Status: In progress
Weathering The Storm
Chapter Two
“Walter!” Astrid knocked furiously on the door for the fifth time. “WALTER!”
All of a sudden the front door to the Bishop’s home swung open with a loud creek to reveal a very old and very naked man standing there.
“Why, hello there dear,” Walter said, “you know you could have just knocked.”
Astrid stood there in a stunned silence; she forgot that today was the day that Walter cooks all his meals whilst wearing no clothes. “Walter,” she managed, “could you please put some clothes on.”
Walter looked down at himself with a look of surprise on his face like he had almost forgotten that he was completely naked. “Oh, yes, of course dear. Right away.”
Walter quickly backed in to the house and Astrid looked around to see if anyone had seen their neighbour standing in the door way in the nude before she too headed into the old house.”
Walter must have disappeared upstairs because Astrid could not see him. This was no where near the first time that Astrid had entered the house that was home to Walter, Peter and occasionally Olivia but the number of photo frames hanging from walls and standing on tables still astounded her. There must have been at least one hundred photos adorning every stable surface, each photo containing an image of Peter. Most of the photos were of Peter’s childhood whilst mixed throughout were a couple of more recent ones.
Astrid understood why there was a huge chunk of almost twenty years missing from the visual documentation of Peter’s life: for almost two decades Walter had been locked up in St. Claire’s Mental Institute. After Walter’s lab assistant died in a horrific lab fire Walter was deemed unfit to stand trial and was sentenced to the institute. The only reason he was allowed to be out in the world now was because the FBI needed his services and the only reason the FBI needed his services was because a long time ago Walter crossed into an alternate universe and stole a son which did not belong to him, setting off a chain of events which had led to everything that has happened and everything that is happening now.
A thought occurred to Astrid that she had never thought of before: some of these photos were taken before Peter was stolen. Some of these photos contained an image not of the Peter she knew but of the Peter that had died in Walters arms all those years ago.
It was strange because he looked no different; he looked like a young Peter Bishop. And technically he was, he was even the Peter from this universe, but it was not the Peter she had grown to know and love.
The fact the alternate universe even existed still astounded her. A dimension much like theirs but slightly different due to small and seemingly insignificant choices that normal people face every day. An alternate version of almost every person, living their lives not knowing that they themselves also had an alternate version, living their life. The thought was confusing and yet astounding at the same time.
Astrid wondered what her alternate self was doing right now. She knew that she was not looking after an old, senile Walter because alternate Walter was the ruthless secretary of defence on the other side. Maybe she was just having a nice peaceful day which was definitely not what Astrid was going to have, not now that she had been called and told to take Walter as quick as she could to Central Park.
“Walter!” Astrid called out again. “We have to be quick; Broyle’s needs us at Central Park.”
Walter appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in his usual buttoned up shirt, cardigan and pants, his shoes squeaking on the floorboards. “Off to the park? How wonderful. Such a lovely day for a stroll in the park.”
“Walter,” Astrid said in the tone she used with Walter for such moments, deep and reasoning. “We are going to Central Park for work, maybe we’ll go for a walk another day.”
“You know what they say about all work and no play dear?”
“No Walter, I don’t. Please enlighten me.”
“Well,” Walter said, “I don’t exactly know either but I’m sure you would do well to follow that piece of advice, whatever it is.”
Astrid rolled her eyes but despite herself smiled and then started to laugh. Walter joined in as he jubilantly trotted down the stairs and opened the front door. “Come my dear,” He said, still giggling. “Adventure awaits!”
All of a sudden the front door to the Bishop’s home swung open with a loud creek to reveal a very old and very naked man standing there.
“Why, hello there dear,” Walter said, “you know you could have just knocked.”
Astrid stood there in a stunned silence; she forgot that today was the day that Walter cooks all his meals whilst wearing no clothes. “Walter,” she managed, “could you please put some clothes on.”
Walter looked down at himself with a look of surprise on his face like he had almost forgotten that he was completely naked. “Oh, yes, of course dear. Right away.”
Walter quickly backed in to the house and Astrid looked around to see if anyone had seen their neighbour standing in the door way in the nude before she too headed into the old house.”
Walter must have disappeared upstairs because Astrid could not see him. This was no where near the first time that Astrid had entered the house that was home to Walter, Peter and occasionally Olivia but the number of photo frames hanging from walls and standing on tables still astounded her. There must have been at least one hundred photos adorning every stable surface, each photo containing an image of Peter. Most of the photos were of Peter’s childhood whilst mixed throughout were a couple of more recent ones.
Astrid understood why there was a huge chunk of almost twenty years missing from the visual documentation of Peter’s life: for almost two decades Walter had been locked up in St. Claire’s Mental Institute. After Walter’s lab assistant died in a horrific lab fire Walter was deemed unfit to stand trial and was sentenced to the institute. The only reason he was allowed to be out in the world now was because the FBI needed his services and the only reason the FBI needed his services was because a long time ago Walter crossed into an alternate universe and stole a son which did not belong to him, setting off a chain of events which had led to everything that has happened and everything that is happening now.
A thought occurred to Astrid that she had never thought of before: some of these photos were taken before Peter was stolen. Some of these photos contained an image not of the Peter she knew but of the Peter that had died in Walters arms all those years ago.
It was strange because he looked no different; he looked like a young Peter Bishop. And technically he was, he was even the Peter from this universe, but it was not the Peter she had grown to know and love.
The fact the alternate universe even existed still astounded her. A dimension much like theirs but slightly different due to small and seemingly insignificant choices that normal people face every day. An alternate version of almost every person, living their lives not knowing that they themselves also had an alternate version, living their life. The thought was confusing and yet astounding at the same time.
Astrid wondered what her alternate self was doing right now. She knew that she was not looking after an old, senile Walter because alternate Walter was the ruthless secretary of defence on the other side. Maybe she was just having a nice peaceful day which was definitely not what Astrid was going to have, not now that she had been called and told to take Walter as quick as she could to Central Park.
“Walter!” Astrid called out again. “We have to be quick; Broyle’s needs us at Central Park.”
Walter appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in his usual buttoned up shirt, cardigan and pants, his shoes squeaking on the floorboards. “Off to the park? How wonderful. Such a lovely day for a stroll in the park.”
“Walter,” Astrid said in the tone she used with Walter for such moments, deep and reasoning. “We are going to Central Park for work, maybe we’ll go for a walk another day.”
“You know what they say about all work and no play dear?”
“No Walter, I don’t. Please enlighten me.”
“Well,” Walter said, “I don’t exactly know either but I’m sure you would do well to follow that piece of advice, whatever it is.”
Astrid rolled her eyes but despite herself smiled and then started to laugh. Walter joined in as he jubilantly trotted down the stairs and opened the front door. “Come my dear,” He said, still giggling. “Adventure awaits!”