Fic
Fic: I Could Really Use a Wish Right Now
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing)
Characters/Pairings: Peter Petrelli/Sylar, Lauren, Noah Bennett, Sophia Collings, The Haitian, Matt Parkman
Summary: Shit goes down and the plan is put into motion.
Warnings: Unbeta'd.
Notes: Sorry if this seems like stalling, guys, but Inception has taken over my brain and all I want to do is read Arthur/Eames fanfic. Dangit. So um...here's the next part and I hope you like it!
"I've been alone with you inside my mind
And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times
I sometimes see you pass outside my door
Hello, is it me you're looking for?..."
Gabriel- No, Sylar's- alarm clock wakes him up with that annoying fucking song and he grits his teeth, motioning a hand out, shoving the offending clock off the table with a loud crash.
"I hate that song," he growls to no one in particular, before slamming his feet to the ground and stalking back and forth, back and forth.
This motel room is stifling.
Frowning, he heads towards the bathroom, dimly lit and just a little bit too green tinged for his liking. He ignores his disheveled reflection in the mirror; he already knows he looks like hell. Some splashes of water on his face and he heads back to the bed area. He didn't bring a hell of a lot with him when he left Peter's- their- apartment, so he doesn't have a lot to work with. But, he does his best. After all, if he's going to be the last thing those monsters see before they die, he wants to be memorable, at least.
He emerges from the bathroom, hair slicked back, unshaven, and sharply dressed in his favorite black button down coat. A quick glance outside the window tells him it's raining; Hemmingway would be proud.
He slams the motel door behind him and heads towards the staircase, taking the stairs two at a time as he heads to the roof. Once he's there, it's not hard to just take off and fly away, since the rain is making everything about muggy anyway.
He knows that it won't be long until he'll have his revenge, and it makes the bitter sting of the rain against his skin all the sweeter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Matt Parkman has been sitting in the rental car outside of the New Company's headquarters for the better part of an hour, just sitting. And staring.
The steering wheel is very, very interesting today, he decides.
He's started to count to five hundred again in his head when a gentle knock against the window startles him, and he looks up. Standing there is that Company woman, whatever her name was. Laura? Lauren? Something like that.
She smiles and points towards the passenger seat.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asks, and Matt pauses for a moment before nodding. She heads around the car, opening the door and sliding into the seat, shutting the door behind her.
"You should probably leave," she says, cocking her head to one side. "You know, in case things get...messy."
In her mind, Matt can see recollections of the damage and horror that Sylar caused before, of bloody corpses and burned down buildings.
He frowns and looks out the windshield.
Lauren's eyes are watching him, he can feel them boring into his skin, but he doesn't dare turn and return the gaze. He may be the mind reader here, but he knows she's trained to observe.
Her mind isn't hard to decipher, he can hear her loud and clear, but regardless, she speaks them out loud anyway.
"I know you feel bad for doing this to him, Matt, but it's for the best. We all know that."
A niggle of doubt remains in her mind and Matt turns to look.
"You don't sound so convinced," he notes, but she doesn't move her gaze. Resolute, if not a little unsure.
An unspoken idea passes between them, and before Lauren can stop thinking it, Matt picks up on it.
"We both know this is wrong," he sighs, turning to look back out the window. "But on the other hand, it's...the best thing. For all of us."
The blonde's reflection is watching him in the glass of the wind shield, Matt can see it, but he doesn't move to look back. He simply watches as she bites her lip, uncertainty spreading inside her more and more until it's almost stifling inside the car.
"I think we made this worse."
Internally, Matt cringes.
Way to state the obvious, he bemoans internally.
Lauren begins to fiddle with something in her hand. Matt doesn't bother looking to see what it is; it doesn't matter.
"Do you think he was right? Has Sylar changed?"
Matt thinks back to a time when his knee was killing him and Peter Petrelli was standing in his kitchen, covered in dust and gripping tightly to Sylar's arm, looking incredibly protective for someone who supposedly hated the other man.
Peter, he noted at the time, was feeling incredibly buddy-buddy with Sylar. And it didn't take a genius to note that Sylar was, in fact, completely enamored with poor Peter.
Carefully, Matt licks his lips and turns to face Lauren.
"Yes," he admits, finally, and Lauren almost visibly sinks in the seat.
"So you're saying that we basically just messed everything up because of our lack of faith?"
Matt sighs, leans back in his chair, and closes his eyes.
"No. Our lack of understanding. We didn't want to see. I mean I- I wanted to get revenge on that monster for ruining my life, and threatening my wife and...I didn't even bother to notice that he's different."
He can feel Lauren's mind buzzing with sympathy, understanding, and conflict.
"There's nothing we can do now."
It's a statement, not a question, and with a final nod, Lauren opens the door, gets out, and shuts it carefully behind her. With a final look back, she waves and disappears into the building, leaving Matt alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's screaming coming from one of the cells, but Sophia Collings ignores it. She knows exactly who it is, and she doesn't care, quite frankly. Peter Petrelli was one pawn in their game of taking down Gabriel Gray once and for all and if his little heart is breaking because they're about to kill his boyfriend, well then too bad. Deep down inside, she knows that what they're doing is right. After all, no one really changes.
She brushes a lock of hair back behind her ear, smiling to herself when Bennett and the Haitian walk in. The former looks grim; the latter, stoic as always.
"Ready boys?" she asks, hands on hips, and she pretends that the Haitian isn't looking so disgusted right now.
Bennett's lips quirk in that smirk of his and he nods.
"Ready as I'll ever be."
She nods and turns to look at Rene. His dark eyes look as intense as ever, and she frowns.
"Don't tell me you're going to back out on us now," she sighs, and earns even more of a glare from the other man.
"I think that Sylar should be...taken care of as much as you do, but hurting Peter like this-" here he pauses as the man in question lets out another agonized wail, "-Was that really necessary?"
Sophia rolls her eyes.
"He's just being dramatic. He'll get over it."
This time, Bennett is the one to interject.
"I think you'd be upset too, Collings, if you had to sit helpless while the love of your life was assassinated." An eyebrow quirks up above those stupid glasses of his and she tries to ignore the twinge in her chest. A different tactic is in order, then, and she decides to change the subject by posing a question.
"You think that serial killer is the love of his life? I doubt that."
They all turn to watch the writhing form through the window as Peter continues to struggle uselessly against the restraints.
"This'll sting for a bit, but he'll get over it in due time and find a nice girl to settle down with, someone that'll make Mama Petrelli happy."
The look Bennett is shooting her is almost one of sympathy and she crosses her arms.
"What?"
"You obviously don't know Peter very well."
She shrugs.
"Obviously not." She claps her hands together. "Now then, we can't have him screaming away when Sylar gets here. Be right back."
She disappears into the cell, and the screaming gets louder as Peter shouts insults at the woman standing above him. She adjusts something in the IV leading into his arm and in a few seconds the noises and movements die down until Peter is a still form on the table. She smiles and pats him gently on the head before popping out of the cell.
"Where were we?" she prompts, but turns to find that Bennett and the Haitian have disappeared.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
dripdripdripbreatheinbreatheoutcan'tseecan'tfeelidon'tunderstand
An eternity has passed since the dream walker came in and put Peter back to sleep. He can't open his eyes, or move, or make noise, but he's not asleep. He can't dream. Instead, he's sedated just to the precipice of unconsciousness, and it's infuriating.
All he can do is breathe and feel his thoughts reeling. His body feels so nice, so free and loose, but he knows it's just the drug working through his system.
At least if his eyes were open, he could watch the lights and colors of the machines humming around him.
He feels like he's floating, he decides, and although he tries to make the panic of the situation at hand worry him, he just feels so...nice.
If he could laugh, he would.
But he can't, so instead he just lays there, half existing, half not.
For some reason, he's reminded of a time when he came home from work, and finding the apartment empty, promptly fell half onto the bed, half off, and fell asleep. Sometime after that, Gabriel must have come home and laid down next to him, because Peter recalls spending a few dreams with him, just innocent, normal, dreams.
He woke up laying the wrong way across the bed, with Gabriel laying next to him, but upside down, and he remembers laughing at the picture they must make.
His movement must have woken up Gabriel, because he turned his head and smiled at Peter.
"Go back to sleep," Peter had whispered, and they did. Sometime during the night, Peter must have reached for the other man because when he woke up the next morning their hands were still tightly clutched together, like Gabriel never wanted to let go.
Despite the sedation, this memory leaves a weird feeling inside of Peter's chest, and it's only vaguely that he's aware that tears have been falling from his eyes, entirely without permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sylar arrives just outside the perimeter of the New Company and waits. He knows they'll be expecting him, especially if that dick Matt Parkman was still drawing the future in his spare time.
He's about to take off again when he hears a noise behind him. Faster than he thought he could, he whirls around and hurls the offender against a nearby tree trunk.
Well, speak of the devil.
"Parkman," Sylar growls, eyeing the man in question with a skeptical eye. "To what do I owe this honor?"
The telepath isn't struggling against the telekinetic hold, which is unusual. Instead, he's fixed a gaze on Sylar like he really, really needs to tell him something. Unfortunately, his mental blocks are a little too much for Sylar and his inexperience with the power, but his lie detector is still working perfectly.
"This is a trap," Matt says, and Sylar rolls his eyes.
"I figured that much. What else you got?"
Here, Matt looks like he's unsure about something, before he very carefully begins to form the next few words.
"Peter is alive."
The grip on him tightens a little as Sylar stalks closer.
"How is that not a lie? I saw him die myself."
Despite the harshness of his tone, Matt feels the confusion and hope beginning to blossom inside of the taller man and he beckons with one of his hands.
"I can show you, if you let me."
At first, Sylar starts walking closer, but then he stops and narrows his eyes.
"Why would you come here and tell me this? I could kill you without a second's thought right now." He pauses, considers. "I should kill you."
Matt's gaze is sad, but determined.
"I made a mistake, and I'm sorry. I should never have helped them with this. It's wrong what they're doing to you, and Peter."
Matt's not lying, and Sylar is just a little confused. He lets the grip on the other man go and he drops to the ground quietly.
"Here," Matt volunteers, and then his hand is reaching out to gently touch at Sylar's forehead.
In a few seconds, memories and explanations are pushed into the ex killer's mind and he staggers back with the force of it.
"Peter," he whispers, followed by, "Oh, Peter."
Matt politely looks away as Sylar rubs a clumsy hand across his eyes and readjusts his coat.
When he looks back, Sylar is actually smiling.
"Thank you, Matt," he says, and his voice is softer, his countenance is less intense, and again Matt is reminded of a time when he was standing vulnerable in the kitchen while Peter looked on.
"Well go on then," Matt prompts, "Go save him."
With one last look back, Sylar disappears into the sky and Matt sighs.
What did he just do?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter is violently pulled back into reality by a pair of blue eyes and some warm hands.
"W-what?" he stammers, his tongue suddenly feeling strange now that he can use it again.
Lauren has pulled the IV out of his arm and was working on undoing the straps.
"You have to get out of here," she says, and Peter looks confused. It could just be the drugs wearing off, or it could be that the woman who was working to bring him in in the first place was suddenly helping him.
When he doesn't move, she pulls him up and points towards a pile of clothing sitting on a nearby table.
"I brought your clothes. Now get out of here and find Sylar before he comes here and gets himself killed. Alright?"
Peter blinks once, twice, confused, before she sighs and reaches up to pat his cheek lightly.
"You can thank me later."
She turns and walks out of the cell, leaving Peter with just a flash of blonde hair and more confusion than before.
Groggily, he dresses and she opens the door and holds up some kind of card.
"You can use this to get out of here without them noticing, but eventually, someone will, so make it quick."
There's a noise and they both turn, startled.
"Go, go," she pushes, whispering, "I'll distract them."
He hurries down the hallway and into a stairway, and briefly wonders what to do when an alarm sounds.
Swearing, he runs down the stairs but when he turns the corner near the third stairwell door, it opens abruptly and he stops dead in his tracks.
"You," he says, simply.
Next part.