me go and get you an extra towel…"

A steak of grey fur suddenly wound between Walter's ankles as he set the groceries onto the counter, "Rufus!" He exclaimed.

"No," Astrid frowned, "That's Obi, Shelly's little demon. I don't deal with him, he's Shelly's problem."

Walter was kneeling, gently stroking the cat's soft fur as it rubbed against him, purring softly, "Hello, there," Walter smiled, "Well, aren't you a sweetheart?"

Astrid chuckled, "Yeah, he likes guys. Personally, I think he's gay, because of Shelly." Walter looked up at her, seeming confused, and she changed the subject, "Anyways, I'm going to get a towel. Go ahead and get settled in, and I'll run you a bath."

"Um," he said, and Astrid looked back at him, knowing he was addressing her, but had forgotten her name again, "I really would have been alright at the lab. I've stayed there countless times. I'm a bit of a handful."

"Walter-" Astrid growled.

"Thank you."

She paused, then smiled, shaking her head, "You're such a tool," She sighed, and disappeared down the hall.

Walter found his way to the couch and sat down. Obi jumped into his lap, nuzzling his neck affectionately, and Walter leaned forward to grab the remote from the low table before him, flipping on the television. He was watching a commercial about internet service and absently brushing his fingers over the cat's head when someone else entered the apartment.

"I swear to god, Astrid, work is hell. I mean, on my feet, morning to night- It's exhausting." the woman settled her baggage on the floor and kicked it into the closet with a high heeled shoe, kicking both of the stilettos after her bag and slamming the door, "but Tom said that I'm drawing in so many customers for the club that I'm going to get a raise soon…" she pulled off her fur coat and brushed back her blonde-black hair, revealing a crop top and very tight jeans. Walter still took no heed of her, enraptured at the undersea documentary on the screen. She flounced onto the couch beside him, and Obi mewed softly, "So, what's on? Not another one of your boring, soapy movies?"

"The life of pacific starfish," Walter answered, "Starfish have a central mouth on the underside of their bodies, and feed on oysters and other mollusks on shores and the seabed."

She glanced at him, shocked, and let out a scream.

Astrid emerged from the hall in a run as Walter was ducking a blow from a side lamp narrowly, falling out of his seat, "Sherry, stop! Stop, he's alright!" She rushed to Walter, helping him to his feet, "Aw, jeez- Walter, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Walter stammered, brushing cat hair from his collar, "A casual misunderstanding."

"A casual misunderstanding with a mean right hook, buster," Shelly growled, brandishing the lamp again.

"Shelly, this is Walter Bishop. He works with me at the lab at Harvard, okay? Walter, this is Shelly Dukes, my roommate."

Cautiously, Walter nodded, extending his hand, "A pleasure, miss Dukes."

Grudgingly, Shelly took his hand and shook it, "Yeah, Hi." she glanced up at Astrid, "Astrid, family meeting. Now." And Shelly rose, taking Astrid by the hand and tugging her down the hallway.

Walter ignored their hurried whispers and returned to the sofa, placing the throw pillows and settling himself cautiously, lest he have to dodge something else quickly. He was taken off guard and let out a minute squeak of surprise from the back of his throat when Shelly flounced back onto the couch again, nearly in his lap, "Hey, Walter. Sorry about the 'misunderstanding'. But, you know, I deal with creeps everyday at the club, and you surprised me, so…I'm sorry."

"Um, not a problem," Walter replied modestly, wishing there was more room on the couch to put between himself and Shelly, as her thigh brushed his knee, "I'm threatened with household appliances on a daily basis."

Shelly giggled, "I should hope not. So, Astrid tells me you're a doctor."

"I am."

"So what's that like? Are you really smart?" He shook his head suddenly, wondering if Shelly was getting closer or if he were going crazy again.

"You'll have to forgive Shelly," Astrid interrupted, and they looked up, "She's shamelessly attracted to 'older men'…" And she rubbed her index fingertip and her thumb together, indicating money.

Shelly laughed, and Walter felt his ears heat up slightly, "So, where do you live, Walter?" Shelly pressed on, and Astrid shook her head, taking a seat in the recliner and turning her attention to the television.

"Um, I live in an apartment with my son," Walter answered, "I can't remember where it is."

"Your son? That's so cute. How old's the little guy?"

"Twenty-three."

"Walter, your towel's out on the sink, and I think your bath's full, by now," Aster cut in as Shelly looked shocked. Walter nodded, hiding his smile as he got to his feet and headed toward the bathroom.