Greetings. You know the drill. If you haven't read "Growing Up in the Dark" chances are you will likely have no idea what is going on in this fic as there's a lot of AU stuff that connects. So that's a recommended read before this one.
I will admit that I ended that story too much in a rush. A lot of stuff got cut out that I forgot to add and I wanted the story to end a little differently than it did but I was still debating on whether or not to do a sequel. Well, I guess I'm doing it now. I cant guarantee anything with this though. It might jump to rated M later but I suspect this will be a short/brief fic. Of course everytime I do say that it ends up being waaaaaaaay too long. Heh.
Here's a prologuish chapter. Sorry if not much is happening. I'm just setting up for what I'll write tomorrow. Have fun.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything...except for a little bit of the crazy plot I conjured up in my mind.
It had been hell.
Astrid knew what was waiting for her the moment she would begin her day at work. That was because work was no longer what it used to be. Instead of assisting Walter with a dead body (often ending with a resolution), she was assisting Walter with a near hopeless quest. She doesn't want to fully consider the likelihood that Peter and Olivia were gone forever. After all, she had seen far too many impossible things in her young life and there was without doubt more impossible things still out there.
She was just irritated with what she had to put up with now. She had to get up at 5am, drive over to Walter's, make sure he didn't die in his sleep, wake him up, make him breakfast, help him get ready, and then drive him to the lab where he would waste 16 hours a day on tests, research, and dreams…dreams of reuniting with his son.
At least today would be a little different. Walter made some alterations to the long broken machine that could open the other reality. Without William Bell around, Walter was clueless as to how to fix a machine that seemed unfixable from the looks of all the burnt wires and mechanics inside.
Walter felt that today was his breakthrough.
"Now then Agent Farnsworth," he said. "On the count of three, you will release the cat."
Astrid was struggling with her grip on the sides of an orange tabby. Walter had placed his special blend of catnip across the room for the cat to run to at the exact moment.
"Please hurry," Astrid whined. "It's scratching me."
"Almost ready." Walter secured the wires then gave the machine a soft pound of his fist. He heard something running within and became excited. "Yes!" Walter placed his hand on the dial. "One…two…three!"
Walter quickly turned the dial the same moment Astrid let go of the cat. It zoomed across the lab. A faded gray cloud seemed to appear for a brief moment but it quickly disappeared and the feline went straight through…making it to the catnip that was waiting for him.
It took a few moments for Walter to realize that the machine failed once again. "DAMMIT!"
"Walter…"
"This was supposed to work this time! I was sure this would be it!" CURSE THIS!!!"
Astrid had to stop Walter before he took his rage on the lab. "Walter, we need to take a break."
"Yes, one minute and we'll try again."
"No, I mean you need to take a break from this. You haven't rest a single day since they left, but I think if you took a week off from all of this maybe..."
"I will do no such thing! Do you have a son over there, Agent Farnsworth?"
"…no."
"Then you have no right to tell me when I can stop looking for him. What is your job anyway? To do what I tell you."
"Actually, Walter. That has changed, my new job now is to make sure that you're okay and the fact of the matter is…you're not okay."
Walter was so angry, he almost wanted to destroy the blasted machine that failed to bring Peter and Olivia back from the other side. He stopped himself, gave an angry huff and said, "I will not rest until Peter is home. I don't care how long it takes."
Astrid sighed in frustration. Walter's last statement left an unsettling feeling in her. What if it Walter ended up spending the rest of his life on this without success? What if Peter and Olivia were already dead?
She hated that she had to give Walter some sense of hope when it was fading by the day. Despite the efforts of Nina's staff at Massive Dynamic, it seemed that nothing could be done to fix or replicate the alter-reality device…not without William Bell around. They were working daily on the matter, but none of them seemed more determined and perseverant. No one at Massive Dynamic or the FBI was as vigilant as Walter was on bringing those two home.
As much as she commended Walter's sense of love and hope for his son…rest assured, Astrid was starting to really hate working at the lab.
Nothing was the same anymore.
~*~*~*~
Boston was a fading memory. More than half of the city was rubble now coated in cream-colored snow, far from the pure white that nature intended.
There had been many attempts to resurrect the city in the most unusual and awkward of ways only for that to fail as well.
Now few people walked the streets as the weather began its unusual transformation. Many die during this time of year. Most of the corpses were buried in the cream-colored snow, so one would never be able to see them anyway. But there were many of them. There were even restricted areas devoted to dumping the bodies. These were called 'dead pits'. Whatever would happen to those bodies afterwards was whatever nature wanted. The survivors did not wanted to waste what little resources they had with the dead anyway.
A man now walked alone traveling through narrow pathways walled by snowdrifts as high as 8, maybe 10 feet tall. Makeshift signs led the man to a large doorway. Once shielded by store glass, the entryway into the large complex was now covered by blue tarp.
The large complex was once a fashion mall. The man was instantly sweating from the heat provided by the generator and went straight to removing the large layers of clothing that allowed him to survive the journey here. The guards were greeted by a gruff brunette man, his scruff and whiskers had become slightly thicker since his last visit. He had to go through the standard security checks, making sure he didn't carry any weaponry or valuables that the corrupt and crooked here wouldn't mind taking for their own.
But he knows that no one would lay a hand on him. He was a brilliant customer at this trading post.
And he went where most people went upon first arriving, to one of the dealer rooms. The dealer rooms used to be either a Starbucks or a cookie store back in the days of civilization. Now it was a place to play poker and earn tokens. This was more than entertainment. This was survival. Winning trading chips in the dealer rooms meant better bargains on food, clothing, medical supplies, and maybe get a few other goods on hand.
He was glad to know that he playing a bunch of large dumb idiots who probably thought they would survive just on Darwin's evolution theory alone. He was the smallest man at the table but he was the only one who played the game well.
"Bastard."
The winner only replied to the insult with a smirk and grabbed his winnings. It should be enough.
One of the big guys immediately grabbed his arm. "Where'd you learn to play like that?"
He told the truth. "Trust me, I learned from the best."
"I think you're full of shit!"
It was fortune that allowed a few security guards to approach the table. "Not so fast, buddy."
"This son of a bitch is cheating!" said one of the big guys. "I know it! He's got some sort of gimmick going. Check his person!"
The winner sighed and allowed the guards to check him.
"No cards. He's clear," said the guard. "You should take your damn chips and get the hell out of here."
"You can't be serious!" said the big man. The guards had to restrain him while the winner grabbed his winnings.
He went straight to the former Bath and Body works store…now a medical supply trading post.
"You again?" said the old man behind the counter. A huge pile of chips was dumped on his counter. "What'll it be this time?"
Eyes scanned the shelf, stopping at the large brown bottle.
The clerk noticed. "Lucky for you, you got more than enough. This is the last bottle of anti-septic."
"I'll take it then."
"What do you need to keep coming into my shop for anyways? You got some sort of mysterious illness I don't know about?"
"No."
"Are you alone?"
The question caught him by surprise. He took a moment, hopefully not too long a moment to respond but he looked to the floor when he spoke "yeah…I'm alone."
The clerk was suspicious as hell now but he might as well just accept the chips. The man also grabbed more first aid items, bandages and tools paid for by the chips.
Hopefully it would be enough for now.
Home seemed like an eternity away and he kept tripping through the snow banks, kept losing his direction. He had been gone for a lot longer than he planned. He was cursing himself but at the same time, he kept thinking 'remember why you're doing this'.
It was enough to get him to move on, until finally he could see familiar signs of things near his encampment.
The cream colored snow was falling again at a rapid speed. He was making it back just in time. Soon the temperatures would drop again. It had been this same kind of hell for the past two months.
He was tripped by another snow bank, only noticing by close inspection, it was a frozen corpse.
He kicked at the thing and began cursing this place. Who the hell ever heard of a killer frozen storm in the middle of August?!
Nevertheless this was the kind of messed up shit that Peter Bishop should've expected from an alter-version of Boston.