This chapter has some quasi-adult themes.
As always, I made all the science up. Don't fault me for it.
ACT III
-FEDERAL BUILDING, BOSTON-
Peter was sitting in Broyles office, waiting for him to return from a meeting. When he'd called to argue about the dangers of the present case, Broyles had said to come in for a meeting.
After about twenty minutes of waiting in a chair in the corner of the room, Broyles entered, and placed several folders on his desk.
"Peter, we need to talk." Broyles leaned up against his desk.
"Yes, yes we do," Peter said sternly. "Olivia's been kidnapped before, because of the cortexiphan in her system. I think it's best if she stays on desk duty for the rest of this case. Have someone else do the field work."
"Peter I understand your concerns. But Olivia has proved time and time again that she can handle herself. And you've never shown this much apprehension about her and a case." He paused, looking at Peter, who was flipping his coin through his fingers. His nervous tick.
"I know, Broyles. But I'm tired of seeing her at risk, especially because of what my father did to her. I just," he paused, looking for the words. "I'm trying to make up to her the harm my father caused."
"What your father did to her, that was not your fault."
Broyles and Peter stared at each other for a minute, sternness growing in both pairs of eyes.
Later that evening, Olivia was in her apartment, trying on clothes. In the middle of a case, this would normally be strange and inappropriate. But it was part of Lincoln's plan. She would draw out Webster, acting as his bait.
She settled on a slim black dress, fitting her curves tightly, flowing slightly as she walked, fluttering above her knees. She was applying lipstick when Peter came from in from the other room. He looked agitated.
"You know I've got some whiskey in the cabinet…" she teased, rubbing her lips together and pouting in the mirror.
"Funny," Peter said. He leaned against the wall, watching his girlfriend essentially get ready for a date with another man. "How did Lincoln come up with this plan again?"
"Look, Peter," Olivia said, turning from her mirror and facing him. "I know it's not the ideal situation, but if Webster is really after me, and he knows where I live, if he sees me leave the apartment building, he'll follow me to the bar, and we can apprehend him in the act. The bar that Petroski was last seen at is less than five miles from my house. If he's looking, he'll find me."
"I know, I understand the plan. I just wish Broyles would have let me into the bar, too."
"You're not technically FBI. He couldn't get authorization for you to be undercover this time. You'll be in the van with Walter and Broyles. Watching, the entire time."
"Oh, great. I get to watch my girlfriend get hit on by other men. My favorite."
Olivia rolled her eyes and grabbed her keys, stuffing them into a small clutch purse, and adjusting the handgun that was strapped to her leg underneath the dress.
"I just don't like the idea of using you as bait to draw out this guy."
She kissed Peter as she walked to the front door, adjusting the brooch on her dress that housed the hidden camera.
"Remember, wait a bit before you leave so Webster doesn't think I'm with you. It works better that way."
The bar was crowded already, when Olivia entered. She noticed the military feel of it immediately, the crew cuts and clean-shaven men spread throughout the bar. She scanned the bar to see if she could recognize Webster from the driver's license photo that was attached to his file, but she couldn't. She noticed Lee sitting at a table in the corner, clad in dark wash jeans and a black button down shirt.
Nervously, Olivia walked up to the bar and slid onto the stool. She placed her clutch on the bar, and drummed her fingers along it gently. Without having waited a full minute, the bar tender approached her, smiling.
"What can I get for you?" He asked, staring into her pale blue eyes.
At that moment, a man slid into the stool beside her, staring at her with dark eyes.
"I'll have what the lady's having," he said, a twinkle behind his glasses. "And put them both on my tab."
"The lady hasn't ordered," the bartender said, still smiling.
"Scotch. Make it a double." She turned to the man, running a hand through her blonde hair. "Thank you, but I'm actually, ah, waiting for someone."
The bartender handed them their drinks and the man laughed a breathy laugh.
"Of course you are," he said. He placed his hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently. "I'll always buy a beautiful woman a drink, though."
Olivia nodded in thanks as the man walked away.
He continued to the far side of the bar, his eye still on Olivia.
He raised his hand to his mouth and whispered the words, "it's been applied. Test four has begun."
In a black van parked not too far from the bar, Peter knocked on the window and Broyles let him in. Walter was already there, watching a tiny computer screen contentedly.
"Lee's in the back of the bar, watching. Olivia just sat down. We're waiting to see if Webster will make contact. Lee spotted him at the bar earlier, but he left just before Olivia arrived."
"Why couldn't Lee just apprehend him then?"
"Peter you know as well as I do we need evidence to support Walter's theory, other than the identifying device. For all the court system knows, that things is a personal radio antennae."
Peter slouched down in the corner and watched the screen, which showed both the security camera from the bar, and the camera Olivia wore. A tall man with dark hair was talking to Olivia. He watched the screen that showed camera attached to Olivia's dress. It showed a man's suit jacket, his lapel neatly pressed. Peter's insides churned in anger. They were too close. He felt relief when the man walked away, the patch of fabric on the screen disappearing, fading to a bar scene.
Olivia had encountered very strange things during her time as a Fringe agent, but nothing that would prepare her for what happened in that bar.
All of a sudden, several men approached her.
"You know, I don't usually do this," one of the men began, "but you're just so beautiful. Want to get out of here?"
"Sorry sir, I'm here with —" Olivia began, but before she could really finish, the man who offered to buy her a drink interrupted.
"Yeah man, she's not interested. Back off."
"I think the lady can speak for herself," he countered, shoving the man a bit.
"Fuck off." He shoved back. "I was going to actually buy the lady another round."
"Like hell you were."
Before Olivia really knew what was happening, punches were being thrown, and the men started to fight, blow by blow, back and forth and were soon tossling on the ground
"What the hell?" Olivia said more confused than she'd ever been in her life. She yelled for them to knock it off, and attempted to pull one of them off the floor. She noticed Lee approaching at a trot from the back of the bar, and in the moment her attention was elsewhere, she was flung back into the bar. She stumbled, but luckily only her wrist had made contact with the hard wooden counter.
Instead of pulling the men apart, when Lee approached, he had a strange look in his eyes. "Agent Dunham, are you okay?"
Before she could answer, she felt his arms encircle her, one around her waist and the other behind her head. He pulled her in and began to kiss her.
When she pulled her head away, much to Lee's dislike, the first thing she saw was a strong fist soar past her, hitting Lee square in the cheek, knocking him down.
"Peter!" Olivia yelled, as she realized who the fist belonged to. "What the hell is going on!"
She stood between Peter and Lee, who were advancing towards each other. She pushed him backward several steps, out of the fray, but the anger in his eyes flared uncontrollably.
Broyles and several other agents flashed past them, raising their IDs and shouting.
"FBI! Break it up, break it up," Broyles yelled as he pulled two of the wrestling men to their feet. "We're looking for a man named Jeremy Webster. Is anyone in this bar acquainted with him?"
But the man who had purchased Olivia's first drink was already out the door, discreetly talking on his cell phone.
Olivia pulled Peter outside the bar, away from the fray. She lead him by the hand forcefully until they were on the opposite side of the street.
"What is the matter with you?" Olivia yelled, looking flustered, angry and mystified.
"I have no idea!" Peter countered. "I walked in because the fight started, and then I saw Lee—"
He couldn't finish the sentence, as the thought of Lee kissing her brought a rush of anger back to him. He stepped back from Olivia, huffing with rage, and ran his hands through his hair as he tried to calm himself.
"Peter! Peter!" Came a cry from down the street. Olivia and Peter looked to see Walter running clumsily from the FBI van. "Peter! It's the testosterone!"
"What?" Peter and Olivia said in unison.
"Olivia's been dosed! I don't know how quite yet but these are classic symptoms of excessive testosterone! The drug that Webster has been working on, it has reacted with the cortexiphan in Olivia's system and enhanced her pheromones. Any men who were at all attracted to her before she was dosed would feel the effects of her increased pheromones. The competition for Olivia in the bar and the increased testosterone caused the fight. I'm almost sure of it."
"Walter, I haven't been dosed with anything. No one's given me anything." Olivia crossed her arms in frustration and looked over at Peter. He was still livid with anger.
"If I am correct," Walter began. "There is going to be something on your shoulder. Where the man touched you."
"What?" Olivia said, immediately flicking her neck to look at her shoulder.
Barely visible on Olivia's freckled skin was a clear patch, looking like a circular piece of see-through tape. Peter and Olivia looked at each other once more, and he slowly extended his arm to remove the patch from her shoulder.
"Like a nicotine patch, or even birth control," Walter said, taking the small patch from Peter and putting it in a petri dish that he pulled from his pocket. "I imagine it has hormones on it that Webster was able to cultivate from the previous victims."
There was a pause as the three took in the information, Olivia breathing heavily, Peter still coming down from his rage.
"Peter, I imagine the hormones might take an hour or two to leave her system. You might want to go home and take a cold shower or something."
Peter shot a look at his father, rolling his eyes in sheer disbelief.
A/N: Please review!