Back to the Beginning…

Gone

Chapter 12

Peter Bishop had always been fast.

He saw the microscopic change in his father's expression, moving from white hot to dead cold in a heartbeat, saw the left index finger tighten on the Beretta's trigger, knew there was no way in hell Olivia would be able to dodge the impending bullet, and he also knew that there was no way in that same hell he would allow that to happen.

And so he moved.

Peter Bishop had always been fast.

But today, May 20, 2010, he just wasn't fast enough.

Even the music was gone, now, and the floor of the dark lab was still. It was the remains of the planet that was vibrating.

The three of them were sitting on the floor, backs against a wall, Astrid, Walter and the bald man. He was sitting like a mannequin, legs straight out in front of him, arms resting elegantly in his lap. Astrid wondered if he had a name, and what it might be.

Would it be a normal name, like Walter or Peter or Charlie? Maybe a foreign name like Nebuchadnezzar or Confucius or Gianulca. Maybe an alien name, maybe something so alien that she couldn't even pronounce it if she tried.

She glanced over at him. He was looking at her with that calm, steady gaze of his.

"September," he says quietly.

"Cool," she said.

They sat for a while longer in absolute silence, with the exception of the DisRe humming happily in the far corner. There was nothing more to do but wait.

The bald man cocks his head like a dog hearing a far away whistle.

"Yes," he says to no one in particular, "Of course. To every action there is always an equal and opposite reaction."

They looked over at him.

"Sometimes it just takes time."

Walter took a deep breath. "What are you saying?"

The man named September looks at him sadly. "I am sorry, Walter Bishop."

Slowly, Walter nodded, eyes filling with tears once again.

She could have sworn that time was slowing down.

The impact was like a freight train, pushing her almost off her feet, and it was only the strength of Peter's arms that kept her from falling completely. As it was, they crashed into the huge hissing humming mainframe of the CMS, causing a new set of sparks to leap up to the towering ceiling above and beyond. She struggled to stand, and still his arms held her.

"Are you alright?"

She shook her head, tried to push him off – her Glock was gone, damn, she needed her gun – but his grip was iron on her arms.

"Olivia, tell me you're alright!"

There was something in his voice.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I think so…"

"Good," he gasped. "Good…"

He didn't seem to want to let go.

"Peter, I'm fine. I need to reset those co-ordinates."

"Yeah," he smiled at her, but still, there was something. "Yeah, go."

She frowned.

Finally, he released his grip on her arms and he stepped back. "Go," he said again, but his breathing was coming short and shallow and he instinctively wrapped an arm around his ribs. Even through the flashing red and gold lights, there was a sheen of something on his T-shirt, under the jacket, and she felt a wave drain her from head to toes.

"Peter…"

"I'm alright. Go."

"Oh my God. Peter..."

"Olivia, please, go reset those co-ordinates."

She couldn't move.

First John, then Charlie…

"Go!"

First one step, then a second, Olivia Dunham whirled and disappeared into the dark flashing shadow of the machine.

September rises to his feet.

"They are ready. It is time."

He could have sworn that time was slowing down.

He tried to stay on his feet. He tried not to let the tremors take hold of his body, making him seem that he was all flesh and no bones, but it had become very difficult to breathe, his mouth tasted like copper and a white hot ring of pain burned his ribcage from the inside out. Sitting just seemed a better idea. He felt a woman's arms on him, helping to lower him to the floor, and for a moment, he was confused.

"Olivia?"

"Well," she said as she knelt down beside him. "Sort of. Let me see."

"Nah. It's okay. I just gotta...catch my...breath..." He tried to wave her off, but for some reason, couldn't lift his arm. It felt like lead. In fact, it felt just like back in Rio, when he'd jumped across a roof, opened a transdimensional doorway, and been hit with a tranquilizer or three. Just like that.

Maybe a little worse.

Her green eyes met his. "Yeah," she lied. There was blood on her fingers. "It's okay. You love her?"

He smiled. He felt very tired now.

She leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "She knows," and she rose to her feet and was gone.

It was there, sandwiched behind the CMS and a panel of copper tubing. In fact, if it hadn't been for the two sets of glowing numbers, she might never have found it in the dark. Now, as she neared it, it looked old and out of place, like something out of Walter's lab.

Damn, but she missed that place so much.

She could save it. She could save them. She had to. She was the one.

It shouldn't be too hard. It shouldn't be this hard.

Time was slowing down.

It seems as if time is slowing down.

The DisRe device looks like a washing machine with an unbalanced load, shaking as it is from side to side. There are sparks coming from it and Astrid is a little nervous approaching it. Walter doesn't seem to see it at all, and she knows he is battling something terrible inside, but doesn't know what. However, the bald man, September, seems to understand and she finds herself grateful that he hasn't left them on their own.

Walter reaches a trembling hand for the archaic lever, takes a long look at the man who is only supposed to observe.

"Are you certain?" he asks.

"Yes," says September.

"Can you make sure we don't do this again? Please? I don't want to do this again."

The bald man cocks his head. He has a gentle face. "It is up to you. It is a matter of choice."

"Help us make the right choices."

"I will see what I can do," he says sympathetically.

Walter blinks several times, and takes a deep breath.

He flips the lever up.

The lights go out in Boston.

"Son…"

Peter manages to open his eyes. A face is looming, close, almost too close, but it's okay. He knows this face.

"Daddy," he says. It is very hard to breathe.

"I'm so sorry, son…"

His dad folds down beside him, pulls him into his arms. Dads are good for that sort of thing. They always know what to do.

And with a soft, trembling voice, Walter Bishop begins to sing.

"Van Amburgh is the man… who goes to all the shows…"

Peter smiles. He loves that song.

"He goes into the lion's cage, and tells you all he knows."

Walter goes on, as the tears spill down his face.

"He sticks his head in the lion's mouth and keeps it there a-while,

And when he pulls it out again, he greets you with a smile.

The elephant goes around, The band begins to play,

The boys around the monkey's cage had better get out of the way.

That Hyena in the next cage, most terrible to relate,

Got awful hungry the other day, and ate up his female mate;

He's a very ferocious beast, don't go near him little boys,

For when he's angry he shakes his tail, and makes this awful noise.

The peacock is a pretty bird, his tail is wondrous fine,

The Jay bird and the jackdaw are mad to see it shine,

The Kangaroos are jumping, and rattling the cage door,

Look out ye little boys, for the lion's going to roar.

Look out all ye little boys, for the lion's going to roar."

And all Peter Bishop's nightmares finally come to an end, as his father sings him to sleep.

it seems as if time is slowing down

olivia dunham reaches a slow heavy hand pushes the number pad changing time from

6.15.85

to

2.

4.

1

0.

the machine clicks she reaches for an archaic lever somehow knowing this is what she must do

she cannot do it it is too hard she is too slow

peter

she's failed him

peter

she tries again

peter

she loves him

she's failed at that too

failed

another hand reaching not hers but hers

olivia dunham wraps her fingers around olivia dunham's fingers

she smiles

together two universes pull an archaic lever

and time

stands

still

It all started with a bang. A big one.

And ever since then, the universe has been expanding, rapidly and perhaps exponentially expanding, from its centre outwards, with only a few random cosmic strings to keep everything together. Nothing much slows it, nothing ever stops it, but just because something hasn't happened, doesn't mean something can't.

You see, Walter Bishop happened.

It starts small, only two planets, folding in on themselves in closed timelike curves, two universes bending timespace in such a way that the aforementioned expansion (which has been going on since the beginning of now-time) slows. In fact, not only does it slow, for a fraction of a second, it actually ceases. For a fraction of a nanosecond, the universes condense, slide back, retreat. Naturally, timespace goes with them, and for one fraction of a fraction of a nanosecond, the entire multiverse holds its breath.

And there is a flash of blue light.

________________

The date is February 4, 2010.

"No, Astrid please, no more music. He's been playing the same song over and over all day. It's making me crazy." Peter Bishop grinned as he talked into the phone. "Yeah, Sonny Thompson. No, not that one, a different one. I think it's called "I'm Coming Back Home to Stay," or something crazy like that. He's been muttering about choices…C'mon, you'll have fun... Yeah, Monopoly's great. He loves the coloured money… Okay, thanks again. See you soon."

He swung around as Walter ambled into the room, plastic cup and spoon in hand.

"That was Astrid. She's gonna come over and play some games with you."

"Oh. Good," said Walter, mouth full of custard. "I hope she likes Monopoly. Where are you going?"

Peter paused on the stairs. "Me? I'm going out for drinks."

"Oh?" said Walter, surprised. "Who are you drinking with?"

"Olivia."

"Agent Dunham? A date?" Walter's brows went high as he smiled.

He leaned on the banister, suddenly feeling like a little boy. "No. 'Just Drinks.' Apparently, that's what normal people do. They go out for drinks."

His father beamed, did a shuffling little dance, custard in one hand, spoon in the other.

Peter shook his head and trudged up the stairs.

Just Drinks. If it was just drinks, then why was he thinking he needed to change something, do something different? As if something important actually rode on his decisions? Nerves, he told himself. She made him feel like a schoolboy sometimes. But still…

He changed into a button-down shirt and sweater, trying to look professional, attractive, together. Just in case…

On the other side of town, Olivia Dunham is getting ready for 'just drinks.'

She grabs her jacket, takes one last look in the mirror by her bed. Professional, attractive, together. Smoothes the golden hair that is pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck.

Professional. Attractive. Together.

She needs to do something different, to change something somehow. She doesn't know why. Maybe she's in a rut and needs to change that.

She loosens the band and shakes her hair out. It falls over one eye, sexy.

Yep, tonight, she's gonna do sexy.

Poor Peter Bishop, he won't even know what hit him.

She grins to herself and swings out of the room.

__________________

As she bounces up the step to their house and the night begins to unfold as it will, there are choices that will be made along the way. Different choices, perhaps better ones, if time, fate and William Bell have anything to do with it.

And this time, there is a bald man watching from the street corner.

The End of this Direction