Fourth Time is the Charm - Conclusion

No in FRiNGEment intended.

Note: This is the last chapter of this early Xmas story which almost turned into an Easter present!! R&R :)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Here you go," said Peter after placing her luggage in the doorway along with her laptop and a colourful plastic bag full of presents and souvenirs. "You're absolutely sure you don't want me to stay over tonight?"

They had just flown back from Florida and Walter was waiting in a cab in front of her building. Peter gave a quick glance down the stairs and waved at him. Walter grinned wildly; then he winked ostensibly twice and made a face before he turned back to sternly watching the street through the windshield in front of him.

"I'm sure that Walter wouldn't mind," he sighed in her ear. "I could settle him at the hotel and come back later."

She leaned on the door and shrugged. "No, I'll be okay. I promise. You don't have to worry," she said with a yawn. "I can't figure out why I'm so tired. We had quite an uneventful and calm New Year's Eve not to mention that I practically slept all the way back to Boston. I guess I'll have a shower and go to bed." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and smiled. "You can go now. See you at the lab tomorrow."

"Okay," he hesitated. His eyes lingered on her face one second too long. He brushed her arm with his hand and finally kissed her on the cheek. "Happy New Year Olivia. That was nice," he said softly.

"Yes it was. Happy New Year Peter."

She stepped away from him, trying to avoid another awkward contact and, with a last smile, closed the door briskly before he had time to add anything else. She leaned against it for a moment, her fingers stroking her cheek and mouth absently; finally, she put a hand through her hair, took a deep breath, and jolted away from the door albeit reluctantly.

She might as well do what she had just told Peter and get some rest. Maybe that will make go away the funny feeling that something was suddenly very different. That special something she couldn't quite place which had been bothering her for hours now and she had felt odd about since last night. She could not put her finger on any specific reason why, she simply knew.

And yet, they did nothing fancy, three friends celebrating the New Year, or rather a father and a son celebrating with a friend. They had dinner, a few drinks, played chess, light some sparklers and fireworks on the beach and went straight to bed.

This morning, she didn't wake up in Peter's arms or staring at Walter. And during all the time they were together down in Florida, she had kept John at bay and silent.

She shrugged away her unease again, and took her suitcase to her bedroom. She managed to go through her usual routine without mulling over the weird notion that something has derailed on the way.

She emptied the suitcase, put away her dirty laundry, took a shower, she even went through every agonizing step that was supposed to lead her to transforming into a well groomed woman, face mask, peeling, bikini line, pedicure, nail polish, the whole nine yard.

Only the feeling did not subside.

Maybe it was the fact that she was back to her apartment. For the first time in weeks, she was alone and not afraid of dealing with John being around or confronting his memories with hers.

She dropped on her bed, and spotted the gift bag she had discarded earlier against her suitcase. She tossed its content on the blanket. There were gifts from Walter, two bags of blue cotton candy and a glass dome with a hat floating in glittery water, supposedly a Florida snowman. She shook it gently and sat it on her bedside table. Peter had came up with one I went to Florida and all I got was this lousy 5Xlarge t-shirt and a book, a mint first edition of "I Want to Believe" by FBI legend Fox Mulder. She put the t-shirt on and flipped the book, thumbing through the chapters; in most of Mulder's works, the laws of physics rarely seemed to apply. Aliens and paranormal phenomena, that shall be a welcome change, she chuckled. This book was supposed to be out of print, proving that Peter had some good connections with underground booksellers. She braided her hair, put her favourite wool socks and her glasses on, lied down and began to read.

-o-

The elevator rang and the door slid open. Peter stepped out into the lobby and went directly to their room. While the door shut with a whoosh behind them and the elevator went down, Walter scurried away in the opposite direction, mumbling numbers.

"Walter, could you stop dawdling please," Peter said without a look behind, "I'm tired, all I want is to get some sleep ASAP. Don't tell me you left your bag in the elevator!"

Walter gave his son a rueful smile and shrugged apologetically. "Oops, I'm sorry, I think it's gone," he said. His voice wavered and he pointed a finger in the air before shaking his head in fake despair.

"What do you mean, gone? You left it in the elevator, right?"

"I-I'm not sure, I can't remember."

"Walter…" Peter groaned. He swiped his plastic card past the lock, pushed the door open and hurled his bag inside. "Come on in. And don't even think of ordering in. We already stopped twice and changed cabs because of your pressing need of raspberry puffs and clam frappé. Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."

Peter pushed Walter inside the suite forcibly and slammed the door.

That was not happening.

Walter probably stuffed confidential reports in his suitcase and now it was lost in the trunk of a Boston cab. He jogged down the stairs and immediately went to the elevator to check the cabin. It was empty.

"Of course it is," he said between his teeth.

"This must be yours," says a female voice in his back.

Peter turned over and looked at the stunning brunette who was facing him. This trip was turning into a cliché of a bad film noir. He should have stayed with Olivia instead of trying to keep up with Walter's idiosyncrasies of the day. So much for a quiet New Year's Day. The brunette was handing him Walter's suitcase.

"Thank you. My father's actually," he said, plastering an apologetic smile on his face. "He accidently left it in the elevator."

"Try the parking lot," she chuckled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you had to drag that thing all the way to the hotel? I'm really sorry."

"No harm done. I was going to leave it at the desk anyway. This is far more pleasant," she gave him a bright smile and an appreciative look.

Six months ago, Peter would have played along. Who am I kidding, last week, I would have. But something recently shifted in his relationship with Olivia Dunham, something he was willing to explore further even if he knew it was probably a mistake from the very start. Suddenly, he was not feeling single as much as monogamous. He smiled back and took the suitcase from her, carefully avoiding contact.

"If you're with your father I'm guessing you're not in Boston on a business trip," she trailed with another enticing smile. She pouted her mouth, intrigued by his body language and apparently inner turmoil.

"No, we-we're planning to move over here. He's…" he patted his head with his forefinger, "you know," he said with a shrug.

"Oh, I see, Alzheimer?"

"He suffers mild cognitive impairment, we're not sure yet. Well, thank you again for the bag. If you'll excuse me, I have to go back to our room. My father cannot be left alone…"

"Oh sorry, I'm keeping you. Well. Good night then."

He had no idea what he was doing. All he knew was that he had to question Walter right this minute. Like a bolt from the blue, this seemingly trivial and perfectly harmless conversation had triggered a string of very graphic images of Olivia that did not belong in his head. He punched the call button several times and rushed inside the cabin with a deep crease on his forehead. He became more and more restless as the elevator was taking ages to go up to their floor.

"Walter!" he shouted, barging into the room, "you'd better have answers to this, and right now! Walter? For god's sake, you're not in the closet again are you?"

-o-

Olivia put down the book and got up. This book was proving to be far more interesting than she would have thought. She never personally met agent Mulder but she knew people who knew people who met him once. And he seemed to have left quite an impression. She was thirsty, she was hungry and she was beginning to have second thoughts about Peter staying over. She could have used some company. She could not wait to discuss some views of Scully's work with Walter, -- and Peter obviously. That Tooms guy, that was another aspect of their progeria case, bordering on vampirism, well if you stretch, she chuckled, walking to the kitchen in the semi-darkness of the quiet apartment with the book in her hand. She opened the fridge, bent over in the gloomy light, indecisive at the sight of a very old mango, a pack of spoilt ham and a bottle of tequila. In the end, she retrieved the New Year's Eve leftovers Walter had packed for her and sat on a stool at the counter.

She unwrapped the cake and began to pick at the cream cheese frosting, mini chocolate chips and confectionary confetti sprinkles.

And froze.

It was all coming back. Graphic images that did not fit in, images of Peter feeding her cotton candy, licking pink vanilla butter cream from her breast, nibbling at her ear, kissing her. They were dancing and his hands were running against her naked back and shoulders, she was unbuttoning his shirt and taking gentle bites at his chin and chest.

She pressed her eyes closed and breathed, slapping violently the book shut on the counter.

If it was a fantasy, it was very vivid. If it was only a dream, she was very much awake. She knew that she was mildly attracted to Peter. Clearly, mildly was probably an understatement but she had no intention to go there. Not after Lucas and John. Third time is the charm they say, she thought. They were wrong then. John was the third she really got attached to. She didn't even want to go back to remember her first love in North Carolina that summer when she worked at the marina.

No way. And relationships and work don't ever work, ever.

But she could not stop unravelling new reels of her evening in Florida with Peter at his friend Mitch's beach house. A flock of unwanted butterflies gathered and her belly and thighs suddenly responded to unwanted stimuli. She moaned softly, her eyes closed.

No way. Whatever was causing these hallucinations, it had to stop. She could not imagine herself facing Peter at the lab tomorrow morning with this kind of delusions playing with her mind and senses. She took another deep breath and locked her eyes on the 2007 calendar she never bothered to take away from the wall. She focused on palm trees, sand beaches and the deep blue sea.

They were swimming. Skinny-dipping to be more accurate. Peter had a beauty spot on… Oh my god…

There was something else that she remembered now and quite clearly. That was Walter fiddling with red and green Christmas lights. She jumped from the stool, and ran for her phone.

She had to call Walter. And eventually deal with Peter while she was at it. She bit her lower lip and dialled the hotel room.

-o-

The phone rang and Walter picked it up. He pressed the phone to his ear, listened carefully without saying a word. He was ready to hang up when he heard a voice. "Walter, is that you? This is Olivia."

"Agent Dunham?"

"Yes, it's me. Listen Walter, we got to talk."

"Happy New Year agent Dunham! Peter is not here. He lost his suitcase."

"He lost…," she flinched, "…well, never mind. I don't want to talk to Peter, I want to talk to you."

"I-I'm rather busy at the moment agent Dunham, you might have to call me later."

"Walter, you cannot possibly be busy. You're just back from a vacation in Florida."

"I am? Oh yes! You're right, we went to Florida. You should have come with us agent Dunham."

"That's exactly why I'm calling Walter. I was over there with you and Peter. But I don't seem to remember all of it. Would you care to explain that to me, by any chance?"

"I am afraid I don't understand…"

"I'm pretty sure that you understand perfectly Walter. From day one you wanted me and Peter to hook up. So you made the decision for us. But oddly, I don't seem to be able to remember what you did and unfortunately, what I did. And I'm guessing that Peter doesn't either. Maybe it'll be easier to have this conversation with Peter after all. Unless you're willing to tell me about the Christmas lights?"

"Oh, you mean the lights?"

"Walter, did you experiment on Peter and me?"

"Of course I did not! I was merely showing you the way. But Miss… my assistant advised me against it."

"Astrid knows about this?"

"No, she absolutely does not!"

"Walter, we really have to talk. I'm coming over."

"That is not necessary, agent Dunham, I can perfectly explain. Agent Dunham? Olivia?"

Walter gave a sheepish look at the handset and hung up. He started pacing with raging anxiety. She knew.

He had tried to tell Asteroid. Almost anything was likely to trigger their buried memories, a smell, a conversation, an image, anything. If Asteroid had not tampered his initial experiment by introducing ethics and guilt, he was five hundred percent positive that Peter and this female agent would have probably yielded more than eagerly to his plan. They were good-looking, with reasonably satisfying functioning brains, about the same age and already attracted to each other. He merely pushed them in the right direction. Deep down, he was still not convinced that he had not done the right thing all along.

Nevertheless, he had to find Peter and confess before agent Dunham had the chance to talk to him.

Time was of the essence. It was not enough to stand by and wring his hands –he had to take action. He rushed outside, went to the elevator, pressed the call button and waited. When the elevator reached the floor, the door switched open and Walter came in. He was going to press the ground level button but there was no 0 or G or any star on the control panel. It looked like a fake elevator control panel used to reduce costs in film-making. Walter dithered. The door closed and the lights went out. Walter let out a gasp of anguish, extended his arms, and began to spin around.

-o-

"Walter?" Peter opened the closet but Dr. Bishop was not crumpled down inside. He spun on his heels and turned around to his father's bedroom. "Walter?" He switched on every single light, searched under the bed, behind the armchairs and couch, in the bathtub, back to the closet. Walter was not in the suite. Or if he finally succeeded in achieving his latest experiment, he had turned into the invisible man.

Peter cursed between his teeth. He kicked into the dresser in frustration and only achieved to hurting his foot. He cursed again and dropped on the couch, pain darting up to his knee. Clenching his fists, he called his father again, resisting the impulse of throwing a blow to the coffee table and ending hurting his hand as well. He dashed from the couch. He flipped the door open violently and peeked in the lobby. His head started to throb. It was the first time that Walter strayed away from the hotel suite.

But why now? It was not the first time that Peter was angry with him and a bit vocal about their disagreement. That was not their first squabble over a trivial event and probably not the last.

He left the suite and shut the door behind him, trotted to both ends of the lobby, prodding each door on his way. Walter might have used the stairs or the elevator to go to the upper levels or they would have come across each other when he was with this woman at street level. On the other hand, if Walter had put his mind to finding his way out, it was much too late to catch up with him.

Peter rushed to the stairs and checked every level on his way to the roof. When he finally came up to the roof top, he was panting and sweaty and far more irritated than he thought possible. He scanned the perimeter, went around the technical booth, checked every centimetre to no avail. He leaned over the railing and looked down. No shattered body.

That only meant that Walter was really gone. It was not one of his usual tricks. Whatever he's done to us yesterday, he must feel really bad about it. But Walter gaining a moral compass that was totally uncanny.

He had to inform Olivia. He dialled her cell, but she did not pick up and he went to his voice mail. She might be asleep, he thought, having qualms about waking her. The heck with sleep. Walter was gone and it was a real emergency. He called her home. The line was busy. At last she was home or her phone was disconnected or else.

He jogged back downstairs, and not bothering to check for Walter again all the way down, he went directly back to his room and tried to call her again. She was definitely not answering. He tried her cell and this time went directly to her voice mail. There was nothing he could do for Walter now but he had to check if Olivia was all right. He left the room and rushed down the stairs to his car.

-o-

That was not in her blood to defer.

She hung up, put on her Swedish clogs, a knitted jacket over her oversized t-shirt, a wool scarf and a beanie, swooped her keys and jogged down the stairs to her car.

All the way to the hotel, she tried to organize her thoughts while carefully keeping at bay flashes of her and Peter getting way too cosy the day before.

No wonder she was so tired. She probably barely slept two or three hours at best. With the new understanding of the dark circles under Peter's eyes, she felt the tension building up in her neck and shoulders and forced herself to concentrate on the road. They almost certainly lost several hours of their lives that they will never have back.

It was not enough to have John's memories in her head, now she was not even entitled to form her own. Her memory failing her again, that was simply killing her.

She hit the wheel in frustration and put her foot down. She parked in front of the hotel and killed the ignition. She gathered all the strength she had left, her hands clenched on the steering wheel, in a desperate effort to stay awake. Eventually, she opened the door and walked to the entrance door with a firm step. The temperature had dropped drastically and she almost ran the last ten yards, her chin to her chest and her arms folded against the freezing wind.

She pushed the door open without looking up and bumped into someone who was on his way out. "Excuse me," she said, losing her balance and reaching out to him reflexively. "Peter? Did you find your suitcase?"

"Liv? What are you doing here?"

Now he was staring with concern and she blushed. In a poor attempt at hiding her embarrassment, she took off her beanie and combed her hair with her hand. Suddenly, her flamboyant red nail polish didn't seem like such a great idea.

"I have to see Walter. I just called him. Do you mind if I go upstairs and talk to him, --in private?"

"Oh," he said, moving away from the door and dragging her along by the elbow. "So you know, don't you?"

She nodded and her mouth twitched a little. She had not envisioned a conversation with Peter on that particular sensitive topic tonight. She felt exhausted and cheated upon and the last thing she needed was to pick a fight with Peter just to give vent to her anger.

"I was on my way to see you," he said flatly.

"Why?"

"To make sure you're not mad at me. I wanted you to know that I had nothing to do with that… scheme."

"I'm aware it was Walter's doing," she smiled.

"He has not been doing everything to drive us apart," he chuckled. "Sorry, that was out of line."

"Don't apologize. The whole thing is simply out of line."

"Not to mention weird. Do you remember anything?"

She went beet red and did her best to look him in the eyes. "Enough," she sighed. "That was… inventive," she smiled, biting her lips and fighting back new flashes.

"Really? You remember more than I do," he lied with a shrug, his eyes suddenly brighter.

"Especially the part with the chocolate sauce…"

"Oh, I see, I was hoping…"

"Don't bother, I'll live. But I have to make sure that Walter understands he cannot play that kind of tricks on me, -- well, on both of us. I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions," she added, flushing profusely again.

"I'm sure you can," said Peter. He leaned towards her. " Do you wanna help me out here, please?"

"Hey you," said a woman in her back.

Olivia turned around and faced a tall brunette in her mid twenties.

"I thought that your father could not be left alone?" she stated.

"I was helping my sister with her car," Peter offered.

"Oh, I see, I never would have guessed you two were related. Nice t-shirt," she said with a condescending glance at Olivia's outfit.

"It's a present from my brother," prompted Olivia.

"How lovely! Well, I wouldn't want to keep you away from your Dad, then. Good night again."

More appalled than she was ready to admit, Olivia watched her walk away across the hall. The brunette pressed the call button to the elevator, gave them a last disapproving stare, and turned her attention back to the elevator.

"See," he whispered in her ear, "nobody buys that brother-sister crap."

She chuckled softly, leaning towards him, and tapping his chest with an accusing finger. "She's mad at you."

"I haven't done anything to her!" he protested, closing the distance between them.

"Obviously," she grinned and put her hand on his chest. She looked toward him, wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips. "A penny for your thoughts…" she finally said softly in a rasping voice.

He placed his hand on hers and tilted his head. "I have a better idea," he sighed against her mouth.

Oblivious of the stranger waiting for her lift, her eyes went wide. She placed carefully her other hand on his arm and looked up. She parted her lips and finally stretched out her arms, standing on tiptoe. She could smell liquorice in his breath and the scent of his Cologne on his chin. Her hand was stroking his hair and the nape of his neck.

On the other end of the hall, the elevator door slid open and Walter sprang out from the cabin, eliciting a high-pitched howl from the brunette he bumped into. They turned to the sound of the clash. Olivia huddled up to Peter in a relax manner and he naturally put his arm around her shoulders. Walter spotted them immediately and darted in their direction.

"Peter, agent Dunham, I can explain!" he said immediately. He stopped in his tracks, his willingness to do good cut short. "Agent Dunham, do you know that you're not properly dressed?"

"Yes, I guess I'm not. What was I thinking," she grinned.

Peter squeezed her shoulder with a questioning look. She shrugged slightly and nodded. Peter turned back to Walter. "Olivia came over to look for the suitcase Walter."

"You misplaced your suitcase Olivia?" said Walter in a very I-told-you-so tone.

"And I was telling her that we found it already," Peter continued.

"Oh… Oh! That is great news! We-we did?"

"Where were you Walter?"

"I was worried. I could not find you, son. And then the lift… acted up. But here you are! Were you with agent Dunham?" he asked with a sly smile. Peter shot him a warning stare and Walter looked away sheepishly. "I'm afraid I scared that woman Peter," he motioned to the elevator. "I'd better go to bed now."

"You do that Walter. And behave yourself okay?"

"Good night Peter. Good night Olivia," he said before turning around and scuttling to the elevator with a swirling motion.

"Walter!"

Dr Bishop stopped and looked back.

"You know what it is all about, don't you?"

Walter nodded.

"Good. Don't wait up then. See you tomorrow."

Walter nodded again, his face graced briefly with a large smile. He regained a more serious composure and scurried back to the lifts. Before pressing the button to his floor, he popped his head through the doorway and glanced back to the cuddling couple.

"I shall ask Asterisk to validate the experiment and file the results with the rest of my work; under the right tag, of course. I call it… Fringe Benefits," he murmured. "Oh! I think that I am talking to myself again," he laughed quietly.

-o-

That was the last part. I hope you enjoyed it!