Chapter two.

"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.

"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.

"You must be," said the Cat, "Or you wouldn't have come here."

He was in the doghouse again. And the fact of this was only accented by the fact that Rufus had chewed up his toothbrush. He sighed and left it were he had found it, under the bathroom sink.

Walter turned on the tap and bent down to wash his face in the running basin, a very faint stubble accenting the lather of the soap bar. He brushed his hair back and away from his face with his fingertips, moist curls collecting now and again against the front of his ears as he groped for the hand towel, drawing it in to dry his chin. He gave another sigh as he took in his own reflection in the mirror, dark circles of sleeplessness around his eyes and the lines of restlessness and turbulent thoughts apparent. He raised a finger to touch his bottom eyelid, pulling it down to more closely examine his reddened vision.

A sound made him look up from his observations, and he blinked slowly at Elizabeth, whom watched him from the bathroom doorway. He was careful not to drop his gaze too quickly, when their eyes met, and she was the first to look away, perhaps in disgust.

Walter dried his neck and doffed the towel onto the lip of the sink, idly patting his tee-shirt flat as he passed her on his way out, shutting off the lights. He was stopped as she gripped his sleeve, "Walter."

He waited.

"I want to make this work."

He turned his head toward her, as she raised a hand to touch his cheek, her fingers cold. Her eyes were already starting to glisten, her mask of cold disapproval crumbling away, "I think we can work through this."

Walter shut his eyes, brows knitting.

"I know that you're sorry. That's the only reason… Peter deserves a family, Walter. And if I have to change something, if we have to change something… darling, I love you, and I know you didn't mean it…"

Walter turned to wrap her in his arms, and she sobbed into his chest, her tiny shoulders quaking. Of course he hadn't meant to sleep with another woman. Or, perhaps he had. Sometimes he was ashamed of what he did, and the harm it caused Elizabeth. But he was also ashamed of secretly wishing she would leave him.

"I'm sorry, love," Walter said quietly, and it was the truth, "I didn't mean for this to happen. Anything like this."

"Say it won't happen again. Even if it's a lie, please just say it."

He kissed the top of her head, her dark, wiry curls like stitches on his lips, "Never again, darling."

xXx

Walter took his time putting away the equipment and gathering his things. The lab around him was empty and silent, the shapes of gurneys and electrical devices shrouded in white dust covers, the only things faintly visible in the grey light of twilight outside the high windows. He had already shut off the overhead lamps, the only artificial light cast by his desk lamp shining off of white file pages.

He was waiting, he knew in vain- William had said he would arrive that morning to visit. But even now, Walter watched for his friend's silhouette outside the fogged glass of the office door. He sighed, shook his head, and retuned to buckling his book bag shut, reaching across the des for the light switch.

"You're still here?" William Bell questioned, making him look up. He wore and apologetic grin, his hands tucked into his pockets, "sorry, I know I should have called. You wouldn't belive how much liquor I had to pump into those idiots for only a scrap of funding."

"It's alright. I didn't want to go home much anyways."

William raised his brows, "Elizabeth…?"

Walter nodded quietly, returning his bag to the desktop.

"Ah."

"Do you want to go out for a drink? Or no? You did just get back from a bar, I guess you'd be fed up with them. I've got some scotch, let's hit the sofa."

Walter and William joked about freezing their scotch with nitrogen, spoke on a new theory about hybrid animals, and smoked a few cigars. It was quite suddenly that they found nothing further to talk about. They sat in the silence and the smoke for a few minutes.

"Isn't it weird, how terrible things really are?" Walter suddenly questioned.

William looked at him, "What do you mean?"

Walter shook his head, "It's a bit hard to explain. Short of the fact that I just cheated on my wife and am sitting here, still married, no harm, no foul. It's terrible."

"Walter, we've all got weaknesses-"

"You know what I'm talking about. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Things never happen to the right people, didn't you ever notice?"

"I think so," William replied, his thumb straying along the lip of his glass, "but that's just the way things are, sometimes-"

"Not sometimes," Walter cut in sharply, "all the time. Bad things happen to good people, and vice versa. Good people are forced to do bad things, and bad people…" he paused, his thoughts gathering themselves, and William continued to watch him, "We're bad people, Belly."

William considered for a few moments, "I suppose that we are."

"I don't know what to do about it," Walter replied. He sighed, and took the rest of his drink in one mouthful, reaching for the bottle on the low coffee table.

"Then how do we justify being bad people?" William questioned, "Good people make mistakes- how do we know we're not one of them?"

Walter shook his head, silent.

"I think we were to busy lying about ourselves," William agreed to his silence, "we should make the right things start happening to the right people."

"Like what?" Walter asked, his pulse suddenly quickening as his features began to heat with alcohol.

"It's your theory, braniac- you figure it out."

xXx