Author's Notes: I do humbly apologize for keeping my wonderful readers at bay! I've been reviewing for a licensing exam and the review course, and that took up all my time the past month and a half on top of having minor surgery, these past two months have been a mess! But fear not, updates coming!
For anyone reading "Crash into You" (and for whoever isn't, I assure you it'll be worth your while!) expect updates to come next week!
To ease the angst and sore heart strings from the first two chapters, we'll be staying in the past for the next few chapters. Have no fear, you'll find out what the letter said soon enough!
Reviews always welcome! Onward!
Revelations
Harvard Lab
2:30pm, December 2008
"My guess," Walter said to no one in particular, his eyes magnified by the small piece of glass he held to the second severed, decaying body, hunched over and exploring it with a new found curiosity, "Would be some sort of hack saw, or quite possibly a chain saw for these limbs." He shifted to towards the amputation with glee. "Look here. See how the ridges form in the muscle and the bone? It's striated, uneven and ridged; detailing some mechanical force was used to cut through the body. The thigh, this cut is even, no lines or jagged marks. When this limb was severed it took just one swift drop of the hammer to slice through, much like the meat slicer at a deli. Quick, smooth and fluent. Beautiful work on both if I must say so myself."
From across the room Peter stopped biting into the roast beef sandwich he had bought from the deli down the street, his teeth sinking into the meat just as Walter finished his sentence. His mouth went dry as he spit the mouthful of mangled meat. "Thank you, Walter. That's a great image for lunch time. I'm pretty sure I've lost my appetite. Again." He swallowed the tasteless, dry lump and placed the sandwich down on the tinfoil next to him.
Sitting at the table across from him Olivia flashed her green eyes at him over the rim of her glasses, her gaze jumping to his abandoned sandwich to him. "Better your appetite than your stomach contents."
Crinkling up the wrapping he tossed the remaining half of the sandwich in the trash. "With everything that we've seen in the past few months, I'm pretty sure my stomach is the least of our worries. Although if Walter keeps up these charades," he peered over his shoulder to the section of arm Walter lifted, examining it closer in the light, "We may have to pick another place to eat lunch. I've seen some pretty gruesome things in my life, but this may take the cake. He yelled at me the other day for eating a cheeseburger in front of the cow."
"And I'm sure if Gene saw you eating another human being she's be offended as well!" Walter challenged heatedly, earning a small chuckle from Olivia and making Peter roll his eyes.
She spread her notes across the table, including the newly found identification of their victim. A missing persons report had lead them in the right direction to identifying the body of thirty-three year old Natalie Bermudez, an elementary teacher who failed to show for school last week and reported missing by her husband the day after her disappearance. Between the body identification and dental records, they finally had something to work off of. It may not have been much, but it was a start. Her and Peter had separated the work of sorting through her medical records, and military records, Olivia taking the latter while Charlie was on another investigation.
"From what her doctors say, Bermudez was healthy as a horse. Not even a bat of high cholesterol to justify cutting back on the fried foods," he said, closing the file and letting it fall into the table. "Her record with the school never had a bad thing to say about her either. The students and class moms loved her. Kind, sweet, and well-liked amongst her peers, the woman didn't even have a pink slip."
"Experience with those, Peter?" she teased, smirking at him from above the rim of her glasses.
Peter grinned, shaking his head slowly. "You have no idea. I honestly hated school. The teachers were morons; the kids were dumber than dirt. I hated it because I was constantly bored. I never studied for exams, stayed up drinking coke, eating Doritos and Skittles when I did papers. Everything seemed too easy."
"Well with an IQ of one-ninety I'd hope so, cause if not I'm sure that genius brain of yours would have began to die off." She chuckled and Peter laughed as her eyes averted back to the page, her smile suddenly fading as quickly as it came. "That's interesting," Olivia muttered as her gaze averting over his shoulder in thought. Flipping another page over on her brief she hummed to herself. "Natalie Bermudez served in the Air Force for seven years, and was honorably discharged after a project she was assigned to shut down, called Full Moon Howl."
Peter scrunched his brows together, placing his hands under his chin as he watched her speak. "Sounds like a bad Samurai movie. Did they say who the mission head was, what division was running it?"
She shook her head. "No, just that it was a joint military project and after a few years was shut down for an unknown reason. The mission files are classified above top secret," she sighed. "Meaning we have no shot at seeing them." Again, her face went blank, the classic pondering expression that fell across her cheeks. "John has an old friend who worked in the records department of the Air Force. I could probably ask him to see if he can pull any strings."
Peter shrugged. "Couldn't hurt to ask. What's the worst they're going to say, no?"
She mimicked his questionable shrug nonchalantly. "I suppose so."
"Agent Dunham, Peter," Walter called suddenly, "come here, quickly. There is something you need to see." Glancing at one another again, they stood in unison and trekked down the stairs. "Just behind her left ear, there appears to be some sort of marking. Blue and linear, it almost resembles a tattoo of some sort, perhaps a bear or a dog."
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "Or a wolf."
Peter crossed his arms, "Odd place for a tattoo don't you think?"
She nodded, stood and made her way towards where the files lay scattered on the table. "I'm going to head down to the federal building and see what I can find on this military project, maybe talk to John about getting a contact in the records hall."
"What some company?" Peter's eyes lit up hopefully.
As always, Olivia denied him. Peter didn't have to ask to know who was on the other end of the phone. "No, its okay, I'll be at the Federal building if you need me." In three long strides she was out the door, leaving Peter standing alone next to the table. He sighed as Walter came up behind him slowly. He had seen the somewhat defeated expression on his son's face to know there was something else on Peter's mind rather than the case.
"Don't be dismayed, Peter. Distance always makes the heart grow fonder." Walter grinned, earning a sideways glance from his son.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Walter," Peter said slowly as he hid his eyes from Walter. His father may have been on the brink of insanity, but he was sane enough to see right through Peter and his defenses.
Walter couldn't help but let a small smile slip past his lips. He could see the shine in Peter's eyes when the young Agent was around and the hidden skipping of his son's heart. But keeping his information to himself Walter turned back to his body and continued his autopsy, leaving Peter to work silently once again.
FBI Headquarters
Olivia sat quietly outside the meeting room, watching through the small sliver of glass as John Scott made his presentation to his team about the case he was currently working; his broad shoulders and bright blue eyes outlined the white screen beautifully making Olivia smile slightly. The pride and self-confidence in his carriage made her slightly jealous she wasn't more out in the open with her self-presentation. She didn't question her own judgment. She was a good Agent, that she knew, but there were those days that made her question everything. Even her sanity on some occasions.
She had always hated asking for favors; the fear of judgment she felt from it was high. Working in a man's profession had its leaps and tries, and this was one of them. An inability to solve a case and ask for help she had always thought as weak, and unwilling. But this one case had thrown her for a loop, and any help she could obtain in accessing the information she needed… Olivia was willing to take that step to seek it. Even if it meant her own integrity was being hurt, perhaps more her ego.
The doors jarred open as the people inside began to file out, mumbling to one another aimlessly in small words she could not hear. The last person to leave followed John's trail. She stood, crossed her hands over her body and sighed.
"Excuse me, Agent Scott," she said in a professional tone as John emerged, his eyes snapped towards her, surprised to see Olivia seeking him out. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak with you, it's important."
John nodded, excused himself from his present company and made his way up the two floors to his office. Once inside he closed the wooden door and sat down stiffly in his chair, the business-like attitude he portrayed was in full swing. "What can I do for you, Liv?"
She opened her eyes and sighed. "I need to ask you a favor, John, and it's not something I'm too comfortable with." His grin grew deeper at the seriousness of her tone. "I'm working a case, and the victim was an Air Force Sergeant who was part of a classified joint military project. I don't have clearance to access the file, to research the project and was wondering-"
"If I can get you the file, or a name of someone to contact," he finished with a sigh, leaning back in his chair as she crossed her arms. "Liv, I thought we both agreed we'd keep a distance from that."
"I know," she said. "But I wouldn't be asking if this wasn't important, John. Please, anything you can do, any name I'd be grateful. I just need five minutes alone with that file."
He sat down slowly, leaning his elbows against the desk. "I'll see what I can do, no guarantees." John spoke slowly, avoiding her gaze.
Olivia smiled, rounded the corner of his desk and gave him a small kiss, "Thank you, I owe you." Her smile disappeared at the stiffness of his upper lip and the lack of reception he gave her. Even his eyes seemed distant, looking past her, the weight of heavy stones settling past his eyes. "Is everything okay, John? You look distracted."
"Yea," he breathed, "Everything's fine. I have work to do, I'll see you later." He turned away from her, leaving Olivia nothing short of perplexed as she bit her bottom lip and exited the door slowly, leaving John's back to hers. Had she done the wrong thing by asking for his help? Shaking her head Olivia made her way outside and headed back towards the lab.
Behind his door, John let out a heavy breath that he had been holding. He hated pushing her off like that, sending Olivia away without even an acknowledgement of her presence. Rubbing his fingers through his hair he sighed, his mind racing. Glancing at his door once again, he slowly reached into a bottom drawer and pulled out an envelope, heavy and cracked and placed it in front of him, opening it slowly.
The browned paper he held tight became moist in his warm palms as he reread it again, each lined memorized by heart. Having to break the news to Olivia would be hard. Telling her he had anticipated it would be even harder. He hated lying to her. They had built a relationship over the past year and a half on trust, lust and Chinese food. It wasn't easy, but they had done it, and managed to keep it a secret on top of that. That, he reminisced, was probably the hardest part. They both worked for the federal government.
In this business, there were no secrets. Only lies and evil deceptions.
He reread the letter in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief. At first he debated not even mentioning it to her, but Olivia was smarter than she gave herself credit for, she'd find out what was going on, that he was hiding something from her and either be royally pissed or extremely supportive, two severe outcomes he couldn't predict her choosing.
What worried John the most was the increase in lies that were going to soon develop from it. The deceptions, the secrets, even the possible heartbreak. He knew of her past, the harrowing childhood journey that had taken her years and years to overcome. It even took almost a year of them dating to finally gain Olivia's trust, and now that he had it, he couldn't risk it. Not over something like this.
Sighing he folded the paper along its worn creases and slipped it gently into his jacket pocket. Tonight, he decided, he'd tell her.
It had to be tonight. Come hell or high water, it had to be tonight.
Brighton, MA.
11:00pm
Olivia sighed, frustrated as she nearly threw the plate she had been washing into the drying rack and tossed the towel over the faucet to dry. It was the third time this week John had been a no show for their impromptu dinners. Something had been off between them for the past week or two, whatever it was Olivia just couldn't put her finger on it. He would be withdrawn; he wouldn't acknowledge her in the halls, hell he couldn't even send her a courtesy text to say that he would yet again not be there for dinner. She had made his favorite nonetheless, to try and cheer him up but after waiting for him for nearly two hours she had ate her fill and packed everything up.
As annoyed as she was, she knew sleep wouldn't come easily. Instead of curling into bed and relaxing, Olivia found herself dawning a pair of jeans, a black long sleeve shirt and a jacket, her hair falling down steadily over her shoulders and her gun hidden beneath her jacket. It was only eleven at night, she decided, and a little escape was always good to get the mind to relax. There was a bar a few blocks from her apartment, a local favorite of hers.
A light knock came to her front door as she threw her jacket around her shoulders, "You've got to be kidding me," she mumbled and made her way towards the front door. Checking the peep hole she rolled her eyes and threw the door open to see John leaning against her door frame, a solitary look in his eyes and a small envelope clutched against his palms. She gripped the door tightly, debating whether or not to slam it in his face.
"Liv, I'm sorry," he began, but she cut him off. "I need to explain-"
"Save it, John, I'm not in the mood," she nearly spat, slipping past him and locking her door. "I don't know what has been crawling up your spine these past few days, but I'm sick of it. I'm going out. If you want to talk, we can do it tomorrow." Avoiding his eyes she turned down the hallway.
"There won't be any time tomorrow." He said slowly.
She kept walking. "Well, time hasn't seemed to be of concern for you lately-"
"Olivia."
It was something in the way he said her name that made Olivia stop dead in her tracks. Maybe it was the fact John hardly ever used her full name. Ever. Not unless it was something serious. As she turned around and saw the stone-faced gaze he gave her, she drew in a slow breath. It was in his eyes that she saw the hidden fear and anxiety that resonated through him, and her curiosity spiked. The anger she had felt towards him had left, replaced with a general concern. She had never seen him this… almost frightened, if she had to choose a word.
"John," she spoke calmer, talking small steps towards him, "What's been up with you? You can tell me. Please, John, tell me."
He drew in a deep breath and sighed, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her, allowing Olivia to read it as he leaned against her door frame again, her bottom lip quivering. Slowly she lowered the paper and gazed into his troubled blue eyes.
"They're serious," she mumbled, "They can't be serious."
John nodded, sighing. "They are. Wednesday morning, zero six hundred I report. I've been called for active duty; they're reopening a mission I worked while I was serving."
"You've been out of the Marines for what, almost ten years? How can they just… call you back up for duty? You've done your time."
"You know as well as I do the consequences for disobeying a direct order, especially in a case like this."
She placed her hands on her hips, "Is this what you didn't want to tell me about? Why you've been practically ignoring me these past few days?" He nodded.
"Liv, listen to me-"
She threw her hands up defensively, and he could see the pain in her eyes. "I can't talk about this, John, not now." Pushing the paper back into his hands he watched her turn and leave John standing alone in the hallway, two simple words fell from his lips.
"I'm sorry…"
Harvard Lab
11:00pm
Closing down the lights of the lab, Peter exited the old wooden doors slowly and locked them, the ancient tumbler clicked into place. Giving the doors a gently pull, he nodded approvingly and headed out to where Walter's station wagon sat silently in the frigid winter night. The heat had been on the fritz these past few days and he only prayed on the night that it was hovering just in the teens that the old heater would work. If not, Peter was certain he would freeze to death before he could get home.
"Peter," came the monotonous voice behind him, making Peter turn around in haste. Standing behind him was the Observer, his face a dimly lit white from the cast of the moon and his eyes blank and black. "We have another journey to make, please, follow me."
Peter groaned. "Do we really have to do this now? Its twelve degrees and I'm freezing."
The man stood still. "No. It cannot. Follow me." Turning sharply to the right, Peter rolled his eyes and took a step forward…
… and walked face first into a tree. Cursing loudly he rubbed his throbbing cheek and nose angrily, cursing at the Observer who stood next to him silently, his eyes gazing through the wooded area they stood in. As always, the Observer said nothing, simply glanced at Peter and averted his gaze to an area just beyond the trees.
"You know, a little warning would have been nice," he grumbled. As always the Observer remained stone-like. Looking around, Peter surveyed the scene.
It was lighter, maybe around five or six in the evening, Peter guessed, and still cold as hell. Trees towered all around them, bare and stripped from the winter wind. A light gray haze settled across the air as the clouds sat stagnant above them. The wind nipped at his exposed nose and cheeks as the leaves swirled silently around them, dancing in the orchestration. He followed the Observers eyes to a clearing just beyond where they stood.
"Peter," the Observer finally spoke, a solemn echo rang through Peter's head, "I want you to close your eyes. Breathe in this atmosphere. Tell me what you feel. Tell me what emotions overcome you." Peter eyed this strange man, but the seriousness in his eyes was enough to make Peter obey.
Placing his hands at his side Peter did as he was told, closed his eyes and drew in a slow, deep and even breath as his senses drew every detail out of the bitter cold atmosphere. The first thing Peter felt was a sting of the winter wind as it skated past his cheeks and nose, microscopically scratching his skin, making it raw and hard. As he breathed he felt the cold air invade his lungs, and grasp his heart in a painful lock as he tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling from his chest, but no matter how many warm thoughts came to mind, his task could not be diverted.
A sudden heaviness began to form around him, locking Peter in a pocket of not only cold, but a forgotten emotion that brought a different pain to his chest. Not just a physical coldness, but it was… something else. It was heavier and eerie. If he had to guess, the word death would certainly come to mind. The air tasted stale, the wind uninviting and the ground under his body suddenly felt like cement, his muscles becoming tired and stiff as he stood and took in the scene around him. Suddenly that's when it hit him. He knew this place. Peter knew this place.
"This isn't just a forest," he said slowly, opening his eyes, turning to where the Observer stood next to him, and watched. Taking a few small steps towards the edge of the clearing he made his way to one corner of the clearing in particular, a place he had long forgotten since Walter had been put away in St. Claire's. A singular tear came to his cheeks as he came upon the small gray rock, the words barely visible, etched away over the years. Slowly Peter fell to his knees. How could he have forgotten?
Elizabeth Bishop
Loving wife and mother
It wasn't just a forest they were standing in.
It was a graveyard.
"Why here?" he whispered, but the Observer gave no answer, just turned his eyes towards a single figure that sat behind Peter.
Over his shoulder Peter heard a single, quiet sob as he turned to find he wasn't alone. Fifty or so feet from where he knelt a body lay rounded on the ground, the man's forehead pressed against the cold rock. Peter stood slowly and remained still. All around him he felt the air become heavier, a blanket of sorrow and death nestled around him, tucking against Peter tightly and made his freeze where he stood, his eyes trained on the back of a hunched figure that knelt, almost praying. This man Peter watched, this older, salt and peppered, fatigued, mourning man made Peter's heart seize in his chest.
This poor soul, a broken, kneeling man held his head against the stone, his fingers grasping the cement as if he were holding on for dear life in the drowning pool of death he sat submerged in. Floating on the ground next to him was a bouquet of flowers, crumbled and browned, dead like the ground around him. His back was rounded and hunched, moving slowly up and down as he sobbed, almost breaking at the seams as this man cried, mourned for the loss of whoever was at rest below him.
"This is the same man I showed you earlier." The Observer spoke slowly. "The woman he is mourning is his wife. This is important for you to witness, Peter."
Peter's eyes sat trained to the stone. "Why?" he whispered into the wind. He turned his head back to the Observer as his man stood slowly, kissed the top of the grave and left. Peter never saw his face. "Who was she?"
"When she calls, go to her, Peter," the Observer said, turning his head towards Peter. "Do not push her away. Only you can save her."
He swallowed hard and took a step forward, checking for any signs of the man he had witnessed standing here. Leaves cracked and crunched beneath his heels as he cautiously made his way towards the abandoned grave and knelt down next to it. A layer of grime and dirt covered the name. Wiping away the layer of filth he felt his heart catch in his chest and a sickening realization sunk into his stomach.
Olivia Dunham
October 21, 1980-May 6, 2026
Beloved wife and Aunt
Always in our hearts
He snapped his head back towards the clearing where the Observer stood but once again found himself kneeling alone in front of the grave that read Olivia's name across it. Slowly he traced her name as tears began to rise in his eyes. "Liv," he whispered, "How did this happen?"
The only answer he received was the tick of leaves against the ground and the gentle whisper of the winter wind…
I hope you enjoyed that last chapter; I wasn't too crazy about it. Let me know! Thanks for bearing with me, you guys are great!
Updates soon!
