Chapter 6
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-Harvard, Kresge Bldg, Basement
Olivia followed the other across the quad toward the Kresge Building on the far side. It was a three-story structure, with a parapet and an arched doorway set off to one side, and five columns with pointed tips jutting out from yellowed brick front of the building.
Dr. Bishop led the way through the throngs of students filing about in between classes. Eventually, they ended up in front of a door with a frosted glass window, and Dr. Bishop's name was still visible, printed in faded black lettering on the glass. The room beyond was dark. He unlocked the door, Olivia having retrieved the key from a staff member earlier, and went inside.
Olivia looked around the lab for the first time, committing it to memory. The space was a large multi-level room, and steps with handrails down to the lower level once one entered father in. Several lamps in the rows of circular light fixtures popped and emitted a shower of sparks, once power was restored. There was a small office near the back, with windows into the lab, which Olivia could see herself utilizing. In front of the office was a row of archways that ran the length of the room. There were jumbles of equipment and casework covering most of the floor space. On the countertops were masses of beakers, test tubes, twisted glass tubes, and machinery of all sorts. A large kiln or coal furnace rested in one corner. Most of the larger equipment had faded white canvas covering them.
Dr. Bishop stood still for a moment, observing, then turned to them. "So much... So much has happened here, and so much is about to." he said in strange voice.
Olivia looked sharply at him, wondering if he knew something she didn't. He didn't elaborate though, just moved farther in marveling over this and that, surprised that his things were still there.
Peter and Astrid started pulling the canvas off of the nearest pieces of equipment as Dr. Bishop walked over to a large canvas covered object, and started uncovering it.
"Oh, she's still here!" Dr. Bishop said in an ecstatic voice. "This tank was the best!"
It was a metal tank, with two doors, set angled into one side, and covered with wires and electrodes sticking out from all sides. Olivia didn't have clue what it could possibly be used for that could cause such excitement in his voice.
"Dr. Bishop?" Olivia called over to him. "I've ordered a standard forensics' work package. Is there anything else you think you'll need?"
He started naming off items as if he were reading from a list. "An optical coherence tomograph for flesh study. Two thousand pounds of silicon."
Olivia met Astrid's eyes, tilting her head in Dr. Bishops direction. Astrid got the message, pulling out her notepad, and started jotting down Dr. Bishops requests.
"At least five anonymous blood samples, from volunteer donors," he said continuing, "a micro-organism detector, NASA grade, of course, there is still a NASA, yes?" he added.
"Yes, Dr. Bishop. NASA still exists." Olivia said.
"Excellent news," he replied jovially, "Oh, and a two year old bos taurus." he added as he was examining the furnace.
"A what?" Astrid said quizzically.
"A cow," Peter answered, as he was trying to pull the canvas off of nearby table. "he's asking for a cow."
Dr. Bishop continued, "Purebred. Not cross-bred, this is very important. Mature weight should around 850 pounds, total fat average of 2.37."
Olivia moved forward to help Peter with the canvas. "Is he joking?" she asked, grabbing an end and lifting it off the equipment, which appeared to be a variety of Bunsen burners. What could Dr. Bishop possibly need a cow for, and where would he put it?
"Genetically," Peter replied smartly, "humans and cows are only couple of lines of DNA, so that makes them an ethical test subject."
As they started removing the upside down stools from the table, she noticed he had a rather pleased look on his face. She supposed it was for him knowing what she had not, and getting to demonstrate it. "Where'd you learn that?" she asked him sarcastically, "MIT?"
"Very funny," he replied, as he was wadding up more canvas. "actually, I learned that from reading books. You should try it some time. It's fun." He finished with an extremely smug look on his face as he stepped into her personal space and shoved the canvas into her arms.
She locked her glare onto his face and stared him down with a haughty look. Peter's eyes seemed particularly blue at that moment, his gaze never wavering from hers. She noticed that the stubble on his face seemed extra thick, casting a dangerous shadow on his face. She could feel his breath on her cheeks faintly. Suddenly, she noticed that he was standing very close to her, and wondered when that had happened.
Olivia kept her glare on him for a moment longer, then turned away from him, needing to get him out of her space. Infuriating man! She said to herself. He seemed particularly adept at getting under her skin. She wanted to hit that look right off his face. She noticed Dr. Bishop watching them out of the corner of his eye with a sly smile, and it brought back the memory of what he'd said to her in the St. Claire's cafeteria. Olivia covertly glanced back at Peter, who now looked even more pleased with himself, if that were possible. The two of them made her want to pull her hair out in frustration.
She looked over at Astrid, who thankfully appeared not to have noticed her and Peter's interaction. "Agent Farnsworth, get him the cow."
"Fantastic, thank you!" Dr. Bishop said. "The only thing better than a cow is a human, unless you need milk, then you really need a cow."
Olivia shared an amused look with Astrid, purposefully ignoring Peter. She started making a mental list of things that needed immediate doing. She needed to call Broyles and update him on the lab, and send Astrid to collect her files from the Federal Building and get a coffee maker. She was definitely going to need coffee. She walked back to the office she had seen earlier and looked inside. The room had a large desk in the center, with rows of file cabinets along the two of the walls. The wall facing the lab had a row of windows with dusty metal blinds covering them. She thought it would do nicely for a temporary office.
Peter was leaning back in a swivel chair, idly thinking about Walter, his childhood, and the blond haired agent currently going over files in the lab office. She had sent Astrid to the Federal Building to retrieve all her files on Flight 627, and the labs her and Agent Scott had uncovered. She had them spread out on the large desk and was busy poring over them, tapping a pen against her lips has he watched her through the window.
Walter was running tests on the tissue sample he had taken from Agent Scott's body, and was looking at slides through an optical microscope that had been left in one of the cabinets. Astrid was assisting, with him explaining the uses of the various pieces of equipment. She seemed like a quick learner. He was developing a habit of forgetting her name, though. Peter had heard her correct Walter twice now already, and it had only been a few hours.
How Astrid had been able to secure a cow, and have it delivered by farmer to Harvard, of all places in less than a day, he could only guess at. She'd been gone when the cow arrived, so Olivia had to go sign for it, and escort it and the farmer, through the halls of the Kresge Building and into the basement lab. Olivia's face had been red tinted when she brought it in, much to his amusement. It was peaceful in here now, but the cow had caused quite the commotion when it had been brought in through the crowded halls.
He looked around the old lab, seeing nothing familiar, wondering if Walter had ever brought him here as a child. He certainly had no memory of it. Peter would have thought that in almost twenty years that Walter had been working in the lab before the fire, his mother or Walter would have brought him here at least once. Of course, there were a lot of things he didn't remember about his childhood. There were stretches of what seemed like years, mainly from the ages of seven to ten, though some before then, that he couldn't really recall anything clearly. He hadn't thought much of it, until just now, realizing the kind of work Walter did here, and seeing that the old man seemed to know what he was doing, at least so far. He remembered sleepwalking and having nightmares as a young boy, one in particular, where a faceless man would come into his room at night, and steal him away. He'd always woken up freezing cold from those, screaming. Until the day Walter had taught him his mantra. Then they had just stopped, until he'd grown up and left it all behind, left her behind. He swallowed the lump that was forming. He dreamed these days, but they were usually just of the normal variety.
Spinning around in the chair, Peter noticed that he could no longer see Olivia in the office. He'd been watching her, after their little tiff, he supposed one could call it. She'd started it, bringing up MIT like that, after all, he had just been answering her question. Although, he did get some kind of perverse satisfaction in needling her afterwards. He could tell that when he'd stepped into her personal space it had made her uncomfortable, which he found amusing also. Still, he supposed she was having a hard time dealing with the fact that her lover, and clearly Agent Scott was her lover, was most likely going to die by having his flesh dissolve and fall off his bones. The pictures he'd glimpsed of the bodies from the airplane had been enough to make him not want to eat for a week.
Looking around, he got up and peeked inside, it was empty. Astrid noticed him looking, and tilted her head in the direction Agent Dunham had apparently gone. He'd observed that she had been drinking coffee from the machine Astrid had set up like water, she seemed to like it with one scoop of either cream or sugar. Maybe now was a good time to make a peace offering. He considered for a moment, then filled two cups, one with one scoop sugar, and the other just black, how he liked it, and went in search of her.
He found Olivia sitting on a bench under one of the archways, still reading a file. Her hair was up in a way he hadn't seen her wear it yet, exposing her slender neck. He jerked his eyes away as she started to look up at the sound of his footsteps.
Peter gave her a real smile as he approached, "Coffee?" offering her the cup with one sugar.
Olivia looked surprised, but pleased, "Sure, thanks," she said taking the cup.
He sat down on the bench at the far end, making sure not to intrude on her space. He watched her face closely as she took a sip. Her green eyes widened slightly and she glanced at him.
"How'd you know how I like my coffee?" she asked quizzically. She was watching his response just as close as he'd been watching hers, he noted. Judging the sincerity of his offering, if he had to take a guess.
"Well, you're not the only one with some skills." He replied with a grin. She gave a little laugh at this.
"Is that so?" Olivia replied in an amused voice. There was a little smile on her face. He thought she should do it more often.
"Indeed it is," he said nodding his head. "Comes in handy every now and then." He watched as she took another sip, her face growing somber again. Peter thought that it might do her some good to distract her from her thoughts of the man dying in the lab behind them, and he might learn something he'd been curious about in the process.
"So," he started, changing the subject. Her eyes met his, brows raised. "Tell me, this file you mentioned, what else did it say? About yours truly. How bad was it? I'm just curious to know." He finished with a relaxed grin, trying to put her at ease.
Olivia looked at him, eyes narrowed, "I'm not at liberty to discuss it." she said in that professional sounding voice he'd heard before.
Peter gave a grunt and laughed. Like hell you aren't. "Well, why don't you go ahead and liberate yourself, because I'm here now," he said, holding her gaze. "so, I kinda think I deserve the truth, don't you?" he said, looking at her expectantly.
She looked away from his scrutiny after a moment, looked anywhere but at him. He discerned a faint redness starting to appear on her cheeks. It was apparent that this topic was starting to make her uncomfortable, in fact, more uncomfortable than he'd ever seen her. Is she blushing? Why would this embarrass her, unless... she... It couldn't be, could it? His thoughts were racing, incredulous. He stared at her with newfound respect.
"There was no file, was there." he stated in shock. He was replaying their meeting in the hotel lobby in his mind. He had been sure that she knew! It had been in eyes, her voice, none of the usual tells that would indicate that she was being anything but truthful.
"I needed you back here," She tried to explain, face still red. "and when you were walking away..." she trailed off, having the decency to at least look apologetic.
"So what was that?" Peter said bemused, "You were bluffing?" He couldn't believe it. There was a little voice in the back of his mind telling him that it had been because of her eyes and voice that, he hadn't seen any tells. He pushed that way to the back, he was a professional, he should have known. One couldn't survive in his business long, without being able to read people well.
"I was desperate." She said simply, leaning on her hand, as if that explained how she had done it.
"Yeah, but, I'm pretty good at reading people," he said gesturing to himself, "it's sorta what I do."
"Yeah, I could see that you were in trouble, anyone could see that."
No, he thought, Anyone could not see that. But she had, somehow.
Peter thought again about their interaction in the hotel lobby. She'd approached him, told him her name, then… hit him with the fact that she was from the FBI. While he'd been reeling from that shock, she went into the second shock, which was about Flight 627, leaving him completely confused. Then to top that off, she had brought up his father, shock number three, which had brought out his anger, leading to emotional responses from that point on. When he had started to walk away, his emotions had still been clouding his judgment, which had lead to him overlooking the fact that, he really hadn't done anything yet. And what would she have done, called Big Eddie up and told him where to find him? That was just plain ridiculous, thinking back now. He was impressed that she had come up with it impromptu.
"So I could have stayed. I could have stayed in Iraq." he said thinking aloud, rubbing his eyes. He looked her in the eyes, "It seems I am not the only one with some skills." He said to her in admiration. He thought she might've blushed at that, but couldn't be sure.
"You know, I heard a car bomb went off in Kirkuk, this morning." She said with mock sincerity. "You might just owe me a, 'thank you'."
"Yeah, well," he joked, "I owe a lot, what's one more thing."
"Yeah, I figured." Olivia said in serious tone. "Lemme guess, Mafia?" her voice so naïve and innocent sounding that he had to laugh.
"A guy named Big Eddie," he said looking at the amusement on her face, "and I swear I'm not making that up."
She laughed then, sending those little shockwaves though his synapses, much like first time he saw her, before all this madness. He realized then, that he'd never truly heard her laugh before. He'd thought he had, but she'd still been behind her Agent mask, right now, there was no mask, just Olivia.
"You owe money to a guy nick-named Big Eddie?" she was smiling widely now, lighting up her face.
"No, I owe money to guy named Big Eddie. He had it legally changed." he said meeting her smile with his own.
Her smile grew wider, delighted at his story.
"And the thing is, I'm not even a gambler...I mean, I never was... Peter suddenly found himself embarrassed under her gaze. "It's just...A couple of years ago I went a bit crazy." he finished lamely.
"I thought you were a genius, you must have had a system?" Olivia said curiously.
"Of course there was a system, the house was cheating." he said ruefully. "But you try telling them that." He smiled sadly and took a sip of his coffee, so he wouldn't have to see the pity, or disapproval, he was sure that must be on her face.
He could sense her studying him then, and he couldn't resist the urge to see what she was thinking. He turned and met her green eyes. They had speckles of gold around the pupil, he wasn't sure how he'd missed that before. She was looking at him speculatively, as if he were a puzzle she was trying to figure out. Their mutual appraisal lasted a few moments longer, until she looked away smiling.
A comfortable silence descended between them, each sipping their coffees. Such situations were rare for him, and he got the sense that it might be a rarity for her too, though for different reasons. The kind of people he had been associating with for the last few years, weren't really the kind to sit around enjoying one another's company, men or women. Olivia might be a tough FBI agent, but that probably came with constantly maintaining a barrier to distance herself from her cases, victims, and suspects, which could make it hard for her to let her hair down, once in a while, especially since she seemed like she might be a workaholic.
Peter finished his coffee and stood, feeling the need to stretch his legs. He'd always had problems staying in one place too long, whether in a room or a city. He thought he might go take a stroll around campus.
"Hey, I'm gonna go for a walk, stretch my legs," he told Olivia, nodding in the direction of the exit. "Wanna come?" He knew she wouldn't.
"No," she replied, without hesitation. "I'm gonna get back to it." He could see the Agent facade sliding back onto her face.
He nodded, and started towards the door.
"Hey, Peter?"
He heard Olivia call after him when he was almost out the door. Grabbing the door frame, he looked back at her questioningly.
"Thanks for the coffee." she told him with an unreadable expression on her face.
"Anytime, Olivia." Peter said warmly, finding himself meaning it, to his surprise. He turned and went out the door into the now silent hallways of the Kresge Building basement.
It was freezing outside, the wind biting at his cheeks as he walked through the quad. The Harvard campus was empty at this time of night, except for the occasional student, hurrying towards their destination. A part of Peter envied their carefree existence, as he passed by a young woman, no doubt making plans for the evening on her cell phone. He'd never gone to college, at least as a real student. He thought back to his time at MIT, it seemed like a thousand years ago right now. He'd had fun teaching the chemistry class he'd been given at the small community college he'd conned his way into. Of course, that hadn't stopped them from firing him on the spot once they'd figured it out.
A strong gust of wind kicked up, making him glad for the thick peacoat he was wearing. He'd made Olivia stop at the first suitable store he saw once they got back, so he would have something to wear in weather just like this nights. She had waited in the car while he had run in to find a coat. When he'd come out and hoped back in her car, she'd raised an eyebrow at his choice.
"What?" He'd said to her, noticing the look on her face.
"Really?" She replied with a smirk, gesturing between them at their similar coats.
"You've got good taste." he said, and gave her a suggestive wink.
The look she had given him then had been as cold as the weather outside.
Peter had thought he had her figured out then. She was a humorless, frigid bitch, albeit a very attractive one, and he decided he was not going to make it easy for her. He could be pain the ass when he wanted to, and he was not going to take the uprooting of his life lying down.
But he knew now, that it had just been her Agent persona, distancing herself from an unknown, a possibly dangerous one. There may not have been a file per se, but he did have a criminal record, he'd been arrested more than once, and she no doubt knew that.
She thinks I'm a criminal, Peter realized, the thought making him sad for some reason. Who am I kidding? I am a criminal. He'd never really thought of himself as one though, the people he... worked with, weren't good people, most of them had been criminals themselves. He had never conned any civilians, as he had called normal people. What about Ahmed's people? Were they criminals too? He told himself that it had been a mistake, as he always did when thoughts of that particular disaster arose.
He needed to stop thinking, and why did he care what Agent Dunham thought of him anyway? As soon as Agent Scott died, Walter could go back to St. Claire's, and he could go back to his life. Maybe there was a chance he could salvage things in Baghdad.
Looking around, he realized he'd walked to MacArthur Square, all the way across campus. There was an ancient fenced in graveyard near the sidewalk behind the row of benches where he stood, getting his bearings. With no pedestrians or vehicles in any direction, the silence was surreal, almost crystalline. The puffs of his breath rising from his nostrils was the only movement. It was a moment of complete peace, rare in a city the size of Boston.
Suddenly, a loud HONK! from a street over shattered the moment. Sighing, not looking forward to the long walk in the bitter cold, he turned around, hands deep in the pockets of his coat and headed back.
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They were standing near a table with several open boxes full of what looked like old file folders when he returned. Astrid was thumbing through one of them, with an amused look on her face. Walter was in the middle of recounting some story from his previous tenure in the lab. Olivia watched them both stoically, leaning against a nearby table. Peter grabbed a chair, sitting with feet up on a nearby table covered with old computer monitors. Olivia glanced in his direction, but said nothing in greeting. She seemed distracted.
"Peter, I was just telling Astro and Agent Dunham about some of the work we did here back in the seventies." Walter said.
"It's Astrid, Walter, and she is an agent too." Peter responded, clenching his jaw in annoyance.
"Of course." Walter giving him a disdainful glance. "As I was saying, in 1972, Belly had been sub-contracted to create a new class of dinner beverages, which would be multi-flavored, yet still contain a common element or taste. We were in competition with another lab in Brooklyn, and the bid winner was to be awarded a large fee for the formula which could then be patented." He giggled in remembrance.
"Belly's idea was to create a beverage in which the common element would be steak, and there would different flavors for the different cuts of meat, one for the ribeye, one for the sirloin, one for the strip, one for-"
Astrid, apparently realizing that he intended to recount every cut of meat, interrupted, "I get it Dr. Bishop. Did you win the contract? I don't think I've ever heard of drink like that."
"No, we were laughed out of the bidding. It turns out that steak flavored drinks are absolutely dreadful." he finished morosely.
Astrid let out a laugh in delight. "Who was the winner? Did their drink ever get made?"
"I believe it was some fruity drink, had a silly name like Snipple or Snapple or some such. It was really very drab. Not creative at all." Walter complained. He appeared to be offended by the thought of it.
Astrid chuckled and looked over at Olivia, who seemed unamused, "Agent Dunham, do you mind if I take off for the night? It's after one am."
Olivia blinked, coming back from wherever she'd been, "Sure Astrid, we'll see you early tomorrow." she said distractedly.
After Astrid left, Peter found the silence in the old lab unnerving. Olivia still appeared deep in thought, or maybe worry, he supposed. Walter was looking through the files Astrid had left on the table.
"Walter, what file are you looking for in that box?" he said, needing conversation, even if it meant with Walter.
"Files? Oh yes," he said with excitement. "it was the year that reminded me. I knew I had seen something similar to this before." He walked over to the microscope where he had been looking at slides from Agent Scott's flesh sample.
"Similar to what?" Peter questioned from where he was lounging. "Your steak drink? Which I might add, sounds like one of the worst ideas ever. So much for the great William Bell." He added, hoping to break Olivia's demeanor. She really needed to loosen up everyone once in a while, it had to be very tiring to maintain that icy calm almost all the damn time.
Her eyes shifted in his direction briefly, little dimples forming as she let out a little snort.
"You always were so quick to judge as boy, son." Walter said dolefully. He turned to Olivia, "He used to cry and get so upset whenever I made him try anything new. Why, he even vomited the first time he tried mashed potatoes. Whoever heard of such a thing?" he whispered conspiratorially to her.
Peter could feel his face growing hot, which of course Olivia noticed with a laugh at his expense. Damn it Walter, you never fail. Every time.
"Walter, I have no memory of that." he said quickly, hoping to change the subject. "What did the year remind you of? Does it have something to do with Agent Scott's condition?"
"Not directly," Walter replied, "it was back in '72, during the Vietnam War. The DOD's Biochem Division had us working on a protocontagion for possible use against the Vietcong."
"Dr. Bishop, are you saying that our own government is behind this?" Olivia said, perking up at Walter's words.
"No, though it's possible that whatever was used on the plane could have been derived from that work." he negated. "We had a lot of different lab assistants back then. Anyone one of them could have gotten hold of our research." he said with distaste. "It could have been leaked from the DOD. They had a lot political hirings and firings, it was the Nixon era, after all." his tone now laced with disgust.
From the way Walter was wringing his hands together, Peter could tell he was about to go off on a diatribe about how much he hated Nixon. "Walter, right now we just need to worry about the contagion itself, not about who made it." he said smoothly, trying to focus him. "We can talk about how much you suffered under the Nixon years, after you've seen to Agent Scott's condition." Peter added, hoping it would mollify him.
"Yes, yes, of course." he responded, picking up file folder and looking through his findings.
Olivia looked over at him gratefully, having successfully deflected Walter's mania. "Dr. Bishop, what about John? Have you learned anything about his condition?" she asked, her face hopeful.
Peter could see how much she wanted good news from his father. He shook his head sadly, wishing he had as much confidence in Walter as she apparently did.
"What's affecting him, is merely a chemical reaction to the raw laboratory ingredients." he said, walking over to her and tossing the file in her direction onto the table. "It's not the finished contagion, which means that we can synthesize a counter-agent." he finished, pulling off his latex gloves, and resting his hands on the table.
"So you can help him?" Olivia said, voice rising.
Peter could see her green eyes widen in anticipation, could hear the excitement on her voice. He just couldn't believe it, there was no way Walter could do it. There was no coming back from the condition Agent Scott's body was in. The guy was fucking see-through for crying out loud. He had to be the voice of reason here. Olivia sure as hell wasn't capable of it right now.
"Don't do that," he said sharply, "don't give her false hope, she doesn't deserve that."
Olivia shifted her glance to him for a moment, eyes narrowed, then back to his father, who responded.
"It's not false. It's not false, it's real, Peter." he said, keeping his eyes on Olivia. "I could help, yes. If I had a precise inventory of what was in that lab when it detonated."
"We don't have it," Olivia despaired, "it all went up with the lab. Everything." She swallowed heavily before continuing, "And the suspect who might have given us that information got away, and John was the only one who saw his face. So how long does he have left?" She said, eyes boring into Walter.
"At the current rate of crystallization, cellular degradation-"
"How long?" Olivia interrupted desperately.
"Twenty four hours." Walter replied regretfully.
Olivia turned away, head lowered. Peter saw the hope die on her face. It was like watching one of those time elapsed videos of a flower blooming, only in reverse.
"I'm so sorry," Walter continued, "that I can't offer you a less dangerous solution." He finished, looking at Olivia expectantly.
"What do you mean?" she said softly, turning to him.
"Didn't I mention it?" he replied, confused.
"Whatever you think you said, you didn't say." Peter spoke up, tired of Walter's shtick.
"Synaptic transfer system, a shared dream state." he explained. "I had thought to offer it you as a way to say goodbye to your lover, as without the inventory, I would not have been able to help him."
"What do you mean by, a shared dream state?" Olivia asked him, watching him closely. Her face was flushed from Walter's comment.
Peter couldn't wait to hear the explanation for this, they were heading off the reservation. A shared dream state? Maybe he watched Dreamscape to many times in St. Claire's.
"The human brain generates a quantifiable electric field." Walter grew passionate as he explained. "I posited in 1976 that is was possible to synchronize the fields of two distinct minds, to allow the sharing of information across the unconscious state, like a string between tin cans."
Jesus, it's worse than I thought, Peter said to himself. "You know what's great about that, is that it's completely insane." he said sarcastically, looking over at Olivia, expecting her to agree.
She met his eye for a moment before looking back at Walter. "So you're saying that I can talk to John, while he's in a coma?"
There was something in her voice, something Peter didn't like at all. Walter was nodding back at her.
"And then he can tell me what the suspect looks like?" she said slowly.
"Well, it's not an exact science." Walter admitted to her.
"It's not even science!" Peter exclaimed. She was considering it, he could tell, as she looked back and forth between him and Walter.
"Have you done this before?" Olivia asked, ignoring the look Peter was giving her. She was looking at Walter intently, urging him on.
Peter sat there, dumbfounded, as Walter continued to explain his procedure to Olivia. She was hanging on his every word, falling for his insane ramblings hook, line, and sinker. He'd thought she was a fairly intelligent woman, yet somehow she'd overlooked the fact that Walter was insane, certifiable. He admitted that Walter was extremely intelligent, but there was a reason that he'd been locked up. There's a fine line between genius and insanity, and Walter had crossed that line, blown way past it from the gibberish he spouting off right now.
"I have used this technique to extract information from a corpse once." Walter recounted. "You can do that if they haven't been dead for longer than six hours."
"Right, cause after six hours, that's when they're really dead." Peter scorned. He caught Olivia's eye, imploring her, "Olivia, c'mon, you can't honestly tell me that you-"
"We could access his memories?" she interrupted quizzically. "See what he saw?"
Walter's head was bobbing in affirmative excitedly. "Yes, yes, assuming that there is no brain damage." He started to move away from her before turning back with a start, "Of...of course, you'd have to have an electronic probe place in the base of your skull, while immersed without clothes, in the old tank." he said, gesturing with his wrinkled hands in the direction of the metal monstrosity near the back of the lab. "Oh, and you'd be heavily drugged." he added as an afterthought.
Olivia stared at him for a moment before responding, "What sort of drugs?" she said warily.
"A mix of ketamine, neurontin, and my personal favorite, lysergic acid diethylamide." Walter replied.
Peter decided that enough was enough, jumping up, hand raised to get Olivia's attention. "That last one was LSD, by the way. You know, acid?" he said, walking over to the both of them.
Walter went on as if Peter hadn't spoken,"It would take at least a few hours to synthesize, I could use your help if you don't mind." he said, looking at Peter expectantly.
Help him make acid? How the hell can this be happening? I feel like I'm the one that's crazy here. "Yeah sure, that sounds like fun." he mocked, nodding his head at Walter. He turned to Olivia, "The man who was just released from a mental hospital, he wants to give you a drug overdose, and put you naked into a rusty tank full of water." He bent down to her height, staring into her eyes, trying to gauge her response.
"No, I don't want to. Really, I'd rather not." Walter implored, defending himself. "I'm just saying, that I can." he said reasonably, long back and forth between the two of them.
Olivia seemed torn and uncertain, a look he hadn't seen on her before. Peter could see that she was desperate, but surely she could see that this was a terrible idea. Was she ready to die for this Agent Scott? He didn't think he could just stand by and let her do that to herself. He wasn't sure why he cared, after all, she had blackmailed him into coming back here, had cost him at least half a million dollars.
"Okay, Olivia can I talk to you for a sec?" he grabbed her arm and guided her away from Walter. She stared down at his hand where he was touching her, and he let go, sensing her discomfort." Olivia, you're obviously under severe duress, you haven't slept since Iraq, and the man you care about might die, but I am telling you, that that man will kill you." he said, his volume increasing as he spoke.
"You don't understand the procedure, Peter!" Walter interjected from where was standing.
Peter ignored him for the moment before continuing, "Olivia, I can't sit back and watch him kill you, or turn you into a vegetable at the least." He spoke earnestly, hoping to get through to her. "Not when I can stop it." he added, staring into her eyes.
Her eye narrowed questioningly at this. "What do you mean? Do I have to remind you that impeding a federal investigation is-" She was standing up very straight, voice imperious.
"Cut the crap," Peter interrupted her. "you may have blackmailed me into coming back here, but I am still Walter's legal guardian. If I let him do this, and something happens to you, then it's on me. I don't need that hanging over me. I've got enough problems, without having your death on my hands, and whatever the FBI would have to say about that."
He had tried to sound compassionate, but it wasn't a tone he was all that familiar with, so he wasn't sure if he pulled it off or not. She knew what he had said made sense though, he would probably get in serious trouble if something did happen to her, he could see it in the way her she squeezed her eyes closed in denial, lips pursed.
"John would do it for me... Peter, please..." she said softly, opening her eyes and staring deep into his, begging him to help her.
Ahh, fuck, he thought to himself. He found that as much as he might regret it later, he couldn't refuse her, not her begging him again. There was something about the way she was looking at him, that he... just... couldn't.
Sighing, he looked away and squeezed his own eyes shut. When he looked back she still had her gaze locked on him. How is it that she keeps doing this to me? When did I become that guy? This was getting out of hand. As soon as they did what they could for Agent Scott, he had to get the hell out of here, before she could become even more of a bad influence on him. A little voice in the back of his mind wondered why he was so eager to get back to his old life. Hadn't he been thinking about getting out? He crushed the voice, ruthlessly, Getting out to become Walter's babysitter isn't exactly what I had in mind.
He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat and gave her nod. "Okay." he said simply, avoiding her eyes.
"Thank you." A mona lisa smile forming on her lips that he saw out of the corner of his eye.
They locked gazes then, and Peter tried not to ogle her too much. Jesus. He had to swallow again before adding in a snarky tone, "But if something happens, can I tell the FBI that you held me at gunpoint?" he smiled at his own joke, breaking the tension.
She laughed, like crystal ringing in the air. He had to turn away from the sound, running his hands through his dark hair. This was going to end badly.
Olivia turned to Walter, "Dr. Bishop set it up. I'll get DHS's authorization to bring John here."
Peter couldn't resist one more harpoon thrown in her direction. "For the record Olivia, I think this is unbelievable, and, I think you might be insane, following him is insane. For the record." He gave her grin to let her know the barbs were nerf tipped.
She cocked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing in return. He got the feeling that was the look she gave when she wasn't sure what an appropriate response was.
"Excellent!" Walter exclaimed."Let's make some LSD!" he pumped his hands in the air, like a pitcher who'd just closed out the ninth inning.
.
By the time Peter and Walter finished the batch of LSD Walter thought they would need, it was past three in the morning. He was tired, hungry, and still in daze at everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. Olivia had dropped the two of them off at a hotel the FBI had procured for them for the night. She had been on the phone with someone named Broyles for the majority of the ride, he assumed it was her boss by how she referred to him as 'Sir.' He noticed she neglected to tell him the real reason she needed John Scott brought to the lab, but decided not to question her on it. They had ended the night on good terms, and he didn't feel like rocking the boat too much more, for the moment at least. He thought there might be much potential for butting heads with Agent Dunham in the future.
After grabbing some ice and snacks from the vending room at the end of their hallway Peter started the long trek back to their room. Walter had been complaining that he wanted candy, specifically, Red Vines and a Whatchamacallit. He'd been unable to find either, he hoped a Milky Way and a bag of chips would suffice, the machine had been mostly empty.
As he neared their door he could hear Walter's voice as he sang the lyrics to Violet Sedan Chair's, She's doing fine, in a surprisingly good voice. He'd forgotten Walter's love for the band. Shaking his head, he opened the door and went in.
He stopped in shock at the sight of Walter's naked body as he waltzed around the room. "Walter! What the hell are you doing?" He yelled, averting his eyes. He was going to be scarred for life. "Where are your clothes?" he said mournfully, rubbing his temples with one hand, moving further into the room, careful to avoid touching Walter in any way. He threw the candy bar and chips down on the coffee table, the rooms largest surface.
Walter, having resumed his waltz, looked over his shoulder at Peter. "I'm celebrating. I haven't had a night outside of St. Claire's in over seventeen years." He strutted around the small dining table near one side of the room. "Did you know that in Japan, that when celebrating at a Hadaka Matsuri, it is customary to be nude, or at least in a loin cloth? I find it invigorating." he finished excitedly.
Sighing, Peter said in a resigned voice, "That's great Walter, I'm so glad I came back for this." He threw himself down on the couch and grabbed the remote. Flipping the tv on, he flicked through the channels, before stopping on an episode of NOVA on the PBS channel. He had loved that show in his youth. "They didn't have the candy you wanted, so I got you these." He gestured toward the coffee table where he'd thrown them.
Walter stopped at the coffee table, looking down in disapproval. "A Milky Way? What a waste of perfectly good candy bar." he said disdainfully.
"What's wrong with it? It's just a candy bar, chocolate, caramel, nougat." he said absently. He wasn't paying Walter too much attention, what with him swinging in his face and all.
"What's wrong with it? Son, what's wrong with it, is that it's missing a crucial ingredient, the illustrious peanut." He said in an outraged tone. He grabbed the candy bar and the chips off the table and stalked towards the bathroom. "I'll be in here."
Peter ignored him, focusing on the NOVA episode, as well as he could at least. He was exhausted and jet lagged, hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours. He could feel a weight on his eyelids, trying to drag them down.
Olivia had said that she would be picking them up early tomorrow, but hadn't specified how early it would be. She seemed like she might be a morning person though, so he thought it might be sooner than later. He shook his head. The woman was perplexing, she seemed so straight-laced and reserved, and at the same time would show flashes of humor akin to his own, and clearly had no problems misleading her boss to suit her own ends. He shook his head again to clear his thoughts. He needed to stop thinking about her, and start figuring out what his plans would be once Walter inevitably failed, hopefully without killing or permanently maiming her.
His eyelids began to close again of their own volition, Peter struggled to keep them open, wanting to wait for Walter to finish in the bathroom. He could hear him in there, still singing...singing...his eyes shut.
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