A/N : first of all, thank you so much for all the reviews and to those who are following this fic! I really like to read what you think about this. I should be uploading regularly, the story is almost completely written.
Walter almost ran to Broyles as soon as Astrid stopped the car along the sidewalk. The suburb was quiet during the mid-afternoon, the only disturbance were the police cars with their silent flashing lights on. A few curious had gathered in front of the house, on the other side of the road. Some journalists were already there, trying to have a word with any police officer, to learn about what was going on.
Peter exited the car warily, trying to spy Olivia amongst the crowd of officers. He hadn't seen her since her outburst in Barrett's backyard; he knew she'd requested a leave. He feared she might quit the fringe division and go back to her FBI routine. He was relieved when he saw the familiar silhouette, her blonde hair in its usual ponytail. He sighed and approached her slowly.
"Hey." She turned quickly, taking in his disheveled appearance. His beard was longer than usual, his clothes rumpled.
"Hi. I just got here, any info on the case?" Straight to the business. He knew her strategy; avoid any private moment, and stay guarded.
"No, we just arrived as well. Have you seen Broyles?" She nodded and turned her back to him, entering the house. He followed her inside.
The house was a typical suburban house, with the white picket fence and the dog house at the front. The main room was nicely furnished, the mantle decorated with pictures; a couple kissing at their wedding, a few of two kids, a picture of a family summer vacation. On the couch, though, sat a man. He looked almost peaceful, if it wasn't for the hollow look in his eyes, and the curiously pink skin of his face.
"Agent Dunham, I hope you are feeling better." Walter had joined them in the room, smiling at the young woman.
"Yes, Walter, thank you." She couldn't help but cringe at the sound of his voice, only to remember he wasn't the Walter from over there, but the fragile scientist from her side.
"Anything on the victim?" Peter asked Broyles, who was just finishing talking to the coroner.
"Travis Cowen, 32, found by his wife sitting dead on the couch. So far we have no explanation for his death." His wife had been coming back from work, the children hopefully spending the evening at friends'. When her husband hadn't moved or talked, she immediately called 911. As she had approached the couch, she saw a still smoking cigarette in her husband's hand, the ash abnormally long.
"This is fascinating." Walter took some samples of cigarette butts sitting in the ashtray near the couch, as well as the one in the victim's left hand. "Peter, come look." The son walked around the couch to stand facing the body. "Look at the skin, son."
"He seems a little flushed." Peter noted.
"Sunburn?" Olivia quipped. Peter smiled at that; it was december.
"The skin of a corpse is usually white, or slightly green, for a Caucasian specimen. There must be an explanation." Walter asked for the body to be brought back to the lab.
"I'm afraid I can't allow that." Walter frowned at Broyles remark. "We might be dealing with a virus, or some sort of contagious infection. The examination will have to take place at the FBI lab, where we can react quickly if needed."
"Very well. Astro, will you please help me with this?" Walter asked Astrid to take a few tissue samples, as well as fluids, before quickly escaping to the privacy of his lab.
Broyles, Olivia and Peter detailed the crime scene; there was no sign of struggle, or any visible break-in. His wife didn't know any potential threat to his husband, neither at his work or outside of it. The family's background had been quickly checked; their police record was clean, they paid their taxes on time, the couple hadn't even gotten a speeding ticket in their life.
"Well, I guess we'll learn more once Walter's done with the samples he took." Peter said. "I think I might need a lift, though." He looked at Olivia, who took a deep breath.
"I have to drop by the lab anyway." Walter and Astrid had left without waiting for Peter, and they knew she would be the only one who could drive Peter back to Harvard; somehow she sensed some conspiracy from the two friends.
"Thanks." Peter followed her and got into her car. She turned the radio on, letting the music fill the thick silence in the vehicle.