Double Trouble
Title: Double Trouble
Characters: Gabriel, Sylar, Nathan, Peter, Heidi
Rating: R
Warnings: Some angst, pseudo-suicide
Word count: 5,000
Setting: Shattered Salvation
Summary: Gabriel tries again to get this new cloning ability to work 'right'.
Peter had left for work. Gabriel knew he, too, should theoretically be heading home soon to see Heidi, but he wanted to play around with his newest acquisition a little more: cloning. It hadn’t gone like he’d expected, but he thought he could control the division if, perhaps, he just concentrated on it a little more. He settled himself in the middle of the couch and focused on the ability. Previously, it had divided him into two facets of his personality. He wasn’t thrilled with that, but it had been manageable. Still, he’d rather have it create an obedient drone like Eli’s power, where he didn’t have to worry about his clone having a mind of its own.
Gabriel thought about his identity. He thought about who he was and how he saw himself. He pulled together everything that had split before, into Gabe and Sylar. He ran his thoughts over those two personalities several times. Holding tight to that mental image, he activated the ability and felt something deep within himself pull and stretch like taffy, shredding a little painfully at the ends before separating with a pop of relief like a release of sinus pressure.
He blinked his eyes open, having not been aware they’d even shut. He was sitting a foot or two to the left of where he’d been earlier. To his right was his … He stared at the person on his right. Fuck me. Looking back at him, very warily, was none other than one Nathan Petrelli. Jesus fucking Christ. Seriously, just fuck me now. Nervous, he shifted slightly. Obviously though, he wasn’t the only one unhappy with developments, as the tiny motion caused Nathan to surge up off the couch. Not to be outdone, Sylar followed a half-beat behind. Nathan staggered back from him, looking like he expected to be attacked at any moment.
Shit! Shit, shit, shit. Does he have my memories? Does he have my abilities? Or does he only remember me as the guy who killed him? Sylar balled his fists, keeping them tightly at his sides so as to not make any motion Nathan would interpret as a threat. How the hell am I going to get him to merge with me again? Sylar blinked as a thought struck him. Wait … do I … want him to merge with me again?
Nathan looked over at the door hopefully, then back to Sylar with wariness. Edging further away, he started towards the way out.
Despite his thoughts, Sylar wasn’t interested in letting Nathan get away and thereby limit his options. Where does he think he’s going? I’m not done with you yet! He raised his hand now, seizing Nathan with telekinesis just as the man reached for the doorknob. A second later the power vanished as it was nullified. Nathan turned to face him, eyes blazing with hate. Well, that answers whether he has my abilities. Thief. I worked really hard to get those. He doesn’t deserve them. In that fraction of a second of thought, Nathan raised his hand, fingers curled yet palm towards him, and made a jab towards Sylar with the heel of his hand. What’s that gesture? That’s not the way I- Sylar was shoved back forcefully into the shelf set as Nathan whirled away and pulled open the door.
Sylar started to scramble up as something heavy fell from the very top of the shelves. He had a snap decision to make - stop Nathan, or grab the object. Having a good idea of what that heavy thing was, he snatched it out of the air with telekinesis a scant two inches from the floor. Books rained down around him as he stood, whacking him and endangering his focus, but he stayed fixed on keeping the precious, battered mantel clock from taking any further damage. The old timepiece meant a lot to him. He set it to the side on the couch, relieved it was basically unharmed, and hurried to the hall. As he’d expected though, it was empty. The window at the end was open, blinds rattling in the sudden breeze as testament to Nathan’s speedy departure. Damnit!
He stalked back into the apartment and stood quietly, thinking. Where would he go? He combed through Nathan’s memories - useful things - he was glad he had them but it only confirmed that Nathan had a complete copy of his own as well. He’d go to Heidi, Peter, Angela, or to sulk somewhere. His best sulking spots are that bridge or his old office - the bridge is out because it’s daylight and the office doesn’t belong to … me, him, us, whatever, anymore. Angela - he probably won’t go there. So Heidi or Peter. He always went to Peter when he had trouble.
Sylar pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial. He stared at the device, his brows pulling together slightly. Speed dial. I have Peter Petrelli on my speed dial? He heard it ring once, twice, a third time, and he hung up. Why am I calling Peter Petrelli? He cocked his head in curiosity at his own action, feeling a bit of vertigo as his perspective on the entire world shifted and changed. I’m Sylar, not that person who I was before the split. Why would I go to Peter?
What … should I do with my life? Why should I care what Nathan is doing? He slid the phone back in his pocket, ignoring the call coming in even though he recognized the ring tone as Peter’s. No one else on his phone had an orchestral version of the ‘Greatest American Hero’ ring tone. He absently made a mental note to get that sappy crap off his phone at the earliest opportunity.
Let Peter have his brother back. This might be the answer I’ve been looking for. He can have Nathan and I can have … who? No one. There’s no one for me. I … I … The thought of being utterly alone - no mom, no clock shop, no quest for powers driving him on, no job, no place in the world - it left him cold, frozen to the spot. He hadn’t had an empty bed in over a year and that was something he cherished. If he left, he would have nothing. Nothing but a bunch of powers and a hollowness inside.
Peter teleported into the living room, startling him a little, even though he showed it only with a widening of his eyes and snapping his head around. Teeth set together and just a sliver of them showing between his slightly parted lips, Sylar eyed the man who was still in street clothes, having not yet changed into his paramedic uniform at work. He didn’t bother to ask why Peter had come back. Well … I did call him. He snorted disdainfully, looking for something else in the room to look at. His gaze fell on the old mantel clock.
“What happened?” Peter said, looking at the ruined shelving unit with the books in scattered disarray around it.
Sylar picked up the mantel clock and retired with it to the nearly table. He took a seat, frowning to himself, not sure how or if he should explain.
“Gabriel?”
He looked up at Peter balefully, shook his head mutely, and set himself to unscrewing the backing of the clock. It wasn’t running. The sudden shift of falling, the changed angle and trajectory, had created enough momentum to knock the delicate pendulum mechanism askew. It would be a simple fix and he could do it from memory with simple telekinesis, but he liked this old clock. He wanted to put his hands on it as he had so many times as a boy. This was one of the four clocks he’d taken apart and reassembled over and over to learn his trade. He’d been ecstatic to find it months before and doubted it was the real thing - psychometry had assured him it was the genuine article. He’d rescued it from the antique store he’d tracked it to and put it in a place of honor in the apartment. My apartment? Our apartment? His? He glanced furtively at Peter.
“Sylar?” Peter asked softly.
Sylar sighed and shook his head in denial again, even though he felt that asking for an explanation was hardly out of line. Peter had stood by him through a lot. Sylar recognized that even if the person Peter had supported wasn’t exactly who he was now. Still … Peter was a powerful man. There was no reason to make an enemy of him. He’d seen how that turned out before, anyway. Maybe we could stay … friends? “I used cloning again and-”
Sylar stopped talking abruptly. His eyes had risen to Peter’s face. He was struck dumb by the realization that he’d kissed those lips. Over and over and over again. TMI. Oh my fucking God, TMI. He had memories of touching that face. He could recall doing it lovingly, tenderly, and softly, in wondering exploration. He remembered the feel of the back of Peter’s neck, the texture of his hair, the smooth, rounded shape of his naked shoulder … and other things. He knew things about Peter he had no right or desire to know, but they were there, branded into his brain so firmly that even as the person he was now, his first instinct, just like Nathan’s, had been to call Peter. Good God, we fucked just yesterday!
I’m … I’m not … I’m not gay. Does he think I’m still his husband? Sylar’s eyes widened in growing horror. If he has Nathan as his brother, is he going to expect to have me as his … No. Just no. We could … friends. Right - friends. He’s said it could be platonic before. But what the hell would I do? I suppose I could work for the Company. But being a director seemed out. He didn’t think anyone in their right mind would trust him. He certainly wouldn’t. He didn’t think he would be able to hack the position. He had a good idea of how much of his competence as a director was due to Nathan’s personality traits and leadership skills - things that, well, had gone off with Nathan out the window down the hall. He swallowed roughly.
“Okay,” Peter said acceptingly. “Is there anything I can do?” He started forward and Sylar jerked back.
“Don’t touch me! I’m not …” Sylar realized he sounded a little too stressed there, maybe even on the edge of hysteria. He trusted Peter - they weren’t enemies or strangers. But he had no desire to fill the role of lover in Peter’s life. Peter stopped. Sylar took a deep breath and let it out, forcing his voice back to normal. “Yes,” he muttered. “An explanation. I’m not your husband. Um … I’m … not into men.”
Peter blinked a few times, but his expression stayed surprisingly neutral. Kind, even. He moved to the other side of the table and pulled out the chair, taking a seat.
Sylar relaxed a little. Maybe this would be okay. Maybe he could figure something out. In the meanwhile, he worked at the clock in order to have something purposeful to do, so he didn’t look as lost and unsettled as he felt. He finished opening the casing, tilting it up to take a look inside. It was out of balance; there was no other damage. It would be easily fixed. He set it back down. Peter’s obvious concern for him was annoying. It made him feel obligated and hemmed in, smothered by too much attention. Go away, Peter. I didn’t ask you to come here. “You have your brother back,” he said, lowering himself so he could see what he was doing as he reached inside the clock.
“What do you mean?” Peter asked.
“There’s me. And there’s Nathan. The ability divided us.” He reattached the mechanism and took a moment to summon a few memories of him as a kid. He’d had his problems then, too, but the window into the past was still interesting. He’d been learning something here, with this clock - a trade, how to fix things, how things affected one another. He gave it a push to get it going and was pleased to hear the tick-tick-tick start up, even and sure. He smiled up at Peter with an innocent pleasure at that. A moment later, as the smile faded slowly, he thought about how regardless of who he was, he still felt that he was safe to share that with this man.
“Sylar,” Peter said, his voice a little deeper than usual and that caught Sylar’s attention, “Nathan … is dead. He passed away two years ago.” Peter sighed, having had his own emotional response that Sylar really hadn’t paid attention to until now. Sylar wasn’t sure what to do with it, so he sat there quietly and listened as Peter continued with, “Whoever else is out there might think they’re Nathan, and maybe with shape-shifting they look like Nathan, but they aren’t Nathan.”
“He’s Nathan, as much as he is anyone else,” Sylar responded. He summoned a dish towel from the kitchen using telekinesis, then used it to dust the clock off. Being at the top of the shelves, it hadn’t been dusted on the top or back. He took care to clean it properly now. “You should go to him. I’m sure he’d like to see his little brother.”
Peter’s voice was thick with sudden emotion - whether grief or wrath, Sylar couldn’t quite tell. Peter got out, “You’re being cruel.”
“Am I?” Sylar looked up at him, eyes intent. He supposed Peter was right, but he didn’t care. “I thought I was only pointing out the obvious. You have your brother now. That’s what you wanted all along. You can have him, and I can go on my way.” Once I figure out where that is.
“I want you,” Peter said, and now Sylar was a bit clearer that it was sadness in his voice.
“Peter,” Sylar said softly, having an idea of how sharp the knife was that he was using to slice into Peter’s heart, “I don’t want you.”
Peter’s hands balled into fists and his eyes shut tightly. Sylar rose, taking the mantel clock with him. He felt a sick sort of satisfaction because for once, he wasn’t conflicted and it really was that simple. He liked Peter, yeah, fine, hopefully they could be friends, but what Peter had with Gabriel was not something Sylar could share. Even though, he had to admit to feeling envy and longing for the lack of it now. He moved the clock onto the kitchen counter and pushed it to the backsplash. Hopefully it would be safe there, because he had the impression that Peter was about to explode.
“Sylar,” Peter said with an effort at being calm, “I’ve known Nathan all my life. But the man I fell in love with, that I married, was not Nathan.”
Sylar eyed him. “He was your brother. You couldn’t marry him.”
Peter exhaled heavily, staring at the table. “Nathan and I fucked, okay? We fooled around a lot. We loved each other as brothers. Maybe we loved each other more than that. But I never felt like I wanted to move in with him, wake up next to him as often as possible, felt my heart jump whenever I saw him, and felt like there’s almost nothing better in the world than him smiling at me.” He held up his left arm, showing the watch that he wore, the mate of the one on Sylar’s arm. “I never let him call me his. I never let him change my life. I never let him change me.”
Sylar frowned, not sure what to do with the guilt that was surging around in his chest, making him uneasy and nauseated. He wanted to take his watch back from Peter’s arm, but at the same time he could remember how thrilled he’d been to see it there the first time, how taken aback and startled, how his own heart had leapt and he’d wanted to go to his knees in gratitude. His face pinched with unhappiness. He was upset because he didn’t think he deserved the emotional pains he was feeling. He just wanted things to be simple. He wanted the world to be a mechanism that he could put to rights as easily as the mantel clock. He wanted to stalk out and leave this all behind, but to go where and do what? What he’d found here in this weird, fucked up family he’d joined was a sense of belonging, support and of being loved that he’d never had anywhere else. He was reluctant to leave that.
Things would be so much easier for Peter if he just took Nathan and ignored Sylar, but here he was fighting and arguing for Sylar to stay. Sylar was wanted. Someone thought he was special. His shoulders sagged a little and he looked down, brows peaked in an expression of disappointment because he didn’t think this could possibly work out. Not as he was. “I’m not part of your family anymore, Peter.”
Peter turned towards him quickly, a little too fast and Sylar’s hand flew upwards, making it about halfway to an attack before realizing Peter was only posturing. Peter looked at that hand. Sylar let it drop. Peter’s eyes went back up to his. “You are, too. You have a son.”
Sons, his mind provided traitorously, as he remembered his strange pride and sense of self-worth from being a good father to Nathan’s boys. “Nathan …” He breathed out unsteadily because he didn’t like what he was about to suggest. “Nathan can take care of him just like I took care of his boys.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed in anger. “You have a wife.”
“Heidi … she has Nathan now.”
Peter stood, bristling with rage. “She married YOU!”
Sylar resisted the urge to flinch and instead glowered threateningly, pulling himself back up to his full height.
Not that Peter seemed at all impressed by that. Peter stabbed a finger at him, repeating, “She married you, because she knew you were not Nathan! She knew you were different. She knew it!” He took a threatening step closer and added, “And you know what? You’ve been a damn better husband to her than Nathan ever was. You do not get to walk out on me, or her, or Monty or Simon or Noah. You don’t, Sylar.”
Sylar was doing his best not to cringe back, because oh shit was Peter ever intimidating. He was scaring the shit out of him and Sylar suddenly recalled all those people Peter had put off just by looking at them in annoyance. He’d never looked at Sylar like this - furious, righteous indignation that looked to be a whisper away from action. Sylar didn’t even know what that action was and it didn’t matter - his subconscious told him it would be whatever was worst, because that’s how Peter’s power worked anymore.
Peter put out his left hand, palm upward, clearly asking for Sylar to take his hand. “We’re going to Heidi’s to find Nathan. You’re coming with me. We’re going to put a stop to this.”
Sylar looked at that hand and hesitated.
XXX
He let Peter teleport him into the Petrelli mansion. Sylar knew he was walking into his death, or at least an oblivion that amounted to death. He wondered if Peter saw it that way, or realized what he was asking of Sylar. He didn’t think Peter did. Peter had always been a little … oblivious. Odd, really, for an empath, but Peter often seemed unaware of the impact his actions would have on others - flinging himself off buildings, asking teenage girls to shoot him, that whole weird traveling back in time and shooting Nathan thing (Sylar supposed even future-Peter wasn’t immune to Peter’s basic flaws), and of course the way he’d treated Sylar.
It wasn’t something that could be blamed off on the limited form of Peter’s ability, because he’d had it before, back when he’d had the full-powered version, too. Sylar, for all his callousness, generally seemed more aware of how people could be hurt than Peter was, even if the killer didn’t often care. Peter cared - he just didn’t always notice.
They’d teleported into the study. Sylar took a moment to admire the lovely skeleton clock over the door. It had previously graced the wall of Nathan’s office at the law firm. Peter didn’t spare it a look as he headed out, though he did at least glance back to see if Sylar was coming. Yes, of course, Peter. I’m tagging along. I wouldn’t have let you bring me here if I hadn’t already made up my mind.
There were things that were worth dying for. Love was one of them, Sylar felt. Not that he loved Peter, nor did he think Peter would love him as he was. There wasn’t much point to Peter trying to love him as he was - maybe they could be friends, but that was it. No, it was Gabriel’s love for Peter that Sylar was willing to die for, and more distantly, willing to allow his death for Peter’s love of Gabriel. Even though he’d never really met this ‘Gabriel’ person, though he was of course aware he was a constituent personality. It seemed like a worthwhile way to go, all things considered.
There would be no love between Peter and Nathan the way Peter had confessed to loving Gabriel. They couldn’t even play at it and be discreet - not if Peter wouldn’t accept Nathan as Nathan, and insisted on seeing him as a facsimile or an incomplete replacement. His brother was dead to him, really dead to him, which was a very interesting thing for Sylar to find out. This other Nathan would not do and so if Sylar did not sacrifice himself, then they’d both be doomed to lives of misery.
“Heidi?” Peter called out as he exited the hallway.
“Peter?” she answered as she came out of the kitchen, giving him a concerned look. He was supposed to be at work. Then, of course, her eyes went past him to Sylar. She was always so startlingly perceptive. She knew he wasn’t her husband, nor even the Sylar she knew from before, the second she saw him. She started to say something, then just sagged a bit against the doorframe as if tired.
“Are you okay?” Peter went to her. Sylar wandered into the den, looking around at all the familiar things. He was the one out of place. Odd, considering I’ve been living here for a couple years.
“In a different life,” Heidi said slowly, “I should scream in terror and make a big scene, but,” she sighed, “I don’t think that would do any good. You know he’s not him, right?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah. I know. You know yesterday he was going to get cloning?”
“Yes. He told me over dinner that it worked.” Heidi pitched her voice to make it clear she was talking to Sylar. It was something of an accusation.
“It did, obviously,” Sylar chimed in from near the shelves, where he was peering at a miniature bride and groom, carefully protected from dust under a bell jar. It had topped Gabriel and Heidi’s rather conservative cake.
“I suppose,” she said, “you haven’t been up on the balcony, then?”
Peter glanced up the stairs. “No. Why?”
“Well … I saw Nathan up there, but he was staying outside, so I let him be. I didn’t get a very good look at him, which must have been intentional on his part. I came down here and made some tea.”
Peter said, “Okay. Thank you. That answers my next question, which is where Nathan is.” His phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at it, grimacing. “It’s my work,” he grumbled, answering it.
Sylar waited until Peter was wandering back down the hall, one hand combing through his hair while the other held the phone to his ear, making excuses. Then Sylar headed up the stairs to take matters into his own hands. Heidi followed quietly behind him. He tapped on the glass. Nathan looked back at him and scowled. Sylar lifted his brows and tilted his head. He was clearly asking, though what he was asking was probably unclear, other than permission to be in Nathan’s presence. After a few seconds, Nathan made a curt hand signal and turned away.
Sylar opened the door and slipped out. He didn’t stop Heidi from following, but he didn’t invite her, either. She came outside anyway. Sylar walked over to the balcony, on the opposite end from Nathan. He toyed momentarily with forcing their union, but it required Nathan’s cooperation. He knew that. Gabe had tried the same thing the night before, with a different ‘Sylar’.
“Peter’s downstairs,” Sylar said.
“I gathered,” Nathan returned. “Why are you here?”
“Peter brought me.”
“And now you do what Peter wants, is that it?”
“When he’s right.”
“What’s he right about?”
“He knows who he loves and it’s not me and it’s not you.”
Nathan glanced over at him. “I’m his brother.”
“True.” Sylar leaned on the railing. “He tells me you’re dead and he wants the man he married. Not you. Not me.”
Heidi made an inarticulate noise. Both men looked back at her. She shook her head, refusing to make her thoughts any more verbal than that.
Nathan glared briefly at Sylar. “I was afraid of that.”
“Hm.”
“This isn’t going to work out. That’s what I’ve been thinking about, why I came here instead of going to Peter’s work.”
“No, it’s not going to work out.”
Nathan sighed. He reached up and scratched at his chin. “I thought this was my chance,” he said wistfully.
Sylar glanced back at Heidi, at the door, where he could hear Peter’s feet rattling up the stairs quickly. He could have teleported. It would have been faster. Or flew. Oh, Peter, you amuse me so. Peter let himself onto the balcony, but Heidi shushed him and seized his arm, making him stay with her next to the door. She at least realized this was something for Sylar and Nathan to work out themselves. No one else could force it, but they sure as hell could fuck it up.
“Perhaps it was,” Sylar offered.
“So that’s that, huh?” Nathan said.
“I guess so. Are you ready?”
“Almost.” Nathan gave Sylar a smug grin. “This might be the end for me, but you do know that you’ll never escape me.”
“Of course.” Sylar gave him a sneering look in return. “I think about that every time I fuck your wife, or your brother.”
Everyone but Sylar responded - Heidi by gasping like a fish, Peter by yelping, “What?” and Nathan by snarling and closing the distance between them to throttle Sylar. He must not have gotten that good a grasp, though, because Sylar had one more thing to say: “If it wasn’t for you, ng, I wouldn’t be fucking anyone.”
Nathan hesitated, his grip slackening. There were two possible ways to interpret that sentence - Sylar meant both of them and Nathan knew that. “You wouldn’t be fucking anyone at all, you piece of shit. You’re nothing!” Nathan released him, starting to back up, lip curling in disgust.
Sylar’s hand reached out and seized Nathan’s shirt, jerking him in. “I’m you.” There was a ripple in the air and only one stood before Peter and Heidi.
Gabriel stared at them like a frightened deer for a moment, then began to look embarrassed. He racked his considerable brain for the appropriate comment to cover his bizarre behavior - splitting into two people, arguing with and insulting himself, stirring up his lovers. He couldn’t think of one. “I’m sorry I’m so crazy,” he offered.
Heidi burst out laughing and ran over to hug him without restraint. He hugged her back, burying his face in her hair, eyes shut for a moment. He opened them after a deep inhalation to eye Peter, who had walked up more slowly and clapped him on the shoulder.
“You going to be alright?” Peter asked. Gabriel nodded mutely, still feeling ashamed of himself for losing control and letting too much of the crazy out of the box. Peter smiled tolerantly. “You got this, Heidi?”
“Yes, I do,” she said, pulling back a little from the hug, turning so she still had an arm behind Gabriel’s back. “Do you want to have some tea with us?” she asked Peter.
He shook his head. “No, I gotta get to work.” Looking to Gabriel, he said, “I’ll see you tonight. Make sure it’s just the one of you this time, okay?”
He wanted to say something snippy about knowing how to use his powers, but it seemed wiser to just keep his mouth shut. He nodded silently again. Peter clapped him on the shoulder once more and stepped away to teleport off.
Heidi tightened her arm around him in a brief squeeze. “So, you can be two guys at once, huh?”