Disclaimer: I own nothing. Fringe belongs to J. J. Abrams, Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci. Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon.
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.
Astrid goes to sleep feeling accomplished that night. Exhausted but accomplished. They had figured out who was using cell towers to interfere with people’s pacemakers yesterday. And today she had finished dealing with the clean up and paperwork.
That was of course on top of her everyday tasks which included getting everyone coffee, milking and brushing Gene, getting everyone lunch, and the constant task of keeping track of Walter (who was antsy because there was no case for him to work on since they were done and therefore kept trying to stack their empty chinese food containers into interesting houses.)
So, when she finally fell in to bed that night she was tired. More than tired. Utterly drained.
She awoke with a deep deep breath filling her lungs and a question still ringing in her mind. A question she remembers answering with utter conviction.
And Astrid doesn’t feel tired at all. She feels strong.
She knows she should tell someone about this. What she sees everyday lets her knows the dangers of weird things unchecked. (And this can’t be categorized as anything other than strange
But part of her bucks against that. This new thing inside of her is primal, is dark, is feminine in an indefinable way, is – is hers.
It’s hers now. A sudden but now integral part of her and she doesn’t want to loose it. She is afraid that if she walks into the lab today and tells them what happened. They will try to figure it out and stop it – and they will succeed. They will take it from her in some way.
And she can’t have that. She can’t let them steal this from her. She’ll - she'll fight their decision if it comes to it.Fight. Fight. Fight
, she can almost hear something chant within her – almost picture dozens of young women (girls) circled around hell with determined eyes and blood on their hands. Facing down fears and certain death, banded together strong and fierce against the darkness in this sisterhood. Slayers.
And Astrid has to hold the edge of her kitchen counter and just breathe for a second to steady herself.
No. No, she wouldn’t tell anyone, there was too much at stake. It wasn’t just her secret to tell.
When she takes her hands away from the counter, chunks of plastic break away too. She watches them crumble to the floor with a feeling of trepidation.
A/N 3: Just wanna let you know that I'm participating in the Wishlist this year that you might have read about on the front page. Feel free to give me a prompt over there; my name on the LJ is teaandhoney.