⚘ [ fringe event #2 ] || sleepless (video)

[entangles]

[ In the abandoned lab of a former mad scientist, Olivia sits at a table covered with manila folders, dusty beakers and containers of who-knows-what. She looks exhausted, stressed--fingers rubbing circles into her temples. Hours she's been at this, going through Walter's lab, his files, staring at words and numbers that make no sense to the agent. Given the time he was here, Walter couldn't have left much, but what he did leave apparently leads to no answers, no answers she can comprehend at least. ]

If anyone found a way out, it had to be you, Walter.

[ Without looking up, she reaches for the cup of coffee next to her, misjudging the distance in a moment of tired absentmindedness. The half-full coffee cup tumbles, spilling the contents across the table. ]

Shit--

[ooc: Anyone from Fringe would be much-loved! No doubles, except her canon double, please. ]

Comments

[call_me_spooky]

[Her admission gets nothing more from him than a slight shrug. Truth be told, he prefers talking to people who don't know every intimate aspect of his life (and his time in the City showed him that intimate details were, unfortunately, not excluded from the mix.) Accepting the existence of a reality in which his reality is unreal doesn't negate the validity of his own existence, as far as Fox Mulder is concerned-- but it can be a headache when people can't see past it.

But she cuts to the chase, which he likes, and the chase sounds like it has potential.]

For reasons that should be obvious I can't say I disbelieve the existence of alternate universes. But, no. Aside from my experiences with the City, I haven't been personally involved in cases involving other universes. There are such cases in the files-- I'm having a hard time bringing the specifics to mind-- but none that we've reopened. Yet.

[There's a bit of a gleam in his eye, though.]

Why do you ask?

[entangles]

[ Suspension of disbelief seems to be the general tactic of the city's people. Moreover, without her trusty scientist to confirm, at least theoretically, the possibility of fictional and real versions of a character coexisting, Olivia finds it hard to comprehend Mulder's existence.

But here it--he is. Agent Mulder, rumpled suit and all. ]

So you reopen cases. That's to say, they aren't- [ How to phrase these without sounding insulting... ] immediately pertinent.

[ Olivia leans in closer, as if she's about to reveal a secret. Softly, she answers-- ]

It'd be a felony if I told you.

[call_me_spooky]

I investigate the cases that can't be solved, the ones they don't want solved. Ones that come up that no one will touch and ones they've buried. When I have time there are decades upon decades of such stories in the files-- X for unexplained. Because they ran out of space in U.

[It's an explanation, not a justification. Agent Mulder believes many things, but above all else he believes his work needs no outside validation, that his pursuit of the truth is in and of itself a validation of the work he does. It's why he's never minded working alone, working against, working without support. Opposition strengthens his conviction. It doesn't matter if she believes him, if she believes in him, at all.

He doesn't lean in to mirror her, trusting in his convictions to trump the false air of intimacy. It's a sharp move, though. Shame she isn't real in his Bureau.]

You know we're not in Kansas anymore.

[entangles]

[ She shows all the immediate signs of someone making an important and uncomfortable decision: the slight bulge of her cheek as she clenches her jaw, the readjustment of her hands, the silence. Through all of this, she keeps her gaze trained on Mulder. ]

It's not that simple anymore, the lines [Division of worlds, that is.] - aren't as clear.

[What would Broyles say to all of this?]

The cases my division handles— they're the sort of cases that would likely cause mass hysteria, if they were ever to leak. It's crucial that confidentiality remains iron-clad.

[call_me_spooky]

[The problem is, the more she says about what she won't say, the more his interest is piqued.]

You need to decide what you want.

[His demeanor doesn't shift, because careful neutrality is an old habit, but his tone is much more confidential than it might be in other circumstances.]

If you just want to commiserate about being the FBI's most unwanted, that's fine. If you're looking for information, that's fine, too. But if you want advice, from someone you don't believe exists... then, you might to have to step out of bounds.

[He makes a vague gesture towards her. Her choice, as though it's all the same to him.]

[entangles]

You've already answered my question.

[ In that, he appears to have no experience with alternate dimensions, and from that, she presumes that task of stopping a doomsday weapon meant to destroy worlds is... likely out of his realm of expertise, or so she assumes. Her question wasn't very precise. She could have just said: have you ever encountered a doomsday weapon? Straight to the point, she could have been, but for the sake of keeping clandestine what's meant to be clandestine, she's going about this in a very inefficient way.

Perhaps because she's presupposed that Mulder won't be able to help. X-files involved aliens, didn't it?

She speaks in a low voice. ]

Back home, I work for the Fringe Division. If you asked any other agent, they'd think you were making it up. [ She shifts her hand again, and glances to the side, observing. ] We--

What would you guys like to drink?

[---comes the too chirpy voice of a waitress who's working hard for her tips. She smiles, and Olivia smiles back, weakly. The interruption was abrupt. ]

Coffee. Black, two sugars. Please.

[call_me_spooky]

[Mulders orders his own coffee and takes the liberty of asking for a muffin, too. It's not to piss her off, he's stuck here without any money. He'll make it up, somehow or other.

Finally, for the first time he leans forward a little.]

You handle the stuff no one believes in.

[It's not a question. He's weirdly pleased at the thought of having a loose counterpart to his work in another dimension.]

[entangles]

Something like that. Inexplicable circumstances. Fringe science.

[ She suddenly gets quiet, her unease still ever-present. ]

But they're not just dusty files. [ She looks Mulder straight in the eyes. ] In the past three years, I've seen more people die than I'd ever seen in my entire career. Gruesome, horrible deaths.

[ By the force of her tone, you can tell she's being carried by her emotions. So much for the stoic G-woman. ]

And it's only going to get worse, unless we stop it.

[call_me_spooky]

Don't misunderstand. My peers don't find my work laughable because I spend all day going through moldy files. People discount what I do-- the truth I pursue-- because they've been conditioned to systematically discredit anyone who alleges the existence of extraterrestrial life. Conditioned by men who have spent decades making deals with the devil, weaving a conspiracy that extends to the highest levels of every branch of government, designed to save themselves at the expense of everyone else. Every man, woman, and child on Earth, nothing a sacrificial lamb. The price they're willing to pay for sanctuary. Immortality. That is why my partner and I have faced constant censure for our actions, find ourselves thwarted at every turn. That is why both of us have endured multiple attempts made on our lives. Because you're not the only one fighting the future.

[He leans back. It's not that he's offended, it's that he's playing a high-stakes game, same as her; not a matter of pride, but of clarity. He wants to help. Call it professional interest.]

The advantage for you is, I'm not going to dismiss whatever you tell me as voodoo. What kind of inexplicable circumstances are we talking about?