AltLivia's take on her new assignment… Speculation.



She checked herself in the mirror. For the past couple of weeks, she had tried to make the best out of agent Dunham's closet. It was hopeless, nothing else than grey, black, navy blue and white clothes, sorted out by colours. It was really freaky, much more really than being on her own over here. And to make things even worse, she had still to get used to being back to her natural colour. Her hair was disturbing. She felt being sent back ten years before or more and she hated it. She took her brand new bag from the couch, a large flashy red carryall tote with gold-tone hardware, pocketed her keys and slammed the door behind her without bothering to lock it properly. With a spring in her step, she jogged down the stairs to her car and engaged immediately in traffic.

She was used to being undercover. It was not her first assignment and certainly not the last. But this time, she was not only working in deep waters: she was totally alone in a completely unknown territory. Though the general environment was quite similar, the carefree way of life and incredible waste of natural resources was a constant reminder that she was not home. She knew that Jerome would not make contact during the first weeks, and yet, she felt more and more unsecure. In the meantime, she reported to her liaison like clockwork, doing her best to blend in. It was proven to be a high risk task. Secretary Bishop has briefed her in several occasions and she had crossed over prepared. She would not fail. But, hey, you never knew. Until this day, she was proud to consider herself as an excellent field agent. What a fraud. She had to stop at a red light and cursed between her teeth. Technically, her mission was a success. Everything just unfolded according to the initial plan and nobody suspected anything. But being FBI agent Olivia Dunham, it was a clean cut from being her real self. Her new colleagues were keen on absolving her from her mistakes, blaming it on her ordeal in the alter-universe and on some post-traumatic syndrome. She blamed it on herself. She had been sloppy and, - well, distracted.

She still had to come to term with their version of Mister Secretary. Walter was… unexpected. The man was a complete nut, and apparently recently rescued from a loony bin. He was brilliant and unpredictable but, to her utter dismay, a real doll. His devotion to his son was blinding and so was his continuing concern for her well-being. She almost felt guilty. She knew he was the one responsible for the destruction of her world and yet, she found herself pondering his motives. On the other hand, Astrid, her counterpart assistant, was completely insignificant. She had not developed any specific mutation and seemed pretty harmless. Her main problem would be Broyles, who was head of the Fringe Division in this world but not in a military capacity. When he was around, she kept her cards close to the vest.

As for the traitor Peter Bishop, it was another matter entirely. After 25 years waiting for him to return home, it felt a bit contrived that he had chosen in a heart beat to go back where he did not belong. She suspected that there was more than meet the eyes there, but this one was really smart and difficult to read even for her. She had been right from the start. Peter and her doppelganger were indeed an item, though it looked like very last minute. He seemed determined to demonstrate his love for her as often as humanly possible. This relationship with Peter Bishop made things more difficult than she had anticipating at first. He was gentle, funny and great to be with. Intelligence was indeed an endearing quality and on several occasions, she simply could not help laughing at his creative witticisms. Living the dream with Peter came with the job. She had been in a happy relationship with Frank for seven years now and she knew that he would not ask any questions when she was back. There was no room for this kind of resentment in their lives.

She pulled over on the parking lot before the Kresge building and strode to the lab with a frown on her face. It was day 23, and she still did not have a clue on how to complete her mission within an acceptable schedule. She knew that timing was paramount. She could not fail and she was ready to die in the process.


what's the verdict? more?