TITLE:
 Chapter Ten

CHARACTERS: Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Charlie Francis

POV: Astrid, Charlie

GENRE: Dark, Surreal

RATING: M

SUMMARY: "The smile slowly left her face and she studied his face. "Walter, is there something aren't telling me?" "

CHALLENGE: Alice in Wonderland

WORD COUNT: 1336

WARNINGS: None

SPOILERS: None

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Nothing specific

DISCLAIMER: 

unbeta'd

Astrid sat on the large driftwood tree on the beach next to Walter whom had just come back from returning Olivia and Peter to their respective minds. The world's sky had returned to its dusk-like appearance, slightly cloudy out to sea. Together they looked out at the dark water, quiet as they listened the sound of the ocean. She was a little more accepting to the fact she would be alone for at least two days this time; at least she'd have plenty of time to explore this world she had made.

"Walter," she said quietly, fumbling with the hemline of her dress.

"Yes, my dear?" he asked, rolling two small bronze spheres through his fingers.

Their section of the beach was surrounded by the burning tiki torches that sent wafts of smoke that smelled like pina coladas and strawberry daiquiris. To be honest, she didn't know if that was her or his doing.

She took a deep breath. "You said I was hurt."

"But I saved you," he assured fervently.

"I know." Her fingers stopped toying with her dress. "I guess what I want to ask is if I'm going to be disfigured."

"Oh, how vanity afflicts us all," he said softly as he melted the two spheres into one and dropped the single ball into the sand at his feet. "Your face is fine. The bruising is mostly gone and almost all your cuts have healed. But the burns on your body burns will leave scars."

"That's fine. Just as long as my face isn't all messed up." She sighed, feeling relieved—of course it was a superficial want, but honestly, would anyone be okay with their visage being altered negatively?

He took her arm and began to trace out a design onto her arm, which she recognised as scar tissue. Obviously, he was illustrating to her what her injuries looked like.

"The marks on your leg and arm will easily be passed off as interesting battle wounds." Walter cocked his head and gave her a slightly puzzled look. "Is that the ocean?"

She nodded. "I think so. Why?"

He chuckled darkly as he continued to trace the wound out for her. "I think you're hearing the mechanical respirator."

"What do you mean?" she asked, watching the 'healed' burn continue to expand and morph across the inside of her arm.

He shrugged casually. "You're hooked up to a breathing machine."

Her voice broke slightly, the precursor to fearful crying. "Why? Because I broke my neck?"

"No, your lungs were damaged from the heat of the fire."

Her throat began to burn, almost too painful for her to ask. "Will…"

He nodded and patted her knee. "They'll get better."

Astrid let out a long, relieved sigh, small fire coloured sparks floating on her exhale. The mechanical rhythm soon settled back into the much more natural sounding murmur of the ocean waves.

Walter shifted slightly on the driftwood tree. "I have something to ask of you."

She nodded. "Of course."

"I think your brain would be best to use as the hub for the three of you to reside in."

The caught her off guard. "Why?"

"Peter harbours many demons and he cherishes his privacy. Olivia, while she is a very smart woman, lacks the creativity to open her mind to symbols. Also, she has a hard time separating herself from the fantasy a synaptic transfer creates. We would risk her losing herself as well as trapping the rest of you." Walter spoke slowly and precisely, making her wonder how long he had rehearsed telling her this. "I feel you would make a good mediator. You could keep the world fantasy enough that the three of you would know it wasn't actual reality, while opening your psyche up enough that we could continue to study the Pattern."

She couldn't argue with logic or destiny. "Would it be safe?"

His next words were hesitant. "I promise I will make it as safe as I possibly can."

"Walter…" She slipped her hand on top of his. "I have a very low pain tolerance. I don't want to wake up if I'm going to be in a lot of pain."

He looked a little surprised. "I have your permission to keep you in a coma then?"

"Please." She felt relieved that she wouldn't wake up to unbearable pain. "It won't affect my mind, will it?"

He shrugged. "I don't believe so. John Scott was in an artificially induced coma when we let Olivia explore his mind."

"Will traces of them get stuck in me?" she said squeamishly.

"Perhaps a bit. They will know how to exit, so that problem will be less likely."

Astrid felt her skin prickle and her stomach churn. "I'm so scared."

"Of what?"

"All this. It's intimidating to think I'll be responsible for them."

He produced a GI's helmet from World War One and placed it firmly atop her head. "Life's tough. Wear a helmet."

She laughed and adjusted it to sit more comfortably on her curly hair. They watched the ocean a little longer and then she realised there was something she should have asked a while ago, but hadn't really occurred to her until now.

"Has my family come to visit?"

"Once." He drew a spiral in the sand with his toe. "They said something about a long trip for them to make."

Though she had been born in Pennsylvania, her family had relocated to Alabama not long after her seventh birthday. She could imagine her mother, her aunts, and her cousins making the flight from Birmingham, all flustered to come check her. She could also imagine that a lot of money was spent and they wouldn't be able to come back anytime soon.

"It is," she said as she filled the sand spiral with pearls from the beach.

"I promised them you were receiving the best of care and they send you get well cards and daffodils," Walter said as yellow flowers began to wash up on the shore.

Astrid rubbed the scars off her arm. "Am I?"

"Of course. It would be a shame to lose a body as limber as yours."

She couldn't help but crack a smile. "Not that limber. I haven't been to yoga in forever."

"No matter. You have more important things than yoga to worry about," he murmured.

The smile slowly left her face and she studied his face. "Walter, is there something aren't telling me?"

He was quiet for a moment before replying, "What makes you say that?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You're hiding something, aren't you?"

The older man stood up abruptly. "I need to leave."

"Walter."

"Take care of yourself." He looked away from her and faded away.

Astrid yanked the helmet off her head and threw it at the area he had been in. "Walter!"

Charlie watched Dr. Bishop, whom had finished drying off and dressing behind the privacy curtain in the corner. At the moment he was digging through a mess of papers on his personal desk, scattering them everywhere. Charlie approached the older man slowly and asked, "What are you doing?"

"I was looking for my permanent marker," he mumbled.

Charlie opened the top drawer and pulled it out. "It's right here, Dr. Bishop."

The man snatched it from him and went back to the far corner of the room with the privacy curtain. Charlie followed him, curious what the scientist was doing. It appeared the corner tile of linoleum was loose and that Bishop had pried it up. He began to write on the back of the tile and the young agent frowned.

"What are you doing?"

The scientist handed the Sharpie back to him and muttered, "I'm labeling the world in which they reside."

Charlie knelt down next to him. "Why?"

Bishop set the tile down and looked back up at him. "So that we know what to call it."

"What is it called?"

Bishop pulled the tile up again and showed it to Charlie.

The Wonderland Complex