Fic: Mad World 4/8
Chapter 4.
Peter approached the picnic table with caution. Sylar was dressed in such a casual manner that the nurse knew he was intruding into ‘personal time’, but found no other option. The few times he had seen the other man had been during group meetings or at meals. Hardly the time to broach such a complicated subject. Even now it seemed impossible with Sylar barefoot in black jeans and a blue, long-sleeved t-shirt, the antique marble mantle clock from the dinning room spread across the fine linen tablecloth.
Why his mother used such niceties in the back garden was anyone’s guess.
Sitting across from the neatly ordered rows of parts, Peter watched quietly for several minutes.
“Claire told me why you’re here.” He kept his voice low and neutral. The clock had never kept correct time Peter’s entire life.
A sharp intake of breath. “Claire would give you Noah if you asked her.” Bitterness marred the deep voice, eyes on the task before them.
Peter caught the sharp retort on the tip of his tongue and reminded himself he was here to make peace.
“Why are you so angry with me?” He assured himself the question wasn’t really as pathetic as it sounded. But there was a little too much hurt in there he knew. Sylar was, if not friends, then at least allies with everyone in the house.
Except Peter.
Sylar placed the small tool he had been using neatly with its companions.
“You look at me with such hate in those eyes, how can I not retaliate?” For the first time since he had walked into the mansion, there was no hint of dislike or contempt in the velvet voice. Peter’s brain hiccuped at ‘those eyes’ and stalled as the truth smote him.
“I…I didn’t mean…” But he had, hadn’t he? The moment he’d seen the killer standing on the stairs Peter’s defences had gone into overdrive and they hadn’t slowed down since. He’d been reacting to threats for so very long. Primatech, Adam, Jesse, Pinehearst and finally the Internment Centre had all contributed to Peter’s empathy retreating so far inside him that he’d missed everyone’s emotional responses to Sylar. Claire was his parole officer for god’s sake, not his lover. When had Peter become so blind to the people around him?
Peter coughed to regain his voice.
“Her name was Shun-hua.” He volunteered out of no-where, eyes and the tips of his fingers on a small golden screw. From his view, Peter could just catch Sylar’s hands as they became suddenly still. “Her father could write just by thinking the words at the paper. She told me his calligraphy had sold for thousands before they were ‘detained’.”
Peter gently pushed the screw in small circles, the tip marking an almost imperceptible gouge in the white linen.
“My first night in the compound some of the long-timers, men who had been there longest and lost most of their humanity in the process, thought they’d initiate the new guy so to speak.”
A long hissing breath came to his ears, but Peter was too focussed on his memory to decipher it.
“Shun-hua saved me by breaking bones and scaring the living hell out of six men that would have been four times her body weight. I have no idea why she did it.”
A snort of disbelief had Peter glancing up briefly into a dark chocolate gaze that seemed to access Peter’s every word.
“Strength ability?” the question was a quiet diversion, almost a whisper.
Peter shook his head. “They were all drugged remember. Like you must have been in the ‘medical facility’.” An occasional prisoner had been removed to those places…they’d never come back. But Sylar didn’t need to be reminded of his own incarceration. “No, Shun-hua’s ability was to decompose paper, to break it down into its component parts…wood pulp, water, bleach etc.”
The screw continued its circular carnival ride.
“The reason she could beat the crap out of anyone she chose was a couple of black belts in some vicious martial arts her father and grandmother had taught her. She’d been a self-defence instructor and done some government work with the army before her DNA had sent up a flare in the system. Then they locked her and her dad in the compound with fifty odd hard-timers, some of whom decided that the women prisoners were there just for entertainment. Shun-hua proved them wrong.”
“How did she die?” The question in that velvet voice was so gently perceptive that it almost brought tears to Peter’s eyes.
“Her father died the first week I was there. I did everything I could but…he’d been shot during their arrest and the wound had festered….” Peter struggled to keep his voice even. “A month after he passed, Shun-hua was going to be shipped to a medical facility. She would never have let that happen. I think she only stayed around after her father died because of me.”
The screw came to a sudden halt as Peter pressed the pad of his finger hard into the edge of the head.
“Shun-hua killed four FedMarshals before they killed her, it caused a riot.”
His story told, Peter wondered why he’d even started the tale to begin with.
A long deep breath from the man on the other side of the table.
“Two conditions. You may be able to fight like a demon and have every power under the sun, but you have no experience with what we do. You will obey every one of my orders or I’ll have Hiro ‘port you into the basement.”
Peter looked up into midnight eyes in astonishment.
“And he’ll do it too because he’s more afraid of me than in love with you right now. Two,” Sylar’s lips took on a peeved twist. “You’ll get your invisible boyfriend to give us the exact location of the underground lab and the access codes.”
Peter blinked.
“Claude?” He knew he sounded about as intelligent as a retarded daisy but… ”Claude isn’t my…okay yes fine agreed.” Peter accepted before Sylar could change that mercurial mind of his. “I promise I’ll do everything you say and stay out of trouble, etcetera.”
“Good.” His former enemy’s expression became something that on anyone else Peter might have labelled a leer. Sylar stood and leaned a little so that delicious pine tinted almond scent washed over Peter. “We’re leaving tomorrow at six pm, wear something tight and black.” A flash of heat in the deadly gaze and then he was gone, the perfectly repaired mantle clock and tools with him.
Peter couldn’t even come up with an appropriate response to that last comment.
*****
Claude radiated ‘pissed off English guy’ but he’d agreed to give them the information. After Peter had threatened him with Angela’s disapproval, Sylar’s violence and a hug from Peter himself, the invisible man had caved.
“It’s one of them ‘medical clinics’ downtown. Empty now, but one of the lifts still working and will take ya down to the lowest level, sub5 I’m remembering. Danko has his office next to the computer room and there’ll be at least twenty FedMarshals on duty. Some lab technicians too but they don’t get guns. Or so the two blokes I stalked at the local pub seemed to think. Door code is 4667777. One plonker had it written on his hand so he wouldn’t forget. Idiot.”
*****
Peter took Hiro’s hand.
Then they were standing by a painted brick wall, graffiti scrawl and the smell of garbage an unpleasant contrast to the designer room they had just left. Peter looked up at the building in front of them.
Hiro’s breath hissed through his teeth.
“Get Sylar.” Peter ordered without any authority. The other man has been doing this for how long? Years? While not quite the hardened veteran of battle that Peter once met on a train, Hiro was still a big game player while Peter just came off the bench so…
Hiro nodded once, and then disappeared.
He could imagine it, Hiro appearing alone in the den, the surprised looks at Peter’s absence, startled questions likely ignored as Hiro takes their leader by the shoulder and closes his eyes as if in pain.
The warm pine scent and the 6’1 of shade now protecting his cheek from the sun caused a responsive flare of heat in his middle but Peter kept his gaze where it has been since he and Hiro first arrived.
“It is a hospital.” Hiro stated the obvious. Peter mentally forgave him as he continued to count the number of patients being admitted to the emergency room in one of the few surviving major metropolitan hospitals.
“Fuck.” Sylar sounded like someone with a massive headache. “Fuck.”
“Change of plan,” Peter offered. “Destroying the building isn’t an option anymore so we need to get inside and…”
Sylar turned sharply and punched his fist into the nearby brick wall. A circle of spirals concertinaed out and several large chunks of brick hit the ground. It startled Peter into a shiver. Since arriving he’d only seen the low burn of the famous temper under a controlled exterior. This was something more than just a foiled plan.
“We’re not going anywhere. You…” A hard glance at Peter while the skin of Sylar’s hand changed from a marbled blue to flesh colour. “...are going home. We’re going to take a look then come back to prepare for another mission with the correct intel.”
Peter knew it was a jab at Claude, but refused to bristle on his friend’s behalf. He was too busy bristling for another reason.
“No, you can’t. Danko will only be here for another day at the most.” Looking up into Sylar’s furious eyes, he saw that arguing would achieve nothing. “Wait here, I have an idea.”
“Peter get your ass back…..” But Sylar’s harsh command was lost in the distance as Peter clothed himself in nothing and darted into the hospital. It took only a few minutes to navigate the semi-familiar layout and find the door he needed. Once inside he snatched the best sizes he could find and raced back out. They might have left already, thinking Peter would have no choice but to follow. In that case Peter would go back in himself. He was invisible, he had the code, and he could find the lab and destroy the serum. Danko would probably be able to escape, but Peter was going to destroy the poison they were making, even if he had to do it alone.
Fortunately he wouldn’t have to. Mohinder was arguing fiercely with Sylar who looked like he wanted to cut someone’s head open, while Monica nervously clutched her elbows and hid beside Hiro. Peter dropped the pile of clothing onto the ground amongst them.
“Medical scrubs,” he stated coming into the visible spectrum. “We can get down to the lab…”
The rest of his plan was cut off by a telekinetic grip at his throat and the brick wall digging needles into his shoulder blades. Feet suspended a foot off the ground, Peter willed himself not to fight back and glared at Sylar over the other’s raised hand.
“Don’t you ever…”
Like a similar situation from long ago, Mohinder stepped in to help Peter.
“It’s a good plan Gabriel. Peter is a nurse, I have some medical training. We can at least get past the innocent people and find the lab in the lower levels as Raines directed. Gabriel.” A hand the colour of scantily milked coffee came to tug at Sylar’s arm. “Gabriel, let Peter go.”
Thoughts whirled and connected behind Sylar’s eyes. Mohinder was relying on the fact that the watchmaker’s intelligence could overrule his rage at Peter. Not sure he could do the same; Peter dragged in a hard breath through his almost closed larynx and thought a small ‘push’ at Sylar’s chest.
Suddenly dropped to his feet, Peter decided that being smug about his apparent win would likely start something again and reached for a set of scrubs.
“No Petrelli, not you.” Sylar grabbed Peter’s coat and pulled him backwards. “You, go back to the mansion and let them know the change of plans.” Before he could even voice a protest, cool fingers jerked his chin up so that their faces were less than an inch apart. “You broke your promise.”
Thrown into turmoil by the sudden guilt that hit him and the sheer impact of Sylar’s nearness, Peter shut his eyes and teleported home.
Nathan looked up with concern.
“It’s fine.” Peter regained his equilibrium after a couple of even breathes and waved an unconcerned hand. “Change of plans, we’re going in undercover instead of seek and destroy. I’ll let you know.”
Nathan opened his mouth to ask something, but Peter ‘ported back to the street.
Snagging a set of scrubs he shrugged off his coat and pulled on a top before toeing off his shoes.
The ominous silence in the semi-alley was telling.
“Either I come with you now, or I follow you. Your choice,” he told the drawstring of his pants.
Warmth near his ear, but Peter kept his eyes down. “You stay with me Petrelli. Disobey again and I’ll break every bone in your body.” His breath chilled in his throat. “It’ll take at least an half an hour for you to heal every one and by then we’ll be gone so…”
Peter nodded his acquiesce and finished getting them ready.
A sudden punch from Monica to Hiro had the Japanese man dripping blood into a proffered handkerchief, while Sylar feigned a convincing stagger with an arm over Peter’s shoulders.
Desperately ignoring the long line of masculine beauty that was draped against him. Peter hooked a finger into his leader’s belt and walked them into emergency.
*****
Sitting cross-legged on one of the pristine steel lab tables, Peter saw passion infuse Mohinder Suresh for the first time since he’d landed in this god-forsaken future. Unlike his own rampage alongside Flint in the Primatech lab, the geneticist was methodical about the destruction of someone’s hard hours of labour. Methodical, precise and downright scary Peter amended.
It had seemed too easy. The trio involved in a domestic love spat accompanied by a couple of harried orderlies making their way through the overcrowded ER and into the lifts. At least Claude’s information had been correct in this instance. The government lab concealed three floors beneath the hospital morgue, the lift door refusing to open until Mohinder ripped it apart with his fingernails.
The codes for all the keypads were perfect. Not a single hitch.
Peter had been worried that Sylar would be the fanatic on this mission, what with the whole torture by the guy running the operation thing. But Danko wasn’t here, the FedMarshal leader having departed for Washington a day early according to a terrified guard. The rage had cooled from the killer’s demeanour, allowing Suresh’s enthusiasm to dominate the rest of the mission.
The devastation had left the geneticist’s eyes, to be relaced by grim satisfaction as Monica, Peter and Hiro subdued the guards and Sylar terrified the techs into submission with barely a raised eyebrow. With the staff locked away in a storage closet by a cheerful Hiro, the lab was now empty and vulnerable to Mohinder’s revenge.
Watching the geneticist bring another batch of test tubes to Sylar to have them irradiated, Peter waited until he’d moved off before asking sotto voce, “Having a little bit too much fun with this isn’t he?”
As promised Peter had stuck close to his leader, not exactly a hardship except for the ridiculously long legs that he had to race to keep up with, and was now at his current perch not four feet from where the killer was standing looking over some of the documents they’d recovered.
“The serum is based on one developed six years ago from a strain of the Shanti Virus.” Eyes still on the reports in his hands, Sylar answered just as quietly. “The drug that inhibits abilities and allows them to keep us prisoner…”
“…was invented by Mohinder.” Peter finished the sentence, a sudden wave of sympathy washing over him. Looking at his old friend with new eyes, the nurse now understood why the other man had forbidden Sylar from levelling the lab and gone for a more methodical approach.
“None of it survives,” Suresh had sworn. “No chance of a thumb-stick or print out with even the beginning of the formula.” Pointing at the refrigerators, he had nodded Monica forward. “Start there, everything exposed to radiation by Gabriel then we’ll get onto the computers.”
Twenty minutes later and Peter was now not only sympathetic but also impressed. Mohinder must have been planning this assault for a while given the thorough job he had just done of destroying even the theoretical concept of the serum.
“Finish all those please Gabriel; we’re going to the IT lab to meet Micah online.” The lab now forgotten for the rest of his victim, Suresh lead Monica down the hallway and into the last of half a dozen doors it contained.
Sylar waved a glowing red hand over another tray of ampoules and handed Peter the final few documents.
Peter thought for a second then watched the paper slowly decompose into its base elements.
“Thank you for letting me come.” His quiet words were clear in the silence of the stripped lab.
Fingers still faintly glowing red, Sylar turned on his heel to face Peter. Whatever he saw Peter couldn’t guess, but two long strides had Sylar within inches of him, causing the nurse to straighten his back and raise his chin to the taller man. Long-fingered hands came to rest on the bench by Peter’s knees and the alluring; pine almond scent of the killer began to flood his senses.
Handsome mouth only a small chasm away, Sylar smiled with a hint of the predator. “That is the nicest thing you’ve said to me since you arrived.”
True, but Peter hadn’t known that he was supposed to be nice to the other man till two days ago.
Licking his lips at the sudden parched air of the lab he answered, “Really? I’m sure I can do better than that…” words lingering flirtatiously. Part of Peter’s brain was screaming whatthefuckareyoudoing? While another part growled yesgrabhimgrabhimgrabhim.
Sudden heat flared in the midnight eyes and hands caught his calves, unlacing his ankles and drawing Peter’s backside closer to the edge of the lab table.
Closer to Sylar.
Lean hips now pressed to the length of Peter’s spread thighs, only a scant inch of steel bench keeping their groins from touching, Sylar returned his hands to the table palm down beside the seated man. Effectively trapping Peter in that position.
“Do better.” The velvet voice was infused with raw lust, causing an answering flare to race up Peter’s spine.
His mind spun. “You saved my life three times at Primatech. It might be years for you, but it’s only months for me. I never said thank you for those.” Peter leaned fractionally closer, his lips almost but not quite touching Sylar’s. In this position their height difference was almost negated and Peter revelled in looking directly into the now-burning gaze.
“The prisoners are resigned to their fate…oh…”
Peter snapped his head backwards at Hiro’s words, feeling his cheeks began to burn. The Japanese man stared at them with a dumbfounded expression. Sylar, with his fucking cool as ice face, didn’t even look surprised at the interruption.
“The others are in the last room on the right, when they’re done take them home. I’ll finish up here.” He left very little doubt what he was going to be finishing.
And Peter had thought that Sylar wasn’t all badass egomaniac.
Drawing back a fist to punch the arrogance out of that handsome face, Peter knew Hiro had left the room because Sylar crowded right back in to his personal space. Peter was forced to catch himself on his elbows with the other man nearly climbing over him. It was damn sexy. This unfairly gorgeous no-longer arch enemy, all broad shoulders and wicked expressions that curled Peter’s toes and made his cock hard.
Hard just like the one pressed against his thigh.
Fucking hell, they hadn’t even kissed and Peter was more turned on than he’d been in years. Particularly with Sylar avoiding his lips, choosing to breathe in a long slow intake of air beneath Peter’s ear.
“You were saying?”
Completely unable to stop the low moan that the contact summoned, Peter gave up any flimsy pretence of passivity and leaned his face over to nuzzle at the jaw so close to him. Like some feline offering affection up to the dominant animal, Peter indulged his addiction to skin contact by dragging his lips, cheekbone and forehead across Sylar’s light stubble.
God, Peter wanted to lick him, he smelled so good.
Long fingers curled at the back of Peter’s neck for a single, perfect moment. Then snarling a handful of hair Sylar pulled his head back so that they could once again lock eyes. Startled from his ardour, Peter saw the brilliant gaze now almost wild with need, the low panting breaths from Sylar forcing him to rock hardness and bringing forth another suppressed moan.
“Jesus.” The benediction was drenched with the unholy sin of lust. “Peter.”
Ready to move on to making that sin a reality, Peter’s skull thumped painfully back on the lab bench as the fingers supporting it disappeared and the body he was clinging to reared back to the floor.
Peter stared at the fluorescent lights overhead wondering if maybe that had just been an awesome wet dream he’d just been woken from. Still sprawled on his back, legs parted wantonly, Peter turned his head to see Sylar thirty feet across the room looking like he was one mad impulse away from doing Peter serious harm.
Or seriously doing something else to him, Peter wasn’t entirely sure which.
“No,” the velvet voice was cold despite the expression in the chameleon eyes. “No.”
Head cocked to one side like a bird, Sylar kept his eyes on Peter as the nurse sat up and adjusted his clothing.
Amongst other things.
“The others are done, take us home.” The mission leader was back, wiping away the lust-shrouded predator like he’d never been.
Peter walked over and carefully took Sylar’s coat-sleeve in his hand.
“Yes, Boss.” It was playful, sarcastic and if Peter read the look in the killer’s eyes correctly, the most dangerous thing he’d done all day.
Sylar didn’t get a chance to retaliate as the next thing they saw was the study at the mansion and Angela Petrelli’s formidable glare.