FLUFF BREAK

[acautionarytale]

Astrid hadn't been kidding when she said this house had plenty of room. It's a big, sprawling, two-storey... thing on a corner in a residential district that's slowly putting itself back together. Sure the place looks a little worn on the outside....

...But on the inside she's managed to make it an actual home. The place used to belong to a Loyalist couple who, sadly, no longer need it. Astrid has, interestingly, made a habit of appropriating abandoned Loyalist property, mainly because the current provisional governmant considers them forfeit. First come first served, and it seems the Fringe team won't ever have to pay for anything again in this area. So she moved out all the Loyalist propaganda and managed to get in some real furniture and decor. It's a warm and inviting and roomy place that needs explored.

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[tookhishand]

It's doubtful if Donald could, without any medical equipment from the Earth of the Observers.

"No." Poor kitten, not allowed on the table. How can anyone not give in to the little guy? "He's feeling some things even so... he cares about the others who are left. And he's frightened for himself, too. It's not safe here for us bald fellows."

Re: Up

[emotionisweakness]

"You're not bald anymore, Donald," Peter points out helpfully. It makes him uneasy that Donald still lumps himself in with his former colleagues. He's different, now. They both are.

[tookhishand]

"Wouldn't it be a shame if in another ten years, I am bald again?" So sad.

...But anyway.

"We'll have to find a way to 'unstick' them from this time. They can't stay."

He can't stay. Hitching a ride with October or one of the others to 2167... sounds too good to be true.

[emotionisweakness]

At least you'll have eyebrows, Donald. There's that.

"No. They can't." It's one point on which they firmly agree.

"But maybe they can help us figure out what went wrong."

The kitten mews from under the table, as if in agreement.

[tookhishand]

"I don't have any idea, myself. It... should have either worked or failed, not been halfway finished the way that it was."

He really is sorry. There's room for 'sorry'.

[emotionisweakness]

Yeah, he's well aware what should have happened. But he bites back a sarcastic response, takes a bite into his sandwich instead. It tastes like salty cardboard. It should have been different. Everyone here should have had better lives.

"Maybe the others know more," he finally says. "A way to set the timeline right."

[tookhishand]

"We'll see, after they've been found and rested up."

His imagination is telling him bad things about what state his old friends must be in. And he's ignoring his sandwich.

[emotionisweakness]

Does that mean the kitten can have it? It certainly seems to think so, the way it's struggling to climb into Donald's lap. Peter watches its progress with a small smile.

"Hard to believe cats could ever be nearly wiped out," he remarks, oh so deftly changing the subject. "Where did Astrid say she found this one again?"

[tookhishand]

He's giving the little guy some help into his nice warm lap. And another bit of sandwich meat, because he can.

"He followed her and the groceries right in, I think. Just a stray... named Nutmeg now."

Change the subject all you want, Peter. There's no hurry, he and October aren't quite well.

[emotionisweakness]

And then, because he can't think of any more small talk, Peter lapses into silence. Using that time to eat more of his sandwich and think about how life always goes on, about whether Etta would have named a kitten something as silly as Nutmeg. You know. Cheery stuff.

[tookhishand]

Neither can he. There is something that's caught his attention and is worrying, though.

"Do you know why you're having so many headaches?"

[emotionisweakness]

Peter looks up from his sandwich, stone-faced.

"Is this the opening to a joke?" Yes, Peter. Try to deflect the situation with humor and feigned ignorance. Sure.

[tookhishand]

No. Come on, Peter, there's a time and a place.

"Is it something I should be worried about?"

[emotionisweakness]

Peter shrugs. "I've got a lot on my mind, Donald," he says with just a touch of exasperation. Yeah. That's putting it mildly. "I think a few headaches are the least of our problems right now."

[tookhishand]

"You know that isn't true, if it's a sign of something much worse. You're missing the point of my question, do you know? Have you seen a doctor?"

[emotionisweakness]

"I don't need to see a doctor. It's just a headache. I'm fine." Maybe if he smiles in a reassuring way, chuckles a little, Donald will drop it! It worked on Olivia at least once.

[tookhishand]

Walter would keep on pressuring Peter, and in a way, he's here in Walter's place, since Walter is in his.

"No, I'm not sure you are. I know what you... put into your head."

[emotionisweakness]

Of course he does. Why wouldn't he? Peter's almost convinced half of what's left of Boston knows about it somehow. In any event he doesn't like this train of thought Donald's on. Not at all.

"Then you'll know Walter removed it," he retorts calmly. "Just as your device was removed."

[tookhishand]

"Peter, I almost died while they were doing that to me. There could be permanent damage."

See why he's worried?

[emotionisweakness]

Oh sure, he sees. Doesn't mean he has to admit anything's wrong, though.

"Don't you think you're exaggerating just a little? I'm fine. You're fine. It's a little assumptive to make the leap from headaches to brain damage. Even for us."

[tookhishand]

"No, it's not. I know things you don't about the... process."

Don't make him get Astrid involved.

[emotionisweakness]

And just like that, when he realizes Donald isn't letting this go anytime soon, the mask of civility drops. Peter's stare becomes positively icy, strangely devoid of emotion.

"You don't know what I know, September."

[tookhishand]

"Enlighten me, if you must. We're worried about you."

If Peter's trying to unnerve him... well, it's not close to working. It takes more than sounding like the people he used to work with. Not all Observers were bad.

[emotionisweakness]

He smiles thinly; his eyes just bore into Donald's. "That's just it. There is no 'must'. I don't have to tell you anything. And neither you nor Astrid have the right to poke around in my head. I don't need your help."

[tookhishand]

"Why not?" He may have been an Observer, but there was always a sort of kindness to him. He's not as good at cold angry looks.

"Do you want to become one of them?"