Fringe S6 - In Loving Memory
In the next blink he took he found himself standing in the center of the vast basement, holding a silent breath and turned slowly where he stood. Something was missing from Walter's playground, something Peter could not put his finger on. The more he listened and focused, his hearing straining, the more confused he became. That was until Gene moved and the small bell around her neck rung did Peter find his answer.
Sound. There was not a day he could recall where there wasn't some sort of auditory stimuli being casted around the stone walls. Whether it was Walter's talking, the computers chirping or even an old record play silence was not something often heard in the lab. Until now, that is.
There was no flickering or whizzing of broken light fixtures, no swishing of papers or the scratch of a pen. Beakers did not clang nor did chemicals hiss and water bubble from their perch above a Bunsen burner. Computers sat without power and the sink remained dry. Walter's old record player sat stone silent in the corner; the vast trumpet once used to cast music now collected dust. The air remained clear, no static cracking as Walter set another record on the needle or the gears of a fax machine grind. After a few moments the stone caverns would be filled with ballads and the deep vibrato of Walter's singing.
In her corner Gene let out a low, monotonous call. It was different from her normal sound, deeper and sorrowful.
"You miss him too, don't you Gene?" Peter whispered as he patted over to where she stood, her wide eyes glassy and her fur matted near her nose. Picking up the brush he pulled it across her fur in smooth, calming strokes. If Peter wasn't mistaken she looked like she had been crying. "I miss him too. It must've been harder for you to watch what happened. I'm sure you do know. If only you could tell us."
She shied away from him and hid her eyes, a sign Peter mistook for acknowledgement of what happened to her companion. Swallowing the last of his drink he placed the cup in the sink and walked slowly up the stairs. Turning on his heel he glanced backward at the lab once again as his skin shuttered. Silence was either comforting or unforgiving. It could break things apart, or heal them if the time was appropriate. It could be a band-aid or a sledgehammer. In this case, however, it was a confirmation.
The world Peter lived in would never be the same.
Excerpt from 'Chasing Neverland' by Agent Xero
