Summary: He's like broken glass; beautiful but with edges so sharp and jagged that you could bleed trying to pick up the pieces. There are those willing to try and piece him back together… People like his father, Peter Bishop. A Henry Au story.
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xFumblingThroughTheGray
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Fallen Apple from the Family Tree
A Fringe Fanfiction
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Author's note: This takes place directly after season four. Enjoy and if you want me to continue, please take the time to review. Let me know you're interested!
Chapter Two: John Doe
Amber liquid swirled within the culvert of the crystal glass, bubbling with warm aroma and indulgence as Nina Sharp collapsed into her office chair with an exhausted thud. Being the head of a billion dollar corporation had its downsides, too. She brings the glass to her parched mouth- a relaxing treat well deserved- and swallows the contents in a single gulp like the obligatory swallow of medicine. She winces as the whisky has its desired effect, reaching out and refilling the glass and she set the bottle back down within reach for another round. She felt the weight of the world upon her, more so today than any other day, her office feeling like an echoing cave or misdeeds past. And if the haunting echo wasn't enough, her eyes settled upon a manila folder stenciled with red.
"And how did you get here?" she questioned out loud reaching forward and seizing it within her grasp: Top Secret. For the eyes of William Bell only. Her hand slips over the package as thick as a phone book, an internal debate of whether to read the file or wait until morning raging within. Going home would be the smart thing to do but a scientist's curiosity is never stifled.
Cybernetic fingertips dug beneath the security seal, snapping it off and revealing the secrets within. The folder was thick with printouts and diagrams, x-rays of internal workings, and an audio cassette with the words 'remember me' scribbled neatly upon it. Immediately, the concern within sent her rummaging through her desk drawer searching for the obsolete piece of technology. Fevered hands slipped the cassette into the player and pressed play. As the hiss of background noises erupted from the speaker, Nina leaned her face onto her hand in a quizzical fashion and ready to listen.
"John Doe- Preliminary Analysis. October 16th 2000."
The gravely tones of William Bell echoed into the air, filling the room with analytical notes- neat and efficient as was the scientist's way. Immediately, she paused the player, sickness swelling within as her memory flashed back to that particular case. John Doe was a scientific fascination of William Bell. In one of the defining cases that lead to the creation of the Fringe Division, the occupants of a small village in South America had seemingly just disappeared from the face of the Earth- the lone survivor was an eleven year old John Doe.
Bell had wondered why the boy survived and his investigation led to some startling revelations. Revelations that hung in the back of her mind to this day. The boy survived because he was from the other side, and had cortexiphan flowing through his veins. But the most startling revelation was that wasn't the only thing flowing through his veins. His DNA that contained genetic tracers of both William's former partner, Walter Bishop and former test subject/ Nina's adopted daughter, Olivia Dunham.
With Peter's return to the timeline- the piece of the puzzle that made sense of John Doe's biological makeup- there was no coincidence that the file resurfaced. Her heels clacked against the floor as Nina stood up, and scanned around the spacious office searching for any indication as to how the file had made its way onto her desk. As if to answer the question, condensed flashes of blue and white danced across her peripheral, her eyes flashing back to the lavish sitting area in the opposite corner of the office. John Doe sat with rugged black moto boots propped on the glass top of the coffee table and a coin flipping from finger to finger and back again in a repetitive cycle.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, Sharpie," the young man teases, the same devilish grin on his features as the last time she'd seen him.
"I don't believe in ghosts," Nina asserts, never one to show her hand. "What do you need, John?"
"I need you to start," he bluntly declares, climbing to his feet and pocketed his lucky coin, "'Cause I need you to erase any trace I existed. Completely this time."
"Why?" she asks curious as to what kind of trouble he was in.
He stood before her now, the desk acting as a barrier between the two of them.
"I always knew what I was to Bell. Even as a child. I knew," he says taking the bottle from atop the desk and poring himself a drink. "I was a chess piece in his game with Walter but you… I never knew where I stood with you. Until now."
"And where exactly is that?"
"Uneasy allies." Taking a big gulp, he downs the contents of the glass as if to fuel his revelation. "I'm the product of the other Olivia sleeping with Peter Bishop while pretending to be the Olivia from this timeline. A meddling Observer saved me from being erased like Peter did and if the other Observers ever learn of this, it could be catastrophic for all parties involved. You wanna protect Olivia, don't you? I mean, that's why you idly stood by and let Bell turn me into a guinea pig… because you didn't want him to use any of the original cortexiphan kids."
A pang of guilt struck her heart as she thought back to the countless monstrosities her beloved Bell had committed in the name of science, especially on the young man before her. And she had let him. She let William take the poor child who had just lost everything he knew and weaponized him, mutating his genes and increasing his abilities for the war the boy never ended up fighting. And the pang grew when she realized yet again he was right. She offered him up once in order to protect her adoptive daughter hardships and she'd do the same again. She'd always choose Olivia's safety and happiness.
"I'll take care of it, John."
xXx
Peter Bishop knew a pain no father should ever endure but some tragically face. And though they say you can't miss what you never had, the pain of his loss was far too real… it may have only added to the tragedy. He never got to know what his son felt like in his arms, never got to have his heart melt like only a father's can when their eyes meet for the first time.
That was the reasoning behind the dream.
Or at least that's the conclusion they kept circling around as they sat at the kitchen table discussing this particular skeleton in Peter's closet.
"M'sorry I didn't tell you about him sooner," Peter confessed, steely blue finally lifting from the dark sea of coffee in his cup to meet her gaze. "I wanted to but…"
He left the explanation hanging because there was so much keeping him from admitting the truth: I didn't want it to be real, I didn't want to put a damper on our good news, I didn't want to hurt you any more than I had by being with the other Olivia in the first place. The list was endless with sorrow but before he could piece it all together, he felt the warmth of her hand placed atop his and watched as a reassuring smile slipped onto her lips.
"It's alright," she whispered, her voice so soft, so forgiving.
Everything he wanted to be but knew he couldn't. He was Henry's dad… the one person his son should trust to protect him against whatever life had to throw at him. And he'd failed. Again his gaze went down to the darkened abyss of coffee and vaguely wondered if that's what the hole in his heart looked like. Then in a voice bathed in hopelessness and self-loathing, he starts. "I erased my son. I stepped into that machine and I erased Henry. How is that alright?"
Olivia hated how powerless she felt in the moment, how someone she cared so deeply about was hurting and she was at a loss how to ease his pain. Soft hands reach forward and take Peter's hands into hers, the comforting gesture he'd used with her so many times. His thumbs gently rub over the top of her hands and he turns his head to see how far into the morning hours their conversation had taken them. That's when she sees it, the distinct discoloration of angry purple bruises on his neck.
"Peter, what happened to your neck?" Olivia questioned, her hand leaving his and gently grazing nearby the angry purple markings.
The moment contact is made, Peter jerks away. The pang of discomfort caused Peter's brow to arch and a slight gasp from his lips. It also shook loose a memory of his dream encounter with Henry and brought him to his feet. In a flash he raced to the bathroom, flicking on the light-switch turning towards the mirrored medicine cabinet. Narrowed eyes quizzically examines his neck in his reflection. Just as he'd feared, the shape that formed on his neck was from stranglation. His dreams had manifested into physical harm.
"What the hell,"he questioned beneath his breath knowing that whatever was happening it was far from over.
xXx
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