Fic: Pseudo-Science in the Magic City (Part 2)
Title: Pseudo-Science in the Magic City
Fandom: Fringe and Dexter (Crossover)
Pairing: Astrid Farnsworth/Debra Morgan; a hint of Olivia/Astrid
Word Count: ~14 k
A/N: Takes place at an indeterminate (and kind of inconsequential) time after Season 4 of Dexter and during Season 3 of Fringe. With apologies to people who like Florida and understand science.
Spoilers: Very vague spoilers through Season 4 of Dexter and midway through Season 3 of Fringe
Summary: There’s a corpse dead from mysterious causes and a killer loose in Miami. It must be a day of the week.
Astrid was somehow unsurprised that Deb made a terrible show of being surreptitious. She tried--Astrid had to give her that. When one heavy-set officer had casually asked her why she was leaving the precinct, she had offered a vague and mostly-mumbled lie about an early dinner. When a second coworker asked, Deb snapped, “Sweet Mary mother of fuck, why does everyone care so much where I’m going? What is this, the fucking Pentagon?”
Astrid had exchanged a look and an apologetic shrug with the officer, then hurried to catch up with the now-glowering Deb. Frankly, Astrid found it faintly endearing that Deb appeared incapable of lying well. Debra Morgan struck Astrid as the type of person who despised liars and steamrolled over bullshit, and consequently felt uncomfortable allowing dishonesty in herself. If Astrid were being honest, she would have to admit it was refreshing; more and more these days she felt like those around her were guarding and trading secrets, and she couldn’t help feeling she was often the last one let in on the bartering.
When they got outside, Deb flung herself into her car with more vim than was necessary. She turned to Astrid, her expression flirting with irritation. “You sure I can’t talk you out of this?”
“Nope,” Astrid said, shaking her head and buckling her seatbelt. She smiled her sweetest smile at Deb. “But you can point out the sights while we drive-I’ve never been to Miami.”
Deb grumbled something (Astrid had little doubt there was a four-letter word nestled in there somewhere), but she buckled her own seatbelt and pulled out of the department parking lot.
As soon as they got on the road, Astrid called Olivia. She heard the terse, familiar, “Dunham.” She wondered briefly when Olivia had begun answering her phone that way-wondered at the exact moment Olivia slipped from the gentle sound of her first name (or the even gentler sound of “hello”) to the harsh plosive of her last.
“Hello Olivia. How’s everything there going?”
There was a hint of exasperation in Olivia’s voice. “Fine, I think. Walter is performing tests, but he keeps getting distracted by the equipment they have here. He thinks he may have isolated one of the compounds that allowed the blood to freeze without actually…freezing it, if that makes sense.”
“I’m sure it makes sense to Walter,” Astrid said, before taking a deep breath. “I think we may have a lead. Sim and Malkin both have the same pharmacist, a man named Charles Denton. We think they may have been paying Denton for some kind of anti-aging compound. I’m not really sure what that has to do with their blood turning to powder, but it’s worth checking out. Walter should see if he can think of any toxin that might combine with the chemicals in Sim’s blood that could cause the freeze-drying.”
There was a pause on the other line, and Astrid waited a little anxiously. She looked at Deb, who lifted her eyebrow in a question. Then she heard Olivia chuckle on the other line, and she could envision her shaking her head. “What have you guys been up to? All Walter’s managed to do is test out a couple of chemicals and antagonize the whole staff of the laboratory. Peter and I have been talking to Sim’s family and coworkers, but haven’t gotten much. We’ll look into the pharmacist connection, though.”
“Good,” Astrid said, feeling a flood of relief that Olivia hadn’t probed further. It wasn’t like she wanted to hide things from Olivia-not really (even though she knew Olivia would immediately tell her to turn the car around if she found out where Astrid was going). Astrid didn’t tell lies when she could help it, even lies of omission. But maybe she was feeling the smallest itch of resentment, as much as she hated to admit the feeling in herself. There were days when she would arrive at the lab and they would all be gone, off on some mission they had forgotten to tell her about in their haste. Sometimes, when no one seemed to be picking up their phones no matter how many times she called, she would spend hours pacing the lab floor, occasionally petting Gene and speaking soft, soothing words, as if Gene were the one who needed comforting. She knew they appreciated what she did, even when Walter said her name wrong four different ways in one day; even when Peter and Olivia seemed to be speaking their own silent language. But she also knew they were all the protagonists in their own stories, and sometimes forgot how much she needed to know they were safe. Maybe it was time for her to be the one acting first.
“Tell Walter not to mix up his candy with his chemicals,” Astrid offered as a parting note.
“I will when we meet back up with him,” Olivia said, a smile in her voice. “Let me know if you find out anything new.”
“I will,” Astrid said, before hanging up.
“Problem?” Deb asked, her eyes on the road.
“No,” Astrid said, shaking her head and slipping her phone into her pocket. She squinted at the row of strip-malls they were driving by, the latest of many. “Miami doesn’t have many sights, does it?”
Deb’s only response was to mutter, “Smartass,” and return her attention to driving.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Daniel Sim’s house. It was a sprawling, colonnaded bungalow in the same style as the others on the clearly-wealthy street, the outside painted a blue that was a bit too pastel for Astrid’s tastes. Deb stepped from the car and slammed her door after tossing her aviators onto the front seat. She turned to Astrid, a look of warning on her face.
“If you even think about trying something heroic, I’ll-“
“You’ll what?” Astrid asked, lifting an eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips.
Deb narrowed her eyes at Astrid. “I’ll handcuff your hands to the steering wheel and let you bake in the fucking sun, that’s what.”
Astrid made an indignant sound of protest, but Deb was already turning and approaching the front door, calling over her shoulder, “Just stay quiet, try to look tough, and don’t do anything stupid, ok?”
Astrid bit back a retort that she had never in her life done anything stupid, realizing that her current situation rather disproved her point. She hurried to catch up with Deb, who was lifting the large, ornate knocker to slam it on the door. They could hear the sound of the knock reverberating through the house, but there was no answer. So Deb rang the doorbell. Then she rang it again. Then she rang it in a succession of rapid, intermittent buzzes until Astrid rested a hand on her arm and said, “I don’t think he’s home.”
Deb huffed out her disappointment. They were both turning to walk back down the front steps when they heard a metallic clatter that seemed to be coming from the back yard. They exchanged a glance and Deb shrugged, already striding towards the slightly ajar gate that opened onto a path winding its way to the back of the house. Astrid followed a step behind, telling her heart so stop pounding ridiculously, as there were few locales less intimidating than a wealthy, pastel-blue house in a rich neighborhood in the middle of a Miami afternoon. Still, she noticed the way Deb’s shoulders tensed when the banging sound stopped, and the way her right hand hovered near her holster.
They stepped around the corner of the house to see a large shed, one that was clearly well-cared for. The surrounding yard, however, was littered with debris-scraps of metal, discarded tools and beakers, jugs and vats of all sizes. The door to the shed was slightly ajar, though they couldn’t see inside. Deb motioned for Astrid to stay back.
“Mr. Denton?” Deb said as she approached the door. “I’m Detective Morgan. I’m with Miami Metro. I have a couple of questions for you.” Deb reached up and pulled the door open, peering inside. Astrid’s body tensed-she waited for someone to spring out of the shed wielding an axe or a chainsaw. She breathed a sigh of relief when Deb turned to look at her, shrugging. “No one in there.” Neither of them had any warning when a man suddenly lunged out from the side of the shed, and Astrid barely had time to register the bat in his hand before he was swinging it at Deb. Deb jerked back, but not quickly enough to avoid the bat as it smashed a glancing blow against the side of her head. Deb went down immediately, a dark flower of blood blossoming at her temple as she blindly scrabbled at her side for her gun. The man raised the bat again and brought it down on the ground, just where Deb had been before she rolled to the side.
Astrid felt frozen for a moment, feeling a sickening pull as her blood seemed to jump in her veins but her feet remained rooted to the ground. Then she breathed in, feeling her whole body jolt back into action, and forced herself to look around. Lying a few feet from her was an overturned cinder block, clumps of dirt clinging to its side. Trying her very hardest not to think (something Astrid very rarely tried to do), she picked up the cinder block. Denton wasn’t paying attention to her-all his focus was on Deb and her gun. Swallowing hard, Astrid took the last steps towards Denton, heaved the block up, and dropped it on Denton’s head, just as he was bending over to grab at Deb’s weapon. Denton went down like a sack of unconscious potatoes.
Astrid didn’t hesitate. All she really wanted to do was check on Deb, but she had seen too many horror movies not to take care of the present danger first. She knelt down at Deb’s side, trying to ignore Deb’s closed eyes and the thin rivulet of blood running down her cheek and neck. She fumbled around until she found Deb’s handcuffs, murmuring, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” before rising again and approaching Denton. He lay still, a crumpled mess on the grass. His clothes were rumpled, and he looked like he hadn’t bathed in days. Astrid didn’t let herself look at his face where the rock had connected. She cuffed one end of the handcuffs to his right wrist, then dragged him about a foot, grunting as she pulled his weight. She cuffed the other handcuff to the metal post supporting the shed. Then she went back to Deb. Deb was moving weakly, letting out a moan as her eyes fluttered open.
“Hi,” Astrid said softly as she knelt at Deb’s side. “You’re going to be okay,” she said, even as she dialed 9-11. She heard her own voice as if from a distance as it coolly recounted the events to the operator. There was a time when something like this might have thrown her into a panic; there was a time before Fringe. Astrid hung up and turned her attention back to Deb. “An ambulance is coming,” she said, trying not to let her voice shake. She wiped the hair out of Deb’s eyes, on the side that wasn’t matted with blood. She told herself scalp wounds usually looked worse than they were-she could tell just by looking at Deb’s that the wound wasn’t deep, though there was no telling what kind of unseen trauma it had caused. Somehow the thought wasn’t very comforting.
“Mrrgh. Head. Ffffuck,” Deb groaned, and Astrid laughed shakily, swiping the back of her hand across her own slightly damp eyes. Deb looked up at her. “Denton-he’s-“
“Handcuffed,” Astrid said firmly, squeezing Deb’s hand. Deb tried to nod, then winced. She closed her eyes and sighed, then opened them again. To Astrid’s surprise, a crooked smile crawled across her face as she squinted back up at Astrid. In a voice that held a bit of wobble and a great deal of wooze, Deb said,
“You’re really fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?”
Astrid laughed again, feeling her chest tighten. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Detective Morgan,” she said dryly. Deb closed her eyes, a lazy smile on her lips, and promptly passed out.
*****
Somehow, Astrid managed to force her way into the ambulance with Deb; she vaguely recalled flashing her FBI badge and speaking with a cool command she could only have picked up from Olivia. To her relief, the EMTs in the ambulance seemed to think Deb’s concussion was only superficial. By the time the ambulance had arrived screaming and flashing at the nearest hospital, Deb had already regained a woozy consciousness.
Deb was immediately wheeled into the emergency room for a check-up, and Astrid had to stand in the waiting room and deflect the questions of the cops who had accompanied them with the ambulance. She found herself once again drawing on some unknown reserve of authority, irritably flashing her badge at the policeman and telling them they should call Lieutenant LaGuerta if they had any further questions. As soon as the cops left her alone, Astrid called Olivia.
“Dunham,” Olivia answered immediately.
“Hi, Olivia,” Astrid said, before taking a deep breath and launching into her story. She tried to barrel through the details as quickly as possible, even though she could sense Olivia’s barely contained urge to interrupt. But when she started describing Denton’s attack on Deb, Olivia broke in.
“Denton what?”
“He hit her with a bat.”
“Is she okay?”
“I think she will be. They’re checking her out now.”
“What happened then?”
“I hit him with a brick.”
There was a pause, and then, “You hit him with a brick?”
“Well, it was really a cinder block, but yes.”
There was a longer pause. “And then what happened?”
“I handcuffed him to the shed, and then I called an ambulance. And then I came to the hospital. And then I called you.”
Improbably, there was an even longer pause, and then Olivia let out a slow breath of dismay. “What were you thinking, Astrid? You could have been hurt. You could have been killed. You should have told us what you were doing.”
“Like you always tell me what you’re doing?” Astrid asked quietly. Olivia didn’t reply immediately, and Astrid could almost hear the rueful air to her silence. Finally, Olivia chuckled.
“Okay. You have a point. Now isn’t the time to talk about this anyway. It sounds like we need to head back immediately to check out Denton’s house. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure, Olivia,” Astrid said firmly. “Don’t come to the hospital-I’ll probably be gone by the time you get back to Miami. And…and don’t tell Walter about any of this, if you can help it.”
“I won’t,” Olivia assured her. “Just…” Astrid envisioned Olivia shaking her head, “…just don’t do anything dangerous before we get there, alright?”
“I promise,” Astrid said.
About fifteen minutes after Astrid had hung up on Olivia, she looked up to see Lieutenant LaGuerta stalking down the hallway, a lowering frown on her face that Astrid desperately hoped she wasn’t the target of.
“Hello Agent Farnsworth,” LaGuerta said civilly once she arrived, though Astrid could tell she was maintaining a tight grip on her anger. “Where might I find my detective?”
“In there,” Astrid answered, pointing. She felt faintly like she was betraying Deb, but she also didn’t particularly want to face LaGuerta’s wrath. LaGuerta nodded and immediately moved past Astrid. Astrid couldn’t help it: she moved a few steps to the door. She realized Deb must be fully awake at this point, because she heard the slightly muffled sound of LaGuerta launching into a lecture of monumental proportions. Astrid made a few words and phrases out-“reckless,” “idiotic,” and “willful disregard for authority” were among them-but she only caught snatches here and there. Finally, she noticed the volume of LaGuerta’s voice diminish, and a couple of minutes later, the woman shoved her way out of the room. She gave Astrid a polite nod.
“The doctors tell me Detective Morgan should be fine.” Suddenly LaGuerta sighed, and Astrid watched some of the tension drain from her shoulders. “I wanted to thank you for being there for Deb, though I really wish both of you had let me know what you were doing beforehand. Detective Morgan…well, she means a lot to this department, and I’m glad she had some backup today.”
“Me too,” Astrid said softly. LaGuerta held out her hand and Astrid shook it, and then LaGuerta began to walk back towards the exit.
Astrid turned back to the door to Deb’s room and tentatively pushed it open. Deb lay on the bed, a large white bandage taped to her left temple and a tube fixed to her right hand. When she saw Astrid enter, she grinned sheepishly.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” Astrid returned. Astrid glanced over her shoulder. “Lieutenant LaGuerta didn’t seem too happy.”
Deb snorted. “Yeah, well, I can’t really blame her. She put me on fucking forced vacation, though-injuries sustained on the job and all that. Said it was either that or suspension. I can’t work for weeks.” Deb scowled, but then she shrugged, some of the irritation falling away. “Whatever. I guess she could have suspended me-it was a pretty dumb thing to do, now that I think about it. Not that I ever do-think about it, I mean. Or at least not until it’s too late.”
“Vacation might be nice,” Astrid suggested, moving a little closer to Deb’s bed.
“What the fuck am I going to do on vacation?” Deb asked in disgust. “Scrapbook?”
“You could come visit Boston,” Astrid suggested without even thinking, then laughed self-consciously. “Except it might be too cold for you.”
Deb shrugged, then winced and involuntarily brought her hand to her bandage. “Fuck, it might be nice to get out of Miami for a while. Might take you up on that.” She eyed Astrid speculatively. “So do I need to expect a visit from Agent Dunham where she threatens to beat me to a pulp?”
Astrid laughed. “I don’t think so-she’s not really the type to hit an invalid. Speaking of which, when are they letting you go?”
“Any minute now,” Deb said. “They say it’s a mild concussion, but if I take a shit-ton of aspirin and don’t operate any heavy machinery or do cocaine for a week, I should be okay.”
“You need a ride back to your place when they let you out?” Astrid asked.
Deb looked at her, an expression suspiciously like a smirk gracing her face. “Yes, you can operate my heavy machinery, Agent Farnsworth.”
*****
When the doctors finally let Deb leave more than an hour and a half later, she made it out the hospital door with her back stiff and her swagger intact. The moment she entered the parking lot, though, she began to weave, and Astrid immediately moved to support her, shaking her head in mild disapproval at the not-very-apologetic shrug Deb tossed her.
Deb gave her directions to her apartment, meanwhile cranking the car’s AC up. Deb leaned on Astrid again as they went up the stairs, though Astrid had the strangest feeling that Deb didn’t really need the support as much as she seemed to. Deb fumbled for a moment with her keys, then unlocked the door and gently pushed it open. She looked at Astrid, quirking an eyebrow.
“Want to come in?”
“Well, I should make sure you’re settled,” Astrid suggested. “And make sure you don’t fall asleep-what with the head wound, I mean.” She somehow failed to mention that the no-sleeping rule was bunk for minor head trauma.
Deb leaned back against one side of the doorframe, eyeing Astrid with an expression that couldn’t quite seem to decide between skepticism and amusement. Then she shook her head, pushed herself off the doorframe, and leaned in to kiss her.
They stood there for a moment, kissing as the hot sun hammered down on them. Deb smelled a bit like the hospital, but also like soap and some scent Astrid swore the government must issue to law enforcement agents to make them smell both tough and delicious. Astrid found herself closing her eyes and leaning up into the kiss, until she forgot about the sun drawing little pinprick beads of sweat along her neck. Finally, Deb let her lips tug at Astrid’s bottom lip one more time and then pulled away.
“Thanks for saving my life,” she said, punching Astrid lightly on the shoulder before walking into her apartment.
“You’re welcome,” Astrid said to her back, following her inside.
Deb’s apartment was cluttered and under-decorated; it felt industrial but lived-in. There was an empty take-out carton on the table, a pile of police files on the coffee table, several pictures of Deb and a man Astrid assumed was her brother. Almost as soon as Astrid entered the apartment, her phone began buzzing. She saw it was Olivia calling and answered immediately. “Olivia-what’s going on?”
“We’re at Denton’s house,” Olivia said. “Not that you probably had any doubts, but it was definitely him. We found the notes and leftovers of experiments Walter said were designed to stunt the aging process. I read some of the later entries-I think he started going a bit crazy, near the end. His notes read like mad scientist journals.”
“Walter would know,” Astrid noted, and Olivia let out an amused breath of agreement. “What about the blood-the freeze-drying?”
“Walter doesn’t think that was intentional. Denton was definitely trying to kill them-he had ingredients for aconitine and a lot of chemicals I don’t know anything about, but Walter does.” There was a noise in the background, and Olivia could hear Walter’s excited voice. Olivia paused, then continued speaking. “Walter says the aconitine was supposed to make their murders look like heart attacks, but it reacted with several of the chemicals in Daniel Sim and Steven Malkin’s blood to make it turn to powder.”
Astrid nodded. “That makes sense.” She hesitated. “Do you need my help?”
“I don’t think so,” Olivia said. “We caught Denton-well, you caught Denton-so we don’t need to worry about any more murders. I just got a call from the hospital-they say he’s regaining consciousness. I’m going to talk to him while Peter and Walter look around here.”
Astrid felt a flood of relief that she hadn’t accidentally killed Denton. She didn’t think she had done any permanent damage, but it was her first time dropping a brick on someone’s head, after all, and she hadn’t been sure of the effects.
“Where are you now?” Olivia asked. “Still at the hospital?”
“No,” Astrid said. “I’m at Deb’s-Detective Morgan’s. I gave her a ride back to her apartment.”
“Ah,” Olivia said. There was another noise in the background; it sounded like Peter. Olivia said something to him Astrid couldn’t hear, then resumed talking to her. “Well, Walter probably won’t need you until tomorrow when he starts running experiments on Denton’s experiments. But we’re still staying at the Seaborn Hotel-see you there tonight?”
Astrid hesitated, glancing at Deb, who was currently rooting around for something in her freezer. “Actually, I…I think I might just stay here.”
“Oh.” There was a pause, as if Olivia was trying to think of what to say. What came out was, “Are you sure?”
Astrid looked back at Deb, who had by now slung herself onto a stool, one hand mashing a slab of frozen, packaged meat to her temple, the other hand clutching a beer, despite her doctor’s stern recommendation that she not consume alcohol for the next 24 hours. Astrid smiled. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Olivia said, her voice impossible to interpret. “See you tomorrow morning, then?”
“See you tomorrow, Olivia,” Astrid said before hanging up. She slipped her phone into her pocket and walked towards Deb.
“Everything okay?” Deb asked, putting her bottle on the table and tossing her frozen steak beside it.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Astrid said, regarding Deb as she sat hunched over, nothing but elbows and knees as her feet rested on the bars of the stool. Astrid reached out to just let her finger brush lightly against Deb’s bandage. “How’s your head?”
“Hurts like a motherfucker,” Deb admitted, before smirking at Astrid. She reached out and grabbed Astrid’s hand, pulling at her so she was between her legs. “Want to distract me?”
Deb didn’t wait for an answer; she tugged at Astrid’s shirt, and Astrid leaned down until they were kissing again. It didn’t take long before Deb was kissing along Astrid’s neck, her fingers sliding to Astrid’s waist. “Didn’t you say you’re supposed to keep me from falling asleep?” Deb said, her voice muffled against Astrid’s skin, and Astrid laughed before leaning back and pulling on Deb’s hands until she was standing up. She tried to look stern as she met Deb’s eyes. “This is strictly a medical intervention. I won’t have LaGuerta saying the FBI endangered her officer by letting her fall asleep with a head wound.”
“Jesus Astrid,” Deb said, shaking her head in mock-rebuke. “If you want to play doctor, you could just say so.”
Astrid opened her mouth to make an indignant retort about childish innuendo, but Deb’s lips were already there, shutting her up. They stumbled towards what Astrid assumed was Deb’s bedroom, grinning against each other’s hungry mouths, and Astrid decided that maybe she would let Deb have the last word on this one.
*****
Astrid woke up at exactly 6:05, just like she did on every weekday. She liked to use that time to grab Walter something sweet from the pastry shop near her apartment. If the traffic wasn’t too bad, she would have some time to herself; she could brush Gene, make sure Walter hadn’t created something toxic and/or hallucinogenic the day before, and try to learn something new. Though large portions of Walter’s and Bell’s experiments were under lock and key, Walter had given Astrid access to enough files to last her for years (though he’d probably forgotten he even gave them to her long ago). Because he was Walter, he often took it for granted that Astrid knew the same things he did; sometimes he would forget that Astrid had never once dissected a body before meeting him; that her background was in linguistics and cryptology, not biology and quantum physics; that some people had justifiable reservations about sifting through brainmatter and unnatural bodily fluids. But Astrid also knew that Walter and Olivia and possibly the whole world needed her, so she studied. She read his old experiments over and over, trying to make sense of them, trying to play catch-up to the wild leaps of logic Bell and Walter seemed so comfortable making, trying to ignore the anger she sometimes felt when she came across an experiment that sidestepped ethics and went straight towards cruelty. Often she felt like she forgot as much as she learned, but she couldn’t stop trying; one day, something she read might make the difference between someone’s life and death.
This Thursday, though, her awakening wasn’t accompanied by the metal rattling of the Thursday-morning garbage men. This Thursday was accompanied by Debra Morgan, limbs sprawled out, one arm flung gracelessly over Astrid’s bare back. Astrid lay with her cheek pressed to the pillow, smiling at the slight frown that seemed to chase Deb even through sleep. Astrid reached over to gently run her thumb along Deb’s cheek, watching as some of the lines of her face smoothed away. Carefully, Astrid slipped out from under Deb’s arm. She looked around until she spotted her pants. She couldn’t find her shirt among the clutter of Deb’s floor, so she slipped on a faded, worn cotton shirt that belonged to Deb. She found an extra toothbrush in the bathroom; she considered taking a shower, too, but didn’t want to wake Deb. Quietly, she pushed her way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
There wasn’t a lot in Deb’s fridge, but there were some eggs that weren’t past their expiration date. Astrid turned on the stove and began frying them, humming to herself as she moved around Deb’s kitchen. When she heard the Pop! of the toaster, she turned to see Deb wandering out of her bedroom, hair a disheveled mess. She wore a men’s collared shirt that was a couple sizes too big, and if it hadn’t looked so good on her, Astrid might have wondered where it came from.
“Hey,” Deb said, voice still husky from sleep.
“Hi,” Astrid said brightly as she moved to grab the toast. “Breakfast?” she asked, already setting the plates on the table.
“God yes,” Deb said gratefully, sliding into a seat and immediately digging in.
“How’s your head?” Astrid asked between bites.
Deb shrugged. “Not too bad. I’ve had worse, and that painkiller the doc gave me’s no joke. Though I might need a bigger dose after LaGuerta gets done with me today.”
“You’re going back in?” Astrid said with surprise. “I thought you had to stop working for a few weeks.”
“I do,” Deb grumbled, violently spearing a clump of eggs. “But I have to get debriefed and fill out some paperwork today.”
“Oh,” Astrid said. “So I guess you need me to drive you to the department?”
“You’d better,” Deb retorted, stabbing her fork in Astrid’s direction. “You take my car back without me inside and I’m calling the cops for vehicular theft.”
“It’s almost like I never left Cambridge,” Astrid said dryly, and Deb nearly choked on a piece of toast.
They made quick work of the food. As Astrid helped Deb carry the dirty dishes to the sink, Deb asked the time. Astrid glanced at her watch. “6:30. We should probably head back to the precinct.”
“Yeah,” Deb agreed, before reaching up to brush her thumb across Astrid’s lower lip. “Jelly,” she said by way of explanation, popping her thumb into her mouth and sucking off the jam. Then she leaned in and kissed Astrid, and for a moment Astrid wondered what would happen if she just didn’t show up that day. Then she remembered that in her line of business, not showing up for work usually meant you’d been kidnapped by invaders from another universe. She really didn’t want Olivia kicking down Deb’s door, so she broke off the kiss, offering Deb an apologetic smile.
“I should really probably get ready.”
“You really probably should,” Deb said, before letting out a resigned huff of breath and jerking her head towards the bedroom. “Well c’mon then. At least one of us is allowed to get some fucking work done today.”
Astrid grabbed the bag she had brought in with her and went back in Deb’s bedroom. They both took showers, somehow managing to overlap more than was strictly necessary.
“Mirror’s in the closet,” Deb called over her shoulder as they were both getting dressed.
Astrid opened the closet door, then stopped, letting out an incredulous breath. She turned to Deb, lifting an eyebrow. “Did Miami Metro by any chance raid a plaid factory recently?”
“What?” Deb asked, before scowling when she realized what Astrid was referring to. “They’re comfortable!”
Astrid laughed, turning back to what seemed to be an entire closet stuffed with the multi-colored plaid shirts. “And I thought Olivia was a predictable dresser,” she murmured, before shaking her head and beginning to dress.
Deb rolled her eyes when Astrid sternly insisted on driving, but she didn’t argue. When they stepped out of the elevator, there was an awkward moment as they both prepared to take care of their separate morning tasks. Deb glanced around the floor, her nervousness conveying more than words. Astrid smiled and reached out to touch Deb gently on the hand. “I’m going to go check on Walter-swing by after you’ve talked to LaGuerta?”
“Yeah, sure,” Deb said with a relieved smile. She turned and headed towards LaGuerta’s office; Astrid made her way towards the room where Malkin’s body was still stored. On her way, she ran into Peter as he was leaving the kitchen area, stirring a pack of Sweet’N Low into a styrofoam cup of coffee.
“Astrid!” he said when he saw her, his face breaking into a grin. He lifted an eyebrow. “And how was your evening?”
“None of your business,” Astrid said calmly, and Peter shook his head, chuckling. Astrid sort of wanted to punch him, but she also couldn’t help the small smile that crept to her face. Peter was the closest thing she’d ever had to a brother, and maybe she didn’t mind so much if he treated her like a sister from time to time. “So what needs doing this morning?” she asked, all business again.
“Packing?” Peter answered, before elaborating when he saw Astrid’s confused look. “Olivia just got a call from Broyles. There’s been an incident in Boston. Massive Dynamic is involved somehow, and Broyles says we need to get there ASAP. I know Walter wants to play around with blood some more, but we’ve got to go.”
“Oh,” Astrid said, feeling an unexpected stab of disappointment. She shook her head. “Where’s Walter?”
“Conference room,” Peter said, jerking his chin in the direction of the darkened room. “He’s probably sleeping in there-I made the mistake of leaving him in his own room, and he claims he stayed up all night watching a 1950s science fiction marathon. He wouldn’t stop talking this morning about how many parts of those movies were actually scientifically plausible. Not what you want to hear about Day of the Triffids.” Peter shook his head. “You mind filling him in for me? I’ve got to talk to Olivia.”
“Sure, Peter,” Astrid said, already heading in that direction.
When she pushed her way into the conference room, she saw that Peter had been right; Walter had his head on the table, his mouth emitting gentle snores (and a small bit of spittle). Astrid smiled at him fondly, then reached down to gently shake his shoulder. She wasn’t prepared when Walter jerked up violently, his limbs flailing as if he was under attack. Astrid snatched her hand back in surprise. Walter’s eyes were wide and terrified, and he looked at Astrid as if he didn’t know her.
“They-you-they took him,” Walter babbled, his eyes darting left and right, still not seeming to recognize Astrid. Immediately, Astrid reached over and grabbed Walter’s hand, squeezing it gently. She knelt down in front of him, meeting his eyes.
“Hey, hey Walter-no one took anyone,” Astrid said softly. “It’s just me-it’s Astrid.”
“Astrid?” Walter said querulously, before blinking rapidly. His eyes became more clear, and he finally looked at Astrid with recognition. “Astrid!” he repeated, but this time with pleasure. “I think I know how someone could reproduce the experiment in The Fly!”
“I’m sure you do, Walter,” Astrid said, patting Walter on the hand before rising to her feet. She explained what Peter had said, watching Walter’s face fall when he heard they would have to leave. Then his expression brightened when she told him about Boston.
“Maybe someone really did decide to bring The Fly to life! Maybe my dream was a premonition, and we’ll come back to find a whole hive of bug people!”
“I wouldn’t wish for that,” Astrid said quietly, for a moment in no mood for Walter’s tendency to treat human tragedy like a science project. The tone of her voice must have gotten through to Walter, because he recoiled, his expression troubled.
“Yes. Yes, I suppose that would be terrible, wouldn’t it?” Astrid nodded, and Walter looked up at her, searching her face. “I’ve done a lot of terrible things, I think.”
“I know, Walter,” Astrid said softly, reaching over to tug his collar back into place. “Let’s go see if we can fix some of them, ok?”
Walter nodded gratefully and rose to his feet, and Astrid led the way back outside. They arrived at LaGuerta’s office just as Peter and Olivia were stepping out. “Peter!” Walter said in the excited way he sometimes said his son’s name, as if the two of them hadn’t seen each other in weeks. “Do you have any more news on the incident in Boston? Is it a temporal rift? Is it dimensional instability? Is it-“ he lowered his voice to a whisper, shooting a glance Astrid’s way, “-bug people?”
“No, Walter,” Peter said, laughing. “Or maybe it is-I don’t know yet. Broyles said he’d fill us in when we got there. Now let’s go get you some food,” Peter continued, a suggestion that erased Walter’s disappointed expression. “I know how you hate airport food.”
“It’s the turkey sandwich meat they sell at all of them,” Walter said conspiratorially. “Clearly not avian in origin-I suspect a non-sentient bioproduct of artificial meat vats. Which I would approve of, mind you, if it didn’t taste so much like wet tissue paper.”
Peter cast Olivia and Astrid a look of tolerant amusement as he and Walter walked away, but there was also gentleness in the hand he rested on his father’s shoulder. Olivia turned to Astrid. “So-big day for you, yesterday, huh?” Olivia rubbed the back of her neck, her expression uncharacteristically hesitant. “I’m sorry if I came off as lecturing yesterday. It’s just…I was worried about you.”
“You were worried about me?” Astrid asked. “I’m not the one diving headfirst into every dangerous situation I can find.”
“I worry about everybody,” Olivia said wryly. “And you gotta admit you were the one doing the diving yesterday. I better watch out or the next thing I know you’ll be taking my job.”
“No thank you,” Astrid said firmly, shaking her head. “Yesterday was about all the excitement I can take-you can keep the parts with the violence and blunt trauma.” Olivia chuckled, and Astrid drew a breath. “But maybe you were right, also. I think I got a little caught up in the moment.”
“Or maybe you got caught up in a certain…outspoken detective?” Olivia suggested archly.
Astrid could feel herself blush. “Maybe that was part of it, too.”
In a subtle shift, Olivia’s expression transitioned from amusement to uncertainty, though the shift was one Astrid would never have recognized before she came to know Olivia’s face. “I’m sorry we have to leave so soon. I know it’s…hard, finding people with all…this.” She waved her hand, the gesture somehow encompassing powdered blood and Fringe and Walter and the fate of the universe. “I’m still figuring it out myself, I think.”
“I know,” Astrid said softly. Olivia looked troubled, and not for the first time Astrid wanted to pull her in for a hug; to bring her home with her and force baked goods into her; to make her laugh and forget yesterday and tomorrow and twenty years ago. But she knew that getting between the cracks of Olivia’s exterior was like prying the iron paneling off a warship. There were times when Olivia would let her in, quiet times in the lab when it was just the two of them, when Olivia would let drop the barest crumbs from her childhood (the good parts, sometimes the bad). Astrid thought Olivia was someone it took a long time to know, and that was alright; none of them really knew Astrid yet, either. But Astrid knew the most important parts about Olivia, and the rest would follow, one day. “Do you need any help packing up?”
“No,” Olivia answered. “Flight’s in about three hours, though, so we should probably head to the airport soon.”
“Okay,” Astrid said. “Just let me take care of some things.”
Olivia’s smile was knowing. “Sure-take your time. What’s the point of being in a top-secret FBI division if you can’t skip airport security?”
“It’s why I took the job in the first place,” Astrid said lightly, and Olivia laughed. “Just give me a few minutes.” Olivia nodded, and Astrid turned to search for Deb.
Astrid couldn’t find Deb on her first sweep of the floor, but one of the officers mentioned he had seen her outside. Astrid eventually found Deb in the parking lot. To be more accurate, she found Deb’s ass sticking out of her car as she rooted around for something in the back seat. Astrid could hear a string of “Motherfuck”s coming from inside the car, so she cleared her throat. Deb pulled her head out of the car and turned to glare at Astrid; her expression went from high irritation to pleased surprise when she saw Astrid.
“Oh. Hey.”
“Hey,” Astrid said, arching an eyebrow. “Lose something?”
“My badge,” Deb said, grimacing. “The department always inventories everything when people take a leave of absence. I think it might have gotten lost yesterday.”
Without even asking, Astrid began to help Deb search her car. After a few moments, Astrid found the badge wedged underneath the passenger seat, and Deb accepted it with a look of relief. “Thanks,” she said, slouching back against the car and eyeing Astrid. She finally thought to ask what Astrid was doing outside.
“I wanted to say goodbye,” Astrid said simply. “We got a call from our headquarters-we have to head back now.”
“Oh,” Deb said, and Astrid felt almost guilty, because she liked the fact that Deb’s face fell at the news. Deb looked at the pavement, and then sort of mumbled out, “Well, I’m glad you came. I’m not normally…you know, the one-night stand type or whatever. It’s not like I do that all the time.”
“And you think I do?” Astrid asked.
Deb’s gaze snapped up to hers. “How the fuck should I know?” she said indignantly. “Maybe you do this in every city you go to-pull that sweet and smart routine, drop a brick on some psycho’s head, then get girls into bed just so you can leave them the next day.”
“Yes,” Astrid said seriously. “I’m secretly a serial womanizer.”
“Smartass,” Deb muttered, and Astrid had to work hard to bite back a smile at the way Deb nearly kicked her feet against the pavement, as if she was some sort of foul-mouthed Charlie Brown.
“Hey,” Astrid said gently, taking a step towards Deb and touching her hand. “I’m glad I came too. And I wish I could stay longer. Maybe you really could come visit Boston, some time.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Deb said. She squinted at Astrid. “So are you guys going to be okay-fighting the forces of evil or science or…whatever the fuck it is you people do?”
“I think so,” Astrid said slowly, with maybe a touch more confidence than she might have had the day before. But despite the reassuring smile she offered Deb, there was still something almost low and dark in the way she said, “I think we’re all getting ready for something big.”
“Is that some kind of prophecy?” Deb asked skeptically, before adding, “Are those something you guys do-prophecies, I mean?”
“No,” Astrid said, laughing. “Well, maybe sometimes, but that one was mostly based on lots and lots of past experience: There’s always something big and bad on the horizon.”
Deb snorted her agreement before shrugging. “Well whatever it is, I’m glad you’re handling it and not me. I’ll stick to your run-of-the-mill murderous assholes.”
“Good,” Astrid said with a nod. “I’m glad you’re handling those and not me.” She caught Deb’s gaze in hers. “Just be careful, okay?”
Deb gave an awkward shrug as if to shake off Astrid’s concern, but the look she returned Astrid was serious. “You too.” Then she shook her head, grinning. “Fuck it, just say goodbye already before the whole department wanders out here.”
Astrid laughed and leaned in to kiss Deb. Despite the ungodly heat, Astrid didn’t object when the two of them were pressed against each other, and they might have stood there for a long time if a car backfiring in the distance hadn’t reminded Astrid that she had places to be. She broke away and gave Deb an apologetic look. “I have to go.”
“Yeah, yeah-go,” Deb said, waving her off. “Go save the world.”
Astrid drew herself up and smiled. “That’s the plan.”
*****
After they touched down in Boston three hours later, Astrid stepped out into one of those perfect, crisp Boston days, one without a trace of clouds on the horizon. As if they had coordinated on the plane, the rest were already in their versions of work uniforms-Peter in his pea coat, Olivia in her dark blazer and starched collar, Walter in the woolen sweater that made him look like a model for AARP Weekly. Astrid felt a little shiver start at her shoulders, and she pulled on her own jacket. Walter was rubbing his hands together in anticipation, having just heard from Broyles about their new case. He beamed at the rest of them.
“I simply cannot decide whether I am more excited about the transmogrified chupacabras or that today is raspberry pie day at Pam’s Pies and Sweets!”
Astrid shook her head fondly and slipped her arm through Walter’s, beginning to walk with him towards their waiting car. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of the cool air, her senses alive. They had work to do.
The End
Fandom: Fringe and Dexter (Crossover)
Pairing: Astrid Farnsworth/Debra Morgan; a hint of Olivia/Astrid
Word Count: ~14 k
A/N: Takes place at an indeterminate (and kind of inconsequential) time after Season 4 of Dexter and during Season 3 of Fringe. With apologies to people who like Florida and understand science.
Spoilers: Very vague spoilers through Season 4 of Dexter and midway through Season 3 of Fringe
Summary: There’s a corpse dead from mysterious causes and a killer loose in Miami. It must be a day of the week.
Astrid was somehow unsurprised that Deb made a terrible show of being surreptitious. She tried--Astrid had to give her that. When one heavy-set officer had casually asked her why she was leaving the precinct, she had offered a vague and mostly-mumbled lie about an early dinner. When a second coworker asked, Deb snapped, “Sweet Mary mother of fuck, why does everyone care so much where I’m going? What is this, the fucking Pentagon?”
Astrid had exchanged a look and an apologetic shrug with the officer, then hurried to catch up with the now-glowering Deb. Frankly, Astrid found it faintly endearing that Deb appeared incapable of lying well. Debra Morgan struck Astrid as the type of person who despised liars and steamrolled over bullshit, and consequently felt uncomfortable allowing dishonesty in herself. If Astrid were being honest, she would have to admit it was refreshing; more and more these days she felt like those around her were guarding and trading secrets, and she couldn’t help feeling she was often the last one let in on the bartering.
When they got outside, Deb flung herself into her car with more vim than was necessary. She turned to Astrid, her expression flirting with irritation. “You sure I can’t talk you out of this?”
“Nope,” Astrid said, shaking her head and buckling her seatbelt. She smiled her sweetest smile at Deb. “But you can point out the sights while we drive-I’ve never been to Miami.”
Deb grumbled something (Astrid had little doubt there was a four-letter word nestled in there somewhere), but she buckled her own seatbelt and pulled out of the department parking lot.
As soon as they got on the road, Astrid called Olivia. She heard the terse, familiar, “Dunham.” She wondered briefly when Olivia had begun answering her phone that way-wondered at the exact moment Olivia slipped from the gentle sound of her first name (or the even gentler sound of “hello”) to the harsh plosive of her last.
“Hello Olivia. How’s everything there going?”
There was a hint of exasperation in Olivia’s voice. “Fine, I think. Walter is performing tests, but he keeps getting distracted by the equipment they have here. He thinks he may have isolated one of the compounds that allowed the blood to freeze without actually…freezing it, if that makes sense.”
“I’m sure it makes sense to Walter,” Astrid said, before taking a deep breath. “I think we may have a lead. Sim and Malkin both have the same pharmacist, a man named Charles Denton. We think they may have been paying Denton for some kind of anti-aging compound. I’m not really sure what that has to do with their blood turning to powder, but it’s worth checking out. Walter should see if he can think of any toxin that might combine with the chemicals in Sim’s blood that could cause the freeze-drying.”
There was a pause on the other line, and Astrid waited a little anxiously. She looked at Deb, who lifted her eyebrow in a question. Then she heard Olivia chuckle on the other line, and she could envision her shaking her head. “What have you guys been up to? All Walter’s managed to do is test out a couple of chemicals and antagonize the whole staff of the laboratory. Peter and I have been talking to Sim’s family and coworkers, but haven’t gotten much. We’ll look into the pharmacist connection, though.”
“Good,” Astrid said, feeling a flood of relief that Olivia hadn’t probed further. It wasn’t like she wanted to hide things from Olivia-not really (even though she knew Olivia would immediately tell her to turn the car around if she found out where Astrid was going). Astrid didn’t tell lies when she could help it, even lies of omission. But maybe she was feeling the smallest itch of resentment, as much as she hated to admit the feeling in herself. There were days when she would arrive at the lab and they would all be gone, off on some mission they had forgotten to tell her about in their haste. Sometimes, when no one seemed to be picking up their phones no matter how many times she called, she would spend hours pacing the lab floor, occasionally petting Gene and speaking soft, soothing words, as if Gene were the one who needed comforting. She knew they appreciated what she did, even when Walter said her name wrong four different ways in one day; even when Peter and Olivia seemed to be speaking their own silent language. But she also knew they were all the protagonists in their own stories, and sometimes forgot how much she needed to know they were safe. Maybe it was time for her to be the one acting first.
“Tell Walter not to mix up his candy with his chemicals,” Astrid offered as a parting note.
“I will when we meet back up with him,” Olivia said, a smile in her voice. “Let me know if you find out anything new.”
“I will,” Astrid said, before hanging up.
“Problem?” Deb asked, her eyes on the road.
“No,” Astrid said, shaking her head and slipping her phone into her pocket. She squinted at the row of strip-malls they were driving by, the latest of many. “Miami doesn’t have many sights, does it?”
Deb’s only response was to mutter, “Smartass,” and return her attention to driving.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Daniel Sim’s house. It was a sprawling, colonnaded bungalow in the same style as the others on the clearly-wealthy street, the outside painted a blue that was a bit too pastel for Astrid’s tastes. Deb stepped from the car and slammed her door after tossing her aviators onto the front seat. She turned to Astrid, a look of warning on her face.
“If you even think about trying something heroic, I’ll-“
“You’ll what?” Astrid asked, lifting an eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips.
Deb narrowed her eyes at Astrid. “I’ll handcuff your hands to the steering wheel and let you bake in the fucking sun, that’s what.”
Astrid made an indignant sound of protest, but Deb was already turning and approaching the front door, calling over her shoulder, “Just stay quiet, try to look tough, and don’t do anything stupid, ok?”
Astrid bit back a retort that she had never in her life done anything stupid, realizing that her current situation rather disproved her point. She hurried to catch up with Deb, who was lifting the large, ornate knocker to slam it on the door. They could hear the sound of the knock reverberating through the house, but there was no answer. So Deb rang the doorbell. Then she rang it again. Then she rang it in a succession of rapid, intermittent buzzes until Astrid rested a hand on her arm and said, “I don’t think he’s home.”
Deb huffed out her disappointment. They were both turning to walk back down the front steps when they heard a metallic clatter that seemed to be coming from the back yard. They exchanged a glance and Deb shrugged, already striding towards the slightly ajar gate that opened onto a path winding its way to the back of the house. Astrid followed a step behind, telling her heart so stop pounding ridiculously, as there were few locales less intimidating than a wealthy, pastel-blue house in a rich neighborhood in the middle of a Miami afternoon. Still, she noticed the way Deb’s shoulders tensed when the banging sound stopped, and the way her right hand hovered near her holster.
They stepped around the corner of the house to see a large shed, one that was clearly well-cared for. The surrounding yard, however, was littered with debris-scraps of metal, discarded tools and beakers, jugs and vats of all sizes. The door to the shed was slightly ajar, though they couldn’t see inside. Deb motioned for Astrid to stay back.
“Mr. Denton?” Deb said as she approached the door. “I’m Detective Morgan. I’m with Miami Metro. I have a couple of questions for you.” Deb reached up and pulled the door open, peering inside. Astrid’s body tensed-she waited for someone to spring out of the shed wielding an axe or a chainsaw. She breathed a sigh of relief when Deb turned to look at her, shrugging. “No one in there.” Neither of them had any warning when a man suddenly lunged out from the side of the shed, and Astrid barely had time to register the bat in his hand before he was swinging it at Deb. Deb jerked back, but not quickly enough to avoid the bat as it smashed a glancing blow against the side of her head. Deb went down immediately, a dark flower of blood blossoming at her temple as she blindly scrabbled at her side for her gun. The man raised the bat again and brought it down on the ground, just where Deb had been before she rolled to the side.
Astrid felt frozen for a moment, feeling a sickening pull as her blood seemed to jump in her veins but her feet remained rooted to the ground. Then she breathed in, feeling her whole body jolt back into action, and forced herself to look around. Lying a few feet from her was an overturned cinder block, clumps of dirt clinging to its side. Trying her very hardest not to think (something Astrid very rarely tried to do), she picked up the cinder block. Denton wasn’t paying attention to her-all his focus was on Deb and her gun. Swallowing hard, Astrid took the last steps towards Denton, heaved the block up, and dropped it on Denton’s head, just as he was bending over to grab at Deb’s weapon. Denton went down like a sack of unconscious potatoes.
Astrid didn’t hesitate. All she really wanted to do was check on Deb, but she had seen too many horror movies not to take care of the present danger first. She knelt down at Deb’s side, trying to ignore Deb’s closed eyes and the thin rivulet of blood running down her cheek and neck. She fumbled around until she found Deb’s handcuffs, murmuring, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” before rising again and approaching Denton. He lay still, a crumpled mess on the grass. His clothes were rumpled, and he looked like he hadn’t bathed in days. Astrid didn’t let herself look at his face where the rock had connected. She cuffed one end of the handcuffs to his right wrist, then dragged him about a foot, grunting as she pulled his weight. She cuffed the other handcuff to the metal post supporting the shed. Then she went back to Deb. Deb was moving weakly, letting out a moan as her eyes fluttered open.
“Hi,” Astrid said softly as she knelt at Deb’s side. “You’re going to be okay,” she said, even as she dialed 9-11. She heard her own voice as if from a distance as it coolly recounted the events to the operator. There was a time when something like this might have thrown her into a panic; there was a time before Fringe. Astrid hung up and turned her attention back to Deb. “An ambulance is coming,” she said, trying not to let her voice shake. She wiped the hair out of Deb’s eyes, on the side that wasn’t matted with blood. She told herself scalp wounds usually looked worse than they were-she could tell just by looking at Deb’s that the wound wasn’t deep, though there was no telling what kind of unseen trauma it had caused. Somehow the thought wasn’t very comforting.
“Mrrgh. Head. Ffffuck,” Deb groaned, and Astrid laughed shakily, swiping the back of her hand across her own slightly damp eyes. Deb looked up at her. “Denton-he’s-“
“Handcuffed,” Astrid said firmly, squeezing Deb’s hand. Deb tried to nod, then winced. She closed her eyes and sighed, then opened them again. To Astrid’s surprise, a crooked smile crawled across her face as she squinted back up at Astrid. In a voice that held a bit of wobble and a great deal of wooze, Deb said,
“You’re really fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?”
Astrid laughed again, feeling her chest tighten. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Detective Morgan,” she said dryly. Deb closed her eyes, a lazy smile on her lips, and promptly passed out.
*****
Somehow, Astrid managed to force her way into the ambulance with Deb; she vaguely recalled flashing her FBI badge and speaking with a cool command she could only have picked up from Olivia. To her relief, the EMTs in the ambulance seemed to think Deb’s concussion was only superficial. By the time the ambulance had arrived screaming and flashing at the nearest hospital, Deb had already regained a woozy consciousness.
Deb was immediately wheeled into the emergency room for a check-up, and Astrid had to stand in the waiting room and deflect the questions of the cops who had accompanied them with the ambulance. She found herself once again drawing on some unknown reserve of authority, irritably flashing her badge at the policeman and telling them they should call Lieutenant LaGuerta if they had any further questions. As soon as the cops left her alone, Astrid called Olivia.
“Dunham,” Olivia answered immediately.
“Hi, Olivia,” Astrid said, before taking a deep breath and launching into her story. She tried to barrel through the details as quickly as possible, even though she could sense Olivia’s barely contained urge to interrupt. But when she started describing Denton’s attack on Deb, Olivia broke in.
“Denton what?”
“He hit her with a bat.”
“Is she okay?”
“I think she will be. They’re checking her out now.”
“What happened then?”
“I hit him with a brick.”
There was a pause, and then, “You hit him with a brick?”
“Well, it was really a cinder block, but yes.”
There was a longer pause. “And then what happened?”
“I handcuffed him to the shed, and then I called an ambulance. And then I came to the hospital. And then I called you.”
Improbably, there was an even longer pause, and then Olivia let out a slow breath of dismay. “What were you thinking, Astrid? You could have been hurt. You could have been killed. You should have told us what you were doing.”
“Like you always tell me what you’re doing?” Astrid asked quietly. Olivia didn’t reply immediately, and Astrid could almost hear the rueful air to her silence. Finally, Olivia chuckled.
“Okay. You have a point. Now isn’t the time to talk about this anyway. It sounds like we need to head back immediately to check out Denton’s house. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure, Olivia,” Astrid said firmly. “Don’t come to the hospital-I’ll probably be gone by the time you get back to Miami. And…and don’t tell Walter about any of this, if you can help it.”
“I won’t,” Olivia assured her. “Just…” Astrid envisioned Olivia shaking her head, “…just don’t do anything dangerous before we get there, alright?”
“I promise,” Astrid said.
About fifteen minutes after Astrid had hung up on Olivia, she looked up to see Lieutenant LaGuerta stalking down the hallway, a lowering frown on her face that Astrid desperately hoped she wasn’t the target of.
“Hello Agent Farnsworth,” LaGuerta said civilly once she arrived, though Astrid could tell she was maintaining a tight grip on her anger. “Where might I find my detective?”
“In there,” Astrid answered, pointing. She felt faintly like she was betraying Deb, but she also didn’t particularly want to face LaGuerta’s wrath. LaGuerta nodded and immediately moved past Astrid. Astrid couldn’t help it: she moved a few steps to the door. She realized Deb must be fully awake at this point, because she heard the slightly muffled sound of LaGuerta launching into a lecture of monumental proportions. Astrid made a few words and phrases out-“reckless,” “idiotic,” and “willful disregard for authority” were among them-but she only caught snatches here and there. Finally, she noticed the volume of LaGuerta’s voice diminish, and a couple of minutes later, the woman shoved her way out of the room. She gave Astrid a polite nod.
“The doctors tell me Detective Morgan should be fine.” Suddenly LaGuerta sighed, and Astrid watched some of the tension drain from her shoulders. “I wanted to thank you for being there for Deb, though I really wish both of you had let me know what you were doing beforehand. Detective Morgan…well, she means a lot to this department, and I’m glad she had some backup today.”
“Me too,” Astrid said softly. LaGuerta held out her hand and Astrid shook it, and then LaGuerta began to walk back towards the exit.
Astrid turned back to the door to Deb’s room and tentatively pushed it open. Deb lay on the bed, a large white bandage taped to her left temple and a tube fixed to her right hand. When she saw Astrid enter, she grinned sheepishly.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” Astrid returned. Astrid glanced over her shoulder. “Lieutenant LaGuerta didn’t seem too happy.”
Deb snorted. “Yeah, well, I can’t really blame her. She put me on fucking forced vacation, though-injuries sustained on the job and all that. Said it was either that or suspension. I can’t work for weeks.” Deb scowled, but then she shrugged, some of the irritation falling away. “Whatever. I guess she could have suspended me-it was a pretty dumb thing to do, now that I think about it. Not that I ever do-think about it, I mean. Or at least not until it’s too late.”
“Vacation might be nice,” Astrid suggested, moving a little closer to Deb’s bed.
“What the fuck am I going to do on vacation?” Deb asked in disgust. “Scrapbook?”
“You could come visit Boston,” Astrid suggested without even thinking, then laughed self-consciously. “Except it might be too cold for you.”
Deb shrugged, then winced and involuntarily brought her hand to her bandage. “Fuck, it might be nice to get out of Miami for a while. Might take you up on that.” She eyed Astrid speculatively. “So do I need to expect a visit from Agent Dunham where she threatens to beat me to a pulp?”
Astrid laughed. “I don’t think so-she’s not really the type to hit an invalid. Speaking of which, when are they letting you go?”
“Any minute now,” Deb said. “They say it’s a mild concussion, but if I take a shit-ton of aspirin and don’t operate any heavy machinery or do cocaine for a week, I should be okay.”
“You need a ride back to your place when they let you out?” Astrid asked.
Deb looked at her, an expression suspiciously like a smirk gracing her face. “Yes, you can operate my heavy machinery, Agent Farnsworth.”
*****
When the doctors finally let Deb leave more than an hour and a half later, she made it out the hospital door with her back stiff and her swagger intact. The moment she entered the parking lot, though, she began to weave, and Astrid immediately moved to support her, shaking her head in mild disapproval at the not-very-apologetic shrug Deb tossed her.
Deb gave her directions to her apartment, meanwhile cranking the car’s AC up. Deb leaned on Astrid again as they went up the stairs, though Astrid had the strangest feeling that Deb didn’t really need the support as much as she seemed to. Deb fumbled for a moment with her keys, then unlocked the door and gently pushed it open. She looked at Astrid, quirking an eyebrow.
“Want to come in?”
“Well, I should make sure you’re settled,” Astrid suggested. “And make sure you don’t fall asleep-what with the head wound, I mean.” She somehow failed to mention that the no-sleeping rule was bunk for minor head trauma.
Deb leaned back against one side of the doorframe, eyeing Astrid with an expression that couldn’t quite seem to decide between skepticism and amusement. Then she shook her head, pushed herself off the doorframe, and leaned in to kiss her.
They stood there for a moment, kissing as the hot sun hammered down on them. Deb smelled a bit like the hospital, but also like soap and some scent Astrid swore the government must issue to law enforcement agents to make them smell both tough and delicious. Astrid found herself closing her eyes and leaning up into the kiss, until she forgot about the sun drawing little pinprick beads of sweat along her neck. Finally, Deb let her lips tug at Astrid’s bottom lip one more time and then pulled away.
“Thanks for saving my life,” she said, punching Astrid lightly on the shoulder before walking into her apartment.
“You’re welcome,” Astrid said to her back, following her inside.
Deb’s apartment was cluttered and under-decorated; it felt industrial but lived-in. There was an empty take-out carton on the table, a pile of police files on the coffee table, several pictures of Deb and a man Astrid assumed was her brother. Almost as soon as Astrid entered the apartment, her phone began buzzing. She saw it was Olivia calling and answered immediately. “Olivia-what’s going on?”
“We’re at Denton’s house,” Olivia said. “Not that you probably had any doubts, but it was definitely him. We found the notes and leftovers of experiments Walter said were designed to stunt the aging process. I read some of the later entries-I think he started going a bit crazy, near the end. His notes read like mad scientist journals.”
“Walter would know,” Astrid noted, and Olivia let out an amused breath of agreement. “What about the blood-the freeze-drying?”
“Walter doesn’t think that was intentional. Denton was definitely trying to kill them-he had ingredients for aconitine and a lot of chemicals I don’t know anything about, but Walter does.” There was a noise in the background, and Olivia could hear Walter’s excited voice. Olivia paused, then continued speaking. “Walter says the aconitine was supposed to make their murders look like heart attacks, but it reacted with several of the chemicals in Daniel Sim and Steven Malkin’s blood to make it turn to powder.”
Astrid nodded. “That makes sense.” She hesitated. “Do you need my help?”
“I don’t think so,” Olivia said. “We caught Denton-well, you caught Denton-so we don’t need to worry about any more murders. I just got a call from the hospital-they say he’s regaining consciousness. I’m going to talk to him while Peter and Walter look around here.”
Astrid felt a flood of relief that she hadn’t accidentally killed Denton. She didn’t think she had done any permanent damage, but it was her first time dropping a brick on someone’s head, after all, and she hadn’t been sure of the effects.
“Where are you now?” Olivia asked. “Still at the hospital?”
“No,” Astrid said. “I’m at Deb’s-Detective Morgan’s. I gave her a ride back to her apartment.”
“Ah,” Olivia said. There was another noise in the background; it sounded like Peter. Olivia said something to him Astrid couldn’t hear, then resumed talking to her. “Well, Walter probably won’t need you until tomorrow when he starts running experiments on Denton’s experiments. But we’re still staying at the Seaborn Hotel-see you there tonight?”
Astrid hesitated, glancing at Deb, who was currently rooting around for something in her freezer. “Actually, I…I think I might just stay here.”
“Oh.” There was a pause, as if Olivia was trying to think of what to say. What came out was, “Are you sure?”
Astrid looked back at Deb, who had by now slung herself onto a stool, one hand mashing a slab of frozen, packaged meat to her temple, the other hand clutching a beer, despite her doctor’s stern recommendation that she not consume alcohol for the next 24 hours. Astrid smiled. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Olivia said, her voice impossible to interpret. “See you tomorrow morning, then?”
“See you tomorrow, Olivia,” Astrid said before hanging up. She slipped her phone into her pocket and walked towards Deb.
“Everything okay?” Deb asked, putting her bottle on the table and tossing her frozen steak beside it.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Astrid said, regarding Deb as she sat hunched over, nothing but elbows and knees as her feet rested on the bars of the stool. Astrid reached out to just let her finger brush lightly against Deb’s bandage. “How’s your head?”
“Hurts like a motherfucker,” Deb admitted, before smirking at Astrid. She reached out and grabbed Astrid’s hand, pulling at her so she was between her legs. “Want to distract me?”
Deb didn’t wait for an answer; she tugged at Astrid’s shirt, and Astrid leaned down until they were kissing again. It didn’t take long before Deb was kissing along Astrid’s neck, her fingers sliding to Astrid’s waist. “Didn’t you say you’re supposed to keep me from falling asleep?” Deb said, her voice muffled against Astrid’s skin, and Astrid laughed before leaning back and pulling on Deb’s hands until she was standing up. She tried to look stern as she met Deb’s eyes. “This is strictly a medical intervention. I won’t have LaGuerta saying the FBI endangered her officer by letting her fall asleep with a head wound.”
“Jesus Astrid,” Deb said, shaking her head in mock-rebuke. “If you want to play doctor, you could just say so.”
Astrid opened her mouth to make an indignant retort about childish innuendo, but Deb’s lips were already there, shutting her up. They stumbled towards what Astrid assumed was Deb’s bedroom, grinning against each other’s hungry mouths, and Astrid decided that maybe she would let Deb have the last word on this one.
*****
Astrid woke up at exactly 6:05, just like she did on every weekday. She liked to use that time to grab Walter something sweet from the pastry shop near her apartment. If the traffic wasn’t too bad, she would have some time to herself; she could brush Gene, make sure Walter hadn’t created something toxic and/or hallucinogenic the day before, and try to learn something new. Though large portions of Walter’s and Bell’s experiments were under lock and key, Walter had given Astrid access to enough files to last her for years (though he’d probably forgotten he even gave them to her long ago). Because he was Walter, he often took it for granted that Astrid knew the same things he did; sometimes he would forget that Astrid had never once dissected a body before meeting him; that her background was in linguistics and cryptology, not biology and quantum physics; that some people had justifiable reservations about sifting through brainmatter and unnatural bodily fluids. But Astrid also knew that Walter and Olivia and possibly the whole world needed her, so she studied. She read his old experiments over and over, trying to make sense of them, trying to play catch-up to the wild leaps of logic Bell and Walter seemed so comfortable making, trying to ignore the anger she sometimes felt when she came across an experiment that sidestepped ethics and went straight towards cruelty. Often she felt like she forgot as much as she learned, but she couldn’t stop trying; one day, something she read might make the difference between someone’s life and death.
This Thursday, though, her awakening wasn’t accompanied by the metal rattling of the Thursday-morning garbage men. This Thursday was accompanied by Debra Morgan, limbs sprawled out, one arm flung gracelessly over Astrid’s bare back. Astrid lay with her cheek pressed to the pillow, smiling at the slight frown that seemed to chase Deb even through sleep. Astrid reached over to gently run her thumb along Deb’s cheek, watching as some of the lines of her face smoothed away. Carefully, Astrid slipped out from under Deb’s arm. She looked around until she spotted her pants. She couldn’t find her shirt among the clutter of Deb’s floor, so she slipped on a faded, worn cotton shirt that belonged to Deb. She found an extra toothbrush in the bathroom; she considered taking a shower, too, but didn’t want to wake Deb. Quietly, she pushed her way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
There wasn’t a lot in Deb’s fridge, but there were some eggs that weren’t past their expiration date. Astrid turned on the stove and began frying them, humming to herself as she moved around Deb’s kitchen. When she heard the Pop! of the toaster, she turned to see Deb wandering out of her bedroom, hair a disheveled mess. She wore a men’s collared shirt that was a couple sizes too big, and if it hadn’t looked so good on her, Astrid might have wondered where it came from.
“Hey,” Deb said, voice still husky from sleep.
“Hi,” Astrid said brightly as she moved to grab the toast. “Breakfast?” she asked, already setting the plates on the table.
“God yes,” Deb said gratefully, sliding into a seat and immediately digging in.
“How’s your head?” Astrid asked between bites.
Deb shrugged. “Not too bad. I’ve had worse, and that painkiller the doc gave me’s no joke. Though I might need a bigger dose after LaGuerta gets done with me today.”
“You’re going back in?” Astrid said with surprise. “I thought you had to stop working for a few weeks.”
“I do,” Deb grumbled, violently spearing a clump of eggs. “But I have to get debriefed and fill out some paperwork today.”
“Oh,” Astrid said. “So I guess you need me to drive you to the department?”
“You’d better,” Deb retorted, stabbing her fork in Astrid’s direction. “You take my car back without me inside and I’m calling the cops for vehicular theft.”
“It’s almost like I never left Cambridge,” Astrid said dryly, and Deb nearly choked on a piece of toast.
They made quick work of the food. As Astrid helped Deb carry the dirty dishes to the sink, Deb asked the time. Astrid glanced at her watch. “6:30. We should probably head back to the precinct.”
“Yeah,” Deb agreed, before reaching up to brush her thumb across Astrid’s lower lip. “Jelly,” she said by way of explanation, popping her thumb into her mouth and sucking off the jam. Then she leaned in and kissed Astrid, and for a moment Astrid wondered what would happen if she just didn’t show up that day. Then she remembered that in her line of business, not showing up for work usually meant you’d been kidnapped by invaders from another universe. She really didn’t want Olivia kicking down Deb’s door, so she broke off the kiss, offering Deb an apologetic smile.
“I should really probably get ready.”
“You really probably should,” Deb said, before letting out a resigned huff of breath and jerking her head towards the bedroom. “Well c’mon then. At least one of us is allowed to get some fucking work done today.”
Astrid grabbed the bag she had brought in with her and went back in Deb’s bedroom. They both took showers, somehow managing to overlap more than was strictly necessary.
“Mirror’s in the closet,” Deb called over her shoulder as they were both getting dressed.
Astrid opened the closet door, then stopped, letting out an incredulous breath. She turned to Deb, lifting an eyebrow. “Did Miami Metro by any chance raid a plaid factory recently?”
“What?” Deb asked, before scowling when she realized what Astrid was referring to. “They’re comfortable!”
Astrid laughed, turning back to what seemed to be an entire closet stuffed with the multi-colored plaid shirts. “And I thought Olivia was a predictable dresser,” she murmured, before shaking her head and beginning to dress.
Deb rolled her eyes when Astrid sternly insisted on driving, but she didn’t argue. When they stepped out of the elevator, there was an awkward moment as they both prepared to take care of their separate morning tasks. Deb glanced around the floor, her nervousness conveying more than words. Astrid smiled and reached out to touch Deb gently on the hand. “I’m going to go check on Walter-swing by after you’ve talked to LaGuerta?”
“Yeah, sure,” Deb said with a relieved smile. She turned and headed towards LaGuerta’s office; Astrid made her way towards the room where Malkin’s body was still stored. On her way, she ran into Peter as he was leaving the kitchen area, stirring a pack of Sweet’N Low into a styrofoam cup of coffee.
“Astrid!” he said when he saw her, his face breaking into a grin. He lifted an eyebrow. “And how was your evening?”
“None of your business,” Astrid said calmly, and Peter shook his head, chuckling. Astrid sort of wanted to punch him, but she also couldn’t help the small smile that crept to her face. Peter was the closest thing she’d ever had to a brother, and maybe she didn’t mind so much if he treated her like a sister from time to time. “So what needs doing this morning?” she asked, all business again.
“Packing?” Peter answered, before elaborating when he saw Astrid’s confused look. “Olivia just got a call from Broyles. There’s been an incident in Boston. Massive Dynamic is involved somehow, and Broyles says we need to get there ASAP. I know Walter wants to play around with blood some more, but we’ve got to go.”
“Oh,” Astrid said, feeling an unexpected stab of disappointment. She shook her head. “Where’s Walter?”
“Conference room,” Peter said, jerking his chin in the direction of the darkened room. “He’s probably sleeping in there-I made the mistake of leaving him in his own room, and he claims he stayed up all night watching a 1950s science fiction marathon. He wouldn’t stop talking this morning about how many parts of those movies were actually scientifically plausible. Not what you want to hear about Day of the Triffids.” Peter shook his head. “You mind filling him in for me? I’ve got to talk to Olivia.”
“Sure, Peter,” Astrid said, already heading in that direction.
When she pushed her way into the conference room, she saw that Peter had been right; Walter had his head on the table, his mouth emitting gentle snores (and a small bit of spittle). Astrid smiled at him fondly, then reached down to gently shake his shoulder. She wasn’t prepared when Walter jerked up violently, his limbs flailing as if he was under attack. Astrid snatched her hand back in surprise. Walter’s eyes were wide and terrified, and he looked at Astrid as if he didn’t know her.
“They-you-they took him,” Walter babbled, his eyes darting left and right, still not seeming to recognize Astrid. Immediately, Astrid reached over and grabbed Walter’s hand, squeezing it gently. She knelt down in front of him, meeting his eyes.
“Hey, hey Walter-no one took anyone,” Astrid said softly. “It’s just me-it’s Astrid.”
“Astrid?” Walter said querulously, before blinking rapidly. His eyes became more clear, and he finally looked at Astrid with recognition. “Astrid!” he repeated, but this time with pleasure. “I think I know how someone could reproduce the experiment in The Fly!”
“I’m sure you do, Walter,” Astrid said, patting Walter on the hand before rising to her feet. She explained what Peter had said, watching Walter’s face fall when he heard they would have to leave. Then his expression brightened when she told him about Boston.
“Maybe someone really did decide to bring The Fly to life! Maybe my dream was a premonition, and we’ll come back to find a whole hive of bug people!”
“I wouldn’t wish for that,” Astrid said quietly, for a moment in no mood for Walter’s tendency to treat human tragedy like a science project. The tone of her voice must have gotten through to Walter, because he recoiled, his expression troubled.
“Yes. Yes, I suppose that would be terrible, wouldn’t it?” Astrid nodded, and Walter looked up at her, searching her face. “I’ve done a lot of terrible things, I think.”
“I know, Walter,” Astrid said softly, reaching over to tug his collar back into place. “Let’s go see if we can fix some of them, ok?”
Walter nodded gratefully and rose to his feet, and Astrid led the way back outside. They arrived at LaGuerta’s office just as Peter and Olivia were stepping out. “Peter!” Walter said in the excited way he sometimes said his son’s name, as if the two of them hadn’t seen each other in weeks. “Do you have any more news on the incident in Boston? Is it a temporal rift? Is it dimensional instability? Is it-“ he lowered his voice to a whisper, shooting a glance Astrid’s way, “-bug people?”
“No, Walter,” Peter said, laughing. “Or maybe it is-I don’t know yet. Broyles said he’d fill us in when we got there. Now let’s go get you some food,” Peter continued, a suggestion that erased Walter’s disappointed expression. “I know how you hate airport food.”
“It’s the turkey sandwich meat they sell at all of them,” Walter said conspiratorially. “Clearly not avian in origin-I suspect a non-sentient bioproduct of artificial meat vats. Which I would approve of, mind you, if it didn’t taste so much like wet tissue paper.”
Peter cast Olivia and Astrid a look of tolerant amusement as he and Walter walked away, but there was also gentleness in the hand he rested on his father’s shoulder. Olivia turned to Astrid. “So-big day for you, yesterday, huh?” Olivia rubbed the back of her neck, her expression uncharacteristically hesitant. “I’m sorry if I came off as lecturing yesterday. It’s just…I was worried about you.”
“You were worried about me?” Astrid asked. “I’m not the one diving headfirst into every dangerous situation I can find.”
“I worry about everybody,” Olivia said wryly. “And you gotta admit you were the one doing the diving yesterday. I better watch out or the next thing I know you’ll be taking my job.”
“No thank you,” Astrid said firmly, shaking her head. “Yesterday was about all the excitement I can take-you can keep the parts with the violence and blunt trauma.” Olivia chuckled, and Astrid drew a breath. “But maybe you were right, also. I think I got a little caught up in the moment.”
“Or maybe you got caught up in a certain…outspoken detective?” Olivia suggested archly.
Astrid could feel herself blush. “Maybe that was part of it, too.”
In a subtle shift, Olivia’s expression transitioned from amusement to uncertainty, though the shift was one Astrid would never have recognized before she came to know Olivia’s face. “I’m sorry we have to leave so soon. I know it’s…hard, finding people with all…this.” She waved her hand, the gesture somehow encompassing powdered blood and Fringe and Walter and the fate of the universe. “I’m still figuring it out myself, I think.”
“I know,” Astrid said softly. Olivia looked troubled, and not for the first time Astrid wanted to pull her in for a hug; to bring her home with her and force baked goods into her; to make her laugh and forget yesterday and tomorrow and twenty years ago. But she knew that getting between the cracks of Olivia’s exterior was like prying the iron paneling off a warship. There were times when Olivia would let her in, quiet times in the lab when it was just the two of them, when Olivia would let drop the barest crumbs from her childhood (the good parts, sometimes the bad). Astrid thought Olivia was someone it took a long time to know, and that was alright; none of them really knew Astrid yet, either. But Astrid knew the most important parts about Olivia, and the rest would follow, one day. “Do you need any help packing up?”
“No,” Olivia answered. “Flight’s in about three hours, though, so we should probably head to the airport soon.”
“Okay,” Astrid said. “Just let me take care of some things.”
Olivia’s smile was knowing. “Sure-take your time. What’s the point of being in a top-secret FBI division if you can’t skip airport security?”
“It’s why I took the job in the first place,” Astrid said lightly, and Olivia laughed. “Just give me a few minutes.” Olivia nodded, and Astrid turned to search for Deb.
Astrid couldn’t find Deb on her first sweep of the floor, but one of the officers mentioned he had seen her outside. Astrid eventually found Deb in the parking lot. To be more accurate, she found Deb’s ass sticking out of her car as she rooted around for something in the back seat. Astrid could hear a string of “Motherfuck”s coming from inside the car, so she cleared her throat. Deb pulled her head out of the car and turned to glare at Astrid; her expression went from high irritation to pleased surprise when she saw Astrid.
“Oh. Hey.”
“Hey,” Astrid said, arching an eyebrow. “Lose something?”
“My badge,” Deb said, grimacing. “The department always inventories everything when people take a leave of absence. I think it might have gotten lost yesterday.”
Without even asking, Astrid began to help Deb search her car. After a few moments, Astrid found the badge wedged underneath the passenger seat, and Deb accepted it with a look of relief. “Thanks,” she said, slouching back against the car and eyeing Astrid. She finally thought to ask what Astrid was doing outside.
“I wanted to say goodbye,” Astrid said simply. “We got a call from our headquarters-we have to head back now.”
“Oh,” Deb said, and Astrid felt almost guilty, because she liked the fact that Deb’s face fell at the news. Deb looked at the pavement, and then sort of mumbled out, “Well, I’m glad you came. I’m not normally…you know, the one-night stand type or whatever. It’s not like I do that all the time.”
“And you think I do?” Astrid asked.
Deb’s gaze snapped up to hers. “How the fuck should I know?” she said indignantly. “Maybe you do this in every city you go to-pull that sweet and smart routine, drop a brick on some psycho’s head, then get girls into bed just so you can leave them the next day.”
“Yes,” Astrid said seriously. “I’m secretly a serial womanizer.”
“Smartass,” Deb muttered, and Astrid had to work hard to bite back a smile at the way Deb nearly kicked her feet against the pavement, as if she was some sort of foul-mouthed Charlie Brown.
“Hey,” Astrid said gently, taking a step towards Deb and touching her hand. “I’m glad I came too. And I wish I could stay longer. Maybe you really could come visit Boston, some time.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Deb said. She squinted at Astrid. “So are you guys going to be okay-fighting the forces of evil or science or…whatever the fuck it is you people do?”
“I think so,” Astrid said slowly, with maybe a touch more confidence than she might have had the day before. But despite the reassuring smile she offered Deb, there was still something almost low and dark in the way she said, “I think we’re all getting ready for something big.”
“Is that some kind of prophecy?” Deb asked skeptically, before adding, “Are those something you guys do-prophecies, I mean?”
“No,” Astrid said, laughing. “Well, maybe sometimes, but that one was mostly based on lots and lots of past experience: There’s always something big and bad on the horizon.”
Deb snorted her agreement before shrugging. “Well whatever it is, I’m glad you’re handling it and not me. I’ll stick to your run-of-the-mill murderous assholes.”
“Good,” Astrid said with a nod. “I’m glad you’re handling those and not me.” She caught Deb’s gaze in hers. “Just be careful, okay?”
Deb gave an awkward shrug as if to shake off Astrid’s concern, but the look she returned Astrid was serious. “You too.” Then she shook her head, grinning. “Fuck it, just say goodbye already before the whole department wanders out here.”
Astrid laughed and leaned in to kiss Deb. Despite the ungodly heat, Astrid didn’t object when the two of them were pressed against each other, and they might have stood there for a long time if a car backfiring in the distance hadn’t reminded Astrid that she had places to be. She broke away and gave Deb an apologetic look. “I have to go.”
“Yeah, yeah-go,” Deb said, waving her off. “Go save the world.”
Astrid drew herself up and smiled. “That’s the plan.”
*****
After they touched down in Boston three hours later, Astrid stepped out into one of those perfect, crisp Boston days, one without a trace of clouds on the horizon. As if they had coordinated on the plane, the rest were already in their versions of work uniforms-Peter in his pea coat, Olivia in her dark blazer and starched collar, Walter in the woolen sweater that made him look like a model for AARP Weekly. Astrid felt a little shiver start at her shoulders, and she pulled on her own jacket. Walter was rubbing his hands together in anticipation, having just heard from Broyles about their new case. He beamed at the rest of them.
“I simply cannot decide whether I am more excited about the transmogrified chupacabras or that today is raspberry pie day at Pam’s Pies and Sweets!”
Astrid shook her head fondly and slipped her arm through Walter’s, beginning to walk with him towards their waiting car. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of the cool air, her senses alive. They had work to do.
The End