Quiescence is something I appreciate here in this madhouse and Walter is in a obliging mood this morning. He's scribbling on graph paper, murmuring nonsensically at a volume just above white noise. The sound's become worryingly familiar over the last few months and the little seed of panic is barely noticeable anymore. I still don't like being here, but the urge to flee is manageable. And when I feel like being honest with myself, which, let's face it isn't all that often, I have to admit I kinda like being here. We three lab rats have settled into a routine with Walter working on what catches his fancy and Astrid running to keep up with him and me watching from a safe distance. Distance is a tricky thing, though, and it's tough to know when you've gotten far enough away to avoid the fallout of Walter's skewed version of science. But not today. Today it's quiet.
Astrid's working on her laptop, has it angled to see Walter over the screen, one earbud dangling unused. She's learned the hard way that the old man's not to be trusted, affable as he may be on good days, or good minutes, as quickly as he shifts. Her head's nodding slightly in time with her music or in time with the rhythms of Walter's ramblings, depending on the ear she happens to be listening with at the time.
We've taken to alternating the responsibilities of mad scientist feeding. She tries to force healthy, culturally diverse sustenance down him, usually meeting with all the success you might imagine, although the dosas with mango jam went over well yesterday, at least until she noticed he was just licking off the jam. I take a much easier road and ply the bastard with the sugaryist cereal I can find. It's probably not good for any of us in the long run, but it's just too hard to argue with him in the morning and by the time he crashes I'm fully awake and more able to deal with him.
The outer door opens signaling an impending Olivia visit and it's going to be bad. The hairs on the back of my neck quiver to attention and it's like that breathless pause between lightning and the clap of thunder that follows. Astrid's gone still and Walter's gone silent and I sit my bowl of Lucky Charms down on the table, cursing their lack of effectiveness. She slams into the lab, heads straight to the office she's all but pissed a circle around and I'm wordlessly arguing with Astrid about who has to go in first. Astrid's frowning, pouting a little and I'm shaking my head at her and glaring but I know it's my turn. We play our little game of rolling eyes and wrinkled noses longer than necessary because really, I don't want to go in there, but it will be hellish until she's been placated. God, she's just like Walter in that regard.
"It upsets Jean when she's like that. She should be more considerate of her coworker's feelings." His voice is pitched low, sullen.
Roll my eyes over to his direction. "Walter, I don't think Olivia considers a cow to be her coworker."
"Well, she should." Mouth set in a tight line and he's hunched his shoulders up, whatever he was working on is forgotten as he stares absently at the table. Take the long way around the lab on my way to the office so I pass by him and pat his shoulder, still awkward but it's getting easier and that in and of itself is frightening. Still resentful of this, caring for him in ways he never bothered to do for me and the hateful little voice in my head tells me I should hurt him at every turn.
It's getting easier to ignore it.
"It's okay, Walter. She's not mad at us." Startled that I'm there, so close to him, because he'd gone away a little bit again, murky gray eyes watery and worried. Watches me for a moment, assessing. He's getting better about detecting the sarcasm, still has to think about it though, run it through analysis first to determine whether or not I'm being serious.
"Yes, yes... I know." Nodding, back to his work but still frowning. He doesn't know, never knows, takes everything personally and I'm careful to hide my own anger until I'm well away from him. He's already going to be back to sleeping in the closet tonight, I don't need to make it any worse.
Watch her though the windows as I stalk over, into the room, closing the door behind me careful not to slam it. Doesn't even look up, she's ignoring me and she's glaring at the file she has open in front of her. I drop into the extra chair and wait, laying siege to Fortress Dunham, watching her out of the corner of my eye as I stare at the grimy window. We really need to convince the cleaning crew that it's safe to come in here again.
She huffs out an annoyed breath and her pen hits the desk with an clatter that portends the redirection of her wrath from the poor helpless file she's been trying to kill with her eyes to poor helpless Peter, soon to be martyred in the cause of bringing peace to the lab. Might as well get things rolling.
"Something on your mind, sweetheart?" One day she really is going to kill me for that, but come on, it's a big red button with a "DO NOT PUSH" sign hanging over it. She makes it too much fun to resist.
She goes still as a statue, then her eyes narrow before slowly, slowly shifting towards me, green flames shrouded by sooty lashes. Her lips part, baring her teeth slightly and the image is there in my mind like it is every time she looks at me like that and I barely even feel guilty thinking it anymore. That dangerous look is what I would get if I'm ever stupid enough to talk my way into her bed. That would be possibly the dumbest thing I've ever done. Between her track record of screwed up relationships, my deeply-rooted terror of commitment and both of our self-destructive tendencies we'd lay entire cities to waste in the resulting conflict.
"Don't start with me, Peter."
"Oh, wouldn't think of it."
"Peter..." She growls my name out, all threatening and sexy. If she doesn't want me to fight with her she shouldn't do that.
"This is getting old, Olivia. I don't know why but he goes off the deep end when you're upset but it's hard enough keeping him balanced I don't need you screwing things up because you're feeling particularly bitchy. If I've got to give up my whole life the least you can do is put on a cheerful face."
"Your life? You were dealing with criminals in a war zone while running from the mob. Don't you dare act like you made some kind of noble sacrifice..."
"I was fine where I was and a hell of a lot happier there. I even had my own apartment."
"We're working on..."
"Oh, come off it, Olivia, you expect me to believe that the FBI can't find an empty apartment in Boston in three months? You're not even looking."
She at least has the good grace to look ashamed at that. Sighs and drops her eyes to the desk. "Broyles thinks it's too risky, that it's safer to keep Walter in a more confined environment."
Hot anger washes over me. "He's not a zoo exhibit."
"I know! I know, Peter. I'm trying." She looks at me again, pleading with her eyes and I see it. That this is another entry on the laundry list from hell of things she blames on herself.
I sigh and drop my head against the back of the chair. Stare at the window again, at the wavy old glass and sheathing of dust. "So what is it now?" I roll my head towards her without lifting it. "Harris move your office to the basement and ask you to take care of the roach problem?"
She smirks coldly for a moment, then snorts with real laughter and smiles.
"Might as well have." She holds up a blurry picture. "Ever been to Maine?"
"Yes. What does that have to do with a picture of a tree. Or... barn? What the hell is that?"
"It's this bit," and points to a whitish smudge at the top of the photo. "Lights. In the sky."
Frown at her 'cause I'm not following at all. "And..."
"We're supposed to find out what's causing them."
"Olivia... that's a streetlight."
She shrugs and throws the picture down on the desk. "Noticed that, did you?"
"We're hauling Walter to Maine to look at streetlights?" I'm starting to smile now, it's so fucking absurd and she's looking away to keep from giggling.
"Yep."
"Oh my god."