A/N – I lied! I switched some stuff around in the story to bring you, this very chapter: bonding! Or at least the beginnings of it… Enjoy! : )
"Any minute now," Walter had assured them. He would have the solution completely figured out, with the procedure made as safe as possible, "any minute now." So he had told them an hour ago. And the hour before that. And the hour before that… The hours had stretched on, stretching Peter with them, and he felt drawn and thin and anxious from all the waiting.
"Any minute now" was clearly a minute too long. After five hours, Peter and Olivia had decided they'd had enough of waiting.
"Come on, Walter, what's going on?" Peter asked as they entered the main part of the lab. "You've been at it for hours."
"Ah, Peter!" Walter greeted, waving him over enthusiastically to where he stood watching a solution that he'd put on ice. "I've remembered the final component that we need for the process to be successful!" He paused for dramatic effect, smirking smugly and wiggling his eyebrows. "Duck!"
Peter raised his eyebrows and stared at Walter's grinning face, trying—and hoping—to read in it some indication that the scientist was messing with them. "Duck. Really." When the older man's expression didn't falter, however, Peter exchanged a puzzled look with Olivia. "Okay… Walter, why do we need a duck to bond Olivia and my minds?"
"Not a duck," Walter corrected defensively. He motioned toward the solution crystallizing in the beaker. "Duck. That's its name. I wrote you a song about it when you were a boy, don't you remember? It was to the tune of that—come now, you know the song—it goes…" He paused, as though searching the air for the tune and then began humming, wagging a scalpel emphatically to the jerking beat and causing Astrid beside him to back away nervously. "… a gift to be simple, tis a gift to be free, doodoo doo doo doo doo doodoodoodooo dooooooooo…" With an air of great accomplishment, he grinned. "Don't you remember?"
"Sure, I remember. You used to sing it to me as a kid… I'm a duck, I'm a duck, I'm a quacky quacky duck, and I quack, quack, quack in the pondy pondy muck…" Peter sang absently to the same tune, waving a hand as though to hurry himself along. "You mean that one?" Walter nodded enthusiastically, and Peter frowned at him. "But what's that got to do with…"
Suddenly, Peter caught sight of Olivia, who was looking at him with smiling eyes and a barely suppressed grin. "Just like that, huh?" she teased.
Smiling sheepishly, he shrugged. "What? I was, what, nine at the time?" he countered, but her grin only increased. He laughed. "Hey, Walter's the one who wrote it, not me."
"Yes, I did," Walter affirmed emphatically. Olivia raised her eyebrows and gave an amused nod. Peter couldn't entirely understand why he'd want to take credit for the song either, but he waited for an explanation nonetheless. "It was supposed to help calm you while I determined the best method and ultimately performed the procedure to bond our minds—"
"Well, I guess that's another song I can put on the 'ruined for life' list—"
"—and it served the dual purpose of reminding me of the main components of the compound necessary to do so." Walter continued, shooting Peter a perturbed and slightly hurt glare. "Four amino acids: D, U, C, and K."
Olivia, whose smile had faded uncomfortably, looked at Peter in confusion, and he sighed. "Each amino acid is abbreviated with a letter, so the four he's talking about in this case are aspartic acid, selenocysteine, cysteine, and lysine. Normally amino acids are building blocks for proteins, but knowing Walter, who knows?"
She nodded, eyes turning to Walter warily. "So what does it do, Walter—the compound?"
"Ah!" He raised a finger didactically. "It was designed as a neural enhancer of sorts, to inhibit the brain's natural mechanism to protect itself from intrusions and other outside interference—like what you will be attempting on Peter. It's relatively harmless, I assure you. I tested it extensively on rats—and even myself—before ever giving it to you, Peter. It's… quite a trip, as I recall."
Peter's mouth turned down uneasily at the thought of Walter testing self-designed drugs on himself—likely without much, if any, assistance from anyone except perhaps his lab assistant. He must have been really desperate, he thought with a twinge of pity. Only the fact that the ultimate test subject had been Peter himself kept the emotion from developing into full-blown sympathy. That hurt was still too raw.
"So we'll both be getting it then, this… Duck?" Olivia asked dubiously, dragging Peter's mind back to the present. She crossed her arms, brow furrowed.
Walter shook his head. "No. To you I'll be administering Cortexiphan, along with the usual cocktail for the tank—you'll both be getting that before you go in."
"Hey—whoa!" Peter interrupted, shaking his head at Walter and raising his hands. "Do you really think that's a good idea, mixing those? You have no idea what kind of drug interaction there could be! And the tank? I thought this was an electrodes deal."
"Don't worry, Peter!" Walter scolded with a gentle smile, gripping his shoulders reassuringly. Peter was less than reassured. He studied Walter plaintively as the scientist went on. "I have thought this through extensively—the drug interactions, the methodology… Every nuance and contingency has been carefully considered to make this work the best it can, as safely as possible—which, a-admittedly, isn't particularly safe, or even as safe as I'd like it to be. For example, I wish you both did not have to be in the tank, but I-I do feel it's necessary."
He looked momentarily troubled before forcing a smile again. "But over the past year and a half, I have learned a great about the way the mind works—particularly Olivia's mind—as well as the tank's effects. She will lead you through it—she's been through it before. I do believe that this is the best course of action. Son," Peter winced unconsciously at the term and immediately regretted it as Walter's face fell, "Peter. If you want this to work… you're going to have to trust me."
"Right," Peter sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. Olivia gave him a sympathetic but encouraging smile, but somehow it only made him feel worse. What was he dragging her into? He'd thought it would at least be a little safer than this…
"Your mind needs to be open to a complete re-patterning, far more extreme than the one it underwent twenty years ago. The Cortexiphan should perform that function handily enough for Olivia, along with her abilities, but for you… Duck will open your mind…" He shrugged sheepishly and waved a hand in the air. "A-along with the LSD, of course."
"Of course." Sitting down on a stool, Peter rubbed the bridge of his nose. He and Olivia were going into the tank, to a dangerous dreamscape, helped along by more drugs than any person in their right mind would take in the course of their entire lifetime—including something called Duck, of all things.
He hoped he was doing the right thing.
Fifteen minutes later as they were almost ready, he wasn't so sure. "You know, this probably makes us insane," he observed casually as he sat by the tank in nothing but his boxers, wires trailing from their various positions on his body.
Beside him, Olivia was similarly clad in nothing but her underwear and wires. As she rubbed absently at the pins in the back of her neck, she offered a shrug and a sly smirk in response. "'It's remarkable how similar the pattern of love is to the pattern of insanity,'" she quoted.
He laughed in surprise. "Aw, come on. Everyone knows the last two Matrix movies don't really exist—or at least they don't count. I know I always end it after the first one."
She grinned, tilting her head and leaning forward onto her bare arms to look at him. A group of hair slipped over her shoulder and out from behind her ear. "Oh, and I suppose there are only three Star Wars movies too?"
"Hardly a comparable situation," Peter replied, tenderly tucking the hair back in place and leaning in toward her, "but yes."
She laughed softly and leaned in toward him as well, but their smiles faded into seriousness as their eyes met. He let his hand linger on her face, tracing his thumb along her cheekbone as he studied her. His stomach felt frozen. He couldn't remember ever being more afraid of hurting someone he cared so much about. "You're sure?" he whispered, searching her face.
Her mouth curved upwards at the edges in a knowing smile. "Yeah. I am," she replied softly. Leaning in closer, she closed the gap between them and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, deepening it just long enough to unfreeze his stomach before pulling back. "And that's the last time you get to ask. I'm sure, Peter. I love you. It's gonna be fine."
"I know. I love you... And I'm all in," he reassured her unwaveringly. They held each other's gaze in comfortable silence, both knowing this felt right.
He smiled at her tenderly, just loving her in that moment. He still couldn't believe she was willing to do this for him. With certainty, he knew that she was the reason he was doing this—and if anything was ever worth it, it was her. Whatever doubts he had and whatever came next, they'd face it together. Because he loved her more than he'd ever thought possible.
He wondered if she had any idea how beautiful she was to him.
As Astrid came over with the drugs, he reluctantly dropped his hand from Olivia's face and smiled up at their friend. She returned the smile and prepped the first needle of LSD for Olivia. Walter walked over shortly after and did the same for Peter. Peter watched the needle piece his skin and the liquid slide into his veins with a certain degree of wariness. The effect was almost immediate, and he squinted up at Walter as the man injected the Duck as well.
"I told you," Walter said, pushing the last of the solution out of the syringe and removing it from Peter's arm as he stepped back. "It aaaaaaaalways comes back to the duck."
Peter's brow creased in confusion. Had his father always had a bill for a nose?
Astrid giggled at his confusion and helped them into the tank. The salt water sloshed around their bodies as she and Walter closed the heavy door, and he almost imagined he could feel the warmth Olivia always made him feel warming the cold water around them, charging it, but he was pretty sure that was just the drugs. As Walter counted them back from ten, telling they were on a descending escalator (wasn't that technically a contradiction?), Peter suddenly found himself in a yawning emptiness and he knew it had begun.
Walter studied the monitors tensely, waiting. The rhythmic blips of the heart monitors soothed his nerves slightly, a steady counter to the irregularity of his anxiety, but they weren't what he was waiting for. Five minutes passed, then ten… until finally, he grinned.
"The licorice please, dear," he whispered to Astrid, pointing energetically toward the jar on the counter.
She returned a moment later with the sugary red ropes and he patted her shoulder in relief. "Look how quickly their brain waves are synchronizing!" he said in delight, taking a bite of his candy with gusto. "Oh, yes, this is going to be good... I think it's almost time."
A room. Blurred out of focus before reforming.
"Olivia, listen to the sound of my voice. Can you hear me?"
A large room.
"Yes."
As the room came into focus, Olivia looked around it just long enough to conclude that it didn't look familiar… and that she was alone. She felt a sharp pang of uneasiness. Where was he? Had she lost him already? "Peter? Peter?"
"Olivia, stay calm. I want you to listen to me. In some time, the Cortexiphan will likely cause your mind to create an obstacle for you both to overcome as part of the bonding process. Be prepared for that. But first, you must find Peter. Your minds are almost in synch already… It should be fairly easy. Where are you?"
"I'm… in a house. I think."
"Good. Do you recognize it?"
"No." She studied it again. Carved wood panels lined the high walls, a carved wooden staircase curved just out of sight as she moved out of the room into a hall. Tapestries hung on the walls—elegant, not extravagant, but certainly expensive. European design? Suddenly, a bell rang and she heard what she thought was thunder until streams of children of various ages coursed around her. In the commotion, she couldn't quite make out their accents—certainly English, but it sounded foreign. "It's a school."
"And you don't know it?"
"No." Olivia frowned. "I can feel something…"
"What do you feel?"
She tried to name the feeling. The children scampered out of sight again and she continued her journey down the hall. The room at the end, something whispered. "Warm," she said at last. "I hear a piano."
"Good. Follow it."
But she was already halfway there. After a moment, she reached the room and peeked inside. The room was decorated in the same style as the rest of the building, but musical instruments were lined up against the wall—harps, the outlines of cases she assumed housed violins, and others whose shapes she couldn't guess at. In the corner was a grand piano, and at its head was Peter, plunking absently on the keys.
She smiled in relief and immediately relaxed. "I know that song," she said by way of greeting as she stepped into the room. She hummed along for a moment, wishing she knew the words. She almost did…
He looked up in surprise, an amazed grin lighting up his face. "Olivia Dunham. All this time, and you never told me you sang?"
He scootched over on the piano bench to make room for her, and she sat down next to him, placing a kiss on his cheek with a laugh. "I don't. But I'm a mean hummer."
He chuckled in reply before glancing around the room. "This… is weird."
"Yeah," she replied, fighting to stay focused despite the slight tilting feeling of acclimating to the dreamscape. "Where are we?"
Peter smiled and turned his gaze back to her. "This? This is a school I subbed at for a couple of months back in the day."
"You were a substitute music teacher at a private school in Europe?" she asked, impressed despite herself.
He laughed. "No. I taught math. But I would come to this room during lunch when no one else was around and play sometimes. It was… soothing." He hesitated, fingers continuing their pattern across the keys even as he grew silent. "It wasn't a very happy time in my life," he admitted after a moment.
She felt a flash of foreign sadness swell in her suddenly—pain dulled by the passage of time, but never fully healed. "You mother had just died a few months before. This was the first job you had to lie to get. You couldn't find anything else, and you were desperate."
The fingers stopped and his eyes darted to hers. "How did you…?"
"You were ashamed, afraid you had let her down somehow. She was always the one who wanted you to learn piano… So you'd come here and play. But it never made up for the guilt of the lie, so you left at the end of the school year, even though they wanted you to stay on."
Peter stared at her, eyes vulnerable and questioning. "Olivia…?"
She shook her head, just as confused as she knew he was as to how she knew. "I don't know."
Suddenly, the scene changed. A flash of light, emptiness, and suddenly it was a graveyard—painfully sunny. Inappropriately so, given the clump of black-clad mourners around one grave in particular. She looked closer. There was her great aunt Hannah, she realized in surprise. And her mother's friend Grace. And Rachel…
"Oh, God," she whispered. She knew where this was. Her eyes darted through the crowd until she spotted herself, her face gaunt and shadowed. Her younger self's eyes were focused and intense, scanning the surroundings of her mother's funeral with a ramrod straight back. Tense. Waiting.
"You thought he'd be there," Peter whispered beside her, staring at the scene with the same hollow eyes she felt on her own face. "You expected your step-father to show up, so you were watching for him. You hadn't slept the night before because Rachel had gotten drunk and you were taking care of her and worrying about him, so when you did spot him… you thought you were just going crazy." They watched a shadow of a man stand to watch the proceedings for a moment some distance away before he slunk over a hill and disappeared.
She turned her gaze to Peter, astonished. How was it possible that they could know that? She'd never told anyone, had practically forgotten herself, and she knew the same was true for Peter. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting when Walter had said "bonding," but it hadn't been this. His bewildered amazement intertwined with hers, the feel of him coursing through her mind and heart, but deeper still. She could feel him in the very core of her being… And somehow she sensed the process wasn't even complete yet. "This is supposed to happen, right?" she wondered in an unsteady voice, running a hand down his arm. "This… whatever this is?"
Peter frowned, expression troubled even as she felt his unnerved awe. He traced his fingers along her jaw as he tentatively probed whatever this bond was between them. "I don't know. Your guess is as good as—"
With an abrupt, jilting tilt, the scene changed again—but it was different this time.
Dark.
"—mine," he finished, staggering from the sudden shift. Taking in their new surroundings, he moved closer to her protectively and steadied her as she adjusted as well. "What the hell is going on?"
"I don't know," she answered in a whisper. A whisper seemed appropriate for this place. She knew this darkness. Something about the slanted tinge to it was familiar… and it made her stomach tense in fear. She felt Peter wrap comfort around the emotion like a blanket, and she gripped his hand. "Can you hear Walter?"
"No. Maybe we're in too deep."
She nodded and shivered slightly. It was cold. Bone-chillingly cold. As she watched, a drift of snow collected at their feet out of the darkness, blown by a driving wind that kicked up seemingly out of nowhere. Olivia winced. If this was their mind, couldn't they at least have coats? But there was nothing around, and she and Peter were wearing only a black long-sleeved shirts and slacks. They huddled together to keep warm as they studied the desolate scene around them. He put his arm around her and rubbed her arm absently to try to increase circulation to the freezing limb.
"And here I was hoping that winter was over," he teased, trying to lighten the suffocating mood of the empty dark and cold.
"D-damn Boston weather," she joked weakly in reply through chattering teeth. This must be the obstacle, she realized dimly—from the Cortexiphan, like Walter had said. She absently missed the temperate forest of her last obstacle. As terrifying as it had been, at least it had been warm.
Suddenly, she saw a flash of something out of the corner of her eye and she straightened. "Did you see that?"
"Yeah." Peter had stopped rubbing her arm, eyes focused in the direction where the movement had come from. The scene lightened slightly and they could see a shed of sorts through the driving snow. "I think he went in there!" Peter shouted to be heard above noise of the increasing wind. Snowflakes were clinging to the hint of a beard he held onto in order to hide the boyishness of his face, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he raised a hand to gently brush the flakes from her hair. "I think we're supposed to follow him!"
Olivia frowned. "Him?"
"I don't know. I just have a feeling."
She could feel it too, but the feeling was wispy and vague. The one thing she knew for certain was that whoever he was, they needed to find him. Together, they crept toward the shed. She wished for a moment that she had a gun, but a part of her answered that she wouldn't need it.
At last they reached the door, and Olivia slowly pushed it open. The shed was dusty, damp and dark, littered with various tools, a wheelbarrow, some boards. Shielded from the wind, it was eerily quiet. She turned to examine the corner behind the door before suddenly one of the boards launched at them, pushing them back out of the shed. As they fell back onto the snow, their quarry leapt around them and took off at a run.
She immediately jumped to her feet, helping Peter up, and the two took off after what she clearly recognized as the figure of a man. Peter had been right. Something about the figure was familiar though, she noted idly. But before she had a chance to think on it further, the scene had suddenly changed again.
It was summer. Raining. Her hair hung in limp clumps from her head as drops dripped into her face, into her eyes. She wiped them away and glanced at Peter, who was similarly drenched and glaring at their surroundings with unwavering focus.
"Where did he go?" he demanded tensely.
She shook her head and looked around. It was an alley, empty. The rain made a hollow pinging noise as it fell on some rusty gutter overhead, but Olivia could hear nothing else besides Peter catching his breath beside her. Suddenly, he grasped her arm. "Hey—hey, there he goes!" Taking her hand in his, he launched after the fleeing figure, pulling her with him, out of the alley and onto the deserted street. They ran until they saw the man turn a corner, out of sight.
When they reached the intersection where he'd disappeared, they paused. Wide eyed and panting slightly, she tried to calm the heart that was pounding from more than exertion. Urgency pumped through her body with every beat of her heart, and she somehow knew it beat in time with Peter's as they focused on their goal. They needed to find him! She didn't know how or why, but somehow everything depended on catching that man. Everything. But where was he? She swung her head around, searching, and wiped away a strand of hair that clung damply to her face.
"There!" she said at last. Not letting go of Peter's hand, she started running again. Within moments, they were gaining.
Twenty feet away.
Ten.
Five…
Another few moments and Peter was close enough to jump the man, tackling him forcefully, face down, onto the ground. "Why are you running from us?" he demanded, his fierce glare growing as the man struggled but remained silent. "Answer me! Who are you?"
But Olivia took a step back, trying to catch her breath. Something in her stomach was churning in dread, a whisper of something she wasn't sure she wanted confirmed. She knew who it was even before he flipped his captive over to reveal an all too familiar face.
It was Peter.
A look of horror and bewilderment spread across her Peter's face, and he shook his other self by the shirt, pinning him. His fury, confusion and fear washed over Olivia more tangibly than the rain. She fought to control her breathing as she tried to sort through the new wave of his emotions that pulsed desperately through her. "Why are you running?" he demanded again of his doppelganger, his glare pierced by uncertainty. I don't understand… she heard him think.
But the Peter on the ground shook his head. He was pale, discomfited. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. Taking a step closer, she read in his eyes how lost he felt, could almost feel it. As she looked back up at her Peter, she saw the lost expression mirrored on his face as well as he clearly realized what was going on. And as soon as he knew, she did too.
"I don't know who I am anymore," the man on the ground whispered. His eyes moved plaintively to hers. "Olivia…"
She watched in horror as the pinned Peter vanished.
A/N – Another cliffhanger?? Am I cruel? Perhaps. But it was too big for one chapter! What's a girl to do? If it's any consolation, I'll hopefully have the next chapter up this weekend, barring anything cataclysmic happening. Thanks for reading, and please feel free to review! : )