Fic: A Far Distant Future - Volume Two

[vespaer]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Frustrated and Unsatisfied
Characters: Sylar/Claire
Summary: It's amazing what absence will do to the heart...
Rating: "R" for some violence, some blood & guts, and eventually some sexual imagery
Spoilers: Up through season 3 I guess, but this got started before season 4.

A/N: Wheee at last we get to the parts that justify the rating I chose for this fic =D This chapter is a lot of plot resolution and action, and the return of Agent Mike - next chapter should finish that out and grant us a tad more fluff... although (sadness) I think the next chapter will end this fic. Zomg completion??? RLY??? What next?!?!? An epilogue, that's what. Because every good story has one. And I'm a big copycat. On with the show!!!
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes or anything remotely related and I bow humbly before the television gods, please have mercy on me. And if I've massively screwed something up, I'd like to know.

“CLAIRE BENNETT LOVES ME!!!”

His own jubilant voice assaulted his ears as the words tumbled back at him on a rolling moist, warm sea gale, pitched by the frothing, turbulent waves. Her slick, wet arms encircled him from behind, soaking his shirt and dribbling tiny particles of sand down his front. She tickled his skin as she pulled up on the fabric, exposing the soft, dark line leading from his belly button down to the parts of him she enjoyed most. Tucking her fingers under the hem, she let them wander freely over his abdomen, tracing the hollow under his ribs, rounding the firm planes of his chest until she bid him lift his arms so that the suffocating vestment could be discarded, flung carelessly to pile forgotten on the beach. The breath of her laughter puffed down his spine as she pressed her face between his shoulder blades, peppering sweet kisses there and hugging him tightly around the waist.

“Gabriel Gray loves me,” she whispered into his back.

He tried twisting in her embrace to face her, longing to kiss her a priceless reward for saying such a thing, but she was quicker than he. The nimble fingers at his middle darted into his shorts to gently squeeze the soft fleshy head of his penis between them. He froze, scarcely moving to breathe so as not to interrupt the fiercely pleasant sensation the touch had elicited. Closing his eyes and parting his lips with a tiny sigh of ecstasy, he savored the freedom to shamelessly become aroused against her palm, and she hummed her approval as she gripped him more firmly and slowly stroked him. He nearly groaned when she pulled her hand away, wiping a small sticky trail of seminal fluid across his stomach before she reached to pull the tie on the drawstring. He caught the shorts before they fell away, glancing around to be sure they were completely alone - he wasn’t always the exhibitionist she was…

Which meant she didn’t wait. His eyes were arrested from staring down the length of the beach when he heard another hushed ‘plop’ of cloth hitting the sand. Her aqua-colored bikini top was lying in a stringy heap at his feet. Before him a mouth-watering pair of round, tantalizing nipples bounced and twirled while she hopped on one foot, trying to shimmy out of her bottoms with an adorably endearing lack of grace.

“HA HA!!!” she cried triumphantly when she finally held them over her head, slinging them around like a lasso, swinging her hips in a wild sort of ‘Look at me I’m NAKED!’ dance. His entire body thrummed with laughter. He wanted to plunge his dick between those thighs as hard as he could, give her everything he had until she screamed for more. He wanted to keep that goofy smile on her face forever -god he loved this woman! Loved the way she freed his inhibitions… loved the way she let him watch her undress… loved the way she held him at night… loved the way she said his name… loved the way she put tears of joy in his eyes when no one was looking… loved the way…

Loved the way he was going to make love for the first time in his entire life. Loved the way he finally understood what that meant.

She stretched back the matching aqua-colored elastic band and sling-shotted the material to where it landed close to his shirt shortly before a wave caught her off guard, its force buckling her knees, causing her to fall back into a hysterically giggling watery oblivion.

“WAHOOO!!!” she squealed when her head bobbed back to the surface. It was all he could take, he’d reached his limit. His shorts pooled around his ankles. A devilish grin masked his features and he charged in after her. The instant he got a hand around her wrist she had herself pulled hand over hand up his arm until her elbows were around his neck and her knees clamped to his ribs. She covered his mouth with her own, moaning deliciously as she slid her body down the front of his and he popped inside her with one swift motion - like the sea, warm and wet. He gasped at the stimulus and she threw her head back, smile wide open.

“Oh my god you feel incredible…”

He wetted his lips and greedily smoothed his hands all over her - across her back, down her sides, grazing his thumbs over the ample swell of her breasts, around her behind to settle under the sleek length of her thighs. He tugged at her, forcing a delightful release of breath as he speared her with his entire length. He latched his lips onto her neck, suckling the erogenous zone where it met her collarbone, and beneath his trailing fingers he could feel the small of her waist arch away, pumping her hips to draw him in and out of her, in and out… in and out…

He angled himself to be sure he rubbed the parts inside her that would provide the greatest amount of pleasure, sinking his fingertips into her hips to match her movements. The motion became as rhythmical as their syncopated panting, blasting hot breath into his own face as he pressed his forehead against her shoulder and fought to meter the pace of his thrusts, careful to not let them become erratic.

‘Don’t come, you idiot… whatever you do, do NOT come. Forget for a few minutes that you’ve wanted this girl for centuries and now you’ve finally got your - yes, definitely do NOT think about that…’

He bit his lip and curled his toes, trying to ignore the fiery pressure binding in his kidneys, down to the base of his scrotum - and then it happened. Blessed be, it happened. Like a heavenly chorus of angels, she sang. She sunk her fingernails into his shoulders, her legs clenched around his middle and her spine rigidly straightened. Pulses like soft butterfly kisses rippled down his shaft as she squeezed her eyes shut and sang to the sky the exultant swan song of her orgasm. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed.

Both arms tightly around her, tangling in her hair and pressing her close enough that a tsunami couldn’t dislodge him, he determinedly waded toward the shore until he was close enough he could sink his knees into the sand. He mewled a needy groan of urgency as he gently laid her down and covered her with his body, happy to be blanketed by the natural push and pull of the waves. He twined their fingers together, holding tightly, the rough stubble of his cheek brushing against the silky velvet of hers, and he let go of hesitation, pummeling into her with powerful and desperate fury. He recognized the signs of a second orgasm as she began to gasp unintelligible tones that sounded like a mixture of ‘yes’ and ‘don’t stop’.

“I won’t,” he trembled against the shell of her ear, a wave of excitement crashing over him like a dam about to burst. But then her words began to change, morphing into something… different… like the oscillating quavers of an alarm, someplace distant… he paid it no attention. He would not let it deter him, instinctually driven to deposit his genetic material directly into her openly accepting womb, without interruption. Although the noise became a persistent ringing in his ears, it was dulled momentarily by his own throaty whimpers as he… he was about to… he was going to… he was… yes, yes.. oh god, yes…

He was awakened by his own labored cries against his pillow. He was immediately aware of three things: there was a spreading and rapidly cooling puddle of liquid beneath him, there was an alarm sounding from someplace behind him (presumably the cockpit of the transport), and… he was alone. Pitifully and unsatisfyingly alone. And now he was cold. He sat up and glared menacingly at the spent evidence of his climax, smeared across his abdomen and saturating the foamy material of the cot mattress. He smacked his hands limply into his lap.

“So… how old are we, now?” he growled at his offending organ. “Seriously, dude. Not right.”

He gave himself a thorough scrubbing with the blanket then rose in search of clothing, eager to violently silence the alarm with his fist. Or maybe an elbow. He hadn’t forgiven it for briefly mimicking Cl… uhh, his girlfriend’s voice. That’s right - he’d kissed her. Hell, she’d asked him to. And she’d kissed him back. That part had been real. Fastening his shorts and pulling the t-shirt over his head, he even thought he could still smell her. He was much happier now. Claire Bennett was his, and he was hers. All was right in the world.

Except that he missed her.

He dragged his fingers over his sleepy eyes as he padded to the loudly protesting console, unsurprised at the vision that greeted him in the viewport - that of the amber-colored continents of Sumeria, reflecting her star’s radiance back into the inky reaches of Leo sector space. He’d reached orbit and it was time to set her down. Surrounded by a nest of vigilantly watching geosynchronous satellites, he paused for a moment to open a secure channel directly from the ship’s onboard communications array to Peter’s fet. The message, in the grand scheme of things, was nothing more than an infinitesimal pulse - a hiccup - a tiny little number. It told him he was in position and he was coming in. The return message he received was also numeric and was followed by the abrupt closure of the channel. Peter had given him the frequency the Black Guard used for Port Authority to be granted landing privileges - it would allow him to drop down in the middle of the lion’s den. Gabriel gulped down his anxiety as he opened another line and placed his call. There would be no turning back now.

~*~*~

Mike Hornberg had not yet been reassigned a new partner after Beth’s recent… state of handicap. Therefore, when he received word that the missing transport, suspected of acting as an escape vehicle for ‘Jonathan Kendrick’, had been recovered by what appeared to be a contingent of the Black Guard and was en route to an airfield on the outskirts of town, he immediately cast the information to the side. Intimately aware of how powerful the man was, he had no interest in the potential to cross him again. On the other hand, when the field director paid him a personal call, reminding him how illogical it would be to show back up as a wanted man in the middle of a Federation compound on the very same ship he stole, that it was perfectly safe and the vehicle was still in need of a very thorough investigation by capable hands he trusted above all others… with implications of a possible promotion lingering behind the tone of his voice… how could he refuse…? So, he assembled his own team of Guardsmen and chartered a hoverbus to guide them to their destination.

He could see, upon his arrival, that the place was in a complete state of lockdown. The small group of tenured employees were huddled outside the gates under the watchful eyes of the Federal Armed Forces, shoulders pressed together, buzzing with curious conversation. Once inside, he could see the transport on the far end of the field, having just touched down, swirling dust still attempting to settle under her magnetized hull. She was swarmed on all sides by military armament vehicles, soldiers, and Guardsmen, all prepared to do what was necessary should the unthinkable happen and the rear bay open to reveal the fabled Sylar bent on exacting his revenge… and maybe he wasn’t alone. It was no secret the rebels had a network.

“You can send your men to join the others, Agent…” began the officer in charge as Mike stepped off the hoverbus, quirking an eyebrow at the overkill of force, ready to begin his assessment.

“Agent Hornberg.”

“Right. As I said, Agent Hornberg, they may join formation, but I need for you to remain back here for the time being, just until we’re certain the situation is under control.”

Military men and their control… like they’d faced this guy one on one or something… he tried not to laugh. What an elaborate illusion, control. Content to let them remain on the front line, he graciously agreed. What harm would it do? He knew there wasn’t going to be a super-powered psychopath hiding inside the ship anyway.

Regardless, he held his breath when the bay door motor kicked to life, mechanically tilting the sheet of metal toward the ground to become a ramp. With a final ‘boom’ the gears wound down from their finished work, agitating a new cloud of dust… one that wasn’t broken by the passage of bodies. Something nasty twisted in Mike’s gut - nothing happened. Something was wrong here.

“Sir,” he called to the officer that had addressed him earlier, after a few moments of tense silence. “With all due respect, sir, none of your men have seen what this guy is capable of, but I have. I cannot suggest more highly, if you value the lives of your men and the sanctity of their families, that you do not send your soldiers in there. Let me send my Guard - they are better equipped to handle him. That is, assuming he’s in there at all.”

Mike was no stranger to scrutiny by intimidating men, accustomed to getting what they wanted. He held his ground with calm stoicism, praying the man would see logic and he wasn’t disappointed. All he received was a curt nod of permission, but that was all he needed. He called in his command to Central, which then uploaded instructions via satellite that were transmitted to the black suits - they were biochemically programmed to obey. They filed their way to the transport and, without hesitation, stepped inside.

For a few long minutes everything seemed perfectly normal. The lazy song of flitting insects accompanied distant staccatos of laughter and shouts from the surrounding markets, residences, and farms. A calm breeze wafted the heady scent of grain and wildflowers and everything was fine - the ship had been recovered by a small crew of Guardsmen and they were halted with no further orders, waiting for him to snap on his white rubber gloves and begin his investigation. He took a ready step forward.

Sometimes he wished the shadow men would scream.

The first one flew out the back of the transport to land flat on his back with a muted ‘guff’. He was followed by two more, tossed frighteningly like sacks of potatoes. The soldiers on the front line knelt and readied their weapons, and the inside of the craft lit up, illuminated by violently crackling and booming multi-colored explosions - some of which looked like fire.

“No!” he cried as he unconsciously charged toward the alarmingly rocking craft. “NO FIRE!” He bumped his way through the ranks of armed men, deftly avoiding hands intending to restrain him - he had a job to do and he would not let it fall under jeopardy. “NO FIRE, you assholes! You’ll destroy the evidence!”

Raging bolts of blue lightning clung to the hull and chased across the ground as a charred, smoking body rolled down the ramp to bump against his toes. Through the flurry of obsidian arms and legs performing a ballet of various abilities he could see his old ‘partner’ crouched in the middle, giving them a really damned good fight.

What…? What the hell was he doing back here? In this thing??? Was he crazy…?!? Mike didn’t think for one minute he’d actually be inside… because that would be fuckin’ stupid… like he wanted to get caught… but maybe that was true, maybe that was exactly what he wanted… If the rebels could get a man like him inside the Leo camp, and he could somehow manage to get that collar off…

Mike dropped and collected a utility belt from the body at his feet. Over his right shoulder he could make out the humming approach of a flock of drones, arriving to provide him additional cover should Gabriel overpower the armed forces and make a break for it outside of the compound… assuming their armaments didn’t vaporize him first. The little flying machines were typically faster than human legs and had proven useful on escapees countless times before. They encircled the transport, ready for further instruction. Mike couldn’t shake the feeling Gabriel had known he wasn’t going to make it out of this, but he set it aside knowing he couldn’t just let him go, either.

Six of the drones, three on either side, began to drill holes through the hull of the craft with their searing red lasers, creating greater access to the interior. While their sensors wouldn’t allow them to enter the vehicle, the openings did provide greater opportunity to anyone capable of making a good shot. But Mike wanted him alive. He crept around the port side, dodging sparks and falling chunks of metal. He pressed his back against the hull, ducking beneath the rim of the new ‘window’, waiting for the right moment to place his head in harm’s way to have a look. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught three snipers moving into position. He was out of time - he hated pressure like this. Praying the ancient rebel was too busy to notice, Mike drew the net shooter, thrust his arm through the hole and fired in one swift motion. The blazing red lattice erupted as it shot across the cargo bay, snagging Gabriel’s entire body and pinning it with a loud ‘thud’ against the far bulkhead. Before he could retrieve his tranquilizer gun the remaining Guardsmen had Gabriel collared and unconscious. Not hesitating to find out what the soldiers next move would be, Mike dove through the opening and placed his own body in the direct line of fire.

“Get out of the way, son,” the commanding officer directed, “you don’t want any trouble on your head if he manages to get out of here. You know what has to be done.”

“Sir, I have my orders - I was sent to investigate this matter to its utmost and to procure every and all forms of evidence, including her passengers. Alive. This man is wanted for questioning on Pisces before he is to be turned over to the proper authority. There may be distance between our worlds, officer, but due process doesn’t care about that. Your men need to lower their weapons before this little stand-off becomes an official incident.”

“Are you kidding me, boy?!? That piece of shit IS a walking ‘official fucking incident’!”

“Be that as it may, my orders are directly from the executive branch, and are currently the highest authority here. Now please, be so kind as to ask your men to lower their weapons.”

For a moment Mike was afraid that they’d be willing to sacrifice him in their effort to exterminate their target. It wasn’t uncommon for military types to take desperate measures. Sometimes Mike regretted not taking the highly paid desk job he’d been offered a couple relative years ago. Sometimes he wished he’d have gone to an actual university instead of the academy. He wished he was a baker… a window washer… a farmer… anything. He wished he’d called his wife that morning. Wished he’d told her he loved her. Wished he’d have been a more religious man.

His prayers, however, were answered. The troops withdrew, allowing Mike to remove the main motherboard from the transport’s console and gather a few other items of interest before absconding with his Guardsmen and his prisoner. The hoverbus, surrounded by its cavalcade of protective drones, made haste through the city until it reached the mod camp and the associated lab, hidden in a deep chamber beneath the generator housing for the force dome. Safely within the walls of the facility, physically chained to two of his seven remaining suits, Gabriel was deposited to where he could be held until the next day, when he’d begin his trek back to Pisces.

~*~*~

Gabriel was jostled awake as the ship entered the atmosphere. Temporarily disoriented, worried he might’ve dreamed the events that took place after his landing, he groaned and bent at the middle in an attempt to sit up and take in his surroundings. He got about as far as the restraints on his wrists would let him. It was about that time that he truly registered the chilled weight of the collar adorning his neck. Alas, the Leo airfield had been real. He was flanked on both sides by stationary black suits, eerily immobile as they diligently held their posts.

‘Stay calm, don’t cause any problems,’ a telepathic voice rang inside his mind.

‘Pete.’

‘I’m the one on your left. Everything is -’

‘Dude, how long have you been standing like th-’

‘Pay attention. Everyone is in position and everything is going perfectly according to plan.’

‘Okay, now you’re making me nervous.’

‘It’ll be alright, listen - we don’t have much time. You’re being moved with a whole lot of folks from the Leo labs - people they’ve worked on. They tested your blood once they got a hold of you and found your marker. I said before but didn’t get to explain much - they’re experimenting on these people trying to find away to make the mod injection resistant to a cure, so they can keep them they way they are, safely under control. They’ve never been able to do it until now. They made real headway when they got Claire, but -’

‘But because of the press they moved her.’

‘Right. Once they got her to Taurus, though, they got a pretty good start on a new injection, but it’d still be easier if they had -’

‘Me.’

‘Yes. They’re still worried about rebel infiltration on Leo, and the central field director is foaming at the mouth wanting to drag you in for questioning, so they’re moving all of you - the whole shebang - to Pisces. Which means, much to the director’s chagrin, you’re headed straight for the Central laboratory. If there’s a bright side to what’s happened to these people, it’s that a lot of the work has already been done for us. All we have to do is take what they’ve made and plug you into it, then we’re ready to fly.’

‘Ready to fly, huh? Famous last words.’

‘I know, I admit… it’s not quite that simple. Your old partner snagged the motherboard and the stored memory banks off of the transport. It’s only a matter of time before he discovers that the ship made one tiny little phone call right before the one received by Port Authority… and he’s gotta also wonder how the hell you got the Black Guard’s landing code.’

‘But, you’ll blow your… dude, you’ve had this cover forever… why would you compromise it?’

‘Because this is what I kept it for. If we succeed, everything will change. Look, the ship’s landing, we’re gonna be moving soon. Put up a little struggle, make it look real, but don’t waste too much time. Once they start getting additional evidence that you’re involved in an invasive plot the director’s gonna get his way and he’ll do anything to pull you out of that lab. We’re in a race against the clock. Oh - I can hear our buddy here getting his instructions. Time to go.’

Gabriel remained perfectly still, not wishing to give any indication that he knew what was going on. In unison, his guardians turned to his restraints, removing them from the bars lining the sides of his cot then twisting them around to be clamped around their own shadowy wrists. Without warning, they both marched forward, pulling him to stumble unceremoniously to his feet. As they dragged him through the ship and down the loading ramp, before his feet touched the disembarkation quay, he could hear a singular, agitated voice.

“I don’t give a shit HOW ‘pinnacle’ he is to your work - your work is BULLSHIT compared the havoc he’s created within this organization! Does a single one of your egghead asshole scientists have any idea how old he is?!? Or what he can do?!?”

“I assure you, we know exactly -”

“He’s fucking ancient!!! And fucking powerful!!! He’s been in our system for entire fucking DECADES feeding information to those rebel bastards, right under our noses!!! There’s no telling who he’s been, for how long, WHERE he’s been… and you’re telling me you think it’s more important, right now, to poke him full of a bunch of useless fucking NEEDLES?!?!?”

“Director Scott,” the labcoat in charge explained with well-practiced patience to a tall man whose face was currently as red as his hair.

“Don’t you patronize me with that tone, son -”

“Director, we have reason to believe, with the recent events having transpired in the Leo sector, that this project is a rebel target. Sir, time is of the essence, and I assure you we have nothing but this organization’s best interests in mind -”

“I don’t want your fucking canned spam response!”

“Sir, please don’t make me remind you which branch put him on the front lines in the first place.”

The room hummed with tense silence as his processional left it behind. Before the exit hid the scene from his view Gabriel saw his old partner and betrayer, Mike Hornberg, out of the corner of his eye, moving to join his superior and stand beside him with proudly squared shoulders. Briefly their eyes locked before the younger man dropped them away, the memory of their previous encounter still horrifyingly fresh. Or maybe… there was something else.

~*~*~

It was hard to define what she was feeling, but if Claire had to put a label on it, she’d say she was ‘stir crazy’. What had started as an exhilarating extended vacation in Paradise had quickly become close quarters with a small handful of perfect strangers and nothing much to do, and nothing to think about except ‘eternity’. It was looking like she was going to be spending a rather gratuitous amount of time in the confined space of the dome with no one else in the entire world outside of four other people. Claustrophobia didn’t even begin to cover it.

Because she could, she’d resigned herself to a new habit of taking long walks in the wilderness outside the protective barrier. She’d assured her roommates that she was merely scouting for supplies amongst the other houses, but neglected to mention that what really kept drawing her away was the allure of a broader horizon. And maybe a little peaceful solitude. She felt like her world was shrinking, and the retracting walls were threatening to rub against wounds she’d rather leave untouched.

Like how much she worried about him. And missed him. And she missed Harley. She felt like she had work left undone, that more people out there needed her, and she was stuck in purgatory, disarmed and sitting on her hands.

She’d returned from another afternoon of wandering only to find herself disappointingly unsatisfied. She’d brought back arms full of clothing and a couple boxes of tampons (because the world didn’t stop for biological needs), recognizing that if she wanted to carry more or explore at a greater distance she was going to have to stop walking and start taking the shuttle… at which point she was going to end up with passengers. She sighed… perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. Having scrubbed the newly acquired apparel through the environmental system aboard the little craft (thankfully the sanitary items were individually sealed and wrapped making their sterilization process a little easier), she’d finally exited to face the last frontier she’d yet to investigate: the lighthouse.

First, she started a load of laundry and ate a lovely meal consisting of hardboiled eggs and roasted red peppers (courtesy of Arturo’s flourishing new garden). She engaged in polite conversation over dinner and lingered for a short time with her new family to enjoy a few rowdy games of poker, but as the afternoon slipped into evening and the time came for winding down Claire ducked away unseen, wrapped a soft mohair sweater around her shoulders, and disappeared into the sunset with a fresh cup of herbal tea. Enshrouded in moist twilight she marched a slow, serene path up the hill to the entrance of the tall, cylindrical structure.

She rode a magnetic lift to the top where she entered a small control room situated just beneath the access to the persistently spinning lamp. The utilitarian space was whitewashed an uncomfortable color, and the sparse furnishings offered little to be desired. It was exactly what she’d expected… and what she’d hoped for. Curving all around her, encircling her entire periphery no matter which way she turned, was one panoramic pane of seamless plexi-cement. Beyond that, stretching away into infinity only interrupted by the feminine and seductive curve of the planet, was the endless rolling sea framed by the vast, fathomless sky. Claire sat until she lost track of time, sipping at liquid that had long since gone cold, butt growing numb on a hard aluminum chair, pretending she could just make out, in the distance, the mirage of an approaching ship. Any ship would’ve been fine, but she preferred his.

One kiss was not enough.

Unsure of what was making her ache, the chair or her own bitter longing, she finally rose, the falling night robbing from her any stimulus to distract from her morose imagination. She rested her mug on the console while she removed her sweater from where she’d draped it over the back of the chair. She jumped in surprise when the air in the tiny chamber was shocked with the scratchy blare of static before she began to clearly hear voices - familiar voices - talking …

“Yeah, I tested da fish after it boil, it had a harder time lettin’ go of da toxin than the red meat -”

“Louisa, is that you?” Claire called.

“…Claire…? Where be you, child?”

“Uhh… that’s the weird thing… I’m in the lighthouse. Alone. Where are you?”

“Da kitchen. I think - oh yes, here -” The connection was abruptly severed before immediately springing back to life. “Are you still dere, child?”

Claire found herself coming to love the pet name. “Yes, I’m still here. I think I might’ve accidentally kicked on some sort of intercom with my cup.”

“Aye, de doorhandle was pressing a button on a panel here.”

“Well, isn’t that fun!”

“I’ve seen another console,” she could hear Kelly in the background, “there’s one in the front room, and I think there might be another upstairs somewhere.”

“I bet there’s one or two in the generator room too.”

“Everyt’ing okay up there, girl?” Her tone of voice was soft and grave. Louisa was so perceptive, even for a telepath.

“Yeah… I’m alright. Coming down now, bedtime.”

“You see anyt’ing up ‘ere?”

Claire chose not to answer. The truth was that she could see everything up there - the whole stunning world… just nothing that she wanted.

~*~*~

It was a frustrating enigma. Mike Hornberg was up far later than was physically agreeable for someone his age, but whenever his head hit the pillow of his modest hotel bed, series of numbers flashed before his eyes like obnoxious neon signs. There had been two pulses, small and seemingly innocuous - one out, and one received. Having spent the majority of his adult life studying and investigating rebel methods he just plain knew he was looking at some sort of code. Except they usually used a very complex form of alphabetic code and this was numeric. He had no Rosetta stone, no frame of reference. The numbers could’ve meant anything.

What was interesting, however, was the only piece of information he had been successfully able to glean. The communication had been sent to a private fet. Typically, he had been told that afternoon after interviewing reps with a local FTLR (Faster-Than-Light Relay) network carrier service, fet numbers didn’t get recycled until they’d been out of commission for what was considered a standard ‘generation’, or twenty-five Earth years. This number, on the other hand, had seen continuous use for many years… in fact, decade after decade of uninterrupted use. There had been several names tied to the account, consecutively, but it was plain to see the number had been in service far longer than the average human lifespan. Either the same grievous accounting error kept getting made over and over for centuries without ever being noticed, or… the device, it’s plan, and even the carrier supporting it had all been covertly sabotaged by rebels.

What was even more coincidental was that Gabriel Gray had been alive the whole time the little communicator had been in use. The girl he’d tried to rescue on Leo (the one he’d subsequently freed after she’d been incarcerated and extradited to Taurus), it turned out, was nearly the same age, also possessing the same regenerative ability - an ability the Lab was dying to get their hands on. There were rumors amongst the lab technicians to whom he’d spoken that Gabriel was actually a mimic, and that it was possible, given that they’d obviously known each other, that he’d originally gotten the ability from her. Judging from the illicit activities in which the girl had been engaged it was a fact that she was a rebel, and to date she was still at large… was he calling her? No, that couldn’t be… the destination of Gabriel’s message had been to a point on Sumeria - the same point from where the returning call had originated via the private fet. It was highly unlikely the girl had made it back to Leo before he did.

And then Mike had an idea. First of all, Gabriel was up to something. No wanted criminal in the long, exhausting history of wanted criminals had ever shown back up to the scene of the crime in the very same stolen vehicle, essentially begging to be captured. Second of all, there was a communication between Gabriel and an unnamed individual shortly before the event took place. And Mike had the number. If he had a number, he had a trace. If he had a trace, he had a location. If he had a location… he had a person, and perhaps the opposite end of a potentially insidious plot. In the morning, Mike would find that fet… and the hand it fit inside.

It wasn’t that a part of him didn’t empathize, he supposed as he finally stripped himself down to his t-shirt and boxers, smearing toothpaste onto his toothbrush, ready to rid his breath of a rank stench from too much coffee. Shortly thereafter he lay in bed, again, waiting for sleep, thinking about the people in the Leo camp… and the countless other camps he’d picked through while gathering evidence for past cases. There were grandmothers rotting away inside of tiny, cramped little shacks who never saw the universe outside of a force dome simply because there was the potential that one strange, misunderstood ability could harm someone. There were children who had nothing more to look forward to than maybe the brief reprieve of a three or four month work release, earning money for their commune to help improve their conditions - to purchase new clothing or books for a library. They would never know the benefit of an education beyond what was considered rudimentary (which was a pitiful shame for those born with what was considered above extraordinary intelligence).

He flopped over onto his side, frustrated by his incessant wakeful thoughts. He’d joined the academy because he’d come from a poor home and it was less expensive than college, promising to lead to a lucrative career with a moderate salary… one that was also responsible for segregating whole populations. And while he had first-hand experience that some people were absolutely terrifying with their abilities (his current subject his foremost example), he could understand valuing the freedom to pursue happiness and dreams, and a peaceful life. But as it stood, he was going to continue traveling potentially months at a time to be put in situations that would ultimately risk his life and limb, and if he didn’t his wife and children would have a hard time eating and keeping a roof over their heads. Seeing both sides of the story didn’t change his priorities. The conflict between his kind and theirs kept him in a job, and peace was a pretty lofty aspiration for one insignificant man.

After a free continental breakfast the following day, dodging frigid Avalon rain like bullets with eggs and a bagel warming his belly, he trudged under a dripping umbrella the couple blocks that stood between the hotel and the little retail storefront for the fet carrier service he’d visited the day before. He didn’t need to flash his fearsome Federal I.D. a second time - he was immediately recognized by the manager who’d previously helped him.

“Agent Hornberg, back so soon?”

“If it’s possible to trace a location on a number, I need you to do it.” He and the man both knew he was legally obligated to do so, as a part of the investigation.

Mike was stunned to discover the fet was currently on Avalon.

The results on the holo-display burning into his retinas, all he could do was stare in shocked, pensive silence. It was almost as if… the person had somehow made it over on the same ship…

A memory nagged at the back of his consciousness, persistently poking for an audience. The last time Mike had seen Gabriel… at the gym in the basement of the Leo office, when he’d attacked him and slaughtered a copious number of Guardsmen in one fell swoop… there had been one that stood and yelled… acting without direct orders. And he’d healed… exactly like Gabriel… could’ve been alive a long time, exactly like Gabriel.

And the transport had gotten past Port Authority using the Black Guard’s private landing code…

… Could it be…?

He decided maybe it was a good idea o enact a particular evasive order.

~*~*~

‘You think we’re underground?’

‘Shh, hush - I’m listening.’

‘Oh, okay.’

Gabriel impatiently drummed his fingers on the floor of his cage, having grown impatient imagining he was a rat. It was an unsatisfying illusion anyway - he had no fur, had a much lower metabolic rate, and was currently draped in not much more than a smock. He was cold. Again. Beaches were warm. And so were some oceans. And cozy mansions with lighthouses. And Claire.

‘It’s just that it took a long time to get here, and it smells kinda earthy, and -’

‘Dude, seriously. Listening.’

‘To what?’

He thought the pause might’ve been the mental equivalent of an exasperated sigh.

‘Something’s up with the Guard. I’m trying to talk to Olivia.’

‘Why am I still in this cage? Why aren’t we screaming across the galaxy in a stolen ship with a new injection already?’

‘Because the current lab techs on shift aren’t rebel spies. I’ve taken care of them, they’re currently taking a nice nap in the supply closet, but we’ve gotta wait for a shift change.’

‘Because racing against the clock wasn’t already so much fun…’

‘We’ve only got forty more minutes… it’s just that -’

Peter didn’t finish his statement.

‘Dude, let me out of here and I can help, whatever’s going on,’ Gabriel called but got no response.

He hated being helpless… hated being a prisoner… hated feeling useless. He was fucking Sylar, for shit’s sake. His heart started to race and his chest was heaving, shoulders tight with unspent energy. He dug his fingernails into the hard white plastic underneath him, grinding his teeth against every cough and whimper that reached his ears from his surroundings. He was trapped in a sick ward with a bunch of dying refugees when he should be out there, with his damned collar off, using his abilities and making shit happen. What was it that Agent Riley had told him so long ago? He was arguably the most powerful man in the universe? So what the hell was he doing in a cage?!? He rammed his fist against the plexi-cement door in frustration, it’s warped ripple eliciting a few startled gasps from his neighbors.

He was interrupted from tugging fingers through his hair when a loud ‘pop’ snagged his attention. A volatile violet disc had burst into existence in the middle of the room, facilitating the passage of Peter (with his masking mechanism disabled), the girl Belinda, and three other individuals including a slim brunette with expressive green eyes.

“Thought we had forty more -”

“Plans changed,” Peter muttered, out of breath, as he accessed a control panel and simultaneously opened the doors on all of the cages, releasing a fairly substantial population of about thirty people. Like them Gabriel stumbled free, barefoot and bleary eyed, unsure of what to do. Olivia left Belinda’s side after assuring the girl was okay - regardless of the medical attention she’d received she was still healing from a gunshot wound - and approached him.

“Hold perfectly still - I’m gonna try to remove this without triggering its alarm mechanism.” Her fingers sunk into the clammy blinking metal disabling its lock without interrupting its circuit.

“What’s going -”

“We have to move quickly,” Peter continued from where he’d moved with the two other rebels, setting out lab equipment and awakening hibernating computer consoles. Olivia left to start removing the collars of the other prisoners. “The entire contingent of Guardsmen here in Itasca have been reprogrammed to speak a fictitious language - just now. They’re receiving instructions that I can’t understand. They’re looking for the one suit that’s different - they’re trying to flush me out. Come here.” Gabriel obeyed and joined him. “Meet Joan and Phil. Joan and Phil, meet Gabriel. They’re here to help you. They’re going to provide you with all the work that’s been done so far and all of the corresponding notes. You have to -”

“Are you kidding me?!? I don’t know anything about -”

“Sylar, they are coming for us! They know I’m here, they know I’m not what I appear to be, and they know you’re up to something -”

“Exactly!!! Dude, I can’t just snap my fingers and -”

“If you can learn to fly a fucking space shuttle in the span of a few seconds then you can do this! We’re out of options, man… we need you.” Their eyes met for a moment while Gabriel tried not to think about just how crazy this plan was. “We’re not gonna get another chance like this. This is years of work in the making, just to get to this point. Please…”

He let his eyelids hide the scene for a moment, plunging him into blessed darkness. He sighed his reluctant acquiescence before opening them to Phil and Joan. Seeing the determined look on his face they immediately got to work preparing the necessary fluids while Gabriel approached a console, scanning its holo-display in a frenzied attempt to allow his brain to soak up the requisite information.

“We’ll hold them off for as long as we can,” he distantly heard Peter reply as he gathered together the remainder of their small, modest army. It was the last external stimulus his narrowing focus would allow. He never even felt it when he pricked his own finger to allow a few crimson drops of blood to drip onto a petri dish. He saturated his offering with a splash of the current mod injection, then subjected the solution to be scanned by an electron microscope, feeding its results to another larger holo-display.

He watched with rapt fascination as the molecules reacted to one another. His searching eyes found the virus and studied its movements, its behavior, and noted its surroundings when it finally disintegrated into crumbling, fragmented parts, completely destroyed and reabsorbed as food by neighboring metabolizing cells. He watched the cycle repeat itself in every incident where the virus was present. He watched the matrix that held the virus in suspension - watched how it acted, what it mitigated and what it was forced to allow through. And then he saw it - the antibody, as unique in all of the universe as a single fingerprint, the microscopic weapon that would be used to liberate millions of souls. So small, so miraculous. Intricate and beautiful in its simplicity, lying dormant within him the whole time. He couldn’t help the puff of wondrous laughter that slipped through his lips.

“Eureka.”

“You got it?”

“Where, I don’t see -”

“Right there,” he instructed his partners, winding the video file backwards and pointing to a paused frame. “That right there.”

“We’ll need blood before we can synthesize it,” Joan relayed meekly. It was then that he truly noticed the level of noise coming from the blocked entrance to the lab. One of the mods had secreted a substance that had cemented the door shut, others with various offensive abilities were crouched and ready should the barrier not hold under the external assault. Another mod, who appeared to possibly be a telekinetic, stood with her arm outstretched, adding much needed stability to their first line of defense. He faltered for one difficult moment, fresh on the heels of his recently used ability, tempted by all the others, power buzzing through them like tightly wound clock springs. Calming Sylar, he pushed the sinister urge aside and resumed his task.

Acutely aware that digging for a tourniquet and syringes would waste valuable time, grabbed a beaker, thrust his hand over the rim and slashed it open, ignoring the way Joan groaned and turned away, looking a little pale. Extracting what they needed from the sample, they were then able to replicate a significant quantity making prodigious use of a petite yet extremely expensive desktop cloning cabinet. By the time cracks started appearing in the plank of the door and the walls started rumbling, making Gabriel think perhaps they were trying to drill their way through, they had an IV bag full of what they believed to be a working solution.

Olivia charged to the console, pushing the three unceremoniously out of the way so that she could jam her hand deep inside.

“I’m pulling all of this information into my neural tap and leaving no trace.” She looked directly into Gabriel’s eyes. “What I’m saying is, outside of my physical body and that bag… there will be no other copies of this information.” He understood what she meant. If Peter couldn’t keep her safe, he would.

Belinda limped on slow but steady feet to the middle of the room, ready to employ another dose of her remarkable magic, but ducked in shocked fright when a thunderous crash heralded the collapse of a wall to the side of the doorway and the inevitable infiltration of the Black Guard and their drones. Lights flashed and people screamed as blinding electric scarlet netting blistered and scorched its clawing restraints across the refugees. Those who managed to escape fought back. Gabriel, having already donated the full extent of his importance, stepped forward, bringing his arms up to flex the absolute strength of his telekinetic power - he pushed against the surging crowd of black suits, forcing them to retreat a few steps whether they wanted it or not, providing those crushed in the zones where they’d advanced the opportunity to get some distance.

“Get that portal up!” Olivia cried to Belinda as she launched from where she stood to snatch the IV bag from Phil, stuffing it deep within her own body as the other girl used one finger to open a swirling purple hole. “I can get this out of here and -”

“Stop right there!!!” The exclamation was punctuated by the echoing ring of a single gunshot. The Black Guard halted and a terrifying silence befell the punctured room. “Anybody even twitches and the girl is dead.”

Gabriel peered across the chaos into the grim face of Agent Mike Hornberg, standing ankle deep in rubble with an impressively large firearm lined up on Belinda. The poor girl just wasn’t going to get a break…

“Mike, buddy, you don’t understand -”

“You damned straight I don’t understand, and I’m not paid to. I’m just here to do a job, and no one has to die. Now, I want everyone, very calmly, to get back into those crates - nice and slow.”

Belinda began to tremble, her portal began to flicker. Mike pulled back the hammer when no one moved, proving how very serious he was.

“Mike, please…” Gabriel begged, “These people haven’t hurt anyone, it’s me you’re after, just let them -”

“Don’t you get it? I can’t let any of you go. Now I want you back in those cages - I’m not gonna ask again!”

“Don’t you get tired of this…?”

.“Tired of what - chasing your sorry ass around? Sure! Tired of providing for my family?!? I guess I don’t -”

“No, I mean tired of the time away from home - like that first mission we went on when I’d just gotten assigned to you. You had a little baby then - we were gone for three months. You were afraid the kid wasn’t even gonna know you when you got back - aren’t you tired of that? And that time when you broke your leg in the mountains on the Cancer colony? Or all the times you’ve been shot at? All the times you’ve faced death -”

“Says the guy who tried to disembowel me, I’d like to point out -”

“- all the times you weren’t sure you were gonna be able to kiss your wife again… the times when all you had was a prayer - I was there for some of those, buddy. What’s it for? So innocent people can continue to be locked in an equally miserable existence? Don’t you just get sick of it?”

“Of course I do! Of course I know it’s all bullshit! But what do you want me to do, give up my job for you? Try to feed my kids on unemployment and welfare? Fight the mods for work releases to make ends meet? What am I supposed to do here?!?”

“Agent, if I could just say,” Peter bravely interjected, hoping to drag the man’s eyes away from his aim without succeeding - Mike was well-trained, “if you really wanted to shoot that girl, you’d’ve done so by now. I’m not saying you wouldn’t, just that you don’t want to.”

“What’s your point?”

“It’s just… I’ve been around longer than this conflict… so has Gabe. We remember what this is about, but you… you don’t. It’s always been in your life, as a constant, and in a way that sort of removes you from it. We remember when mods were dangerous - we remember when they needed to be controlled. We know why these institutions were put in place. But that was hundreds of years ago. These people… they’ve done nothing. Nothing more than you’ve done. And I think you see that. In fact, I think you see that more clearly than most - given the fact that you’re standing here.” He took a tentative step forward. “This plan we had, this plot - look around - there’s no bomb, none of us are armed. This is more than just a rescue mission. What we’ve made here is the key - the key to ending this conflict. For good. And nobody dies - nobody gets hurt. Us mods, and natural borns, whatever you wanna call us - we can leave - leave forever and you’ll never have to see us again. We won’t need injections anymore - we can go to our own world, support our own economy, live autonomously and never come back. And you’ll never have to worry, ever again, about making your wife a widow or leaving your children fatherless. All you have to do is let us go.”

“But… I… I can’t just…”

“Mike -”

“I’mjust one man! How can I possibly -”

“You’re one man with the entire universe on his shoulders,” Gabriel told him, intimately able to relate. “I promise where we’re going we’ll make a statue of you or something. You’ll be Saint Mike, whatever. All you gotta do is let me have the gun. Peter here will make you go to sleep, and you can claim you were ambushed and overpowered - job intact. Everyone’s happy, everyone’s alive, and the world’s a better place - because of you.”

Sweat beaded on Mike’s brow as his nostrils flared with gut-twisting, adrenaline-fueled indecision. Gabriel was able to identify every thought - every emotion - that crossed the man’s face like a slideshow. His inherited empathy told him that when he looked down that barrel and he saw the youthful and charming Belinda staring back, sights lined up between her eyes… he saw his own daughter in twenty years. He saw too many arrests drawing good, kind people up on bogus charges based simply on how someone was born. He saw regret - Mike’s life hadn’t turned out like he’d hoped, perhaps far more complicated than what a simple family man would’ve bargained for. And he saw an awesome, reverent fear. Standing where history was being made was often a scary place to be.

“This can all end, right here, Mikey,” Gabriel whispered as he stepped to the side, bodily blocking Belinda from the man’s deadly aim. He reached out a guileless arm. “Let me have the gun.”

Across the distance he could feel his hold on it slacken as he gently eased the hammer back into place. Gabriel gave it a tiny tug… and Mike’s hands listlessly fell away. Beside him Olivia brought her fingers to her lips as she nearly choked on a victorious sob of joy and relief, watching the weapon float across the room to land in Gabriel’s waiting palm. Peter approached the agent very slowly, arms held wide in a placating gesture.

“You’re gonna feel me inside your mind, alright? But it’s nothing to be afraid of, in fact it’ll probably be very pleasant. You’re just gonna get a little drowsy, but nothing else is gonna happy, okay? You’re just gonna fall asleep.” By the time Peter reached him, he slumped forward into his anticipating embrace. “Good night buddy, I wish I had proper time to thank you.”

“What about the suits?” Belinda asked, leaning on Olivia’s offered shoulder as she drew her portal a little larger.

“Everyone get out of here,” Gabriel responded, cracking his knuckles and rolling his neck, feeling somewhat jittery and creative, “and just leave them to me.”