Fringe Link

Their boss, a brittle woman named Director Vasquez who had seen three of her own deaths and was consequently very difficult to surprise, had given them the mandate: Find the fulcrum. Stop the bleed.

The victim was a nobody. A postal worker named Gerald Meeks. No record, no enemies, no reason to be a temporal anchor point. But that was the horror of the new Fringe. It didn鈥檛 target presidents or physicists. It targeted the seams. The unnoticed people whose single, quiet action鈥攁 delivered letter, a turned corner, a kind word鈥攃reated a cascade that kept reality from fraying. Fringe

Her partner, Marcus Cole, leaned against the tiled wall of the morgue, arms crossed. He hated the morgue. Not because of the dead, but because of the undead . Or, in this case, the un-alive-never-happened-but-here-they-are. 鈥淒oc, in English for the ex-cop? You鈥檙e saying Tuesday is giving us gas?鈥� Their boss, a brittle woman named Director Vasquez

鈥淲hat did you see?鈥� Marcus asked, his voice sharp. He knew the signs. A postal worker named Gerald Meeks

鈥淲hat was in the package?鈥�