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[acautionarytale]

Things have gone rather well with the assembly of this device. Michael has proven the most interesting companion--half instruction manual, half lab assistant. But there are rather a lot of things that his small hands can't quite work with.

So it's rather fortuitous, isn't it, when Dr Trygstad looks in on them. Another lab assistant walks right in! Splendid!

Of course, she had come with news.

"Doktor Bishop," she says, "Something very strange has been happening since yesterday. I thought you might want to take a look...."

Comments

i am SO SORRY for being late, i will do better next time

[because_its_cool]

"I... I don't know. They shouldn't exist." And neither should Donald. And where is Olivia? "Maybe it's..."

Walter goes quiet, peering at the video feed as Peter stares into it. His stomach drops through the floor, extremities going cold and tingly, threatening to buckle. He touches the screen, just as he might his son's cheek.

"Peter, forgive me," he whispers to the image.

[acautionarytale]

Michael puts his hand on Walter's arm again, trying to comfort his thoughts. He doesn't want Walter to fall into despair, to give up. Maybe there is still something that can be done. Please focus.

Trygstad, on the other hand, attempts to gently pluck the phone from Walter's hand. "It is even more important that we go... Professor Samuelssen may have information that can help us with this."

[because_its_cool]

"I... yes, of course. Lead on." Walter lets her take the phone and follows along, preoccupied with his thoughts and distant. He gives Michael a brief look. It's ok, this is all simply very overwhelming, on top of having practically no sleep in at least three days straight. He's feeling the latter more as they leave the room and head away from the project he's thrown so much of himself into.

"Have I met Samuelssen?" He honestly doesn't remember.

[acautionarytale]

"I do not think you have, yet," Trygstad answers, continuing down the corridor. "He is... reclusive."

All this walking eventually brings them to a door very like the other doors in this brightly-lit place. She stops and touches a door control.

A voice answers through a speaker in Norwegian, to which she replies in kind. There's a beat, then the door slides open.

Inside is... well, a giant laboratory, filled with tables and tables of machinery both contemporary and not. And one man, who looks as though he'd been expecting Walter all along.

"Doctor Bishop," he says in startlingly unaccented English. "I've heard so much about you." He puts his hand out to shake.

it's been six weeks...?!? I should be shot...

[because_its_cool]

Walter understands reclusive. In one timeline, he spent three years in his lab, unless absolutely necessary. It was strange how the memories of that time were still fading, but there were things he knew he'd never forget, like the absolute uninterest terror of even thinking about setting foot outside the safety of his makeshift home. Yes, he knew reclusive. He wonders, as he walks, if this man has gone to such extremes.

The man's laboratory instantly makes Walter feel more relaxed, because it's familiar territory, even if he knows through the feel of the floor under his feet, the smell of particular levels of ozone, the taste of violet on the tip of his tongue, that it is not his own space. He'd never find that again.

He's impressed by the man's smooth English, and with only a slight pause of hesitation--one held over from the other self, the part of him that is fading--he reaches out and shakes the scientist's hand.

"Good to meet you. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with your work, Doctor." He's already forgotten the man's name... pity.