A/N: Hello again, here is the contintuation of the last chapter as promised. Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed/favourited/alerted this story.
Thanks to Uroboros75 for the beta work.
Music: Merchant Prince - Thomas Bergersen
Chapter Twenty-Four: Black Dove, Part Two
Peter stopped in his tracks, his feet planted to the rough ground of the clearing. His right hand, still clasping Olivia's, tightened around hers as he raised his left hand. He motioned for the Agent to lower the gun.
"Take it easy," Peter said, noticing the fire raging in Lee's eyes. "We don't want to hurt anyone; we just want to go home."
Peter saw Lee's jaw harden beneath the tense muscles of his face, his expression drawn tight and taut like a whip. His eyes were unwavering in their ferocity, burning brightly against the white of his eyes. It was a frightening vision; it was not an expression that Peter wanted to be on the receiving end of.
"How can you call Over There home, Peter?" Lincoln spat. "You were never a part of their universe." He took a few steps closer. "But I suppose now that you've killed Olivia, you're not a part of this universe either." He raised the gun to Peter's temple, and Peter felt his Olivia's fingers tense against his hand.
"Please," she pleaded. "Don't do this. I never came here to start a fight or to hurt anyone; I just wanted to bring Peter back. He's done the same for me. How can you let every encounter with our universe result in violence?"
"Because every time one of your people interacts with our side we lose lives," Lincoln hissed in response. "This time was no different."
"Olivia, go," Peter said, loosening his grip on her hand. When she didn't move away he looked over to her, her face a contortion of shock and disbelief. Even though they had begun the day at odds, they still couldn't be kept apart; they had too much to share and too little time in which to do so to part now.
She shook her head. "Peter, I'm not leaving you."
"Sweetheart, go," Peter insisted, and after a moment noticed another hand appear on Olivia's shoulder: Beatty.
"I'll take care of her, Peter," the man said.
Peter's immediate reaction was to refuse; he'd found the majority of the people in this universe to meet the same character merits as his father did: cold, distant and vengeful. It was a dark mirror of the world that he'd come to know so well, versed in pages of books and formulas that he knew better than most.
Then he thought of Elizabeth, his mother, who'd helped him even with there had been evident distrust in her. She'd protected him and saved his life. She may be only one person, but Peter suspected that there were many more like her in this universe. Beatty had helped Olivia escape from the Liberty Island complex, and if that were a lie Olivia would not be standing next to him then. If Beatty were unreliable, Olivia would be in a cell instead of at his side.
But those notions didn't dispel all the doubts from his mind. He was aware of double agents and their duplicitous ways; he was not about to let such a plan infiltrate his life, but he had to protect Olivia.
"Olivia, go with Beatty," Peter said, before turning his eyes to Beatty. "If you let anything happen to her, it will be you with the target on your back," Peter hissed, to which Beatty gave a curt (if not slightly frightened) nod.
"Enough," Lincoln said. "If they want to leave, fine. My fight is with you, Bishop, and the life that you stole from me."
Olivia and Beatty moved off and Peter raised both hands, his beacons of peace to his adversary. A quarrel was not how he wanted to end this, blocked off from home and the world that he knew, but he was not about to let himself be trampled.
"I did not murder her," Peter said. "I was firing blind in the park; I could have hit anyone."
Lincoln scoffed, anger dripping from his voice in a thick syrup. "You really expect me to believe that someone who comes over here to get back their version of Olivia Dunham wouldn't feel a little hostility towards ours?"
Peter shook his head, letting out a sigh of exasperation. "Listen; if I wanted to kill her I would have done it when I first crossed over months ago. I have no desire to fight with you, but you seem to have the need to start up a fight at the first chance you get."
"That's because I have something worth fighting for," Lincoln snapped. "I have a home, friends, and once... a woman that I loved," he said, his gun trembling between his fingers. "What do you have, Peter?"
Peter lowered his hands. He felt horrible for Lee, but to what degree could he sympathize with him? They were two completely different people from different worlds, but they had fallen for the same version of the same woman at one point or another. That was what bonded them in this chaotic tangle of treachery and tragedy, that single bond to one woman. The only difference was that one loved her willingly, the other out of deception. Lincoln had his world to protect, but so did Peter.
"I have a world, Lee," Peter said. "A world full of people just like you and me that are trying to thrive. But there's also your world, one that's hanging on the edge of a precipice that I don't want to see you fall off of. I don't want to see either universe destroyed; I just want this conflict to end."
"It will," Lincoln answered. "But first people have to answer for the actions that they've committed," he said as he pressed the gun to Peter's temple, cold metal raising gooseflesh on his skin.
Peter whipped Lincoln's arm away before he could fire a shot; he was not about to die today. He grabbed Lincoln's shoulders and tried to force him away, pushing the gun away from his body, but Lincoln still got a shot in.
The bullet missed his leg, but grazed the skin of his calf before plunging into the ground. Peter gave out a slight yelp before grimacing, the pain distracting him enough for Lee to free himself. Lincoln moved to fire a point-blank shot at Peter, but Peter moved faster and landed a hard punch right into Lincoln's face. The agent was stunned for a moment, and Peter (regrettably) was forced to land another blow, a harder one right across his face. Lincoln slumped to the ground, his gun still clasped in his motionless hand.
Peter picked up Lee's discarded gun and ran after Walter and Astrid. His conflict with Lee would have to be settled later.
Astrid was already chasing after Walter before she had decided if it was even a good idea. She was a woman of decisions, but now was not the time for stalling; she had to be decisive and swift. That was what led her to be on the heels of Walter and his counterpart.
"Walter!" she called as both men tore around the corner of the cottage, casting a flurry of dust into the air behind them. She ran through it, turning the corner quickly and running straight into Walter. She backed up quickly and saw the cause of the sudden halt.
Walternate was pointing a gun at Walter.
Astrid whipped out her revolver and held it up for Walternate to see, holding it so that he was staring right down the barrel of her gun.
"Put it down, Walternate!" she hissed.
"And why should I do that, Ms. Farnsworth?" Walternate inquired, face stoic and undeterred. "Even if I lower my gun, there is no guarantee that you will lower yours. Nothing is certain; it's all a set of variables subject to constant change."
"If that were true, then you wouldn't be fighting our universe; if nothing is certain, how can you know that we will fight you? People change over time; just look at yourself!" She motioned towards him as spoke, lowering her gun slightly. "Somewhere beneath all that anger must be some of the kindness that I've come to know in my Walter."
"That man is nothing like me," Walternate spat. "He stole a son that wasn't his and tore apart a world that wasn't his own."
"But you've done the same," Walter said gently. "You stole our Olivia when she was over here, and replaced her with yours. If you claim that I have no stock in your world, then why should you have any stock in mine?"
Walternate's face creased, his expression wrinkled into pits and canyons of fury that made Astrid cringe. She kept her gun raised and placed her other hand on Walter's shoulder, trying to calm him in whatever way she could.
"This doesn't have to end this way, Walternate," Astrid said. "None of us has to die here today. Just give us the power supply to our device and we'll leave."
"I'm afraid that I cannot allow that," Walternate said as he reached into his pocket and withdrew the glowing power cell. "I've already let you slip through my grasp before. If I let you go freely, what's to stop others from crossing over to this side? That, I will not stand for."
He clicked the safety on his gun, and Astrid imagined his finger curling over the trigger. She held her revolver steady, but was desperately hoping that she would not have to shoot this man.
Please, she pleaded to whatever forces were listening, don't make me kill a man today. The seconds ticked on, and she felt sweat beading on her forehead. She put a slight pressure on the trigger of her revolver.
I don't want to do this, she thought; she felt that if she killed Walternate, she'd be killing a part of Walter. She wouldn't harm the man that had given her so much and that she loved as her friend.
If she did this, she would never be able to look at Walter again.
In that moment, she realized how eerily silent Walter had been and turned quickly to him. His expression was a gloomy frown, his face painted with the lines of worry and regret. Compassion riddled his aged face, and Astrid was grateful at that moment to have it.
Please don't make me do this, she thought again.
From the house, a form burst forward and knocked Walternate over as a gunshot sounded. Astrid jumped as something violently whipped past her and burst into a plume of wooden cinders when it collided with the cottage. Astrid looked to the house, where the bullet had hit and then back to Walternate, who had been knocked to the ground by his son.
"Peter!" Astrid exclaimed as she lowered her revolver and tucked it back into its holster. "What are you doing here? Where's Olivia?"
"Olivia's fine!" Peter said as he tossed Walternate's gun away and stood, pointing his own weapon at Walternate. "Where is the power supply?"
Walternate made no move to reply, but his eyes trailed a path away from them and Peter's own eyes quickly followed, curiosity and dread welling against the curve of his ribs.
A few feet away, nestled amongst twigs and grass of assorted decay was the power source, broken and shattered beyond any hope of repair. The glass casing was shattered and the light, extinguished; the inner mechanisms were exposed, and a few wires protruded dangerously from the interior.
Their main hope of getting home now lay in shambles in a universe that wasn't their own.
Olivia waited in the safety of some nearby shrubbery as bullets pinged off the device and Simons continued to fire off shots from his vantage point. Olivia, nestled beneath Beatty's watchful eye, surveyed the field and wished (for an instant) for a gun in her hand; she didn't like being out of action like this.
"Beatty," Olivia said, drawing his attention for a moment. "Can't you do something?" she asked, noticing the strain in Simons' face. She had only known the man briefly during her time in the FBI, but from what little time she had spent with him she'd learned two things: he was patient, and one hell of a shot.
"Olivia, you're in no condition to be fighting the Secretary's agents," he said, gently settling a hand on her shoulder. "And if I shoot from here, I'd draw attention to us and put you at risk." She could see the gun resting at his hip, and she was beginning to question why he wasn't using it.
"I refuse to believe that all you or I can do is sit here," she hissed. "My friends are out there fighting for their lives because they came to rescue me, and you're telling me that the only thing I can do is lie here on the grass?" She shrugged his hand off her shoulder, shaking her head in refusal. "No, I won't accept that."
She moved for his gun but he caught her by her shoulders; she learned in that moment that James Beatty was much stronger than he appeared. "Olivia, if they capture you, there will be no escaping; they will keep you locked away for the rest of your life or until you've fulfilled their purposes. Either way, it means death."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" she asked in exasperation, all other options reduced to the status of the inadmissible. "I can't go out there and I refuse to sit here, so what do you want me to do?"
"Let me go instead," Beatty answered.
Olivia was about to protest, but Beatty cut her off before she could do so. "Peter told me to protect you, and if I go and help your friend, that will keep their attention on us and away from you."
Olivia felt her brow tense. "How do I know that this isn't a ploy? You could be setting me up for capture."
Beatty's lowered his gaze, his expression sombre and sincere. "Olivia, if I wanted to capture you, I would never have helped you escape off of Liberty Island in the first place. If I was some double agent, don't you think that it would be simpler for me to bring you in at the earliest convenience instead of going on some wild goose chase?"
Olivia weighed the options, the proverbial scale in her mind swaying in and out of balance as the scenarios plunked upon the plates. She couldn't just leave Simons there to fend for himself, but if she went out there she might as well paint a red target on her clothes. "Fine," she finally decided. "Go help Simons." She motioned to him at his post behind the large oak tree. "But if this is some sort of deception," she warned, "I will come for you. No matter what happens to me after this day, I will come for you and your horde."
For a moment, she thought that she saw a twinge of fear in Beatty's eyes, but he dashed off into the bushes before she could get a second look. They had gone a route that evaded enemy eyes, and Beatty naturally took a route that avoided attention once again. From her hiding place she watched his movements, inspecting them for any sign of deceit. Once he'd reached Simons' position there was a brief exchange between the two of them, and then he drew his gun and joined Simons in the fight.
Olivia breathed a sigh of relief and dared to think that maybe they would get out of this alive.
It was several minutes before Peter reappeared on the field, this time in the company of Astrid and Walter. Olivia allowed herself a brief smile when she saw that none of them was injured, but after a moment, she wondered.
What happened to Walternate?
"Olivia!" Peter called, and immediately a few bullets pecked at his feet like hungry ducks. He, Astrid and Walter dashed to the closest cover they could find while Simons and Beatty responded to the shots with some firepower of their own.
Olivia watched them from her position; they were not too far from her. She searched for Peter, her eyes scanning the shrubbery with precision. For a few long and drawn out moments, her eyes only met the deep and scraggly green of the bushes, until at last she found him. His clear blue eyes were unmistakable in the tree cover, shining brightly against the bleak surroundings. There was distance between them, and Olivia wasn't sure if Peter could see her through all the branches and darkness, but some notion in her gut made her sure that Peter saw her and was watching her, their eyes locked across the battlefield.
A cry to her left distracted Olivia, and she turned to see Beatty slumping to the ground, his back pressed against the tree. Olivia saw that he was clutching his shoulder fiercely, and her immediate thought was that he had been shot. Simons responded with a few quick shots across the field, and the number of enemy shots dwindled to very few.
Peter apparently saw an opportunity and bolted across the field towards Olivia. Despite any of their disagreements with each other Peter had come to take her home, and she was not about to refuse that. Peter reached her quickly, muffling her name briefly before helping her out of the bushes. Simons, still firing off gunshots, joined them in the clearing with Beatty draped over one shoulder. Astrid and Walter quickly made for the device, which Olivia was hoping would be powered up soon.
"Walter, isn't there some other way that you can power the device?" Astrid asked, her tone pleading. Olivia felt her hopes plunge.
"No, Astro," Walter said. "The device requires enormous amounts of energy, something that only the power supply was equipped to produce. Finding such a resource now is impossible."
"What about a person?" Peter asked. "William Bell sacrificed himself last time in order for us to cross back over."
Walter turned to Peter, a deep scowl on his face. "I don't exactly see any volunteers Peter, so I would suggest you think a little more creatively."
Olivia watched Peter move closer to the device, leaving her alone while Beatty paled next to Simons. She felt a well of dread open beneath her hope and good intentions; she had a bad feeling that she knew what Peter was about to suggest.
"Let me be the power source," Peter said.
"Peter–" Olivia protested, but was cut off by the others.
"No, Peter," Astrid tried to interject, but was shut out by Walter.
"Absolutely not," the old man declared. "You have come too far to be subject to the guillotine of fate. I will not allow my son to sacrifice himself!"
"Walter, we have no other choice!" Peter protested. "If we don't leave now, Walternate will only send more forces, and we can't last another fight," he said as he threw his arms up, and Olivia felt some of his frustration and defeat echo in her bones.
After a moment Peter knelt down next to Walter and put a hand on his shoulder. Olivia moved a little closer to hear, but also because she felt too exposed in her previous position.
"I don't like the idea, Walter," Peter said. "But we have to get everyone home. We have to get Olivia home."
"There is another option," a voice interjected.
Everyone turned in the direction of the voice, and Olivia was surprised to see an injured Beatty, his shoulder wound bleeding profusely and staining his jacket a dark and ugly crimson. He was attempting to stand on his own, but there was a clear slump in his posture. Olivia saw Simons standing close by, ready to assist if needed.
"You said that a person powered the device before; I can be that person this time," Beatty said.
"My colleague sacrificed his life in order to power this device, Mister Beatty," Walter said. "And even then, his atoms were in a severely unstable state; you have not gone through such a transformation."
"Does it matter, Walter?" Peter asked. "You've said so yourself that the human body has a huge energy potential."
"Enough to explode with the force of five very large hydrogen bombs," Walter recalled grimly. "Peter is right in his analysis, but that still doesn't justify this man carelessly throwing away his life for us!"
"You didn't object to William Bell 'throwing away' his," Peter countered.
"That's because there wasn't enough time," Walter quipped.
"This is the exact same scenario, Walter!" Peter answered. "Either we make a decision or we all die here at Walternate's hand."
"Stop it," Olivia snapped, getting their attention instantly. "This isn't your decision to make. Look at him," she said, motioning to Beatty. "He's already suffering, we don't know if he's thinking rationally with all the blood loss or if this is what he really wants. Besides, who are we to put anyone's life but our own in our hands?"
"Olivia is right," Walter said after a moment. "It is not our decision to make and though we do not know how clearly he may be thinking, I say that we should still allow him to make his case."
Beatty stepped closer to the device, Simons only steps behind him. "I have betrayed my country and my home," Beatty said. "I saved Olivia from the complex on Liberty Island after she escaped because I don't believe that a war between our two universes is the way to end this. There has to be another way." He slumped slightly, but regained his posture a moment later. "I lost the only family I had Over Here, and now I'm dying. If I can only do one last thing in this world, let me at least do something that will benefit other people than just me."
Olivia walked over to Beatty and put a hand on his good shoulder, offering him what support she could. "Beatty, are you sure?" she asked. "Once you do this, you can't go back; your energy will be used to power the device."
He nodded slowly, a little groggily. "Yeah, I'm sure," he said.
Olivia smiled weakly as she gave him a gentle pat on the back. "Thank you," she said. "You saved my life." She moved to stand with Peter on the opposite side of the machine.
Simons extended a hand, which Beatty clasped and shook firmly. "It was an honour serving with you, brief though it might have been," Simons said. "You're a good man, Beatty."
Once they were all behind the device, Walter flicked the switch. The air around them fluctuated, undulating with into a web of intricate ribbons of matter. Olivia watched Beatty as he appeared to be studying the change. He paused for a moment and Olivia feared that at the last instant he had changed his mind, but he didn't. He stepped up to the bubble to space surrounding them and looked at them, his eyes placid mirrors of acceptance.
"During my time here," he said, raising his hands, "I have only ever seen conformity and conflict." His fingers neared the threshold of the field. "I've realized that among all of them, I am the only dove."
Fiery orange tendrils reached out for Beatty, lacing around the contours of his arms and shoulders; they gave a haunting glow to the deep wound in his shoulder. Against the bright light, Olivia saw that the wound extended into his chest, clearly much more severe than any of them had thought. Beatty shut his eyes as the membrane extended out to him and the light grew in ferocity. Olivia turned away when the light grew too intense, and a shearing sound tore through the air around her.
When she opened her eyes again, Beatty was gone.
And at long last, she was home.
As always, I'd love to hear any of your thoughts in a review :) And don't go away; there are still two more chapters left!