Fourth Time is the Charm - Chapter 5 by Xeen part 1 part2 part3 part4 Fringe doesn’t belong to me though it would be fun. I’m borrowing the characters and I promise I will put them back in their box when I’m finished. Note: mild spoilers for The Dreamscape [109] It's Christmas and Pete & Olivia are enjoying the day. -o-o-o-o-o-o- She woke up to the smell of fresh coffee. She did not move for a while, her mouth twitched in contentment, enjoying that simple moment. Through her closed eyelids, she was feeling the bright light outside her bedroom window that was proof of a white Christmas. Weather forecasts were accurate for once, she thought, it was going to be a real Christmas day, and her smile widened imagining children busy with their new toys and trying their brand new bicycles on the front lawns. Lucky enough, if the snow was packing, they would probably build snowmen. Building a snowman always provided her an entertaining afternoon as a child. And it was a creative way to get some fresh air on a lazy winter day, away from her folks gathered home and prompt to squabble over her mother's downfall. She toyed a few more minutes with the idea of spending Christmas in bed with a good book and the TV remote handy. Stretching her arms, she finally reached out for her phone with a sigh and checked her messages. For the very first time in weeks, her box was empty. And it was almost noon, no wonder John had already fixed them breakfast, she smiled to herself. Then her smile froze. John never had time to move in with her except in her latest nightmares. As far as she was concerned, that engagement ring did not prove anything except that he was ready to bring his scam to an upper level. Silently, she retrieved her gun from her bedside table, got out of bed silently and proceeded with caution to the kitchen. She gave a side glance to her laptop which was shut down. No funny messages, no system alert sounds, no blinking light. She was not having another episode, this was very real. The smell was real, this smell was real, this smell had to be real… She blinked several times, trying to fight back unwelcomed tears of frustration and anger. If only she could reach the kitchen without coming across John, she had no doubt that she could ambush him in there. If only he was in the kitchen, if only… she could shoot him, shoot him and see what it does to him to be shot at, --at point-blank range. She never tried that before because he was dead of course and only a figment of her imagination, --but was he… really? and probably because you don't shoot dead people, unless you have no other choice, unless you have to. She never shot him before, because she was not fast enough. As far as she knew, today, there was nothing that was preventing her from shooting his living talking walking breathing perfectly functional intrusive body and getting him out of her life once and for all. If only… When she finally made it to the kitchen, she turned her back to the wall next to the door and leaned against it, listening attentively, keeping her breath even. No signs of brushing against furniture, no utensil shatter, no chair rattle. Nothing, not a tremor, not a sound. She closed her eyes, focused, took a deep breath and threw herself against the door. She barged in, both hands clutching her gun, aiming as fast as she could in every direction. Not a soul. She charged inside the rear closet. Empty. The front door slammed making her aim towards the bang and Peter came inside, pushing the kitchen door with his shoulder, holding flowers and fresh pastries. "Wow, wow, wow… hold your horses Liv! That's only croissants and tulips. I know I told you I was here for you but I was not hinting that you chose to turn me into your own moving practice target. Not exactly my idea of a Christmas present." "Peter…" Her voice was only a faint whisper. She gave him a blank stare, turned white and pointed her weapon back to the ground, suddenly helpless. "You ok?" He sat his errands on the table and took the gun from her. "Come on, you got to sit down. Breathe, it's going to be ok…" He helped her to the chair, ready to catch her. She let him put his hand on her arm –at least it was real, wasn't it?- and did as she was told. She breathed heavily, and started eventually to shiver a little, averting his eyes. He kneeled before her. She tucked her chin into her chest, tears rolling on her bare thighs. "What's going on? Is it John?" When he placed a calming hand on her bare arm, she realized she was in a tank top and a flannel boxer short, her bare feet on the cool tiles. She shook her head and gave him a puppy look, trying to push away her hair from her eyes. "I thought…" "Are you stressed out or are you cold? Or both?" he asked with concern. "No, I'm not cold. What… what are you doing here?" "You don't remember do you? The dance pole, Walter's party, our crazy night…" "The dance pole? As in bare dancing pole?" she asked. She was still staring, obviously embarrassed. "I did not notice that you've had that much to drink, but you did invite me back to your place last night." "Did… did something happen… I mean, did we… you know…?" she waved a hand at him and finally locked her eyes on his, biting her lower lip. "You…" he smiled, "you don't have a clue do you?" "Sorry." "Rest assured that nothing happened. At least I can testify that nothing happened between you and me." She smiled, seemingly disappointed somehow –and puzzled. "What do you mean? Did I drink too much and made a spectacle of myself?" "Yes and no. No, no," he was laughing now. "When we were at the lab, you said that you wanted to give Walter some space." He stood up still facing her and sat a plate of pastries on the table before her, poured her a large mug of hot coffee. "Milk?" She nodded. "… for Valerie?" he hinted. "Oh… yes, the lab, the girls, Valerie... That I recall. And your 'special' dessert. The rest of the evening is a total blur." "Ok, that's a start. Maybe Walter did spike your drink after all… Well, let's get some breakfast into you, a hot shower to follow and you'll be as good as new!" -o- While she was in the bathroom, he made a quick tour of her place. The day before, he was expecting to find a very functional flat. It was not. Olivia was apparently fond of lamps, bedside lamps, table lamps, and every available spot that could be filled with light was and it was a comfortable place actually, with a twist of old fashioned design. Hardwood floors, thick carpets in pastel colours, Danish wooden furniture. Her bedroom was a shambles, with magazines and books and newspapers everywhere, sexy underwear sticking out of a drawer, piles of clean clothes waiting to be ironed and he spotted unusual Dunham material, --black suede high heeled pumps discarded under her wardrobe. It was kind of turning into a habit, after the outrageous golden sandals she was wearing the night before, he thought. In the living room, there were shelves with rows after rows of books about architecture and gardens, and piles of scientific policing précis and lots of documentation sat on a bamboo coffee table, --and more lamps. He was trying to make heads and tails of a book about the role of technology in the creation of international crime when she was back, wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe, and wiping her damp hair with renewed energy. "You don't mind if I use your laptop? I have to check my emails." She did not answer readily, trying to read his face, but apparently failed. "Please," she said. "I left it in my bedroom." He followed her. "You don't plan on leaving?" she finally asked gesturing towards a white-washed cupboard and her laptop, dangerously tossed on a holster, some change and a striped silk scarf. "Why would I?" He shrugged dismissively. "To be perfectly honest Olivia, I wouldn't know where to go at this point in my life. Obviously, I can't go back to Iraq," he hesitated, "let's say for the sake of argument that I'd rather not be in Boston right now; but no, to answer your question, no, I don't plan to leave --any time soon anyway." "Something I should know about?" "Probably lots," he smiled, "but I won't tell you…" Her left eyebrow rocketed and she pursed her mouth in disapproval. "… today." "Are you in any danger?" she asked, clasping her hands together before her, her arms extended. "You're not going to let go, are you? You remember what you told me about MY file?" "That there is no file…." "Exactly." She knew when to stop. She gave him a quick nod and sat on her bed her legs crossed. "Ok. I can live with that." He turned his back to her and switched on the laptop. "Is there someone threatening you?" "Livvie, please, drop it, 'kay?" he faced her, his voice harder. "But you will tell me eventually so that I can protect you?" "Yes, I will... eventually. Don't worry, I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself." She smiled, Walter's recommendation in their hotel room eons ago lingering in the back of her mind, but her eyes remained somewhat troubled. She took a deep breath, mulling over a way of asking him for his help without making a complete fool of herself. On the other hand, he was Peter; there was not much that could surprise him. "Peter, I've been willing to ask you. You know your way around computers, don't you?" "Well, I'm not your typical computer wizard," he said, relieved she decided to change the subject, "but there's enough geekiness in me to help you out. What's your problem?" "I've been receiving emails lately." "Ok. You're right, that's weird," he joked. "Emails from John." "Ok. Well, Olivia, I hate to break the news to you but apparently Walter's treatment took a toll on your…" "It happened in several occasions." "Did you ask yourself whether you needed a geek or a shrink to help you out?" "Yes." "Ok then, give me your passwords." -o- "That is so eighties," he said, jumping and catching the Frisbee in midair. "What we really need is a dog," he said in a loud voice, steam floating around his face. He tugged at his scarf and crossed his arms on the Frisbee. She came closer, rubbing her hands, a black wool hat pulled low on her face reddened by the biting frost, her eyes a striking pale transparent blue. She gave him a bright smile. "We need a dog?" "Yes, a dog is exactly what you need to figure things out. He will be able to make a difference between your fantasies and reality." "Or detect a ghost…" "I see your understanding of the situation is improving by the minute." "It is said that dogs are aware of…" "Yes," he cut her with a smirk, "I'm pretty sure that a dog will chase Casper away, but still, I can't explain how these emails actually got into your mailbox. Technically, I guess that just about anyone at Massive Dynamic can mess with your box… or even your dear colleagues from the Bureau. Did you ask yourself why your dear friend Agent Francis didn't offer to help you when you went postal in your office?" She shrugged and cast him an interrogative glance. "Walter would have loved to pull a prank like this on you and tamper your private mailbox as well, except that I know that he wouldn't do anything to upset you." "I agree." "Do you know of enemies you might have made during your days with HLS or before joining the Bureau?" "It depends of the time you've got to spare, it could take a while," she joked half-heartedly. Her chin sank to her chest and she lost rapidly her smile, engulfed back in her reflections. "Then you definitely need a dog," he said with a nudge on her arm. "Or if you want, I could stay over permanently…" he tried, "… or for a couple of weeks, a day…" "It won't be necessary, but thanks anyway. I can totally borrow a dog. A friend of mine has a dog. Beth is an old friend, and she has a dog." "A real dog?" "What do you mean, a real dog?" "I mean not one of those tiny indoors dogs." "Oh, no, Sammie is the real deal. She's a strong bull terrier." "That should do. How do we proceed? Does your friend live in you neighbourhood?" "Beth? Yep. Let me call her, see if Sammie can spend the night." "I have to insist on spending the first night with you two. You will need an independent scientific observer." She grinned and dialled her friend. It will probably tax her patience to put up with two young mad dogs. If she was lucky, she might even find a way to get back to her former self-assured self and get rid of her fears, or at least set them aside for a while. "Observer, it is," she said with a grin. "Beth? Liv. Yep. I'm finally going to make it to your place today. Is it too late to bring the kids their presents? Ok, then. I'll be right there. Oh Beth! You don't mind if a friend tags along do you?" TBC |
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