Fic: Fear Not For The Future (Peter/Gabriel) 1/5
Title: Fear Not For The Future (Chapter One)
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Peter/Gabriel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: His destiny begins with one phrase, "Stop Sylar, save the world," uttered by a man from the future, a man with Peter's face. Set in an alternate time-line, the story is about Peter's struggle to keep Gabriel from turning into Sylar, while also dealing with threats from 'the company', a disapproving brother, and certain geneticists.
We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations. -Anais Nin
Slouched on a chair in the hospital waiting room, Peter jolted when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He relaxed when his bleary eyes met Nathan's. His older brother smiled weakly. “Thanks for staying, Pete. You should go home and get some rest.”
“I don't mind-“
“I know. You've been great. The doctor says Heidi should be able to come home soon.”
“That's great, Nathan.”
“Yeah, so stop worrying about us and start taking care of yourself.” Nathan ran the back of his hand over Peter's stubble. Peter ducked his head.
“You'll call me if you need anything?”
Nathan nodded. Peter wrapped his arms around Nathan's shoulders. “I love you, Nathan.”
“I know.” Peter felt Nathan's arms tighten for a second, before pushing him away. “Now go. I called you a cab.”
Peter laughed and held up his hands in defeat. “I'm going.” Reluctantly Peter left his brother. It was late and the night air chilled Peter as he stepped outside. It was strangely quiet and Peter looked at his watch. 3:07. The parking lot lights flickered and Peter felt a prickling along his neck. He got the feeling he wasn't alone. Peter turned and saw... himself. His hair was slicked back, the face was older, scarred, but it was him. “I'm dreaming.”
“No, it's real,” the man replied in his voice.
Peter rubbed his eyes, he hadn't slept in a week, but the vision was still there. “What?”
The other Peter stepped forward. His long black coat billowed dramatically as if he had his own personal wind machine. He moved differently from Peter. Like an animal, like a predator. Peter took a step back.
“I'm from the future. Your future, if you can't stop it from happening,” he said grimly. “You have a destiny, Peter. You have a power that is only beginning to emerge.”
Peter stared at his future self in confusion.
“Your dreams... of Nathan's accident, of flying. They're not just dreams. Now listen carefully, you have to stop Sylar. The future of the world depends on it.”
“Sylar? What are you talking about? This is crazy.”
“Just listen,” the elder Peter snapped, “You must stop Sylar before he makes his first kill. He will be unstoppable after that.”
“I don't understand.”
“Sylar's real name is Gabriel Gray. He's a watchmaker. Find him. Kill him. Save the world.”
“Kill? I'm not killing anyone!”
Future Peter grabbed a hold of his shirt and pulled him close. “You will or the future is lost.” His voice changed, softened. “Everything will be lost.”
“If it's so important to stop this Sylar, or Gabriel, whatever, why don't you do it yourself?”
“I can't affect the past directly. It's up to you now. Stop Sylar. Save the world.” He turned, his black coat whipping behind him. “We're out of time. If I stay any longer, you might absorb my powers. That can't happen, not yet.”
“Wait!” Peter reached for him, but in a blink of an eye he was gone. Peter was alone. Bright lights momentarily blinded him and Peter turned to see a yellow taxi cab pulling up beside him.
* * *
Peter returned to his apartment and flipped on the light. He squinted against the brightness. His keys jingled as they were tossed onto a table. He picked up a t-shirt he'd left lying on the floor and threw onto the back of his couch. The cab ride home had been so surreal Peter had almost convinced himself that he really was dreaming. But now that he was home, back to the familiar, reality was settling in. Peter collapsed onto the couch.
The strange visitor may have had his face, but he was nothing like Peter. Peter couldn't imagine a future where he would become that hardened, that... frightening.
But even if it had been a dream, Peter couldn't ignore the fact that sometimes, just sometimes, his dreams came true. So he picked up a phonebook, expecting to find nothing, and flipped it open to watch and clock repair. Peter stared at the pag e, his brow furrowed. In bold letters a small listing read, 'Gray & Sons.' Gray. Gabriel Gray. Still, it didn't have to mean anything. Peter could close the phonebook, write it off as a crazy dream (maybe he was going crazy), and forget all about it.
Then again, it could mean everything. Peter ripped the page from the phonebook.
* * *
The cab dropped Peter off in front of Gray & Sons. The building was old and the shop seemed out of place, like it belonged to another time. A bell chimed as he stepped inside. The store was cluttered, cases lined every wall.
“I'll be with you in just a moment.”
Peter turned toward the voice. A man, with dark brown hair neatly parted and slicked back, sat hunched over a desk. His brow furrowed behind the magnifying lens clipped to his glasses as he deftly placed a tiny gear into place. Peter moved closer.
“Gabriel Gray?”
“Just one moment,” he repeated, moving his tool to another gear.
Gabriel was young, about Peter's own age. There was a quiet innocence about him that was completely contrary to the picture of a monster that his future self had painted.
Gabriel nodded satisfactorily to himself and set the small stainless tweezers down next to his other tools. He pulled his glasses off as he turned his head to face Peter. His eyes narrowed on Peter's wrist.
“There's nothing wrong with your watch,” he drew out the words slowly, thoughtfully. He finally looked up into Peter's eyes. “Did you have something for me to repair?”
“No,” Peter shook his head, his eyes never straying from Gabriel's. “That's not why I'm here.” Peter was overcome by a feeling of loneliness while staring into the dark depths of the other man's eyes.
Gabriel raised a brow expectantly. Peter realized that he'd been staring and took a quick step back, almost stumbling into a display case. Nervously he said, “Actually, I was interested in purchasing.”
“Aw.” Gabriel smiled. The chair squeaked as he pushed it back and stood. “What are you looking for?”
Peter glanced around the shop. “Um,” he bit his lip, “I'm not really sure.”
Gabriel led him over to a locked case. “Well, who's it for?”
“My brother.”
Gabriel nodded and pulled out a tray of men's watches. He waited patiently while Peter pretended to look them over. Peter's heart beat wildly against his chest. He struggled to keep his hand steady as he lifted a watch and inspected it as if he had a clue to what he was doing.
What was he doing? Why had he come? He was about to put the watch down and bolt from the shop and forget this day ever happened when something silver caught his eye. He pointed inside the case. “Can I see that one?”
Gabriel reached into the case and pulled out a silver pocket watch. “Good eye.” Their fingers brushed lightly as Peter took the watch from him.
“My grandfather had one just like it.” Peter opened it and stared at the ticking hands, lost in thought to another time and place. He snapped it close. “I'll take it.”
Gabriel nodded taking the pocket watch from Peter's hand. Peter followed him to the register. “Will that be everything?”
“No, I was also wandering if you plan on killing anyone in the immediate future,” Peter did not say. Instead he shrugged and smiled lopsidedly. “Yeah, that'll be fine.” Peter paid for the watch and Gabriel wrapped it in tissue and put it into a small box. “Please, come again.”
“Thanks,” Peter replied. Peter took one last look at the man, waiting, perhaps, for horns to sprout from his head or some other sign that this man was evil. But all he saw was a quiet watchmaker, with a shy smile and a curious look. “Thanks... again.” Peter backed away awkwardly. Hastily he exited the store and hailed the nearest cab. Clutching the small box in a white-knuckled grip, Peter spent the cab ride home staring at the plain box. But it was the watchmaker, not the watch, who filled his thoughts.
* * *
“How are you feeling today, Mr. Deveaux?” Peter opened the curtains, letting the early afternoon sun shine in.
Charles Deveaux sat up in his bed, resting his back against the pillows piled there. “I've had better days.”
Peter frowned as he checked his IV. “Think you feel up to eating outside today?”
“Perhaps later,” Charles picked up his reading glasses from his bedside. “Would you mind handing me the paper?”
Peter walked over to the table. He noticed a gold watch next to the newspaper. It looked vintage, expensive. He picked it and the paper up, bringing both to Charles. “Your watch is off.”
“Oh, that thing's never worked properly. My wife gave it to me on our anniversary. I always meant to get it repaired... I suppose there's no point now.” Charles opened the paper to the crossword section. While he was distracted, Peter slipped the watch into his pocket.
* * *
“You again?” Gabriel frowned, a worried crease between his brows. “Was there something wrong with the watch?”
“No, no, the pocket watch works great... This one however...” Peter held out Charles' watch.
Gabriel appraised the watch. “Hmm.” He opened the back.
“Can you fix it?”
Gabriel was already immersed in gears, springs, and pinions, Peter's voice washing over him like white noise. Peter watched over his shoulder, fascinated by his careful attention and skilled hands. It was like watching a surgeon at work. Something strange happened as Peter studied the inside machinery of the watch. He suddenly understood how every piece was meant to fit and work together and why it didn't. Then just as quickly as the realization came to him, the watch began ticking again. Gabriel had finished. He handed the watch back to Peter, his lips quirked in a small smile.
Peter stared at the watch in amazement. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing, it's on the house.”
“Thank you, that's very kind.” Peter glanced down again at the watch, the hands ticked by in perfect time. Peter wondered how someone as kind and talented as Gabriel could turn into a killer. Peter then remembered the image of his future self, hardened, dangerous, not even a flinch at the suggestion of killing Sylar. Peter straightened, a grim determination settling on his shoulders. Peter would change the future, for them both. He lowered the watch, fixing his gaze on Gabriel. “Let me buy you lunch, as a thank you.”
“That's... not necessary.”
“Maybe, but I'd still like to buy you lunch.”
“I don't know if I...” Gabriel stood up and looked around his empty shop as though he might at any moment be swamped with customers. Peter insisted and, after a moment's hesitation and a bit more prodding, Gabriel agreed.
Gabriel locked the shop up as they left. He flashed Peter a nervous smile as he slipped his hands into his pockets and started down the sidewalk.
“There's a diner a couple blocks from here, the food's not much to write home about, but its close.”
“Yeah, that sounds fine.” Peter gave him a reassuring smile.
Gabriel seemed uncomfortable and lost amongst the bustle of New York's streets. Peter moved instinctively closer. He ignored the awkwardness of their silence and stilled the fingers twitching nervously at his sides by shoving them in his pockets. Gabriel touched Peter's arm and pointed to the diner. They entered and took a seat near the window. Gabriel seemed more at ease with a glass barrier between him and the world outside.
A waitress approached them with two menus. “What can I get you to drink?”
“My usual,” replied Gabriel.
The waitress stared at Gabriel like she'd never seen him before. Gabriel sighed. “A coffee. Cream, no sugar. And I'll take a club sandwich with that.”
The waitress turned to Peter and smiled. “And you.”
“I'll have the same, except with a bottled water. Thanks.”
“Okay, I'll be right back with those waters.” The waitress was scurrying off towards the kitchen before Gabriel could mutter, “And coffee.”
“Sorry,” Gabriel leaned over the table, “I hope I didn't rush you. It's just better to get your order in quick. Otherwise we might not see her again.” The last part was uttered in a slight growl.
“Can I ask,” Peter glanced around the diner, “If the food isn't that great and the service is lousy, why do you come here?”
“Habit, I suppose.” Gabriel shrugged. “I'm afraid I lead a rather boring and predictable life.”
“Boring and predictable are underappreciated qualities. It just means you're stable and dependable.”
Gabriel looked unimpressed. The waitress arrived with the water and food (no coffee) a little too quickly, Peter thought, and the slapped together sandwich on his plate confirmed it.
“Sorry,” Gabriel apologized as if he had been the one to prepare the meager meal, “You're probably used to classier places than this.”
Peter sat back, his brows scrunched together. “Why would you say that?”
Gabriel replied as if the answer was obvious, “Your watch. Those don't come cheaply.”
“Oh that,” Peter shook his head, “The watch belongs to a patient of mine. I wanted to do something nice for him, so I,” Peter ducked his head slightly, “borrowed it to get it repaired.”
“Patient?”
“I'm a hospice nurse.”
Gabriel's eyes widened with surprise. He stared at Peter with something akin to wonder and admiration. “That's... I wouldn't have guessed.” He cocked his head slightly to one side, studying Peter in a new light. “You're making a real difference, helping people. That's very admirable.”
“Thank you.” Peter was certain he was blushing. He wasn't used to praise or compliments and never knew what to do with them when he did get them. “I do what I can. It's not much...”
“No,” Gabriel replied sharply, “It's a lot. It's more than any of them will likely ever do," he said while gazing out the window, “More than me.”
“Are you kidding me? You have a talent, Gabriel, a real talent. Not everyone can say that. The watch you repaired for me today? It belongs to my patient, my friend, Charles Deveaux. His wife gave it to him for their anniversary. She passed away two years ago and now he's dying too. You have no idea how much having that watch fixed will mean to him. Because it was something he'd given up hope on and now he'll have that back.”
Gabriel's expression was a mixture of disbelief and wonder, as if he wasn't sure what to make of Peter. It was a look Peter was used to. Peter's enthusiasm ebbed. He looked down at his plate and nibbled on a chip.
“You're a romanticist.”
Elbow resting on the table, Peter shrugged, waving the chip in his hand, “My brother calls me naïve.”
“Your brother, the one you bought the pocket watch for?”
“That's the one. And only. He's a lawyer, like my dad.”
“But you became a nurse.”
While taking a drink from his water, Peter raised his brows. He coughed setting the bottle down. “Yeah. I thought I could do more good, help people, like you said. Unfortunately my dad didn't... doesn't see it that way. I worked my way through nursing school, even waited tables for about three days.”
Softly Gabriel said, “I'm sorry to hear that. Not the waiting tables thing,” he added hastily, “I just... I know something about not living up to expectations.”
Peter shrugged it off as if it was nothing. “I still have Nathan. He doesn't quite get the nurse thing, but he tries.” Peter shook his head, remembering the women's size 10 1/2 shoes. “He does try.”
“It's good, that you have someone. Your brother.”
Peter was reminded of the loneliness he felt earlier. “Nathan is great,” he paused, “Most of the time.” His grin faded. “Still, it can be... lonely? Sometimes. It's difficult making friends in this town.” He turned to look out the window. “Everybody is always in such a rush, moving on to the next thing, never stopping to see what they have...” Peter trailed off, lost in thought. He turned back to Gabriel. “Sorry.”
“No, you are so right. It's like everyone has there eyes closed. Always looking in, but never out, never seeing the person next to them for who they really are.”
Peter wasn't sure that was what he meant, but he nodded anyway.
“Would you,” Gabriel tapped his fingers on the table nervously, “Would you have lunch with me again?”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded more enthusiastically, “I'd like that.”
Gabriel smiled and his shoulders relaxed. “Are you free tomorrow? Or is that too soon?” Gabriel looked nervous again, like he'd said something wrong. Like Peter might change his mind and run away like a skittish cat.
“Tomorrow is fine.” Peter stood up. “Did you want to meet here?”
Gabriel stood. “No. I think I'll try someplace new tomorrow.”
Peter flashed him a smile. “I'll meet you at your shop then. Oh-” Peter checked his pockets for a pen, and then spotted the one the waitress had left next to their tab. He picked it up and then looked for something to write on. He took Gabriel's hand and scribbled down his phone number. Gabriel stared at the number on his hand as if Peter had just given him the coordinates to his home planet. “Do you want my number?”
“Sure,” Peter gave him the pen and held out his hand. Gabriel held it steady against his palm as he gingerly pressed the pen down. He bit his lip as he concentrated on printing the numbers neatly. It was the same expression he got when he was working on a watch. Peter grinned.
* * *
They met again and talked, about life, philosophy. Peter mostly listened. But that was okay, because it seemed to be what Gabriel needed.
“Do you want to come over to my place Friday night and watch a movie,” asked Peter, apropos of nothing.
“Okay.”
* * *
Peter dreamt that night of Gabriel. They were standing in Kirby Plaza.
“You can't fight destiny, Peter.”
“I can try.”
* * *
It turned out that they both liked old movies. So Peter rented some old classics, more than they could watch in a single night, but he wasn't sure what Gabriel would want to watch.
“How about this?” Gabriel held up a movie from the stack of DVD's piled on his coffee table.
“The Invisible Man? I haven't seen that one yet. Put it in.” Peter ducked back into the kitchen and retrieved the popcorn from his microwave. He dumped it out into a bowl. The DVD was sliding into the machine as Peter slumped onto the couch. Gabriel sat next to him, leaning against the armrest.
“I always wanted to be able to turn invisible.”
“Really? I always thought it would be cool to fly.” Peter smiled wistfully. “I've actually been having a lot of flying dreams lately. You think it means anything?” Gabriel looked at him sideways. “What?”
“You do know what flying symbolizes, right?” Gabriel adjusted his glasses and looked a little embarrassed. Peter shook his head. “Well, from what I've read on dreams, it's largely interpreted to be... sexual.”
Peter shifted his position on the couch. Most of those dreams involved his brother Nathan. He decided not to mention that part.
Kindly, Gabriel added, “But it could also mean that something has been holding you back and that you're ready for a change.”
“Hmm.” Change. Peter could feel that he was changing, had been since even before his visitor from the future.
* * *
They met again the next day to finish off Peter's movies and again the next. Peter found it strange how quickly and easily the two fell into a routine. The next time they met however was quite different.
A few days had passed with no word from Gabriel. Peter had called, but only got Gabriel's answering machine. He was contemplating looking up his home address and checking on him ( would that seem too stalker-like? I don't want to scare him off, but if he really does flip, I have to be there to stop him before he hurts anyone ), when a frantic rapping sounded against his door.
Gabriel burst into Peter's apartment, excitement radiating off of him. A book was clutched in his arms. “I had the strangest encounter the other day. A Dr. Suresh came to see me. He said that I could be the next step in human evolution and left me with this book.” He held it up for Peter to see.
“Activating Evolution?”
Gabriel thrust it into Peter's arms. “You have to read it.” Gabriel chewed on a nail and paced as Peter leafed through the book. “I thought he was crazy at first of course, until I actually started reading it. Just imagine the possibilities if it were true!”
“Rapid tissue regeneration, teleportation, telepathy?”
“There's even a chapter on human flight.”
Peter scanned the table of contents. He flipped the book open to the right page and skimmed over the article. “It sounds like an amazing theory.”
“I'm meeting with him tomorrow.”
Peter's eyes shot up from the book. Gabriel looked almost manic. Peter remembered, always remembered, the warning. Could this be the trigger that changed Gabriel into Sylar? “Would you mind if I came along?”
* * *
“Thank you for coming, Gabriel,” Dr. Suresh greeted them at the door. He shook Gabriel's hand and invited them in.
“This is Peter. He's a...” The word hung between them. Friend? “...nurse. He's also very interested in your theories. I hope you don't mind that I brought him?”
“Of course, I am always eager to speak with any individual interested in my work, although I like to think of it as more than just theories.”
Peter asked, “In your book, you say that you've identified a mutated sequence in certain people's DNA that may lead them to developing... special abilities?”
“That is the sum of it, yes.”
“How were you able to find Gabriel?”
“Through the Human Genome Project.” Dr. Suresh held up a hand, halting Peter's next question. “Please, have a seat. I was just preparing some tea. Can I offer either of you a cup?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Gabriel.
“Sure,” Peter nodded.
Dr. Suresh slipped off into the kitchen and Peter took a seat next to Gabriel. Suresh returned carrying a small teapot and matching cups. “Thanks,” Peter said as Suresh poured him a cup. There was a copy of Activating Evolution and a medical textbook on the coffee table turned open to an illustration of a lung cross section.
Gabriel flipped the page over curiously. “So... what? You're going to cut me open?”
Dr. Suresh laughed. “I'd like to run some tests. An EEG, EKG, nothing invasive. A friend at Columbia has access to an MRI.”
“Mapping the brain?”
Suresh nodded. “Measuring alpha waves, resting rates, neuron clusters. The brain controls every human action, voluntary or involuntary. Every breath, every heartbeat, every emotion. If the soul exists, scientifically speaking, it exists in the brain.”
Gabriel shook his head chuckling. He set his teacup down and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. “When I was a kid I used to wish some stranger would come and tell me my family wasn't really my family. They weren't bad people, they were just... insignificant. And I wanted to be different. Special. I wanted to change. A new name, a new life.” Sylar , whispered a voice in Peter's mind. “The watchmaker's son,” Gabriel slapped a hand against his knee for emphasis, “became a watchmaker. It is so futile. And I wanted to be... important.”
“You are important, Gabriel.”
Gabriel asked eagerly, “What do you think my abilities might be?”
“Impossible to say just yet. Have there been any sudden changes in your life, a deviation from your normal routine, something out of the ordinary?”
Gabriel glanced at Peter. “Not as such.”
“A heightened sense, perhaps? Or precognition, such as knowing when the phone is about ring before it happens?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“There are some simple tests we can begin with,” Suresh motioned for Gabriel to follow him to his desk. While they talked, Peter got up from his seat to take a look around. He wandered over to the bulletin board behind Dr. Suresh's desk. On it was a large map with pushpins, connected by strings, and pictures. Peter's eyes widened. His fingers brushed over a clipped image from a newspaper, a photo of his brother. Peter whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes at the geneticist. “What is this,” his voice was sharp, cutting through their conversation. Gabriel and Suresh turned to Peter as though they'd forgotten he was in the room.
“That,” said Suresh, “is a map of the future, Peter. Each pushpin represents an individual who possesses the genetic mutation that is the focus of my research.”
Peter turned back to stare at the photo of his brother. “I think you've made a mistake. My brother doesn't have any... special abilities.”
“Your brother?”
Peter pointed to the photo of Nathan.
“Nathan Petrelli is your brother?” The excitement was evident in Dr. Suresh's voice. Peter nodded. Suresh glanced from Peter to Gabriel and back again. “Amazing, truly amazing. I would very much like to speak with your brother, Peter. I tried leaving a message at his office, but never got a call back.”
Peter noticed Gabriel glower behind the geneticist. “I don't think that's a very good idea,” said Peter, “His wife was just in a car accident. She's in a wheelchair now and they're still... adjusting.”
Suresh's face fell and somberly he said, “I am very sorry to hear that.” There was a moment of silence between them.
Peter could feel Gabriel's eyes burning into him. “So, what are these tests you were talking about?”
Suresh explained how he would like to proceed with Gabriel's testing and the two arranged to meet again. Suresh shook both their hands as they left and invited Peter back as well.
When the door closed behind them, Gabriel smiled at Peter. “This is so exciting. I can't wait to find out what my ability is.” Gabriel got a sly look in his eye and grinned. “Maybe I really will be able to turn invisible.”
“As long as you can turn back,” joked Peter.
“Oh god, I hadn't thought of that,” replied Gabriel worriedly. They walked down the hall together, towards the stairs. “You seem... unsettled. I would have thought you'd be more excited by the prospect of having a special ability.” Gabriel prodded, “Like flying?”
"It's great. It's amazing. I guess I'm just a little distracted. I have to give a deposition next week for the DA."
"We're talking about the evolution of humankind and you're thinking about depositions?"
"I'm testifying against my father."
Gabriel stopped suddenly and stared at Peter with more attention. Peter slowed to a stop a few feet away and turned to face him. "I'm not really supposed to talk about the case, but it's big. Really big." Peter rubbed a hand against his temple. "We don't like to talk about it. It's the family's dirty little secret that everyone knows. My dad represents Linderman, whom you'll know if you read the papers is suspected of having deep mob ties. Well..."
"Wow. Why didn't you say anything?"
Peter brushed the hair away from his face. "It's not something I'm proud of. And we only just met. I didn't want to scare you off before we even had a chance to get to know each other. Because I like you and I think we could be friends."
Gabriel was staring at him again with that mixed look of wonder and disbelief. His eyes softened and a sweet smile graced his lips. “We are... friends.”
Peter smiled back. He really did like Gabriel. And it frightened him.
* * *
Chapter Two
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Peter/Gabriel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: His destiny begins with one phrase, "Stop Sylar, save the world," uttered by a man from the future, a man with Peter's face. Set in an alternate time-line, the story is about Peter's struggle to keep Gabriel from turning into Sylar, while also dealing with threats from 'the company', a disapproving brother, and certain geneticists.
We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations. -Anais Nin
Slouched on a chair in the hospital waiting room, Peter jolted when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He relaxed when his bleary eyes met Nathan's. His older brother smiled weakly. “Thanks for staying, Pete. You should go home and get some rest.”
“I don't mind-“
“I know. You've been great. The doctor says Heidi should be able to come home soon.”
“That's great, Nathan.”
“Yeah, so stop worrying about us and start taking care of yourself.” Nathan ran the back of his hand over Peter's stubble. Peter ducked his head.
“You'll call me if you need anything?”
Nathan nodded. Peter wrapped his arms around Nathan's shoulders. “I love you, Nathan.”
“I know.” Peter felt Nathan's arms tighten for a second, before pushing him away. “Now go. I called you a cab.”
Peter laughed and held up his hands in defeat. “I'm going.” Reluctantly Peter left his brother. It was late and the night air chilled Peter as he stepped outside. It was strangely quiet and Peter looked at his watch. 3:07. The parking lot lights flickered and Peter felt a prickling along his neck. He got the feeling he wasn't alone. Peter turned and saw... himself. His hair was slicked back, the face was older, scarred, but it was him. “I'm dreaming.”
“No, it's real,” the man replied in his voice.
Peter rubbed his eyes, he hadn't slept in a week, but the vision was still there. “What?”
The other Peter stepped forward. His long black coat billowed dramatically as if he had his own personal wind machine. He moved differently from Peter. Like an animal, like a predator. Peter took a step back.
“I'm from the future. Your future, if you can't stop it from happening,” he said grimly. “You have a destiny, Peter. You have a power that is only beginning to emerge.”
Peter stared at his future self in confusion.
“Your dreams... of Nathan's accident, of flying. They're not just dreams. Now listen carefully, you have to stop Sylar. The future of the world depends on it.”
“Sylar? What are you talking about? This is crazy.”
“Just listen,” the elder Peter snapped, “You must stop Sylar before he makes his first kill. He will be unstoppable after that.”
“I don't understand.”
“Sylar's real name is Gabriel Gray. He's a watchmaker. Find him. Kill him. Save the world.”
“Kill? I'm not killing anyone!”
Future Peter grabbed a hold of his shirt and pulled him close. “You will or the future is lost.” His voice changed, softened. “Everything will be lost.”
“If it's so important to stop this Sylar, or Gabriel, whatever, why don't you do it yourself?”
“I can't affect the past directly. It's up to you now. Stop Sylar. Save the world.” He turned, his black coat whipping behind him. “We're out of time. If I stay any longer, you might absorb my powers. That can't happen, not yet.”
“Wait!” Peter reached for him, but in a blink of an eye he was gone. Peter was alone. Bright lights momentarily blinded him and Peter turned to see a yellow taxi cab pulling up beside him.
* * *
Peter returned to his apartment and flipped on the light. He squinted against the brightness. His keys jingled as they were tossed onto a table. He picked up a t-shirt he'd left lying on the floor and threw onto the back of his couch. The cab ride home had been so surreal Peter had almost convinced himself that he really was dreaming. But now that he was home, back to the familiar, reality was settling in. Peter collapsed onto the couch.
The strange visitor may have had his face, but he was nothing like Peter. Peter couldn't imagine a future where he would become that hardened, that... frightening.
But even if it had been a dream, Peter couldn't ignore the fact that sometimes, just sometimes, his dreams came true. So he picked up a phonebook, expecting to find nothing, and flipped it open to watch and clock repair. Peter stared at the pag e, his brow furrowed. In bold letters a small listing read, 'Gray & Sons.' Gray. Gabriel Gray. Still, it didn't have to mean anything. Peter could close the phonebook, write it off as a crazy dream (maybe he was going crazy), and forget all about it.
Then again, it could mean everything. Peter ripped the page from the phonebook.
* * *
The cab dropped Peter off in front of Gray & Sons. The building was old and the shop seemed out of place, like it belonged to another time. A bell chimed as he stepped inside. The store was cluttered, cases lined every wall.
“I'll be with you in just a moment.”
Peter turned toward the voice. A man, with dark brown hair neatly parted and slicked back, sat hunched over a desk. His brow furrowed behind the magnifying lens clipped to his glasses as he deftly placed a tiny gear into place. Peter moved closer.
“Gabriel Gray?”
“Just one moment,” he repeated, moving his tool to another gear.
Gabriel was young, about Peter's own age. There was a quiet innocence about him that was completely contrary to the picture of a monster that his future self had painted.
Gabriel nodded satisfactorily to himself and set the small stainless tweezers down next to his other tools. He pulled his glasses off as he turned his head to face Peter. His eyes narrowed on Peter's wrist.
“There's nothing wrong with your watch,” he drew out the words slowly, thoughtfully. He finally looked up into Peter's eyes. “Did you have something for me to repair?”
“No,” Peter shook his head, his eyes never straying from Gabriel's. “That's not why I'm here.” Peter was overcome by a feeling of loneliness while staring into the dark depths of the other man's eyes.
Gabriel raised a brow expectantly. Peter realized that he'd been staring and took a quick step back, almost stumbling into a display case. Nervously he said, “Actually, I was interested in purchasing.”
“Aw.” Gabriel smiled. The chair squeaked as he pushed it back and stood. “What are you looking for?”
Peter glanced around the shop. “Um,” he bit his lip, “I'm not really sure.”
Gabriel led him over to a locked case. “Well, who's it for?”
“My brother.”
Gabriel nodded and pulled out a tray of men's watches. He waited patiently while Peter pretended to look them over. Peter's heart beat wildly against his chest. He struggled to keep his hand steady as he lifted a watch and inspected it as if he had a clue to what he was doing.
What was he doing? Why had he come? He was about to put the watch down and bolt from the shop and forget this day ever happened when something silver caught his eye. He pointed inside the case. “Can I see that one?”
Gabriel reached into the case and pulled out a silver pocket watch. “Good eye.” Their fingers brushed lightly as Peter took the watch from him.
“My grandfather had one just like it.” Peter opened it and stared at the ticking hands, lost in thought to another time and place. He snapped it close. “I'll take it.”
Gabriel nodded taking the pocket watch from Peter's hand. Peter followed him to the register. “Will that be everything?”
“No, I was also wandering if you plan on killing anyone in the immediate future,” Peter did not say. Instead he shrugged and smiled lopsidedly. “Yeah, that'll be fine.” Peter paid for the watch and Gabriel wrapped it in tissue and put it into a small box. “Please, come again.”
“Thanks,” Peter replied. Peter took one last look at the man, waiting, perhaps, for horns to sprout from his head or some other sign that this man was evil. But all he saw was a quiet watchmaker, with a shy smile and a curious look. “Thanks... again.” Peter backed away awkwardly. Hastily he exited the store and hailed the nearest cab. Clutching the small box in a white-knuckled grip, Peter spent the cab ride home staring at the plain box. But it was the watchmaker, not the watch, who filled his thoughts.
* * *
“How are you feeling today, Mr. Deveaux?” Peter opened the curtains, letting the early afternoon sun shine in.
Charles Deveaux sat up in his bed, resting his back against the pillows piled there. “I've had better days.”
Peter frowned as he checked his IV. “Think you feel up to eating outside today?”
“Perhaps later,” Charles picked up his reading glasses from his bedside. “Would you mind handing me the paper?”
Peter walked over to the table. He noticed a gold watch next to the newspaper. It looked vintage, expensive. He picked it and the paper up, bringing both to Charles. “Your watch is off.”
“Oh, that thing's never worked properly. My wife gave it to me on our anniversary. I always meant to get it repaired... I suppose there's no point now.” Charles opened the paper to the crossword section. While he was distracted, Peter slipped the watch into his pocket.
* * *
“You again?” Gabriel frowned, a worried crease between his brows. “Was there something wrong with the watch?”
“No, no, the pocket watch works great... This one however...” Peter held out Charles' watch.
Gabriel appraised the watch. “Hmm.” He opened the back.
“Can you fix it?”
Gabriel was already immersed in gears, springs, and pinions, Peter's voice washing over him like white noise. Peter watched over his shoulder, fascinated by his careful attention and skilled hands. It was like watching a surgeon at work. Something strange happened as Peter studied the inside machinery of the watch. He suddenly understood how every piece was meant to fit and work together and why it didn't. Then just as quickly as the realization came to him, the watch began ticking again. Gabriel had finished. He handed the watch back to Peter, his lips quirked in a small smile.
Peter stared at the watch in amazement. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing, it's on the house.”
“Thank you, that's very kind.” Peter glanced down again at the watch, the hands ticked by in perfect time. Peter wondered how someone as kind and talented as Gabriel could turn into a killer. Peter then remembered the image of his future self, hardened, dangerous, not even a flinch at the suggestion of killing Sylar. Peter straightened, a grim determination settling on his shoulders. Peter would change the future, for them both. He lowered the watch, fixing his gaze on Gabriel. “Let me buy you lunch, as a thank you.”
“That's... not necessary.”
“Maybe, but I'd still like to buy you lunch.”
“I don't know if I...” Gabriel stood up and looked around his empty shop as though he might at any moment be swamped with customers. Peter insisted and, after a moment's hesitation and a bit more prodding, Gabriel agreed.
Gabriel locked the shop up as they left. He flashed Peter a nervous smile as he slipped his hands into his pockets and started down the sidewalk.
“There's a diner a couple blocks from here, the food's not much to write home about, but its close.”
“Yeah, that sounds fine.” Peter gave him a reassuring smile.
Gabriel seemed uncomfortable and lost amongst the bustle of New York's streets. Peter moved instinctively closer. He ignored the awkwardness of their silence and stilled the fingers twitching nervously at his sides by shoving them in his pockets. Gabriel touched Peter's arm and pointed to the diner. They entered and took a seat near the window. Gabriel seemed more at ease with a glass barrier between him and the world outside.
A waitress approached them with two menus. “What can I get you to drink?”
“My usual,” replied Gabriel.
The waitress stared at Gabriel like she'd never seen him before. Gabriel sighed. “A coffee. Cream, no sugar. And I'll take a club sandwich with that.”
The waitress turned to Peter and smiled. “And you.”
“I'll have the same, except with a bottled water. Thanks.”
“Okay, I'll be right back with those waters.” The waitress was scurrying off towards the kitchen before Gabriel could mutter, “And coffee.”
“Sorry,” Gabriel leaned over the table, “I hope I didn't rush you. It's just better to get your order in quick. Otherwise we might not see her again.” The last part was uttered in a slight growl.
“Can I ask,” Peter glanced around the diner, “If the food isn't that great and the service is lousy, why do you come here?”
“Habit, I suppose.” Gabriel shrugged. “I'm afraid I lead a rather boring and predictable life.”
“Boring and predictable are underappreciated qualities. It just means you're stable and dependable.”
Gabriel looked unimpressed. The waitress arrived with the water and food (no coffee) a little too quickly, Peter thought, and the slapped together sandwich on his plate confirmed it.
“Sorry,” Gabriel apologized as if he had been the one to prepare the meager meal, “You're probably used to classier places than this.”
Peter sat back, his brows scrunched together. “Why would you say that?”
Gabriel replied as if the answer was obvious, “Your watch. Those don't come cheaply.”
“Oh that,” Peter shook his head, “The watch belongs to a patient of mine. I wanted to do something nice for him, so I,” Peter ducked his head slightly, “borrowed it to get it repaired.”
“Patient?”
“I'm a hospice nurse.”
Gabriel's eyes widened with surprise. He stared at Peter with something akin to wonder and admiration. “That's... I wouldn't have guessed.” He cocked his head slightly to one side, studying Peter in a new light. “You're making a real difference, helping people. That's very admirable.”
“Thank you.” Peter was certain he was blushing. He wasn't used to praise or compliments and never knew what to do with them when he did get them. “I do what I can. It's not much...”
“No,” Gabriel replied sharply, “It's a lot. It's more than any of them will likely ever do," he said while gazing out the window, “More than me.”
“Are you kidding me? You have a talent, Gabriel, a real talent. Not everyone can say that. The watch you repaired for me today? It belongs to my patient, my friend, Charles Deveaux. His wife gave it to him for their anniversary. She passed away two years ago and now he's dying too. You have no idea how much having that watch fixed will mean to him. Because it was something he'd given up hope on and now he'll have that back.”
Gabriel's expression was a mixture of disbelief and wonder, as if he wasn't sure what to make of Peter. It was a look Peter was used to. Peter's enthusiasm ebbed. He looked down at his plate and nibbled on a chip.
“You're a romanticist.”
Elbow resting on the table, Peter shrugged, waving the chip in his hand, “My brother calls me naïve.”
“Your brother, the one you bought the pocket watch for?”
“That's the one. And only. He's a lawyer, like my dad.”
“But you became a nurse.”
While taking a drink from his water, Peter raised his brows. He coughed setting the bottle down. “Yeah. I thought I could do more good, help people, like you said. Unfortunately my dad didn't... doesn't see it that way. I worked my way through nursing school, even waited tables for about three days.”
Softly Gabriel said, “I'm sorry to hear that. Not the waiting tables thing,” he added hastily, “I just... I know something about not living up to expectations.”
Peter shrugged it off as if it was nothing. “I still have Nathan. He doesn't quite get the nurse thing, but he tries.” Peter shook his head, remembering the women's size 10 1/2 shoes. “He does try.”
“It's good, that you have someone. Your brother.”
Peter was reminded of the loneliness he felt earlier. “Nathan is great,” he paused, “Most of the time.” His grin faded. “Still, it can be... lonely? Sometimes. It's difficult making friends in this town.” He turned to look out the window. “Everybody is always in such a rush, moving on to the next thing, never stopping to see what they have...” Peter trailed off, lost in thought. He turned back to Gabriel. “Sorry.”
“No, you are so right. It's like everyone has there eyes closed. Always looking in, but never out, never seeing the person next to them for who they really are.”
Peter wasn't sure that was what he meant, but he nodded anyway.
“Would you,” Gabriel tapped his fingers on the table nervously, “Would you have lunch with me again?”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded more enthusiastically, “I'd like that.”
Gabriel smiled and his shoulders relaxed. “Are you free tomorrow? Or is that too soon?” Gabriel looked nervous again, like he'd said something wrong. Like Peter might change his mind and run away like a skittish cat.
“Tomorrow is fine.” Peter stood up. “Did you want to meet here?”
Gabriel stood. “No. I think I'll try someplace new tomorrow.”
Peter flashed him a smile. “I'll meet you at your shop then. Oh-” Peter checked his pockets for a pen, and then spotted the one the waitress had left next to their tab. He picked it up and then looked for something to write on. He took Gabriel's hand and scribbled down his phone number. Gabriel stared at the number on his hand as if Peter had just given him the coordinates to his home planet. “Do you want my number?”
“Sure,” Peter gave him the pen and held out his hand. Gabriel held it steady against his palm as he gingerly pressed the pen down. He bit his lip as he concentrated on printing the numbers neatly. It was the same expression he got when he was working on a watch. Peter grinned.
* * *
They met again and talked, about life, philosophy. Peter mostly listened. But that was okay, because it seemed to be what Gabriel needed.
“Do you want to come over to my place Friday night and watch a movie,” asked Peter, apropos of nothing.
“Okay.”
* * *
Peter dreamt that night of Gabriel. They were standing in Kirby Plaza.
“You can't fight destiny, Peter.”
“I can try.”
* * *
It turned out that they both liked old movies. So Peter rented some old classics, more than they could watch in a single night, but he wasn't sure what Gabriel would want to watch.
“How about this?” Gabriel held up a movie from the stack of DVD's piled on his coffee table.
“The Invisible Man? I haven't seen that one yet. Put it in.” Peter ducked back into the kitchen and retrieved the popcorn from his microwave. He dumped it out into a bowl. The DVD was sliding into the machine as Peter slumped onto the couch. Gabriel sat next to him, leaning against the armrest.
“I always wanted to be able to turn invisible.”
“Really? I always thought it would be cool to fly.” Peter smiled wistfully. “I've actually been having a lot of flying dreams lately. You think it means anything?” Gabriel looked at him sideways. “What?”
“You do know what flying symbolizes, right?” Gabriel adjusted his glasses and looked a little embarrassed. Peter shook his head. “Well, from what I've read on dreams, it's largely interpreted to be... sexual.”
Peter shifted his position on the couch. Most of those dreams involved his brother Nathan. He decided not to mention that part.
Kindly, Gabriel added, “But it could also mean that something has been holding you back and that you're ready for a change.”
“Hmm.” Change. Peter could feel that he was changing, had been since even before his visitor from the future.
* * *
They met again the next day to finish off Peter's movies and again the next. Peter found it strange how quickly and easily the two fell into a routine. The next time they met however was quite different.
A few days had passed with no word from Gabriel. Peter had called, but only got Gabriel's answering machine. He was contemplating looking up his home address and checking on him ( would that seem too stalker-like? I don't want to scare him off, but if he really does flip, I have to be there to stop him before he hurts anyone ), when a frantic rapping sounded against his door.
Gabriel burst into Peter's apartment, excitement radiating off of him. A book was clutched in his arms. “I had the strangest encounter the other day. A Dr. Suresh came to see me. He said that I could be the next step in human evolution and left me with this book.” He held it up for Peter to see.
“Activating Evolution?”
Gabriel thrust it into Peter's arms. “You have to read it.” Gabriel chewed on a nail and paced as Peter leafed through the book. “I thought he was crazy at first of course, until I actually started reading it. Just imagine the possibilities if it were true!”
“Rapid tissue regeneration, teleportation, telepathy?”
“There's even a chapter on human flight.”
Peter scanned the table of contents. He flipped the book open to the right page and skimmed over the article. “It sounds like an amazing theory.”
“I'm meeting with him tomorrow.”
Peter's eyes shot up from the book. Gabriel looked almost manic. Peter remembered, always remembered, the warning. Could this be the trigger that changed Gabriel into Sylar? “Would you mind if I came along?”
* * *
“Thank you for coming, Gabriel,” Dr. Suresh greeted them at the door. He shook Gabriel's hand and invited them in.
“This is Peter. He's a...” The word hung between them. Friend? “...nurse. He's also very interested in your theories. I hope you don't mind that I brought him?”
“Of course, I am always eager to speak with any individual interested in my work, although I like to think of it as more than just theories.”
Peter asked, “In your book, you say that you've identified a mutated sequence in certain people's DNA that may lead them to developing... special abilities?”
“That is the sum of it, yes.”
“How were you able to find Gabriel?”
“Through the Human Genome Project.” Dr. Suresh held up a hand, halting Peter's next question. “Please, have a seat. I was just preparing some tea. Can I offer either of you a cup?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Gabriel.
“Sure,” Peter nodded.
Dr. Suresh slipped off into the kitchen and Peter took a seat next to Gabriel. Suresh returned carrying a small teapot and matching cups. “Thanks,” Peter said as Suresh poured him a cup. There was a copy of Activating Evolution and a medical textbook on the coffee table turned open to an illustration of a lung cross section.
Gabriel flipped the page over curiously. “So... what? You're going to cut me open?”
Dr. Suresh laughed. “I'd like to run some tests. An EEG, EKG, nothing invasive. A friend at Columbia has access to an MRI.”
“Mapping the brain?”
Suresh nodded. “Measuring alpha waves, resting rates, neuron clusters. The brain controls every human action, voluntary or involuntary. Every breath, every heartbeat, every emotion. If the soul exists, scientifically speaking, it exists in the brain.”
Gabriel shook his head chuckling. He set his teacup down and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. “When I was a kid I used to wish some stranger would come and tell me my family wasn't really my family. They weren't bad people, they were just... insignificant. And I wanted to be different. Special. I wanted to change. A new name, a new life.” Sylar , whispered a voice in Peter's mind. “The watchmaker's son,” Gabriel slapped a hand against his knee for emphasis, “became a watchmaker. It is so futile. And I wanted to be... important.”
“You are important, Gabriel.”
Gabriel asked eagerly, “What do you think my abilities might be?”
“Impossible to say just yet. Have there been any sudden changes in your life, a deviation from your normal routine, something out of the ordinary?”
Gabriel glanced at Peter. “Not as such.”
“A heightened sense, perhaps? Or precognition, such as knowing when the phone is about ring before it happens?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“There are some simple tests we can begin with,” Suresh motioned for Gabriel to follow him to his desk. While they talked, Peter got up from his seat to take a look around. He wandered over to the bulletin board behind Dr. Suresh's desk. On it was a large map with pushpins, connected by strings, and pictures. Peter's eyes widened. His fingers brushed over a clipped image from a newspaper, a photo of his brother. Peter whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes at the geneticist. “What is this,” his voice was sharp, cutting through their conversation. Gabriel and Suresh turned to Peter as though they'd forgotten he was in the room.
“That,” said Suresh, “is a map of the future, Peter. Each pushpin represents an individual who possesses the genetic mutation that is the focus of my research.”
Peter turned back to stare at the photo of his brother. “I think you've made a mistake. My brother doesn't have any... special abilities.”
“Your brother?”
Peter pointed to the photo of Nathan.
“Nathan Petrelli is your brother?” The excitement was evident in Dr. Suresh's voice. Peter nodded. Suresh glanced from Peter to Gabriel and back again. “Amazing, truly amazing. I would very much like to speak with your brother, Peter. I tried leaving a message at his office, but never got a call back.”
Peter noticed Gabriel glower behind the geneticist. “I don't think that's a very good idea,” said Peter, “His wife was just in a car accident. She's in a wheelchair now and they're still... adjusting.”
Suresh's face fell and somberly he said, “I am very sorry to hear that.” There was a moment of silence between them.
Peter could feel Gabriel's eyes burning into him. “So, what are these tests you were talking about?”
Suresh explained how he would like to proceed with Gabriel's testing and the two arranged to meet again. Suresh shook both their hands as they left and invited Peter back as well.
When the door closed behind them, Gabriel smiled at Peter. “This is so exciting. I can't wait to find out what my ability is.” Gabriel got a sly look in his eye and grinned. “Maybe I really will be able to turn invisible.”
“As long as you can turn back,” joked Peter.
“Oh god, I hadn't thought of that,” replied Gabriel worriedly. They walked down the hall together, towards the stairs. “You seem... unsettled. I would have thought you'd be more excited by the prospect of having a special ability.” Gabriel prodded, “Like flying?”
"It's great. It's amazing. I guess I'm just a little distracted. I have to give a deposition next week for the DA."
"We're talking about the evolution of humankind and you're thinking about depositions?"
"I'm testifying against my father."
Gabriel stopped suddenly and stared at Peter with more attention. Peter slowed to a stop a few feet away and turned to face him. "I'm not really supposed to talk about the case, but it's big. Really big." Peter rubbed a hand against his temple. "We don't like to talk about it. It's the family's dirty little secret that everyone knows. My dad represents Linderman, whom you'll know if you read the papers is suspected of having deep mob ties. Well..."
"Wow. Why didn't you say anything?"
Peter brushed the hair away from his face. "It's not something I'm proud of. And we only just met. I didn't want to scare you off before we even had a chance to get to know each other. Because I like you and I think we could be friends."
Gabriel was staring at him again with that mixed look of wonder and disbelief. His eyes softened and a sweet smile graced his lips. “We are... friends.”
Peter smiled back. He really did like Gabriel. And it frightened him.
* * *
Chapter Two