Author's Note: thank you all who reviewed, and to those who have read! I'm glad to see you all enjoyed chapter one, makes me smile! If you haven't left me a review I'd greatly appreciate it if you did, they make the world go round! With that, I present chapter two!

The Witching Hour

Over There

June 2011
02:00pm

Of course it was raining, he mused bleakly. That's all it ever seemed to do nowadays. There were no such things as sunny skies in the world despite the heated rays that fell from the heavens. Even on cloudless days the Earth always seemed to cry. Today was definitely one of those days. Black, billowing clouds added to the gray scale landscape that sat just beyond the crack in his office window. Silver rain drops pelted the glass, casting watery shadows across his pale cheeks as he gazed across the saddened sky. Between the drumming of the thunder and the electric crash of lightening, for a minute moment Lincoln forgot where he was. White streaks of purple-white lightning split the sky in two, tearing and ripping apart before him. It cracked through the cotton clouds, sheering them to luminous shreds and called upward towards the high heavens with a scream in its own unique pitch of both anguish and pleasure. Arching back in his chair Lincoln let a heavy sigh escape his chest as he glanced across the broken skyline of what used to be his home.

Another week had passed without a speck of good news. To add to the horror of what they had witnessed, reports were finally coming in from all parts of the world. Global destruction, it was being described, had wiped the Earth clean of its most beloved features. Stonehenge was reduced to just pebbles. The great theater in Sydney was destroyed and lost to a raging sea. The pyramids in Egypt were broken and crumbling. Even their own famed monument, the Statue of Liberty, a figure of pride, power and freedom was rooted to the Earth, chained by the murky waters surrounding them. She was no more, cut down to size, dismembered and scattered across the inky rivers. Great bridges and walls fell like they were made of wet plastic, cracked and left to mold.

A tear came to Lincoln's face as he reflected at the new skyline; jagged pieces of twisted metal that he used to get lost in now cut his memories to pieces. Swallowing hard he turned away from the dark clouds and returned to the file on his desk that he now read by candlelight. Whatever files they were able to scour after the floods he had been combing through to try and find some sort of remedy for this distorted chaos. Food was scarce and water was untrustworthy, two of the more vital elements that kept the human race alive were slowly killing it.

"Hey Linc," called a voice through his non-existent door. Charlie Francis leaned casually against the cracked door frame with an unfamiliar pad of paper in his hand, an object he hadn't touched since kindergarten. It brought a small smile to Lincoln's face watching his colleague maneuver the rough edges of paper. "Reports from the collections yesterday are in, and what we could find in storage is on the floor. It's not much, but it's a start."

Lincoln forced a smile. "Thanks, Charlie." They both fell silent again, eyes falling on the skewed picture on his desk. "Have you spoken to Marilyn at all?"

Charlie sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I drove down to see her this morning. She's hanging in there and the baby's doing fine, although from the looks of it she's going to need to evacuate that house soon, the foundation's starting to go. I'm trying to see if we cans secure her a room here. Any luck on your current project?"

Lincoln leaned forward, the metal bars on his chair squeaked noisily. "No. I'm still trying to figure out a solution to present to the Secretary but I can't think of any. There are too many variables, and even Astrid is having a hard time calculating it all it. I've tried to run what data I could recover but with no power it's useless. Whatever caused the wave is still a God-damned enigma," he threw the pencil down, a useless tool he had almost forgotten how to use. "We don't know what happened. One person who does refuses to speak of it and the other… is still missing."

At the second mention of their missing comrade, Charlie and Lincoln fell silent, a single silent prayer spread between the two of them. "Any leads on where she is? I know you've been pestered about it enough, but the deadline-"

"I know the deadline's coming, Charlie!" Lincoln hollered, "I've had search teams scouring everywhere to try and find her! We can't get across to Manhatan, and parts of Liberty Island are too unstable to search." He sighed, his head falling into his palms as he muttered. "I shouldn't have let her go alone."

Charlie placed his hands on Lincoln's defeated shoulders. "You couldn't have know, Lincoln. You couldn't have predicted that her attempt to cross to over would have lead to this. We tore Liberty Island apart and she wasn't there, and the Secretary refuses to speak of it. She's not dead. Liv's a fighter and we all know that. She's probably on the other side of the river trying to figure out a way to get back home like we are. We'll find her before the deadline. I know you will."

Lincoln nodded. "There has been… one solution I have thought of. But it's not likely going to be accepted, let alone make it past proposal."

Charlie's face scrunched. "Care to share with the class?"

New Department of Defense
Fringe Division, upper level

"Out of the question!" growled the Secretary. "I will not bend and ask those buffoons for help! That idea is just as offensive as it is repulsing, Captain."

Lincoln bowed his head, trying to keep his composure as his hands locked tighter behind his back. "But Sir, it's the only logical thing we can do. Our defense networks are down, and our resources are destroyed. Our people, your people, are suffering! Your grandson is suffering because of what happened! We don't know what caused the wave and you refuse to give me any information to work with! You keep saying they are not to be trusted, but we don't have time to worry about trust or not. If the other side truly wanted us destroyed I'm sure they would have crossed over and finished the job." Lincoln drew in a deep breath.

Walter Bishop turned around, his brow low and furious. "Our side was destroyed because of what they did, Captain, and I will not let them come in and save us out of pity."

Lincoln raised his chin high. "Mr. Secretary, we don't have time for semantics and pride, our side is dying. If asking the other side for help is what it takes to get us back on our feet I think it's a risk we need to take. Perhaps they're not the monsters you make them out to be, Sir. When the other Agent Dunham came to our side she had no means for destruction. I could see it in her eyes. She was kindhearted and a good person, much like our Agent Dunham here. It's worth a shot, Sir; we've got nothing to lose." He swallowed, "Some of us have lost it all already."

He glanced at them once again as he stepped back in front of the window in silence once again. A moment later he turned around menacingly slow, his voice firm, and his back towards Lincoln again. "And what, Captain, are the advantages to this idea you propose, enlighten me."

"Closure," Charlie stepped forward, "For those whose loved ones are found but not identified, and those who are lost and won't be found. Let those who are mourning have the knowledge to know they can stop looking. The bodies we've pulled, we can't identify a majority of them because we don't have that ability anymore. Our computers are worthless. Asking for help can only aide in that process. We can ask for assistance with food, water, and help build shelters. Get those who are sick the help they need to avoid an epidemic."

Lincoln nodded. "The smallpox outbreak in North Texas is only getting worse, I've heard from a reliable source. The Avian flu is also starting to surface as is some diseases that are new. Our medical facilities aren't equipped to handle the possible new diseases and with hospitals down it's only a matter of time before this becomes a worldwide pandemic. They have medical care that can help avoid an outbreak that could very well wipe our world out completely. I'm sure if we asked they'd be willing to help if we asked for it."

With his back still towards them, Walter spoke again; too proud to admit what he knew had to be done. "Like I said, Agent Lee, we will not be asking the other side for help. I will not stoop to such a level from those worms. Find another way to help, Captain. For now, you're dismissed," he spat low.

Lincoln bowed his head with defeat and said nothing. Slowly him and Charlie backed out and left quickly. Walter stood alone once again, his eyes turned once again towards the shattered city as the storm continued to rage overhead.

Over Here

June 2011
06:00pm

Sipping her glass of wine Rachel smiled as she walked across the foyer of the Bishop's house and laughed aloud. Clouds of flour poofed into the air and settled across the broad shoulders of Peter and toothless grin of Ella as they stood in the kitchen, laughing and giggling. The mouth-watering scent of baked chicken, potatoes, corn and savory scent of cooked basil and parsley was enough to make her stomach growl under her hungry pretense. Glancing towards Olivia, who gathered the silverware from a nearby drawer, she rolled her eyes and chuckled at the sight before her.

"Now, stir, like this," Peter said as he whisked the flour, eggs and milk together in the bowl, his wrist flicking quickly around the rims. "The trick is blending everything together so that there are no clumps of flour. If the batter isn't the right consistency then the cookie dough will be all lumpy. Except for the chips, of course, but that's a different story."

Ella stood on the stool between Peter's arms and grabbed the whisk from him as he held the bowl, her tiny hands cranking the metal object around in arm length circles, a happy grin on her toothless smile. "When do we add the chocolate chips?" Opening a cabinet next to them Olivia grinned at her niece and pulled five plates from the shelf.

Rachel chimed in as Olivia handed her the plates and swiftly picked up her glass of wine. "After dinner, Ella Jay," Rachel called, "Any before and you'd ruin what Peter and his father both slaved to make. It is your favorite after all."

Olivia sipped her own glass. "Oh come off your high horse, Rach, you and I would always sneak treats before dinner. It'd drive Mom absolutely crazy." With Rachel's back turned Ella opened her mouth and Peter slipped a few of the semi-sweet morsels in as she chewed quickly, the remaining handful dropped into his own mouth. They grinned secretly at one another and allowed the smooth chocolate to melt before daring to talk again, their secret revealed instantly of a chocolate coated word was uttered.

"None for me?" Olivia teased Ella in a quiet whisper, "I am keeping your secret after all."

Placing a chip delicately on his lips Peter turned to her and chuckled, earning a loud giggle from the small girl. Plucking it from its perch Olivia popped the morsel into her mouth as Peter pouted. "That's not what I had in mind." She smiled and reached up, placing a gentle, chocolate coated kiss on his lips. "Better," he said and returned his smile as she went to stir the spaghetti.

Returning from the hallway closet Walter pulled his towel from his shoulder and checked on the dish in the oven. Nodding with satisfaction he closed it and shuffled towards Ella and Peter. "You know, when Peter and I used to make cookies we'd add marshmallows. They were simply delectable; crisped and chewy to absolute perfection. Washed down with a cold glass of chocolate milk… oh that takes me back."

Ella cocked her head at Walter. "Doesn't that kind of not make them chocolate chip cookies?"

"Ella!" Rachel exclaimed as she set the table, but Walter waved her off.

Walter winked towards the girl. "They were a Bishop family specialty for the holidays and not just for every day consumption, my dear. Instead of chocolate chips we'd use red and green M&Ms. On they were quite delicious, Mrs. Bishop's secret recipe," Walter smiled at Peter. "And Peter's favorite around the holiday season."

From next to her sister Olivia grinned, taking another swig of wine, "At least he's not telling that embarrassing story of when Peter was younger and got his-"

"Enough!" exclaimed Peter with wide eyes as Ella glanced upward at him.

Walter laughed, "Despite the outcome, the vacuum still worked, although Peter wouldn't go near it for a month, much like a dog. Looking back on it, it was rather humorous."

"For you, maybe," Peter said as he and Ella spooned globs of cookie dough onto a tray, "I was still cringe when one of those damned things turns on."

Ella glanced upward at Peter and giggled once again, another doughy spoonful fell into the tray, "Earmuffs?"

He shook his head, "No, no earmuffs required, kiddo," he glanced at Olivia as she sat down, "Don't worry I'll get your Aunt back for that later."

"How?" she asked.

Peter chuckled as he glanced at Olivia, "Oh don't worry, I'm sure she won't see it coming."

Midnight

Above her the night sky was sprinkled with stars. Millions upon millions of tiny, glowing orbs illuminated the vast black velvet blanket she found herself tucked under as she simply looked upon the spectacle before her. It went on for miles and miles beyond what her innocent eyes could see, and even further in the realm of her imagination. Pointing a finger towards the heavens her eyes glowed with fascination as she pointed towards the black glass carefully as to not break the beauty before her. There was no confined depth, length, volume to the cosmic landscape before her. It all simply existed on the same ration that beyond the sky there was something else. The mystery alone of what it could possibly be out there was purely astonishing. Smiling, Ella continued to gaze as across the milky atmosphere and into the stars, reflected in the deep pools of her small brown eyes, oblivious to the perils of the world around her.

Lying supine next to her on the soft Earth was Walter; his legs crossed and head resting on a patch of grass, a smile on his face. "You see that one right there? That's the Big Dipper, Ursa Major- the Big Bear. Follow the stars to the right up a ways and you'll see the Little Dipper, Ursa Minor- the Little Bear," said Walter as he traced the outline with his finger, Ella curled up curiously at his side in bewilderment. "On the end of the Little Dipper is the north star. Hundreds years before us, before the technology we have today, explorers would use the stars as their map, their guide to find the world that lay beyond the vast oceans. They believed that when all hope was lost, one could find their way home by using the North Star."

Ella turned to him. "They believed a star could bring them home?"

Walter nodded. "Yes, a star, for you see it designated north. No matter the location they could always find it because of its radiance, the sheer beauty of the constellation could lead them home and restore hope when all seemed lost. An elementary fact in itself but magical nonetheless, just like the night. They say that around midnight is the witching hour."

Her tiny eyes began to glow brighter than the heavens. "Witching hour? Like ghosts?" With her curiosity peaked Ella sat up from her grassy perch and leaned on her elbows.

He smiled to her. "Not necessarily ghosts, but a time when the rules of reality cease to exist," He grabbed a handful of dirt and turned to her, his voice low and majestic, "and the unimaginable can happen- almost like…," he blew the dirt into the slow wind as it began to somehow glitter with enchantment, "magic." Fascination carved itself into her inky eyes as she watched the dirt disappear into the atmosphere, vanishing like smoke.

"Alright you two you've star-gazed enough tonight as it is," Rachel said as she trekked through the grass, "You can watch more tomorrow. For now it's bed time." Ella went to open her mouth but Rachel cut her off, "Save the stories for tomorrow night." Rolling her eyes Ella stood and waited for Walter to follow suit, her tiny hand slipping into his rough palm as she smiled at him, her legs pumping to match his stride as Rachel stepped inside the house behind them and blew a kiss towards Olivia and Peter as they reclined on the old futon that rested at the edge of the patio.

A gentle wind blew into the night as the light behind them closed, leaving them alone in the calm, dark night. Peter rocked against the lumpy cushion and smoothed it out, his shoulders relaxing into the inclination. Wrapping his arm around Olivia's shoulders Peter couldn't help but smile. "Those two are becoming a dangerous pair, Walter and Ella. Although I just hope his talk of ghosts won't scare her."

Olivia chuckled as she pressed herself against his side and curled into the blanket he pulled over them, her own body nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder; her arm resting lazily across his stomach as they reclined and gazed upward towards the glassy sky. "On the contrary, she finds that stuff absolutely fascinating. That's what scares Rachel," she yawned with a laugh, "Do you believe it? Ghosts?"

He shrugged, "I believe that if I can see it and feel it, it has to be real. If not it's just a figment of my imagination. It's how I got over my fear of monsters under my bed. I built up courage to crawl underneath there with a flashlight and found that what I thought to be a monster was actually an old sweater of Walter's. There was nothing there; the figments I saw were exactly that- projections and nothing more. They weren't real. But the things we've seen I know are real. Like this," he motioned between the two of them, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her lips, "Us. This, this is real."

"And how do you know this isn't all just a dream that you're going to wake up from?" she asked with half-moon eyes.

Lifting his fingers underneath her chin Peter bent down and kissed her, enjoying the taste of wine and whiskey on her lips, "Because you are here. I can feel you, hear you, see you, taste you, and if my mind is playing tricks then so be it, I'm going to live this dream until the very end. I'm in this for the long run, Olivia."

Olivia smiled at him, "You get really romantic when you drink a little too much," she chuckled against his neck, "I like it."

"Well you should see what I can do when I'm smashed. Your mind will be blown."

He laughed as he curled his body around hers, his lips falling to hers like a shooting star, land marking his way home. He felt her smile beneath his lips as he caressed her cheek gently, their kiss sinking deeper and deeper. Above them a sudden shower of meteors began to glide through the atmosphere, illuminating the purple velvet above them. His fingers danced over her body in a delicate ballet as they sunk lower and lower beneath the blanket, curious hands following heated hearts on a cool summer's eve. Some of what Walter said, Peter knew was true. The magic did happen after midnight.

For weeks after he turned on the machine Peter wondered if he had made the right decision, lost in a forest of towering trees and unfriendly landscapes of his own indecision. For what felt like decades he rolled among hills that were so familiar and yet, frighteningly foreign. But like the explorers, when all hope seemed lost, in front of him he found his North Star after years of searching. Those secret feelings of abandon, loss and questionable existence sudden became clear and crisp- he had Olivia to thank for that. She had led him home; she was his inspiration for hope and his guidance back to humanity.

Words ceased to exist as they sunk lower into the cushion, creating another memory to hold on to. Beneath a cosmic explosion of stars they made love, slow and smooth as two souls often would, oblivious to the world around and above; the only audible sounds were the crickets around them, the creek of the old wood and the beating of their hearts. This night, like many, would be forever imprinted into their memories, a single thread of hope to hold onto; to represent that in times of darkness there was always a pathway towards the light.

Standing on a distant hill stood a man, his skin pale as the moon, his face neutral with emotion. Taking in the moment once again September raised his chin and gazed towards the bright night sky. In an instant he was gone, with nothing around him but the iridescent stars shimmering overhead.

Over There

Midnight

Thunder grumbled across the skyline once again as the rain cast wet shadows across the weeping city. All was quiet once again as the efforts of the day died off and left the city to quietly mourn once again. There were no dogs barking, no car doors slamming, not even the tick of a clock in the empty hallways. Everything sat still, frozen, immortalized in what felt like a pause in time. All was still before him- baron, abandoned and deserted as the echo of the storm continued to rage upon the broken city. Walter sat straight in his chair as he watched the rain pummel the window pane as he tried to imagine the sky beyond the clouds- crisp, clear and sprinkled with stars. All he seemed to do these days was live in darkness, the shadows of the night crept slowly across the floor and up the walls, dousing him in a shroud of never-ending black. His lips pressed tightly together, his brows sat low and curious as he silently cursed the souls on the other side. They couldn't possibly understand what chaos and pure hell they were living, all the while they sat in bliss, unaware of the terrors they had created.

The feeling of failure was not something Walter was used to. He had built an imperial fortress around the theft of his son; he took an oath to defend his country against threats that could jeopardize their harmony, their peace. In the blink of an eye that was torn apart, ripped to shreds by the one force he believed could heal the wounds of his world. The past five weeks had flown by without a second's glance. In that small time frame little progress had been made. The technology they found comfort in had suddenly become the cause of their demise and their inability to fix the damage that had been caused. As Walter stared across the black city with icy eyes one question replayed over in his head, a never-ending mantra he was sure would drive him mad.

How could a man of such power, of such prestige suddenly become that powerless?

A small voice echoed against the dark corners of his office. "Mr. Secretary," Brandon Fayette interjected from the doorway and bowed his head once. Giving a wordless permission for entry Brandon stepped forward, his heels clicking sharply against the floor. "A word, if you will."

"What can I do for you, Brandon? Have we made any progress?" asked Walter, his back still turned and his eyes dark.

Brandon shook his head, "No, I'm unhappy to admit, but something else. I couldn't help but over hear your conversation earlier with Agents Lee and Francis. If I may interject an idea," Spinning around slowly in his chair, Brandon crossed his arms neatly against his torso. "December 7th, 1941. The Chinese attacked the United States and brought us into World War II. They were hosting a false alliance, pretending to talk of peace agreements. It was one of the most famous treaties in our nation's history," said Brandon, "And the ultimate weapon that lead to our downfall."

"Your point?" Walter grumbled impatiently.

"In our talks, Sir, you've asked me to find a way to help our world, but I propose another idea. Take Captain Lee up on his offer, let him and Agent Francis cross over and ask for help. Create a stable doorway between the worlds. Trust, Mr. Secretary, is our ally. Trust is what can save our world." A sinister shadow fell over Brandon's face, "You said it yourself; the girl was what tore Peter from his home, who was the root for our universe's destruction. This is Peter's universe. Perhaps he should know what he's done to his people, to those who have made sacrifices so he could live." He paused. "Think about it, sir." Before leaving Brandon stepped forward and placed an envelope on Walter's desk.

Walter sat still for a moment and reflected on what Brandon had said, his brilliant mind turning over slowly. His eyes fell upon the stained, folded envelope before him. Reaching for it he grasped the rough paper and slid his finger beneath the flap, the glue coming undone easily. Inside was a photograph, bent and burnt but still intact, and the kindle he found to finally bring life back to his soul. Fire ripped through his icy veins, turning his blood into a scorching liquid that ignited the burnt ashes from deep within, the blue leaked from his eyes and replaced with a fiery, fierce red that set his face in stone. It was at that very moment he knew what the course of action to take was.

Indeed, he was not a lover of war. But this was a different war, he was convinced, and should be fueled on the need for survival, for love, and sanity. But as Walter stood and overlooked the storming city none of those precious words came to mind except for one. It was sinister in its own accord and the only thing that remained on Walter's mind as the moon began to rise behind the violent clouds. It wasn't just a war against the human race, for survival, and for love.

It was a war for revenge…

Reviews are wonderful and much appreciated! Chapter three coming soon!