Chpt. 4

Under any other circumstance, he would have forgotten what he was doing. Walter tended to forget a lot of things- term papers, where he was going, what he was doing… most of his lunch hour was spent in vain search of his classroom. Sundays were usually spent forgetting everything anyways, but they were also relatively pain-free. Now, stumbling along with a half-exposed metallic appendage and numerous, visible wounds, Walter was constantly reminded of his painful objective.

The heels of his shoes slipped slightly as he slid over the cast-iron fencing and lost his grip, landing on the slightly-overgrown lawn with a jarring thud. Rising and grumbling as he rubbed his slightly bruised backside, Walter looked around quickly, straitened his trench coat, and made his way among the tombstones.

The sky overhead was silver with a bright overcast as he tucked his hands in his pockets, sighing. His feet scuffed to a halt before a single, granite headstone, and he swallowed, trying to calm his thoughts, and shake the empty, hollow feeling of déjà vu and immense sadness that always surrounded this place, "Hello, son," he said at last.

His eyes traced the engraved, bold print; PETER BISHOP.

He'd been here so many times, told his son so many things… it was slightly distressing to think that there time here was about to end, and he slowly dropped to sit on his knees in the grass with a painful groan, "I jumped onto a train today, that was pretty awesome," Walter said with a small smile, "I'll admit that I was a fool to do it, though. It messed me up pretty bad," only after purchasing a substantial amount of numbing drugs did he find that his knee was useable, and not, in fact, broken, "But I have more important things to tell you. Things… things are going to jump ahead, I think." He pushed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, watching his feet, "And I know that I've rushed the last times, too. But this time… Peter, this time I have to."

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he turned to look over his shoulder, fully expecting to see someone… someone dark, watching him. He saw no one. Walter dropped his voice a bit, speaking quickly "They'll muss it all up, Peter. They don't know, they don't understand how much I miss you…" There was a sound of crushing leaves underfoot, and he stopped.

"Professor Bishop," someone said.

"Good bye, Peter," Walter whispered, leaning forward to kiss the headstone, and he swallowed, slowly pushing himself to his feet. He stood in silence as Astrid approached him, her gun level with her eyes and her laser-dot twitching across the back of his neck.

"Show me some hands, Professor," Astrid said, and he pulled them from his pockets, raising them.

"I won't run," he said.

"Good. Then I won't shoot."

"I have to go to Reiden Lake. Do you know where that is?" Walter asked, his glum sights still on the empty grave.

"Yes. But first we're going to the lab," Astrid said, slowly sliding her gun into her holster and drawing out her handcuffs with a clear jingling noise.

"There's no point in going to the lab," Walter said as she took him by the wrists, pulling his arms around his back to cuff them together, "just as there is no point to handcuffing me, I think."

Astrid smirked, "How do you think?" Walter dislocated his thumb and slipped the handcuff over his hand, turning to face her, looking abashed. Her brows rose, "Well, that settles it. Charlie was right; you are a freak."

"Would you like me to put it back on?" Walter questioned.

Astrid chuckled, "No." they stood in silence for a few moments, "So… this is your son?"

"No," Walter answered, looking back at the headstone, "My son is in a place far from here, I'm sure."

xXx

"So the problem is power."

"Yes. It's always been power; for twenty years it's been about the damn power," Walter grumbled, frustrated, "And I know it's there, I know that's where he…" his fingertips traced the smooth paper of the map, crossing a crease, over Reiden Lake.

"Who, professor Bishop?" Astrid questioned, glancing away from her task of driving to watch him suspiciously.

Walter glared up at her, "What, that wasn't in the files? Doesn't the government know positively everything there is to know, about me?"

"Almost everything. But time and time again you've referred to someone, as if you were chasing them. Who is it?"

"It doesn't matter," Walter snapped, jamming the felt tip of his marker into the map sharply, "without the correct power source, the Divider is useless. You may be flashy about butting in on my work, but you're rather useless, when it comes to a solution."

Astrid considered for a few moments, "If the Divider isn't working, why are we going to Reiden lake?" He had briefly muttered about some sort of porous tear in the dimensions, and she had done her best not to call him insane. Oddly enough, he seemed slightly appreciative that she had kept silent.

"You could have been such a good assistant, if you weren't a spy," Walter sighed.

Astrid laughed, "I'm doing you a favor, you know," she said, "I was supposed to get you and your research and take you strait to headquarters."

Walter paused, "Why? Why now, when I'm no closer to completing the Divider than I was twenty years ago?"

Astrid shrugged, "It's not my job to know," she said, "this all could have gone a lot smoother if you hadn't fired me."

"My bad," Walter said.

xXx

The sky was growing darker with storm clouds, and the sun had long set as Walter awoke to the first clap of thunder that trembled the air. His right arm had set to vibrating again, the circuitry humming with the static of the molecules affected by the storm. He quietly opened his eye, his real one, to look across the cab at Astrid, who was silent as she drove, and only leaned forward to turn on the windshield wipers.

He wondered if the him that existed on the other side knew the her on the other side. And did the him over there remember her name? Because he certainly couldn't.

Something didn't feel right. Why did it feel like he was chasing something again?

Walter sat up in his seat, making Astrid start a bit, "Did the storm wake you?" she questioned.

He shook his head, delving into his coat for pain medication as his sides began to ache, and his bandaged temple throb.

"Walter, you said that your son wasn't in that grave," Astrid said, and he paused as he palmed the narcotics, "if he's not there, where is he?"

Walter swallowed the medication, "I know that you do not believe me, when I speak of my work," he said, "no one does. I understand why, as well. The simple thought of an alternate universe… is lunacy."

Astrid did not respond.

"I am crazy. I acknowledge this, if anything. But my work is not to prove that this dimension exists, it is to open a passage to get there."

"Why?"

"To find something that was stolen," Walter repeated.

"Your son," Astrid said softly.

Walter wiped his lips on the back of his sleeve, "Don't take the turnoff," he said, "we need to get to Reiden lake."

"What about the Divider?" Astrid questioned, "I thought you said it was at your old house."

"My intentions are unexplainable. I don't even understand them. But things like this don't make a whole hell of a lot of sense, I fear," Walter said quietly.

xXx