Author's Note: Here there be spoilers for earlier episodes. Nothing overly specific, just mentions. And thank you for the reviews!
Disclaimer: Unsurprisingly, I did not buy them overnight.
Chapter One
Dreams that do come true can be as unsettling as those that don't.
--Brett Butler
Peter prides himself on having a keen sense of observation. It was a necessary skill in his previous line of work, and it certainly isn't hurting him now.
Even his father might notice, however, that Olivia Dunham is pretty far off her game. She fell asleep nearly immediately upon take-off, and hadn't woken up until the plane touched down. Then there are the glassy eyes, the way her attention keeps wandering where normally it's unflinchingly on point, and of course the handful of pills she'd downed upon waking. But his sense of observation is telling him not to mention any of it for fear that she'll shut down and shut him out.
"So what are we doing here?" Peter asks, keeping his tone light.
"Didn't you read the file on the flight over?" Olivia snaps.
"I didn't get a file," he says as gently as possible. Her shoulders slump, but she doesn't apologize. "And I didn't mean Wichita in general; I meant at this school in particular."
"Closest school near the pay phone; good place to start," she says, rubbing her forehead and then straightening up. "Closest that agreed to let us talk to students off the record. Broyles did some quick talking."
They have a comically short meeting with the principal, who clearly wants them gone as soon as possible. They case the area and start in the cafeteria, and Peter's just glad Walter isn't here. He can just see his father accosting some unsuspecting student and demanding to know if they can see the future. Then again, at least they'd be going somewhere; Olivia is currently staring into space. "Olivia? Hey, you ready?"
"Huh?" she murmurs. Her cheeks are flushed, even with her make-up. He puts a hand on her shoulder, and she snaps back to reality. "Right. Sorry."
So he finds his way to the faculty lounge and charms his way into getting some coffee, which he brings to Olivia to sustain her while she moves through the students. Even off her game she's friendly and persuasive, and in no time at all, her line of questioning points to a red-haired freshman who's not only sitting alone, but has a wide circle of space around her.
"Seirian Williams?" The girl looks up at Olivia, who holds out her badge. "I'm Special Agent Olivia Dunham of the FBI. Is there somewhere we can speak in private?"
"Look around. Anywhere I'm sitting is private." Peter snorts.
"Somewhere enclosed, then?" Olivia asks, not amused. A few minutes later, Seirian has led them to an empty classroom, and they all take seats in annoyingly small chairs. "So, Seirian—"
"Sian's fine," the girl interrupts.
"Sian," Olivia says, smiling disarmingly. "Please, call me Olivia, and this is Peter."
"Olivia," the girl says. "Are high school freshman on your most wanted list?"
"No, but the terrorist we caught with your help was."
"I didn't do it."
"We asked around school," Olivia says gently. "A lot of people pointed to you as someone to think of if something strange is going on."
Sian bites her lip and sighs, sinking down in her teeny chair. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"About what?"
"How I knew where he was gonna be." The girl scowls. "I didn't think I'd have to. So much for anonymous tip lines." Peter snorts again.
"I'm sorry about that, but it's important that we understand how you know. Lives could depend on it," Olivia says seriously.
Sian looks down. "You'll think I'm crazy."
Olivia smiles, a bitter smile to Peter's observant eyes. "I've seen stranger things, Sian. A man who could produce electricity with his body, a disease that turns skin clear, a man who could tune into the thoughts of certain people. I promise, whatever you tell me, I won't think you're crazy at all."
Sian's face is serious, as if she's considering telling them. But the bell rings, and she jumps up. "I have to go pick up my brothers and sisters." She pauses. "You guys can come and we can talk at the park near my house."
They follow the girl to the nearby elementary school to find a gaggle of redheaded boys obviously waiting for Sian. "Awwww, I thought Yan was picking us up today," one of the older ones complains as the baby of the group clings to Sian's leg.
"Yan's got football practice, so you lot are stuck with me," Sian says with a fond smile, then turns to the two of them. "Boys, these are Olivia and Peter. Olivia and Peter, these are Dai, Aled, Hugh, and this one here is little Rhys. Where's Bronwen?"
"She went with Carys to the shop. Can't we go meet them, Sian?" the one she'd identified as Aled begged.
"When you're ten and not before, lads," Sian says, picking up little Rhys and putting him on her shoulders as they walk home, shouting and shoving at each other like the little boys they are. Olivia follows like a zombie and Peter stays near her, worried she'll wander into the street.
They end up at a house far too small for the number of kids with them currently, much less the mentioned other three. It's well-kept, though, and they're greeted at the door by a red-haired woman who smiles wryly and takes her youngest son.
"Oi, shoes off, boys!" she calls, her accent decidedly Welsh. "Carys and Bronwen escape again?"
"I don't blame 'em, Mum," says Sian. "The way this lot screams, it's a wonder they haven't lost their voices. Maybe someday, if we're lucky."
The woman laughs, then frowns at the two interlopers. Peter nudges Olivia just in time for her to hear, "Who's this you've brought home, then?"
"Mrs. Williams, I'm Special Agent Olivia Dunham of the FBI and this is my associate, Peter Bishop. We were hoping we might be able to speak with your daughter."
"They're here about the dreams, Mum," Sian says softly. "We're just going down to the park."
"All right," Mrs. Williams agrees hesitantly. "But mind you're home for dinner."
Author's Note: So I'm a big fan of Torchwood and Wales...all the names in this chapter are Welsh, including Seirian and Sian (which is actually the Welsh form of Janet)