Chapter 34 : The Preparation
The convoy staging area filled the FBI parking structure with controlled chaos. Tactical vehicles loaded equipment. Agents checked weapons and communications gear. Massive Dynamic technicians calibrated devices I didn't recognize, their white coats incongruous among the body armor and automatic rifles.
I stood near the supply truck, watching it all come together, feeling the other Kade's anxiety pulse through our network link. His warning from last night still echoed: It's happening on my side too.
Two universes. Two convergence points. Two versions of me watching reality prepare to tear itself apart.
Walter found me there, away from the main activity. He looked smaller than usual, hunched into his coat despite the heated garage, his hands trembling in ways that had nothing to do with age or medication.
"I need to speak with you," he said. "Privately."
We moved to the corner near the concrete pillars. The noise of preparation covered our conversation.
"That lake," Walter began, then stopped. Started again. "Reiden Lake is where I crossed. In 1985. To save a boy who wasn't mine." His voice cracked. "That's where everything broke. The barrier between universes, the damage that's been spreading ever since—it all started there, because I couldn't accept my son's death."
I'd known this, of course. Had watched the episode where Peter learned the truth about his origins, where the weight of Walter's choice finally became clear. But hearing it from Walter himself, seeing the guilt carved into his face—that was different.
"Whatever happens today," Walter continued, "I need you to promise me something."
"What?"
"Don't let me make the same mistake." His hands gripped my arm with surprising strength. "If the breach opens, if someone on the other side is in danger—don't let me cross again. Don't let me convince myself that the rules don't apply to me. I can't—" He swallowed hard. "I can't break the universe twice."
The fear in his eyes was genuine. This wasn't the scattered genius who forgot names and craved pudding. This was a man who had seen the consequences of his actions and knew, with terrible clarity, what he was capable of when his heart overruled his head.
"I promise," I said.
Walter nodded slowly. Released my arm. Some of the tension in his shoulders eased, though not all of it.
"Thank you." He straightened his coat, pulled himself back toward the version of himself he showed the world. "Now. We should review the breach containment protocols. There are several variables I want to discuss with you before we arrive."
He walked back toward the command vehicle. I watched him go, thinking about promises I might not be able to keep.
The network link pulsed with data from the other Kade.
Breach of this magnitude at a primary weak point, his thoughts came through, creates a self-sustaining feedback loop. Dimensional energy from both sides feeding the tear. Conventional technology can't close it once that threshold is crossed.
I sat in the back of a tactical vehicle, eyes closed, running scenarios through our connection. His universe had experienced a similar event—a breach attempt at their version of Reiden Lake that had been contained only through massive casualties and the destruction of the entire facility.
How did you stop it?
We didn't. Not cleanly. The Red Universe equivalent of Fringe Division sacrificed six agents to collapse the tear manually. Each one walked into the breach and used their body to disrupt the energy flow. A pause. None of them survived.
The tactical vehicle rumbled over a pothole. I opened my eyes briefly—Peter was sitting across from me, checking his weapon, pretending not to watch. I closed my eyes again.
There's another option, I sent. My integration. Cross-System Compatibility can interface with dimensional energy directly. I've never tested it at this scale, but theoretically—
Theoretically, you could use your body as a conduit. Redirect the breach energy through yourself until it can be properly contained. The other Kade's response was flat, almost clinical. I considered the same option before our breach. I didn't have the integration level to attempt it.
But I do.
Maybe. You've never pushed the system this hard. You don't know your limits. And if you fail—if your body can't handle the energy load—you won't just die. You'll become part of the breach. Your consciousness, your matter, caught between universes permanently.
I thought about Olivia. About Walter. About the FBI agents checking their weapons, expecting a firefight, not understanding that the real danger couldn't be stopped with bullets.
If I don't try, I sent, people die.
If you try and fail, people die AND you're destroyed. A pulse of something that might have been concern—alien, coming from a version of myself who had learned to suppress such feelings. Your choice. But make it knowing the cost.
I opened my eyes. Peter was still watching me.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Running through scenarios."
"In your head? For an hour straight with your eyes closed?" He shook his head. "Whatever you are, Clark, it's definitely not normal."
"No," I agreed. "It's not."
Peter held my gaze for a moment longer, then reached into his kit bag and pulled out a tactical vest. He tossed it across the vehicle.
"Put that on. Broyles' orders." He went back to his weapon check, but not before checking the straps on my vest were tight. His hands were careful. Professional. Nothing like hostility.
I didn't comment on the change. Neither did he.
The convoy formed up at 4 AM. Twelve vehicles—FBI tactical, Fringe Division command, Massive Dynamic support, and two mobile lab trucks that Walter had insisted on including.
"If we're going to understand the breach, we need to study it in real time," he'd argued. Broyles had agreed, though I suspected it was more to keep Walter productively occupied than out of genuine scientific priority.
Olivia found me before we loaded up. She still wasn't wearing her arm in a sling from whatever injury I didn't know about—but she moved with the controlled precision of someone managing pain.
"Broyles wants you in the command vehicle," she said. "Direct line to tactical communications."
"Where will you be?"
"Forward team. First response if Jones' people engage."
The thought of her walking into the firefight while I sat in a command vehicle didn't sit right. The combat echo from the other Kade surged—a protective instinct that wasn't entirely mine.
"Be careful," I said.
Olivia's expression flickered. Something crossed her face that I couldn't read—acknowledgment of what had passed between us, maybe, or just the professional mask she wore into dangerous situations.
"You too," she said, and walked toward the tactical vehicle where Peter was already waiting.
I watched her go. The network link pulsed with the other Kade's awareness—he could feel my concern, my complicated feelings about a woman who had been my fictional character and was now something much more real.
Attachment is dangerous, he sent. It makes you do things the mission doesn't require.
Maybe, I sent back. But it also makes you do things the mission needs.
The convoy rolled north as dawn broke over Boston.
I rode in the command vehicle with Broyles and his communications staff, monitoring tactical channels, watching the miles disappear beneath us. The other vehicles followed in formation—a military procession heading toward a battlefield that existed in multiple dimensions simultaneously.
Through the window, I could see the sky above our destination. Even at this distance, something was wrong with it. A shimmer that shouldn't be there, like heat distortion except the December air was freezing cold.
"How long until we arrive?" Broyles asked his driver.
"Twenty minutes, sir. Assuming no obstacles."
Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes until the breach. Twenty minutes until I had to decide whether to reveal everything or watch people die.
The other Kade's voice came through the network, quiet but clear: Make your choice now. You won't have time to think when it matters.
I looked out the window at the shimmering sky and made my decision.
If Olivia was in mortal danger—if anyone on the team was going to die because conventional methods couldn't contain the breach—I would use everything. The Cross-System Compatibility. The glimmer perception. Every capability the system had given me, regardless of who was watching.
The consequences could be handled later. Dead teammates couldn't.
Decision made, I sent to the other Kade.
Good, he replied. Now survive it.
The convoy rolled on toward Reiden Lake, and ahead of us, the sky continued to shimmer with dimensional energy that shouldn't exist.
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