Author's Note: Ok, admittedly this sounded like a crack pairing in my head, but as I started to think about it a crossover between the Dresden Files and Fringe made a lot of sense. With the possible exception of the X-Files, I can't think of any law enforcement agency more ready to believe in fantastic creatures, shape shifting, people able to alter emotions in the people around them and command fire than Fringe Division.

Chronologically this falls in the immediate aftermath of "Changes" (also, the short story "Aftermath") for The Dresden Files and around "White Tulip" for Fringe. Possible spoilers for up to Cold Days in Dresden Files and the end of season 2 of Fringe.

"Dunham, I need you on a flight to Chicago." Broyles was characteristically blunt, his voice ringing in Olivia's ears as she blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light as she began to roll out of bed.

"Sir?"

"There's a case for us. You'll be briefed on the plane with the Bishops." There was a rustling as the call died.

The tarmac was cold, the wind beginning to pick up. Spring had been slow to arrive in full, and a cold snap had begun a week before.

"But-but Peter, my project is almost ready." Walter stammered, doing his best (and failing) to look irritated.

"Walter, you can finish perfecting the perfect Strawberry milkshake when you get back." Peter replied gently, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Honestly, how you can think about drinking on of those things on a morning like this is beyond me." He looked up at Olivia, giving her a knowing smile. Olivia felt something twist in her gut that had to be hunger.

Right. Nothing else. There will be food on the plane.

On her other side, Broyles loomed over her, keeping a brisk pace as they headed for the stairs. "I'll be breaking off when we arrive. Agent Dunham, you and the Bishops will head immediately for the scene of the incident."

"You'll be joining us? Sir?" Olivia shot her superior a careful glance. The man was a trusted leader, and had done a great deal to help her in the past, but he typically didn't go out of his way to join them on a trip to suddenly leave once they arrived.

Broyles narrowed his eyes, and Olivia could have sworn that the man almost growled. "I have to speak with the Deputy Director when we arrive. You'll understand why soon enough."

It was slightly warmer inside the plane, and the four seated themselves in two rows of seats, each facing the other. Walter's request for a strawberry milkshake was denied by an apologetic flight attendant who informed them that they didn't carry ice cream, causing the scientist to fume, muttering under his breath as he looked distantly off, seeming to only pay partial attention as things transpired around him.

"I'm assuming that you've heard about the recent events in Chicago." Broyles began, opening his briefcase and beginning to pull out a set of files. "I understand that it has been all over the news."

"Some of it." Peter responded, trying to get Broyles' attention off his father's sulking. "There was a bombing, and then a terrorist attack on the regional FBI headquarters. They aren't saying much else."

"Precisely." Broyles responded, setting the stack down on the table and opening the top file, showing pictures of rubble and pictures of the victims. "The current theory is that a terrorist group would commit an act of terrorist on American soil. As acts of domestic terrorism are the purview of the Bureau, this was done in order to draw agents from around the region and concentrate them in the area before mounting a full scale attack." The senior agent paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in. "They believe that during the attack, an unknown chemical agent was used in order to make victims hallucinate while they attacked with a siege weapon that was unlike anything they had seen before."

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "ZFT?" It wouldn't have been the first time that the organization had test a new piece of technology to devastating results. In response to her question, Broyles fixed her with a level stare.

"Perhaps…but that's not why we're here. The Deputy Direction was adamant that he handle the investigation himself. So far, there's not much to go on. All the few witnesses who are able to describe that they saw mentioned…bat-like monsters."

Peter felt his father stiffen immediately by his side, the man's attention immediately snapping back to the conversation as Broyles continued.

"This was written off as an effect of the hallucinogen, one that none of our scientists or anyone at Massive Dynamic has been able to identify in the blood of the victims. However, last night…" Broyles flipped open a new file. "These were discovered in a Chicago basement."

The scene in the photographs was a true horror show in more than one sense. The creatures were grey-brown with arms that were disproportionately long for being mounted on a human frame. Extended tongues that were reminiscent of a chameleon lay stretched across the floor. But what truly set the scene apart was the each chest was a grisly tableau, broken ribs jutting out at awkward angles. The walls were coated with blood. Whatever had happened here, it had been grisly

"This very clearly falls under Fringe Division." Broyles set his jaw. "But now, I have to defend why I'm investigating an event that may contradict the current findings of a lot of important people. It would be good to have something to defend ourselves with before then. Dr. Bishop, can you think of anything that could do something like this?"

Walter slowly looked up from the photographs, his face dead serious. "I haven't the slightest. But I intend to find out."

The Chicago Forensic institute was in a surprisingly upscale part of town, tucked around a few biotech headquarters. A quick flash of the badge got Olivia through the door, with the Bishops in tow. "Hi." Olivia gave a small smile to the guard at the desk. "I'm Agent Dunham, I'm here about a number of bodies that were brought in last night. This is Walter and Peter Bishop, consultants with the Bureau."

The guard nodded, taking a moment to inspect the laminated cards that backed Peter and Walter's status. "Yeah, we have a guy like that who comes around sometimes. If they came in last night, the ME on duty would be Dr. Butters. Last room at the end of the hall."

Olivia muttered thanks and followed the instructions down the hall, slowly pushing on the door. What surprised her was how small the room was, considering most she had been in…and how empty it was. There was nothing on the slab.

"Liv, these were found last night, right?" Peter asked. "Even Walter couldn't finish a full workup that fast."

"Yes." Walter concurred. "Except for that one time I experimented with amphetamines and took Billy up on a bet-"

The rest of the comment was cut off as the morgue door swung open again, revealing a short, wiry man. He blinked for a moment "Oh, they didn't mention they were sending anyone else. My shift is almost over, so I was packing up to leave. I'm telling you though, you got it all on the first trip."

"Dr. Butters?" Olivia asked, tilting her head to meet the man's eyes. The ME seemed to shy away from meeting her eyes directly but nodded affirmatively. "I'm Olivia Dunham with the FBI, we're here about a number of bodies which were brought here last night."

The man paused, glancing hesitantly around at the trio.

"I think you know the ones." Peter interjected. "Freaky bat people with their chests ripped open. You tend to remember that."

Butters seemed to have realization dawn on him. "They didn't tell you. Before I could get into any of them, the FBI seized the bodies. They said it had something to do with an ongoing case and, frankly, I didn't need to try explaining those in another report."

"So…there's nothing you can give us." Irritation seeped into Peter's voice as have the man a withering glare. The man seemed to shift uncomfortably under it, again making a point to not make eye contact.

"Well…" The man replied nervously. "I can give you where I can find the officers who brought them in. Contact Detective Stallings at Special Investigations, he might be able to help you."

Olivia let out a long sigh. It wasn't exactly the best option, but until Broyles manage to smooth things over the local branch, they wouldn't be getting at those bodies anytime soon. "Alright. Thank you for your help."

"C'mon Walter." Peter reached for his father's arm, only to feel a resistance when he began to steer Walter out.

"You have a skull there." Walter stated, his eyes glued to the object. "On your desk."

Olivia turned just in time to see a look of true terror flash across the ME's face. A moment later, he appeared composed. "It's from a friend of mine. The man has an odd sense of humor. He called it Bob."

Walter continued to stare at the object, his lips slightly parted as he seemed to be staring off at something a million miles away. Peter recognized the look. "What is it Walter?"

Walter turned back his graying head, eyes haunted. "I don't remember." He shifted his eyes for a moment, the expression changing to one of joyful exuberance. "Now, I seem to recall that Chicago has superb hot dogs. Perhaps I can finally find my strawberry milkshake." Walter strode briskly to the door, leaving a very confused looking Butters in his wake. Shrugging, Peter followed after his father. A moment later Olivia followed, giving a long curious look back at the office.

As the sound of their footsteps faded, Waldo Butters let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"Whew. That was a close one, wasn't it?"

Butters jumped at the sound, letting out a small undignified yelp before turning back to the source of the noise.

"Bob, don't do that."

The skull's eye sockets now blazed with a pair of eyes the color of candle flames, as if it was being lit from the inside. "Right. Sorry, got it bossman. Did you check out that blonde babe? Humina humina." The voice emanated from the skull even though it lacked a set of lungs or a tongue.

Butters sighed. "I'm glad you found something to enjoy. I hoped that I wouldn't ever see a Red Court vampire on my slab again."

"You won't after this."

Butters rolled his eyes. "Why, because my luck is so good?"

"No. You won't." There was a short sobering silence between the pair.

"You're right. I won't." Butters lifted the skull, preparing to return it to his bag. "Did you see what you needed to on the bodies?"

"Yeah…" The skull replied, though the voice seemed distracted. "Butters…I couldn't really tell since I was hiding when those folks arrived, but I think one of them…has something funny going on."

"Something wasn't right there." Olivia looked back at Peter in the car. Without anything to examine, Walter had been installed in the hotel with a supply of fresh Chicago dogs and his strawberry milkshake, granted under the non-negotiable condition that he would not leave until they had returned.

"You mean that part where your own people hung us out to dry, or that fact that the ME got freaked out over a skull?" Peter remarked dryly. "Because I find both almost as disturbing as Walter's recent milkshake fetish."

"Not that." Peter raised an eyebrow at Olivia's response. "Alright, not just that. It's something he said. "Another." Another report on something like this happening, another set of bodies."

"So, it might have happened before. A trial run maybe?"

"Maybe. Here we are."

Chicago's Special Investigations department was, to be perfectly blunt, on the dingy side, a stark contrast to the recently built Forensic Institute. Most precinct were glamorous and cozy, but this office seemed to have lapsed into "slightly run down" about a decade ago. In spite of that, things seemed to be busy, phones continuing to ring as the detectives worked. Olivia stopped at the desk of a man with coffee colored skin, pulling out her badge. "Hello, I'm Agent Olivia Dunham, and this is Peter Bishop with the FBI. I'm here about the bodies that were found in a basement last night. And you are Detective…"

The detective gave the pair a suspicious look. "Rawlins. What can I help you with?"

Olivia did her best to be cordial. "We're hoping to get your help trying to figure out what happened here. Are there any witness statements or forensics yet? Any leads?"

Rawlins' expression went from suspicion to confusion, and then finally to anger. "Is this some kind of joke?" His voice rose above the clamor around them, drawing attention.

"Rawlins!" A voice barked from the Lieutenant's office. "I'll hand this. Come inside."

With a glance back at Rawlins, Olivia diverted to the office, Peter following right behind. The Lieutenant shut the door behind them and proceeded to his desk, motioning for them to sit. "You'll have to forgive Rawlins. It's been a tough few weeks, and his partner was just fired. I'm assuming you're here about the unusual bodies."

Olivia and Peter exchanged looks. "Yes." Olivia replied, brow wrinkling with confusion. "We arrived this morning, but our case…" Olivia trailed off

"Has had its evidence pulled." Stallings finished. "Because it may have relevance to National Security, and is therefore classified. The call came this morning, right after we had gotten back from collecting evidence. It would seem that someone has been keeping an eye on the office." Olivia could see the corners of Stallings' eyes tighten at the end. "We'd be happy to help, but until your bosses make up their minds, our hands our tied. I'm sorry." Stallings stood. "I'll see you out."

"Is it me, or is having answers being pulled away at the last moment becoming infectious." Peter fumed as they walked through the hallways of the precinct.

"I don't know, I think we may be giving up on them too soon." Olivia replied, glancing back at Peter.

"But they won't talk about the case. Not to us."

"Not about the case. Did you see the way Rawlins was looking at the desk across from him?"

Peter stopped, processing the thought. "Stallings mentioned that his partner was just fired this week, right after the attacks. Either that's on hell of a coincidence, or something he did got him fired."

Olivia nodded. "I remember what things were like when we lost Charlie. We won't be asking about the case, just about what happened to his partner."

"Yeah, except if a Fed goes in you're just going to get the Big Blue Wall." Peter allowed himself a smirk. "I've got this."

The bar was dark, and filled with ragged men despite the early time of day. It was packed with men coming off night shift, some still in uniforms or rumpled suits. Rawlins gently swirled the glass in his hand, watching the liquid cling to the sides.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Rawlins turned to see the young man who had been with the Fed earlier standing next to him at the bar. "Sure you can. And you can still go to hell."

Peter motioned to the bartender, pointed to Rawlins' drink and held up a pair of fingers before settling down beside him.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. It looks like we both got bamboozled by someone up the food chain."

Rawlins let out a grunt. "It happens. It's something you have to deal with."

"Even when it happens to your partner?"

The glass in Rawlins' hand stopped moving and he slowly turned to face Peter. "What do you know about that?"

"I know that it happened right after the splashiest news story to hit quiet city Chicago in a decade, even though there wouldn't have been any reason for Chicago PD to be working a terrorist attack. And I know when you walk into that office, you see his desk, and you can't stop thinking out it."

Rawlins was silent for a moment. "Her." Rawlins downed the last of his glass, starting on the next round brought by the bartender.

"Excuse me?"
Rawlins turned, looking Peter dead in the eye. "Her. Detective Sergeant Karrin Murphy." There was a short pause. "Do you know what Special Investigations is?"

Peter obliged the man's train of thought by shaking his head.

"They told me exactly what it was the moment they promoted me to it. Being promoted to Special Investigations is one rung higher than being reassigned to beat cop. People want to hear that murders are down, drug deals are down, and missing persons are found. So when something comes along where things don't make a damn bit of sense they fall to us. Weird wild animal attacks in the middle of the city? Our job. A guy gets offed in a particularly brutal way? Our job. A safe randomly drops from the sky…"

"Strange bodies show up with their hearts ripped out?" Peter continued. "Bodies no one would believe really existed. Things that defy rational explanation. Things which you can't say to the public because they'll think you're crazy."

Rawlins blinked, evidently surprised, but remained silent, not saying a word for a minute.

"Some bastard who used to work for Karrin got into IA. Real son of a bitch this one. He took every chance to make her life a living hell."

Peter nodded. "The same thing happed with Dunham. She helped prosecute a guy for sexual assault, and found that guy acting as her boss. Deliberately sabotaged her."

"What happened?"

Peter paused. "She had someone go to that mat for her. Vouched on her behalf."

Rawlins grunted again. "Karrie should have had someone do that for her. Most people, they get sent here and they give up. Karrie gave it her all, even if she knew that she wasn't going to win very often." Rawlins glanced back at Peter. "She can't help you either. She barely got half pension, and they're just looking for a reason to get her. But there's someone she would go for to help."

"Where do I find him?"

A curious expression came over the man's face. "I don't know. The place he was staying at has a whole lot of blood and a bullet hole going through it. If you find him, I think we can give you the answers you're looking for."

"What's his name?"

In spite of everything, a smile curled at the edge of Rawlins' lips. "Harry Dresden. He's in the yellow pages. Look under "Wizard."

Ok, this chapter turned out to be a bit more Fringe than I initially planned. To compensate, I'm planning the next chapter to be a lot more Dresden. As people who have read Ghost Story and Cold Days may expect, this is likely going to be a Harry-lite story for a while.