I wrote this story several years ago as a practice script. I liked the concept and decided to resurrect it as a fanfic. An interesting process, converting a script to a fleshed out story.


The SUV slid out of the late traffic and up to the curb, which was already occupied by a variety of official vehicles, cop cars and an ambulance. Peter, in the passenger seat watched the flashing lights splashing color all over the wet pavement. The area in front of the steel and glass building was cordoned off. It was too cold and raining too hard for much a crowd but there were still a few people trying to get somewhere and finding the cops and tape an inconvenience.

Olivia put the car into park and reached for the door.

"Starlight Industries," Peter said reading the gold leaf letters spread across the front of the facade. From the exterior it said money and power. "Broyles, say what this is about?"

She shook her head and gave him a tight smile. "Not much." She said. "Just some kind of a disturbance."

Her face was pretty in the dim light of the cab. It was pretty anywhere.

Peter returned the smile. "Broyles. cryptic as ever."

Walter fidgeted in the back seat, fussing with the door handle. "What are we waiting for? The fun is inside."

"Fun," Peter said getting out and opening the door for his father. "That is the one thing we never seem to find. Disturbing, creepy, even puke your guts out disgusting. But never fun."

Walter put a hand on his arm. "It's all a matter of perspective, son."

Then eager as a kid going to a candy store he climbed out and headed for the building.

Inside was big and bright. All white and gold, screaming of too much money and not enough taste to rein it in. His eyes fell on the star attraction. A young woman standing in the middle of the room with her hands cuffed behind her back. An FBI agent stood at her side while a paramedic shown a flashlight in her eyes. This was the "it" girl. The reason he'd been pulled out of his warm bed. So far neither disturbing nor disgusting. Already the evening was showing more promise than he'd hoped for.

As they approached, Peter, scanned the scene with a practiced eye. Across the room someone had decided to make a jungle out of potted ferns just to fill up space. A man was huddled under one of these ferns. The other medic was trying to take his blood pressure while he rocked and stared hard at nothing. The uniform he wore pegged him for building security and oddly he was the only one in evidence. A breach like this should have them swarming. Beyond him a small group of office workers stood, herded into a corner of the lobby like sheep. Plenty of feds in FBI wind breakers milled around. But he couldn't pick out anyone who looked to be in charge of the place. No perturbed exec demanding to know how fast they could all be out of his hair, no head of security fussing about getting his toes stepped on. Anyone with any kind of authority was as absent as building security. It felt like a stage with nothing but a handful of extras who looked like they'd rather lose at strip poker than spend another minute here.

Broyles appeared, tall and angular, from some hidden corner and fell into stride, surprising them. The man was a ghost.

Olivia gave him a nod of greeting. "What do we have?"

"At a proximately elven PM this woman," He indicated the young woman in the cuffs. "came into the building. According to witnesses she appeared disorientated. When the security guard tried to question her, witnesses say he became frightened," Broyles motioned towards the jungle. "and crawled over there."

"What scared him?" Olivia asked.

"From what little we've been able to ascertain, he can't remember," Broyles said. "In fact it appears he has lost his memory, both of the event as well as his own past."

Walter was suddenly keen. "He has amnesia? Did he receive some kind of physical trauma?"

They stopped just short of the center of things to have a stare. The cuffed woman didn't seem to mind. In fact if she knew they were there at all it wasn't showing.

"Who is she," Peter asked.

Broyles shook his head."No ID and as you can see she isn't talking."

Perter studied her. She was in her twenties. Slender build. Attractive, vacant face. Dark, mid length hair, wet from the rain. Dressed in jeans and a white shirt. No shoes, no coat. She'd been out in the weather long enough to get soaked through.

It was almost unnerving to watch her. She stood perfectly still, seeming unaware of the activity around her, much less the agent or the paramedic, who was still busy with his exam. It was as if she were somehow removed from scene. Leaving only a hollow shell. Her head was turned slightly. He followed her gaze. It rested on the security guard. He was in the fetal position, his face drawn in nameless terror. His lips quivered, soundlessly. The guard, like the young woman, was oblivious to time and place.

"We have security footage of the incident." Broyles said.

Probably be a real eye opener. Nothing here was making anything like sense.

"I'd like to see it." Olivia said.

"If you will come with me."

Walter never one to concern himself with the appearance of rudeness, pulled away from the group and dashed up to the woman. He put his hands on the her face and peeled one of her eye lids back. The fed almost jumped at him but a quick look from Broyles set him back on his heels like an obedient dog.

"This is Dr. Walter Bishop," Broyles said. "He's with us."

"What are her vitals?" This from Walter.

The paramedic shrugged. "Everything checks out normal. But she's unresponsive. Appears to be in a catatonic state."

"I can see that." Walter snapped irritably.

He prodded her eye again, using a flashlight as the medic had. "Pupils fixed and dilated. Perhaps drug induced." Nothing in her face changed. It was as if she were carved of wax.

Broyles and Olivia moved on. Peter hesitated, torn between watching over his father and satisfying his curiosity.

"Dad, you going to be alright here?"

"Yes, yes, son. Of course." Was the curt reply.

The security office had the feel of a lot of important things that needed watching. One entire wall was a bank of monitors showing endless hallways and rooms. Most of the doors sported key-less entry. It took clearance to get anywhere near them. And even more to gain access. A building of secrets. And yet security in the lobby was a solitary middle aged man. Something was stinky at Starlight Industries. For now Peter let the thought chew at him silently.

Whatever security normally manned the room had been replaced by feds and techs. The main monitor now replayed video from a few hours ago. The camera gave a wide high angle of the lobby. They watched as the young woman came through the main doors. Her manner was that of someone being chased. Barefoot and wet she instantly drew the attention of the guard. He tried to intercept and she dodged away, but too slow. He caught her by the shoulder. The screen flashed white obscuring the image. And then it was back. The woman was frozen. The guard seemed to collapse before her. He crawled away to his place under the potted fern and curled up into himself. And the woman stood, looking over at him.

"What just happened?" Olivia asked.

"Tech people are working on it." Broyles said. "It appears to be an energy burst that momentarily overloads the camera."

"More importantly, what happened to him?" Peter said. The eery, silent interplay flickered on the screen, no more understandable now than it had been when they first walked in.

When Peter and Olivia returned to the lobby the young woman was still a statue, staring at a frightened man. The Fed and the medic looked like they wanted to be elsewhere. Only Walter appeared fascinated with what to the uneducated eye, was akin to watching paint dry.

The paramedic said unhappily. "I would like to get these people to a hospital."

Olivia raised a hand to stop him. "We'll handle the transportation." She said.

"Right, then. I'll leave you to it." And he did choosing to stand by the fern jungle and confer with his college.

"Walter." Perter asked. "Is any of this making sense to you?"

"The young lady is fixating."

"Fixating?

"Yes, fixating." Walter said and slapped the woman sharply across the face.

"Walter!" Peter grabbed for his father's arm but wasn't close enough to stop a second blow, which moved the woman's head a quarter of an inch.

Perter got a hold of his arm and pulled him back. "What the hell are you doing?"

Then like stone coming to life the woman blinked, her eyes focused on them as sudden awareness flooded her face with fear.

Under the fern the guard jerked, like a man waking from dream. He climbed to his feet as if seeing the scene for the first time. "When the did all this happen?" He yelped.

"Now that is interesting," Walter said almost to himself.

Nothing was ever what it seamed with Walter. Peter let go of his arm and smoothed his coat in a way of an apology.

"Walter, do you know what this is?" Olivia asked.

"Yes. Well, that is, I may."

"I will of course need to..." Walter began.

"No," The woman said suddenly, cutting him off. It startled them all, like hearing furniture speak.

She focused her attention on Walter. "I'd rather not go back to the lab. Brain scans and psychotropic drugs aren't really my thing."

That was more than a causal guess. "It's almost like she knows you, Walter. Any chance she's one of your former subjects?" Peter asked.

"No, I don't believe so." He fell to humming, it meant the wheels were turning. "No, sorry," He said and smiled. "I do believe I would remember someone so charming.."

"He doesn't know me and I don't want to know him." Her tone was cold, biting.

Walter wilted a little under it. Peter put a hand on his shoulder. "Alright, let's play nice."

The woman flicked her glance causally at the FBI agent still standing obediently at her side. Without a word he reached behind her for her cuffed wrist, key in hand. Olivia stopped him.

"Wait. Leave those." she said smiling. "I'll see that you get them back."

"Sorry, mam." He gave himself a little shake. "I'm not sure what I was thinking."

"It's alright. We'll take it from here." Olivia said reassuringly.

He went away, glad to be getting distance from the strangeness of this situation. Peter watched him go. Something significant had just happened. He looked back at the cuffed woman. She appeared small and frightened. And yet somehow she felt dangerous.

"Are you arresting me?" This from the woman, directed at Olivia, who was now someone of interest in her world.

"We have some questions to ask you about what happened here." Olivia's voice had a reassuring tone. Offering comfort. "You need to come with us for a while."

"I don't know where here is." Her voice quivered, almost pleading. She seemed to shrink, becoming truly vulnerable. Perhaps for the first time "I don't know what happened."

"Then maybe we could start with your name." Olivia spoke gently, like someone trying to coax a kitten out of a drain pipe.

The woman closed her eyes. Her brow furrowed as if in thought.

"You can't remember." Walter chimed in suddenly.

She glared at him. "No, I can't."

"She has amnesia." He added triumphantly.

"That doesn't make me a candidate for lab rat of the week."

"I have to say." Peter said. "It definitely sounds like she knows you."

"Walter, are you certain she isn't from the trials." Olivia asked.

Walter shook his head under the weight of the unhappy memory. "No, my dear, she isn't one of mine." Then he brightened, switching moods with uncanny ease. "There is of course a more logical explication. The young lady is simply reading my mind."