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Ficlet(s)

Summary: Drabbles, one-shot random pairings, and situations with Astrid. Because the poor girl doesn't get enough love in fic.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > FringesmolderFR18159,0691102,67518 Oct 119 Feb 12No

Nothing

Title: Nothing
Author: smolder
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Fringe belongs to J. J. Abrams, Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci.
A/N: These drabbles aren't connected and won't always be in chronological order.
A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.
WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH



The phone call comes too late.

Astrid has no warning. No chance for her body to tense or for her to feel afraid. There is music blasting that Walter put on that she never bothered to turn off when the three left, so she never hears the even unhurried footsteps behind her.

A hand in her hair pulling her head back and a pressure across her throat - pressure that doesn’t even register as sharp until she is already bleeding out on the floor.

“Why?” she asks looking up at her attacker and it comes out gurgling and bloody.

He crouches down in his black suit holding his hat, that he just picked back up from the counter, in one hand and the knife he just killed her with in the other. Her eyes catch on the play of light on his bald head before they fall on his impassive face. Astrid is sure she knew his name once – they all had month names, right? – but details are slipping from her fast. Becoming lost all the quicker the harder she tries to grab them. Sand. Something about sand.

“You played your part. It is over. Now the balance must be restored,” he says plainly.

“What-?” she tries to ask but this time it doesn’t come out at all. Not even a gurgling sound.

Vocalizing her question is unnecessary for him though and he tilts his head, almost bird like, as if listening, “What did I ever do to upset the balance? I’m not Walter. Or Olivia. Or Peter.”

Astrid is unable to even nod but it wasn’t really a question anyway, he was reading her mind - saying what she would have said if she could. And he continues with his answer without a pause.

“Nothing. Your death will push the others to fix what has already been broken. At least,” he admits, “that is one possibility.” He pauses. “I am going to leave now.”

Then he does.

Distantly Astrid hears the record stop.
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