Broken Connections, Chapter Five: Patched Up
They'd barely finished when the plane started descending. "Crap!" Peter said, yanked out of his hazy bliss by the change in pitch. The constant, loud drone had (he hoped) covered the sounds of their sex. As Sylar had promised, they hadn't been interrupted. He gathered up his clothes while Sylar saw to his own. "Did Hanson really tell you to bring me here?"
"No," Sylar answered. That was hardly surprising. "I told her she'd been working too hard, had hallucinated the entire conversation with you, and needed to find her bed and get some sleep immediately. With any luck, we still have hours before she wakes up and realizes what happened - if she does at all, which from what little I saw of her mind, I believe she will."
"What about without luck?"
Sylar shrugged, tipping his head to the side ambivalently. "Then we won't have any problem finding transportation to Building 26."
Peter chuckled as he pulled his shirt on and then turned to finish lacing his shoes. "That's one way to look at it." Once dressed and sufficiently cleaned up using bandaging material, gauze, and sanitation packets from the med-packs, he turned to the three specials. The plane was tilting like they were coming in for landing, but without windows, he couldn't tell. "How much time do we have?"
Sylar shrugged. "I suspect I'm immortal. But as for you, we should move quickly."
Peter arrested for a moment, trying to work that out. "You … you think … we're together now." He realized that sounded like he disagreed with the assessment and corrected. "Weare." He stood there, floored. This wasn't just a fling - not that he'd thought it was, but he hadn't thought anything about it. This wasn't Sylar following him back to his apartment, fucking him and leaving. The guy was serious, and seriously implying he saw this as a commitment for the rest of Peter's life. Peter swallowed, looking down at the floor, feeling out what that meant to him. He expected to feel terrified and unsure, to have a little voice inside of him telling him to run and reminding him this was a dangerous psychopath who'd killed Peter's brother. Instead, he just felt … settled. Right. Like everything was okay in the world. It was like that broken thing inside him had been fixed somehow. He raised his eyes to Sylar, who was watching him quietly in that hyper-observant manner he had. "Let's move, then," he said softly.
Sylar's lips entertained a small, reassured smile before he turned to the other passengers of the plane and began removing the tubes that fed them the cocktail that suppressed their abilities and kept them sedated. Sylar did two; Peter removed the nearest one, which was for Amanda. He didn't unstrap her yet, not wanting to risk her getting dumped off the gurney due to a bumpy landing. If the screaming pitch of the air rushing past them was any indication - yes, there it was - they touched down, bounced, and then were down again, this time for good.
As soon as the plane stabilized, they started releasing the prisoners. There was Amanda, whom Peter already knew; a muscular, shaved-headed man he didn't know; and an Asian woman with long, black hair who was also a stranger to him. Amanda recognized Peter in return, which was a help. The other two looked at him suspiciously, glancing between Amanda and Peter, then at Sylar, whom they seemed to know.
"Who's he?" the Asian woman asked of Sylar.
Peter gave his own introduction. "I'm Peter Petrelli. I'm an empath … sort of. I can replicate other people's abilities, one at a time."
"He's special, like us," Amanda said, a vote of confidence that seemed to calm the suspicions of the other two. She went on, following the pattern Peter had set even though she was the one whom everyone else knew. "I'm Amanda Strazzulla. I create fire when I'm upset." Her eyes lingered on Sylar longer than Peter was comfortable with.
The big guy nodded and frowned, swinging himself down from the gurney more lightly that one would expect for a man of his bulk, and who was still probably shaking off the effects of sedation. He followed Amanda's introduction, saying, "I am Aviv. I create telekinetic disturbances when I am upset." He looked around the cargo hold as if seeking out an extra reason to be pissed.
The Asian woman said, "I am called Pearl. I create blasts of energy, like bullets."
"When you're upset?" Sylar asked, raising his brows at the apparent pattern.
"Yes." She gave him a cool, dangerous smile. "And any other time I like."
Peter looked at Sylar, waiting, in the silence that fell. Sylar lofted a brow and turned to the others. "You know who I am." No mention of abilities and from the nods from the others, no need. They already knew him from the time he'd been at the carnival. From the wary, standoffish looks Pearl and Aviv gave Sylar, this wasn't necessarily a good thing. Amanda, though, was watching him more worshipfully than anything else.
"Where are we?" Amanda asked Sylar.
"We've just touched down in DC," Peter supplied instead. "They were in the process of sending you to Building 26, probably for long-term confinement." The three nodded, so they'd at least been told what was up before being sedated. "We need a plan." He faced Sylar expectantly. He could feel the plane turning, having completed landing and now preparing to taxi back to where there would be people waiting to unload the cargo.
Non-plussed, Sylar said, "This is your rodeo, cowboy. I'm just along for the rides."
Peter frowned at him, catching the plural. Then he blew it off, because it was a compliment in a way. And regardless, he had more important things to deal with than Sylar making snarky comments about their sex life in front of strangers. (And maybe it would put Amanda off.) He turned to the others. "Do you remember Claire Bennet? Did you see her at the carnival?" All three nodded. "Okay, good. After she jumped off the Ferris wheel, the media talked to her and then the government took her. They shipped her to Washington, DC, to Building 26. Same place they were taking you. We're going to break her out and you, too."
"Where did they take Samuel?" Pearl asked.
"I don't know. I just know where they took Claire." He hoped they would stay on target, and tried to redirect them back to it with the mention of Claire.
"But you were one of the ones who stopped Samuel," Pearl continued.
Peter nodded. "Yes, I did. But I don't know where they took him. The Company took him, not the government."
Pearl's lips pressed together in a thin, disapproving line.
"I think we need to go back to New York and get everyone together," Amanda said. "I could … threaten the pilots and they'd take us there."
Pearl agreed, turning from Peter to the two carnies she knew and trusted. "If we could get Teddy, we could go in invisibly."
Aviv nodded. "Teddy would help." He looked to Peter. "Do we have any weapons?" Despite the disturbing direction of trying to take the plane hostage and return to New York, it was a reasonable question. Aviv got points in Peter's book, but before he could answer-
Pearl interjected, "I don't need a weapon."
Amanda agreed, "Neither do I."
Aviv shook his head at Amanda. "You should not be involved. This is dangerous. You are too young."
Amanda stood up tensely, snarling. "You don't get to say what I can and can't do. I am dangerous!" Her hands burst into flame. Sylar turned and abruptly left the tarp-walled area. "Where's he going?" Amanda said, the fire vanishing instantly.
Peter sighed. "He and I have a goal, which is to get Claire out safely, with as little damage and loss of life as possible. If you'll help us, I'll be grateful. But if you want to do your own thing, that's cool. You're free. Just let us get off the plane first." He turned and followed Sylar out, hoping the ultimatum would get through where he thought more words wouldn't. Besides, they didn't have time to sort out options and decide on their best course of action.
Quietly, Sylar told him, "My efforts of working in a team environment have not always gone well. When there is no clear hierarchy of command, I don't know how to channel my ..." He trailed off, looking pained.
The three were joining them as the plane was pulling to a stop. Peter said, not trying to conceal from them what he was saying, "Even if everyone splits up, it still helps us. It will cause confusion and make our enemies have to split their resources." The three carnies were quiet and appeared somewhat united, so there was that. If Sylar was having difficulty mastering his hunger, then there was always the option of going it alone, just the two of them.
They could hear equipment being rolled up outside. The door to the pilot's compartment opened and a short, dark-complected man stopped in the doorway to the cockpit, blinking at them. Sylar glanced at Peter, snipping, "It would be easier to kill them," before extending a hand that resulted in the man stiffening in place. Sylar stalked over to him. Before he reached the man, he was collapsing to the side, either asleep or unconscious. Sylar went on into the pilot's compartment, presumably to deal with the co-pilot. Peter swallowed and turned back to face the main hatchway.
"Why didn't he kill them, then?" Pearl asked.
"Because murdering people is wrong," Peter said without looking at her.
"But they're abducting us!" Amanda said. "They took our homes, said we'd be in prison forever. What happens to them doesn't matter!"
Aviv chided her, "If you had not burned those police last night, perhaps none of this would have happened."
So much for the illusion of being united, Peter thought.
"They started it!" Amanda said desperately, like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. Her hands burst into flame again as the people outside chose that moment to open the hatch. She snarled at the surprised strangers outside, who hadn't expected any resistance at all. "They totally started it." The first fireball flew.
XXX
Sylar was not a good driver. Peter made a mental note of this, although there was little to be done about it now that he was in the passenger seat and Sylar had the wheel. The careening of the vehicle had stopped shortly after they'd left the airport and shaken their last pursuers, although Peter suspected they only reason they'd stayed on the road at all was due to supernatural ability nudges, though whether they were from Aviv or Sylar was unclear to him. Aviv had a little more control of his ability than he gave himself credit for, but he was still something of a menace, with things flying around like something out of a horror movie when he was under stress. It made Peter remember his own utter lack of control early on, and appreciate Sylar's precision.
Pearl, on the other hand, was very precise and very steady. Peter did not see this as an advantage because she had no remorse whatsoever about blowing holes in living people - whom Amanda would then set on fire. Or at least she did once, and Peter then spent their rest of their hurried escape running interference and being so fucking thankful Sylar had convinced him to take regeneration. Without it, he would have been dead three times over from his own teammates. The people they were facing weren't really much of a threat. They might have been more of one if bullets or taser darts had been able to get near Peter's group, but Sylar stayed focused on defense, stopping everything harmful from reaching them. He was good at it, but it meant he couldn't spare the attention to stop Amanda and Pearl from taking potshots ('covering fire' they called it) at the relatively defenseless security they had to get past to get out.
Their jailbreak had left two dead. That was what kept going through Peter's head after Sylar finally persuaded the car to stay between the lines - two people with families, lives, hopes, dreams, goals, loved ones, ended because Peter couldn't think of a better plan to get Claire out. There would have been even more casualties if Peter hadn't deliberately intercepted some of the attacks. He was looking at the three people with them in the car and understanding why they'd been on the plane. He wasn't about to say that being locked up and throwing away the key was the answer, but it was like when he thought he was going to blow up New York and the answer then, for him, was to go to the middle of the Nevada desert or allow Claire to kill him. These people needed some time away, apart, somewhere safe, to work out their problems and get some … something. Discipline, maybe.
Sylar reached over and patted Peter's knee sympathetically before going back to driving. Peter looked at him, seeing the tight smile on the man's face. He sighed, remembering that Sylar could read his mind and was almost certainly doing so now that there wasn't gunfire going off all around him. Is it wrong that I'm considering leaving them in Building 26?
Sylar shrugged. He was just along for the rides, being strangely loyal, unfailing backup to Peter's plays, whatever those might be. Peter put his hand on Sylar's shoulder, feeling the tension ease inside of him. His mind replayed everything Sylar had done from the time the doors opened until now. He'd been doing it for Peter - avoiding killing, protecting him. It was, 'That's what brothers do for each other' all over, except now with a new twist: 'That's what lovers do for each other.' Such loyalty. What could Peter do to deserve it?
"I'm going to make it safe for all of us," Peter whispered, even if in the confines of the car, the others could hear him. "Claire, you, the carnies … all of us." After a pause he added, "And all of them, too," meaning those without abilities.
Sylar gave him as long a look as he dared, then went back to driving.
Pearl piped up incongruously, "Does anyone mind if I smoke?" They'd switched cars shortly after leaving the airport by merely parking, flagging down a passing minivan, and Sylar using Matt's borrowed mojo to force the hapless driver to take the transport vehicle they'd stolen from the airport while they took her Honda. Pearl had gleefully grabbed the woman's abandoned purse and apparently discovered cigarettes.
Peter looked out the window and said nothing, not wanting to risk alienating his team members by objecting. Aviv frowned. Sylar was silent. Amanda cleared her throat. After a few moments of the polite disapproval-by-failing-to-approve, Pearl huffed and said, "Okay, then let me put it another way, is there anyone in the car who's okay with me smoking? I can put a window down."
"We're going sixty-two miles per hour," Sylar observed as a passive rebuttal. Putting a window down at this speed would cause noise and disruption, in addition to doing little to evacuate the smoke.
"I'm immune to smoke," Amanda said helpfully. "But I probably don't get a vote." Aviv and Peter continued to say nothing. Pearl huffed again, even louder.
Sylar changed the subject. "Peter, I know of three efforts that have been made to deal with specials. There's the Company, there's Pinehearst, and then there was the carnival. None succeeded." He hesitated and added, "There is the questionable fourth and fifth attempts of Danko's brand of Homeland Security, and the current one of Director Hanson."
"Three started by specials," Peter said. "Two by non-specials."
"Do you think that makes a difference?"
"I don't know." He sighed, rubbing Sylar's shoulder with the hand that was still resting on it. Oddly, he didn't want to move it. He wanted to be touching Sylar constantly, which … well, he'd rarely been that in love with someone. And more rare, had someone allow it, especially this early in the relationship (if he could even call what he and Sylar had a 'relationship'). "You know that call I got this morning?"
"The one that went to voice mail?" Sylar said, a brief, smug smile on his face.
"Yeah, that one. That was my mother." Sylar's smile faded. "She said you were going to destroy everything my family had worked for." Peter was quiet for a moment, his fingers rubbing a large, slow circle. "That probably means what's left of the Company."
"And Pinehearst."
Peter nodded, though he didn't know what was left of Pinehearst to worry about. "The carnival's already ..." He glanced back. Aviv nodded. Although the three in the back seat weren't contributing to the conversation, they were listening.
Sylar said, "And Danko's operation is over. I'm not sure how extensive the new one is."
"It's just getting started." He patted Sylar's shoulder. "I've been thinking about her message this morning and … I think that would be for the best." Sylar looked over at him to be sure. Peter nodded at him. "You know, if you get the chance."
Sylar chuckled ruefully. "The opportunity for destruction is one that comes to me far too often, Peter."
Peter shrugged loosely. "Well, this time it really needs to be done. I think it's long overdue. We can't straighten out the future if we can't get over the past." Sylar gave him another long look, then put his eyes on the road. His hand, though, made a brief foray over to Peter's thigh to give it a pat in return.
XXX
The drive to Building 26 took as long as the flight did, but was much less enjoyable. Still, they had worked out a plan by the end. Once at the building, they simply walked in and started asking questions. Telepathy made short work of barriers. Peter envied it as they rode the elevator up to the floor Claire was supposed to be on.
"Don't," Sylar told him preemptively. "The last time I cared about someone, they got shot and it got me killed. Keep regeneration, Peter. You've already needed it."
Peter shook his head, but he kept to the plan. As they walked down the long hallway, he looked at the exposed piping on the ceiling. Aviv was looking at it, too, and frowning. "What do you think that is?" Peter asked. "I recognize the sprinklers, but what about those others?"
"I hate sprinklers!" Amanda interjected.
Aviv shook his head. "I do not know. Everything on this floor is new construction."
"You've worked in construction?" Peter asked.
Aviv nodded as Pearl snapped, "Is this really the time to be discussing our career choices?"
Sylar stopped and gave her a withering look. Unimpressed, she scowled back at him. Peter pointed out the obvious to distract both of them: "This is Claire's door." Sylar turned back to it. Peter expected him to pull it from its frame, but instead, Sylar studied the lock for a moment. It made a definite click and he pushed the door open. Claire was sitting on a folding chair inside, part of a sandwich halfway to her mouth. She stared at Sylar, who was in the front.
Peter stepped past him with the intention of putting a more welcome face on the rescue party. "Claire. Are you okay?"
"Peter!" She dropped the sandwich and jumped up, running to embrace him. "Yes, I'm fine."
"Come on." But when he started to head back, she hesitated, still looking at Sylar with an expression more perplexed than angry. "He's on our side," Peter said.
"Okay," she said. "Again?" Her question was addressed to Sylar. He made an ambivalent head wobble as reply.
"We wouldn't have gotten this far without him," Amanda said in support.
The group turned to head out. They'd been told there weren't any other prisoners on this level, as the few other inmates were on a different floor, sedated and under medical observation. Peter was torn about that. He wanted them free, but he'd already seen two murders carried out by the three they'd already set loose. Sylar's comment to Pearl asking if her ability also worked only when she was emotionally compromised was a good point. The government's standards for incarcerating people might have changed and though it didn't explain why they had jailed Claire, she wasn't tranquilized, robbed of her ability, or deprived of food, as he'd seen. So he held his tongue about the others for now. "Let's get out of here."
They were halfway down the hall when the alarm went off and the piping on the ceiling began to hiss. He could see, very faintly, the vapor discharging from the non-sprinkler pipes they'd noticed earlier.
Sylar winced, reeling to the side, having not known to turn off the mind-reading before the racket began. Peter grabbed him on one side and to his surprise, Claire took the other. Peter said, "They'll be watching the elevators. Get to the stairs." He covered his mouth with his shirt, hoping the regeneration was why he wasn't feeling any effects from the gas. He could taste the cloying, medicinal odor of it through the shirt. He watched the others to make sure they kept up, but no one flagged on the hustle down to the emergency door.
Amanda got to it first, rattling the push bar, but to no effect. "It's locked!"
Peter and Claire stopped. Sylar shrugged off their assistance, having recovered. Aviv shoved on the door and confirmed, "It is!"
"I'll get it," Sylar said, reaching a hand towards it for telekinesis. His brows drew together and he stared at his hand.
"What is it?" Peter asked.
Pearl ordered the others, "Out of the way. I'll get it if he can't!" She put her hands together in the shape of a gun as Peter had seen her do at the airport, but nothing happened.
"What are you doing?" Claire said in a tone that conveyed just how dumb Pearl looked, pointing her imaginary blaster at the door.
"We've lost our abilities. That's the gas," Sylar said.
"It doesn't smell like the neutralizing gas," Peter said. But it was similar, he had to admit.
Sylar grimaced. "That's because there's no sedative component."
"Why would they leave off the sedative?" Amanda asked.
Sylar raised his brows. "Sedation at the variable concentration levels created by gassing large areas is dangerous and potentially lethal. It's either regard for our safety, or so they don't have to worry about gas masks when they send in the non-specials with guns. Or both."
"We're trapped!" Pearl said as they heard doors open in the distance.
Aviv, sweating now and showing a thick Eastern European accent at odds with his appearance, said, "Is government building, right?" Peter nodded. "Then is built to code. Give me fire!" Amanda fluttered her empty hands, but Pearl understood him and yanked out the lighter she'd pocketed from the Honda driver's stolen purse. Aviv took it and went to one of the sprinklers, lighting it and holding it up the flame. He was tall enough to reach it.
"How will that help?" Amanda asked, just as the water started raining down and soldiers or guards - people in military uniforms either way - appeared at the other end of the hall with tasers in their hands.
Aviv said, "Government will not let people die in burning building! Not even prisoners!" He rushed the door with full confidence it would be open now, and to Peter's surprise, he was right. It flew open, locks having been automatically disengaged by the fire abatement system override.
Peter grabbed at Claire and Amanda, herding them out and making sure they went in front of him. Pearl came after. Sylar was last. Peter paused on the stairs as Pearl hurried past him. Sylar was frantically messing with the door. "Come on!" Peter called.
"There has to be a way to lock it!" Sylar answered, just as he was knocked partly back as someone on the other side barreled into the door. For a moment, it stood half-open, excited guards trying to scramble up to finish forcing it and win the passage. Peter dashed back up the stairs and slammed into it just as Sylar righted himself to push back. With the momentum, they got it shut again, but it only stayed that way due to their combined pressure. It was battered twice more from the other side, but Peter and Sylar were able to brace themselves against the railing of the stairway.
The guards paused to argue about what to do. Sylar used the same opportunity to speak. "Peter, get out of here." Peter glanced at him and only moved to brace himself better. Sylar barked, "That's an order!" Peter looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language. Why the hell would Sylar think ordering him around would work any better now than it had earlier? He must be panicked, Peter assumed, which only made Peter more determined to stay with him. Sylar changed tact. "Peter, the gas wears off fast. I'll get my abilities back and be fine, but you won't. Protect Claire!"
Peter hesitated. It was a good point. Claire was traveling down the stairs with three highly unstable people who had no loyalty to her. Plus, there would be guards on the stairs in no time. But on the other hand, he'd be leaving Sylar, which he was loath to do for a host of reasons. He didn't even want to be out of sight of him - which had nothing at all to do with danger. He remembered what Sylar had said earlier about the person he'd cared about - 'they got shot and I got killed.' If I stay here, I make it more dangerous for him because he's going to put himself at risk to protect me. He shook his head and gritted his teeth, but the truth didn't change just because he didn't like it - Sylar would be safer if Peter got himself out of the line of fire. He turned and ran.