Shades of Gray by Xeen No inFringement intended Note: set after "The Transformation" – missing scenes. Peter/Walter back to Walter and Peter. I think there's still one chapter left after this one. I hope you like it ;) thanks for your feedback, it's always highly appreciated. part 1 part2 part3 -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o PART 4 A hail storm was coming, and it made the high elm trees that faced the building shudder and bend, and thrash against the windows with every squall, their shadows hiding the outside city lights with each bust of wind and tracing fantastic patterns on the walls. Walter was standing still in the dim-lit impersonal hotel room he shared with Peter. He was only two feet away from him now. Typically, his piercing gaze should have awoken his son but Peter was too far gone inside his alcohol induced nightmare to even sense his presence. His dream kept him shivering and tossing in his bed, moaning and groaning, entangled in the sheets. Walter shuffled closer and crouched swiftly near the couch. He reached out to his son's hand, but changed his mind at the very last second and jerked back. He sat down instead, pressing his hands flat on his lap, his eyes locked on the tip of his feet. He moved his big toe and his foot, hidden by the shapeless grey woollen sock, transformed into the comforting friend he's relied upon during those years he was locked in at Sainte Claire's. He toyed for a while with the improvised company, drawing inspiration from their silent exchange. He took a deep breath and his eyes went back to his son's face. In spite of the hard time Peter is having in his sleep, he seems well, he thought. When he was asleep, it was easier for Walter to recognize the child in Peter, good-looking round, lively, prone to pranks and with a cheerful temper. He came closer, his nose almost touching his son's nose, feeling his breath against his face, when Peter bucked and almost hit him. He moved back briskly and held his breath. Peter turned around and started snoring. Walter sighed, watched his feet but his companion was gone and he sighed again. He could not wait till morning to learn why Peter was back at the hotel when it was only right he should be with this lovely FBI agent he was so smitten about. No wonder he had to drink to bear with the rejection. An obnoxious vibration interrupted his train of thoughts and he preyed on the cell phone and switched it off. "Walter?" rasped Peter. "Peter? Are you awake?" said Walter. He tossed the cell away on the clothes piled up on the floor and crossed his hands back on his lap with a sheepish smile. "Mmm…" Peter's eyelids fluttered and he put his arm defensively in front of his eyes. "You are sleeping at the hotel," said the elder Bishop evenly. "Thanks again Walter for stating the obvious. What do you want? Can't it wait until tomorrow?" Peter protested, tucking on his sheet and only succeeding in uncovering his feet. He sighed deeply and sat on the bed, his hair dishevelled and his face puffed from insufficient sleep. "And what are you doing sitting on the floor? When did you get this close to my bed?" "Son, I was worried." "Sure you were. What is it about this time?" he swung his feet to the floor and stood up, stepping over Walter's spread legs, went to the bathroom and switched on the lamp, his hand over his eyes to shed them from the light. He bent back in the doorway and shouted. "Banana crumble or liquorice biscuits? Oh let me think… you need a new pair of suspenders." "Peter, you know that I don't use suspenders. They are for old people." "Of course they are. So, what is it then?" said Peter, who seemed ready to pop up the tablet he had retrieved from the cabinet. "I know you would not wake me up deliberately would you?" He grabbed a bottle on the table, sniffed it and was going to wash down the pill with a slug of questionable beer when Walter spoke up. "You told me you would sleep at the lab." "Yes I did. And I was sorely mistaken," Peter smirked. "I understand." Walter gazed at Peter, slightly shuffling on his socks, "Peter, --I think it is time that we have the talk." "The talk?" "Peter…" Walter winced. "You know. The TALK…" "Oh, the talk? No Walter, thanks, I don't want to have the talk, not tonight. You should go back to bed now." He placed his hand on Walter's elbow and gently nudged him back to his room. Walter resisted and finally turned around and faced him. "Is agent Dunham well?" "If you must know, and I'm not sure you must, Olivia had too much to drink and she's probably passed out… --I guess." "Oh, interesting…" Walter tilted his head with a puzzled stare outside the window. "Is she in a comatose state?" Peter sighed with exasperation. "Of course not! She's merely asleep and she will be nursing the master of all hangovers tomorrow." "You do know where she is, don't you son?" "Of course I know where she is Walter. What I meant is that I drove her home a while ago." "Oh, oh, oh, this is a mistake Peter," said Walter who swirled back to Peter's room with an alarmed face. "You should have stayed with her Peter. She shouldn't be left alone, especially tonight." "Calm down Walter. She's fine." "No she's not. Her mind…" Walter stopped and turned to Peter, "… I'm unsure of the outcome of her last connection." Peter smiled wearily. "And what is it supposed to mean, that I'm in charge of fixing your mistakes?" "She didn't want to sleep at the lab?" "Curiously, Walter, I never asked." "You should have," said Walter adamantly. "At least, did you mention that you two could have rented a room in this very hotel?" "I'm afraid I didn't mention that either Walter." "And she did not invite you in for… a last drink. That is how it is called, yes?" "Yes it is and no she didn't." "That's bad, that's really bad." Walter wriggled out of Peter's grip and started pacing the room with a dancing spring in his step. "I thought you were good with women Peter. I'm very disappointed in you. She was very sad because of agent Scott." He was waving an accusing forefinger in Peter's face. "I know Walter. She…" Peter's heart fluttered. "… told you? I'm afraid he's gone, you know, agent Scott? Her brain patterns were…" "Yes, Walter, you told me already. We'll get back to this conversation tomorrow. I'm not up to the challenge right now. Olivia is safe at her place and fast asleep. Come. Back to bed. I'll tuck you in." "I'd prefer to be tucked in by Asteroid. Could you call her?" "I bet you would. No Walter, I'm not going to call anybody, now be a sport and go to sleep." "Peter, would you like to try my new supplement?" Walter insisted. "It would help you sleep properly." "No thanks Walter, I'll pass, maybe next time," said Peter pulling up the sheet on Walter. "Thanks anyway," he patted the blanket and left. "Peter?" called Walter. Peter did not turn around, he stopped and waited. "Yes Walter." "Good night son. Don't worry, agent Dunham is going to be fine." "Good night Walter," he nodded with a smile but it was lost to Walter. He swallowed his aspirin with a gulp of tepid beer, sat the empty bottle on the table, slumped down on his bed and dropped his head in his hands. What if he called Olivia to make sure she was okay. It was not even three thirty, their time-slot of choice. He searched for his phone in the dark but eventually gave up when he could not find it. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe it was not such a great idea but only Walter's idiosyncrasies rubbing off on him. He lied down and closed his eyes lulling himself to sleep to the rattles of trees and hiss of hail. TBC |
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