A/N : Here it is. The end. I'm sad that this story is over, I really loved writing it. Thank you everybody for reading, subscribing, adding to your favorites and reviewing. It really kept me going. I hope you'll like this final chapter, and as always, don't be shy, share your thoughts!
Squinting as the morning sunlight blinded them, Peter and Olivia breathed fresh air for the first time in days. The tiny office room they had been stuck into had felt more and more uncomfortable as time had passed. The air was heavy, humid and so full of words and feelings that they had craved that instant. The moment when they could let go of everything, and just feel relieved. Glad to still be alive. Happy to feel the warming sun on their skin, caressing their tired face. Relieved they wouldn't have to face other each other without a safe exit nearby.
A wall of cars, trucks and ambulances welcomed them at the feet of the front stairway. Most of them were part of the cleaning team, still busy in the lab. Two ambulances were obviously waiting for them, as well as a well known black SUV; Broyles'. Spotting the tall man near a paramedic, talking, they both resumed them walk down the stairs. Concentrated on the FBI agent, they didn't see the person attacking them from behind, almost jumping on Peter's back.
"Peter! Olivia!" Walter's grin was impossibly big, his eyes shimmering. Moving to face them, Walter wrapped both Peter and Olivia into a hug, one arm around each. Groaning, Peter patted his father's back, while Olivia hugged the old man awkwardly. "I'm so glad you are both fine." Letting go of them, he took a step backward, the smile on his face replaced by a frown, his mouth trembling. "I am so sorry, all of this is my fault." Peter rolled his eyes, Olivia shaking her head. "If I hadn't been in such a hurry, none of this would-"
"Walter, it was an accident. We're both fine. It's okay." Olivia comforted him as best as she could, her hand on his forearm. But the old man looked inconsolable, fidgeting and staring at his shoes, balancing on his heels. Eyeing a young agent approaching them, Peter promised his father they would all go have some ice cream as soon as the case was closed, trying to cheer him up. It didn't have the awaited results that kind of promise had, however, Walter did seem to feel somewhat better.
"Guys, you're finally out!" Astrid exclaimed, joining their little reunion. "How are you feeling?" she asked, genuinely concerned. She had worried for their safety, of course, working with Walter as fast as possible to find out what was going on. But she had cringed as she had learnt her two friends had to stay locked in a room for hours, days even; she had seen on both their face the torment they were going through, she had spoken with Olivia and had hurt for her. Astrid's heart had broken when she had discovered the truth, and hoped her two friends had used the forced lock-down to talk things through.
"We're good." Olivia answered, her eyes telling Astrid what she wanted to know; they were good. The double meaning didn't escape her, and she nodded, the two women exchanging a knowing look.
"Well, that is for the medical team to decide." Broyles said, a smile warming his face. "Glad to see you two are out of trouble." Eyeing them, he added. "You are to be both checked out at the hospital, no argument accepted. Once you're cleared, we'll be waiting for you there to interrogate Andrew Boyett." Nodding, Olivia and Peter headed to the ambulances, sharing once last look at the vehicles doors closed.
The ride was quick, the two of them fast dressed in gowns before being pocked and probed by different doctors and nurses. Their discharges were signed two hours later, both of them using the adjoining bathrooms to take a shower and change their filthy clothes before meeting the rest of the Fringe team at the hospital cafeteria.
Walter was seated next to Astrid, eating blue Jell-O; Broyles was nursing a coffee, reading a file opened on the table. Olivia sat down, dismissing Peter's offer to grab a sandwich. He left to buy himself lunch and came with a coffee, handing it to her.
"Thank you." she smiled and took the cup from his hand, appreciating the sweet gesture. He was always taking care of her, intentionally or not, and she was glad that hasn't changed.
The five of them were soon in Andrew Boyett's room, which was heavily guarded. The young man had completely recovered from the poisoning, and was told he would be brought into custody as soon as the interrogation was over. He was intimidated by the FBI presence at the foot of the bed, especially by Broyles, whose eyes clearly said he did not have time to lose. He quickly accepted to tell them everything.
"My parents died of lung cancer. Both of them." He took a sip of water, fighting tears. "The thing is, they didn't smoke. They never did. Doctors said it was probably due to passive smoking." He shook his head, getting upset. "Somebody had to pay for it!"
"Those people you killed, they had a family, they had kids." Olivia watched Broyles' jaw contract.
"I don't know who died. My brothers didn't know." He shook his head, scratching his hair. "We were barely at phase 1. We were trying to find the right amount of cyanide to use."
"Phase 1 of what?" Olivia asked, her hands gripping the foot bar of the bed.
"We wanted them to pay. All of them. So we decided to poison the cigarettes. They had to pay for what they did!"
"How did you do it? You couldn't possibly keep the cyanide stable enough to-" Walter approached the boy, curious.
"We grew a GMO." Andrew answered as if it was the most easy thing in the world.
"Of course!" Walter turned around, scribbling on his notepad.
"We created a tobacco plant that produces cyanide naturally."
"Then it would have been easy to contaminate the whole industry." Peter added, finally understanding. The young boy nodded.
"What happened to you and your brothers? How did you inhale it?" Astrid inquired.
"The plant mutated. We had to use some other species DNA, including fraxinella." He sighed, fidgeting. "It was stupid." Nobody understood except Walter, who noticed the questioning look of his teammates.
"Dictamnus, also known as burning-bush. This plant produces a highly inflammable substance in summer."
"But it's the beginning of winter, Walter." Astrid reminded him.
"We used a greenhouse." Andrew explained. "One night, we were woken up by a fire. We thought we would lose everything, all the work we had done in months. So we tried to save what we could."
"The tobacco consuming, it liberated cyanide, which poisoned all of you." Olivia concluded. The young man nodded.
"I lost my whole family. This revenge idea was so stupid." He angrily wiped his tear-strained cheeks. "It wouldn't have brought them back. And now I lost my brothers, too. We should have accepted what happened and try to move on."
Not knowing what to say, the four of them soon left the room to wait for Broyles in the hallway, who was taking care of the transfer into custody. He asked for a psychiatrist support, knowing the man would need all the help he could, and offered him to stay the night in the hospital, as it was already late in the evening. Andrew accepted, knowing he wouldn't spend a night in a comfortable bed soon.
Joining the rest of the team at the entrance of the hospital, Broyles heard Walter reminding Peter the promise he had made to grab ice cream on their way home.
"I have a better idea. Let's go for drinks." Peter suggested, eyeing the three agents. Olivia looked down at her shoes, waiting for Broyles and Astrid answers. To her surprise, they both agreed, leaving her with no choice but to join them. She was tired, she wanted to take a bath and get a good night of sleep, a few shots of whiskey helping. At the same time, she wasn't in a hurry to go back to her apartment, where she would probably end up getting a few hours of sleep on the couch.
Sitting at the bar stool, nursing her third glass of alcohol, she watched Walter, Peter and Astrid play a game of darts, laughing. Broyles had just left, making sure she was alright, and insisting she took a day off, knowing he would probably see her in the FBI office the next morning anyway. She was glad she had him as a friend, as well as her superior. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice Peter walk toward her, his empty beer bottle in his hand. Asking the bartender for another, he sat next to Olivia.
"You okay?" He asked, a cute frown forming on his forehead.
"Yeah." she nodded toward Walter, who was dancing with Astrid on some jazz song. "Seems like he's having fun." Peter turned to look at his father, smiling.
"We all are. Why don't you play a game with us?" Knowing she would refuse, he insisted. "I bet you can't beat me." She knew all too well what he was trying to do. Challenging her had always worked. Sighing, she got up, bringing her glass with her. Smiling triumphally, he followed her, joining Astrid and Walter. Watching her through the game, seeing her smile and hear her laugh again, he knew she would make it through. She was a strong woman, and despite everything she had been through, he knew she would be okay. He had always admired her strong will to survive, no matter what life threw her way. He hopped he could still play a part in her life, no matter how small, just to hear her sweet laugh, or catch her in those innocent moments, a smile illuminating her face.