My Son, My Son

By Ldynwaitin

Chapter One

An old enemy

Peter Bishop stood in front of his bathroom mirror. He used his hand to wipe the steam that formed on the glass. Reaching for his toothbrush, he saw a tremor in his hand. Suddenly feeling lightheaded, he leaned on the sink for support. He stared at the mirror and tried to shake it off.

Feeling better he took his toothbrush and finished his morning routine.

Going down the stairs, as he reached the bottom he stopped. Looking around he realized this was not his home. At least not the one in Boston. He was in the lake house. He could hear a song playing from somewhere in the house. It sounded very familiar to him, something he heard as a boy. He slowly walked into the front room. Looking out the window, in the distance he could see a lake, Reiden lake. It was frozen over with ice.

Behind him, he heard Walter say, "I'm so sorry, son. I'm so very sorry."

Turning around, Peter saw Walter sitting on the couch. But it was a different Walter. He was younger, much younger. His face was smooth, there was just a hint of grey in his black hair.

Walter dug his face into his hands. "It was my fault," he sobbed. "My fault that you died."

"Walter," Peter said. He slowly walked up to him. He gently placed his hand on his shoulder. Raising his head, Walter looked up at him.

"I'm sorry, Peter. So sorry I lost it. I can't seem to find it."

"Lost what, Walter?"

Walter violently stood up. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he growled. "Why? It's because of me that you died, that you died twice. And now you're here, all grown up."

Walter touched Peter's face. "To see your eyes again. The eyes that stared at me, pleaded with me to save you as you floated away." Walter shook his head. "Not again, please god, not again. And it's my fault, it's all my fault."

Walter grabbed Peter by the shoulders. "You have to find it, Peter. I can't find it, it has to be you."

Peter flinched as Walter squeezed him tight. "Walter, you're hurting me."

Suddenly Walter began to grow larger. Peter realized that it wasn't Walter growing bigger, he was getting smaller. When Walter released him, he was nearly half his size.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I made a promise. You can't stay here. I have to take you back." Walter grabbed his arm, he began dragging him to the door.

"No, Walter," Peter cried. "Let me go." Peter fought the hold.

Walter violently shook him. "Make up your mind, boy!" he angrily spit out. "First you wanted to go back, now you don't." Walter opened the door and pulled him out of the house. They were standing on the frozen lake. Peter saw the dimension traveling machine that Walter built was activated. He could see ripples on the other side.

"I have to send you back, Peter. I never should have taken you. Never should have crossed over. You need to go back home so you can die. You were supposed to die there, not here. I'm so sorry I couldn't help you."

He began to pull Peter towards the portal. He madly sung, as he dragged him across the ice, "Have to do it, you're not my son, not their son. Not anyone's son."

"Walter, don't!" Peter shouted. Peter dug in his heels, but Walter was too strong for him.

Walter grabbed him by the arms, lifting him he looked into his eyes. "Listen to me," he whispered. "You have to find it, it's Peter's only hope."

Peter screamed as Walter threw him into the other side. Falling on the ice, Peter began to slide. Spinning around, he saw a large hole in the ice. His fingers dug in to slow him down, but it wasn't enough. He fell into the water.

He was cold, so bone chilling cold. He grasped the jagged edge of the ice. He struggled to climb out of the hole. Kicking his feet, he managed to get high enough out of the water to pull himself out. Sitting on the ice, he started shaking. He struggled to catch his breath. Looking into the wet ice, he saw his reflection. He blinked his eyes, a young boy was looking back at him. That young boy was him. He saw his eyes staring back at him. As he stared at the boy, he saw his face begin to change. His eyes remained the same as he grew older.

Peter found himself standing in front of his mirror. His hands were leaning on the sink, he was panting hard as he tried to catch his breath. He was in his bathroom, in his home on campus. The lightheadedness was starting to go away.

"Daymares?" he said out loud. "I haven't had them in years."

Shaking off the dream, he finished his morning routine and went downstairs. He smelled coffee brewing. He set the timer on his coffee machine last night. Going to the pot he was about to pour himself a cup but stopped. He didn't have an appetite for coffee this morning.

Feeling cold, he pulled on a sweater and his peacoat. He left his house and walked to Walter's lab.

Walter Bishop stood in front of his bedroom mirror. He saw an old man staring back at him. The younger man was long gone, but inside his need for knowledge was as unquenchable as when he first graduated from college. As a young man he never lost his excitement in facing a new day. That excitement was lost when his son died. Soon after that he was committed to St. Claire's. Seventeen years later, Agent Olivia Dunham freed him from the asylum. He found a new calling, investigating fringe events. But he never regained the excitement of his youth, something was missing in his life.

His heart skipped a beat when he heard, "Walter, are you awake yet?"

It was Peter. Not his Peter, but a Peter that seemed to have ignited something inside of him that was extinguished so long ago.

Adjusting his shirt collar, he happily grinned. He quickly left his room. He saw Peter standing near a clear glass marker board.

"Peter, you're early," Walter said.

Peter began cleaning off the board. "Yes, I couldn't sleep."

Walter noticed that he wasn't holding something that was always present almost every time he saw him. He didn't have a cup of coffee.

Walter hurried to Peter. "You do look a bit somnolent. Are you feeling all right? Did you eat breakfast? I can make you an omelet."

Peter widely grinned, "You don't need to make me any breakfast, Walter. I'm, okay. I've just been feeling a little tired lately."

Walter saw a hint of a dark shadow under his eyes. "I noticed yesterday that you seemed out of sorts. Are you sure you're all right?"

Peter touched his shoulder. Lately when Peter touched him, he felt a calmness in his mind. "Walter, I'm okay. Now let's get the lab ready. We have no idea what may come through that door today."

Walter rubbed his hands in glee. "Yes, the anticipation of a new day always arouses me." Walter saw Peter's head tilt with a quizzical smile. "In…in a scientific way."

"Of course, Walter."

As they worked on organizing the lab, Walter noticed that Peter was still wearing his coat.

"Are you cold, Peter?"

Peter didn't realize he still had his peacoat on. He quickly took it off and hung it up. "I guess I forgot to take it off."

Finished organizing the lab, the rest of the morning they spent dissecting the porcupine man. Walter was fascinated with it.

Noticing an incision on the creature's head, Peter lifted a flap of skin. A part of the skull was missing. Looking inside he saw the brain was gone.

"Walter, what happened to his brain?"

Walter seemed uneasy, "I'm sorry, Peter. I…I don't remember what happened to it."

"You mean you misplaced the brain of a mutated porcupine man?"

"Yes, it appears that I have."

"I just hope you're not having it for supper tonight. Because that would be gross." Peter chuckled when he heard Walter mumble, "The last one was quite delicious."

"You're getting more and more like my Walter."

Walter shyly smiled, "Really? Thank you, Peter." He looked at his watch, "Where is Astrid, she is very late. It's nearly noon."

"Walter, if you recall, she had a dentist appointment this morning, she'll be here after lunch." Peter pulled a cloth sheet to cover the cadaver's body. His other hand grasped the table as he felt another dizzy spell come on.

"Peter," Walter said. "Are you all right? Your skin appears to be pallid."

"I'm okay, Walter. Just a little lightheaded. Guess I should have let you make that omelet you offered me this morning."

Walter saw him suddenly start shaking. "Peter, what's wrong?"

Peter shook his head, "I don't know why, but lately I can't get warm enough."

Walter touched his forehead, "You do feel hot. Sit down." He led him to a rolling chair.

Peter never felt so cold, he couldn't stop shaking. Closing his eyes, he tried to stop it. He opened them when he felt Walter press something into his ear. He saw him holding an ear thermometer. Hearing a beep, Walter pulled it out. Peter saw Walters eyes grow wide with alarm when he saw the reading.

"Peter, your temperature is 102." He looked into his eyes. "Have you noticed any unusual symptoms lately?"

"Nothing bad. Just cold, and lightheaded. I didn't think it was anything serious."

Walter began to look worried. "Peter, did you feel anything else? Your bones, how do they feel? Do they ache?"

Peter laughed. "My bones? My bones are fine, Walter. How are yours?"

Walter reached out and squeezed his shoulder. Peter immediately flinched. "Tender," Walter whispered. "I'll have to take some tests. I need to take tests to determine if anything is wrong."

Peter would have argued with him, but the coldness he felt made him realize that something was not right.

Walter heard the door to his lab open. He saw Astrid Farnsworth walking in. "Alpo!" He shouted. "Don't come in."

"Walter," Astrid said. "What's wrong?"

"Peter is ill. I have no idea if what he has may be contagious. I need to perform some blood tests. Until I can conclude what is wrong, consider the lab quarantined."

"Whoa, Walter," Peter said. "Let's not go overboard. I'm not that sick."

"Please, Peter. I just want to take precautions until we know for sure."

"But what about you, Walter?" Astrid asked.

"If he does have an infectious disease, then it is too late for me. Make sure no one comes in until the tests are completed."

"Yes, Walter. Peter," she shouted. "I hope it's not serious."

"You and me both," Peter said. "Honestly, Walter. Don't you think you're taking this too far? It was just a dizzy spell."

"I pray that's all it was," Walter whispered. "Now roll up your sleeve, I want to take some blood samples." Peter reluctantly rolled up his sleeve as Walter fetched a syringe. Cleaning Peter's arm with an alcohol wipe, he felt for a vein. Peter saw his hand's shaking. He touched him to steady them.

"Walter, really, it's not that serous."

Walter nodded his head. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed the needle into Peter's vein. Filling the syringe with Peter's blood, he pulled the needle out.

Peter watched Walter rush to his Hematology analyzer. He placed some of his blood inside the machine. Peter wondered why he also put some in a mass spectrometer. That analyzed genetics. Both machines hummed to life as they analyzed his blood.

"I'm sure it will be nothing," Walter said.

Peter could hear the shakiness in his voice. "It's probably something I ate. I had some old chicken the other day."

"Yes," Walter said with a grin. "Old takeout food is the hidden enemy of many a bachelor."

Walter stared at the analyzers. He made sure they were programed to look for anything unusual. Thirty minutes later Walter started getting readings from the mass spectrometer first.

Peter got up, walking to the spectrometer, he saw the results.

"The read out," Peter said. "Is that what I think it is?" Walter mutely nodded his head. "How did you know?"

"I suspected," Walter said. "I programed the machine to specifically look for it, but the machine could be wrong." He looked up at him. His brows were knit with concern. "Peter, it has to be wrong."

Peter heavily sighed. "Walter, the readings are there. The machine doesn't lie."

Walter rechecked the findings. The readings on the machine showed Walter something that he hadn't seen in over twenty years.

"Astrid," Peter shouted. "Quarantine is lifted, you can come in now."

Peter went back to the chair, sitting down he saw Astrid rushing into the lab.

"So, you're not contagious?" she asked him.

"No," Peter said. "What I have is not contagious."

She thought he did look pale. "Peter, what is wrong with you?"

Peter uneasily grinned. "I have something very rare."

"It's a genetic disease," Walter said. His voice had no emotion to it. "It is what killed my Peter."

"Yes," Peter said. "And it seems that I have it, again."

"But how is that possible?" Astrid said. "I thought the Walter of your timeline cured you."

Peter tried to reason how he could have the disease again. His memory of when he almost died was always sketchy. But he did have an impression of laying in Walter's lab as a boy. He always thought it was a dream. He never realized that it actually happened. But he was cured, so why did he have it again? Then it dawned on him.

"Walter," Peter said. "In my timeline you cured me."

"I must have, or you would have died when you were a boy."

"But I was erased."

"Yes, but as you have stated many times, you came back."

"But how much of me came back? I just appeared in that lake. I have the same body, scars, the same memories. But what if the disease came back with me?"

Walter began to nervously pace. "We never solved how you appeared in the lake. I never thought, never assumed that this form, this body may not have come back with everything intact."

Walter spun around, he checked the hematology machine for other readings. Several minutes later, he said, "Peter, you're right."

He turned around to face him. "The formula you said I gave you, there is nothing in your blood to indicate that you were even given the formula."

Peter's eyes moved in a calculating manner. "So, when I returned, something came back with me. The genetic disease was never cured, it still exists inside of me." Looking up he said, "And it still has the potential to kill me."

~~~~~ Fibonacci Seahorse, Left dot~~~~~