Fic: Borrowed Time (4/??)
Fic: Borrowed Time, Part Four
Author: evil_is_pretty
Series: Sequel to All My Sins Remember'd
Pairing: Ensemble, Mylar
Spoilers: Season one, and mixed season two.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A reunion.
Notes: Poor forsquilis ... If I didn't post this part now, I may have ended up forcing her to read back through it about a bajillion more time...
Borrowed Time - Part One
Borrowed Time - Part Two
Borrowed Time - Part Three
“I’m outside the motel. Have you found anything?”
“Hang on… Okay, can’t make out the room number but on the satellite photo, it looks like it’s the second door down from the east side of the building… Is that right, Molly?”
There’s a momentary silence and then Nathan hears her soft voice answer in the affirmative. Parkman returns to the line, “Yeah. Second door down from the east side.”
“Thanks, Parkman. Tell Molly thanks.”
“Yeah - wait. She wants to talk to you.” A muffled noise and then the young girl’s voice on the line says, “Senator? Can you tell Mohinder something for me?”
“Sure, Molly.”
“Tell him I miss him. And I hope he’s safe. And he has to come back. But I don’t want him to bring the boogeyman with him.”
Nathan nods, wondering for a moment just how they were all going to bring themselves to accept the necessary measures that would need to be taken if they planned on making all of this right. Unfortunately, it’s the youngest ones who won’t understand.
“I’ll tell him, Molly. And thank you for your help.”
After hanging up the phone and slipping it into his pocket, he pushes the door open, grabs the oversized manila folder on the seat beside him, and step out, the newly fallen snow giving way beneath his feet. He took the red-eye flight, landing in St. Louis over three hours earlier, rented a car, and then called the Parkman household, waking Parkman and Molly to find out where to go next. The young girl continues to be a trooper, anything to assure Mohinder’s safety, even waking at some god-awful hour to locate him. They’d been waiting by the phone for his next call, when he finally made it to Kingman, a tiny no-account town west of St Louis. Molly has pinpointed their location down to the exact room, and Nathan finds that amazing. Just imagine what an ability like that could do for intelligence organizations and military campaigns!
“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath, the sharp cold air stinging his nose as he breathes inward.
Ever so often, he finds himself drifting, thinking in terms better left unspoken and unacknowledged. If the government ever got a hold of Molly, or him, or god forbid, Peter, he can’t begin to imagine the outcome. He still believes that what he said to Simone was right - the public can never know the truth. It’s the one subject he’s certain he’ll be in conflict on with Suresh.
One of many to come.
It’s just past nine that morning when he knocks on the door to room 119. He tucks the folder under one arm as he slips his hands back into the pockets of his overcoat, waiting. When the door finally opens, there is a rush of warm air from inside, and Suresh is standing there in a ridiculous brightly-colored scarf, his hair wet from a recent shower. He’s speaking before he even seems to notice Nathan.
“Zane, didn’t you take - “ He cuts himself off, draws himself up, stares at Nathan as if his eyes are playing tricks on him.
“Sorry for the early morning intrusion, Dr. Suresh. Mind if I come in?”
Nathan doesn’t wait for an invite; just pushes his way past Mohinder into the warmth of the motel room and begins to unbutton his coat. He glances around, noting the unmade twin beds, the small TV tuned into a local channel talking about the weather.
As if finally regaining his composure, Mohinder closes the door, stands there for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, before finally turning to face Nathan. “Senator, I don’t know what you’re doing here but I - “
“I’m here to see Sylar.” There was no point in beating around the bush.
Nathan doubts the geneticist has ever looked this shocked. “Sy… Sylar? I don’t know why you would think - “
“Because I know the two of you left New York together.” Nathan drops the folder onto the small table in the corner of the room before pulling out a chair to sit down. “And I’m not the only one. There are people looking for you.”
Suresh seems indecisive for a moment, then finally moves into action, making his way over to a half-packed small travel bag. It looks like something purchased at a truck stop. “Yes, I… we’ve been trying to avoid them.”
“Which brings me to the million dollar question, why? Why are you traveling with Sylar, Dr. Suresh? And why does it appear as if you’re trying to protect him?”
“I - “ Mohinder remains with his back to Nathan, his shoulders tense. Finally he turns, meeting his gaze. “He isn’t Sylar. I mean, he doesn’t remember Sylar. I found him in New York,” he explains, shaking his head as he glances away once more. “I was going to do the right thing, I was going to turn him over to the Company, but I… I changed my mind.”
“Obviously.” Nathan lets out a breath. “And for that, we can all be grateful.”
“What?”
Nathan considers his words, wondering whose side Mohinder will ultimately come down on. He asks, “How much do you know about the bomb? The circumstances around its occurrence?”
A frown as he says, “Bits and pieces of what Peter told me. He said that you were responsible.”
“And he’s right,” Nathan says without hesitation as he holds the folder out to Mohinder. “I want you to look at this.”
Mohinder appears more likely to tell him where to shove the folder, but he finally takes it, flips it open, and scans the first page. As his eyes widen and his brow furrows, he flips through the pages, more frantic with each turn. “This… No, this is impossible. This doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s pretty much what I said until my mother confirmed it for me. The man we know as Sylar is, in fact, a Petrelli.”
Mohinder seems ready to argue, though at a loss for the right words to say. He snaps the folder shut. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with -“
“We’re pawns, Suresh,” Nathan says quietly as he gets to his feet. “All of us. Maybe even you. Or maybe you weren’t supposed to be involved at all. I don’t know. But so far, all evidence points toward the elder generation, my parents, Linderman and others, planning our destinies, laying the foundations for our lives even before some of us were born. The proof is there, in your hands. Peter and Gabriel. Twins. Experiments meant to create an advanced human; an evolved being meant to…”
“To what?”
Nathan shrugs. “I don’t know. That’s what we have to find out.”
A dawn of realization spreads across Mohinder’s face. “Wait. You want to tell him, don’t you? You’re here to tell him everything.” He slams the folder against Nathan’s chest. “Well, you can just forget it. I haven’t come this far just to have you destroy it, destroy him.”
“Suresh - “
“Don’t you get it?” He continues vehemently. “Sylar is gone. He doesn’t remember anything of that life, and we’re safe as long as that continues. He’s building a new life - a better one. And the moment you start filling in the missing pieces, Sylar may come back. And the world is in danger all over again.”
“The world is already in danger,” Nathan says, tossing the folder to the nearby twin bed. “And I’m not entirely certain you have the moral authority to decide that Sylar’s crimes can effectively be wiped away simply by pretending he never existed.”
“I’m not - “
“Then what are you doing, doctor? What is your purpose?” When an answer doesn’t seem forthcoming, Nathan nods and turns away, walking over to stare down at the TV as he thinks. He says, “We don’t necessarily have to tell him about Sylar, you know. We can leave all of that out, for the time being, if you feel it’s safer. We’ll simply tell him he’s Gabriel Petrelli, and go from there. The information about Sylar isn’t in the folder. He doesn’t need to know.”
Glancing over his shoulder, he sees that Mohinder is considering his suggestion when the door to the motel room opens.
“Sorry but McDonald’s was as far as I could make it without freezing my ass off.”
“Uh… Zane.” Mohinder hurries to his side in an extremely protective gesture, taking the bag of apparent breakfast items and tossing it behind them. “We, uh… have company.”
Zane flashes a look that clearly says “Duh, I can see that” before turning his attention back to Nathan, and holding out his hand. “Hi. I’m Zane.”
He isn’t what Nathan expected. When one is faced with the prospect of meeting the “boogeyman”, one forms certain preconceived notions. It is as if someone cut out pieces from each of the family members, and formed them into one person. The man standing before him is clean-shaven, with a youthful face, strong Roman nose and dark features that practically scream Petrelli. His hair is somewhere between Nathan and Peter’s - not long, not short, obviously brushed, but seriously in need of some kind of product to set it into place.
Realizing he’s staring, Nathan forces a smile and shakes Zane’s hand. Zane. No, Gabriel. His brother. “I’m Nathan Petrelli.”
“Petrelli,” he repeats, frowning slightly, as if he’s heard the name. “You were… part of the election. In New York. Weren’t you?”
Nathan glances over at Mohinder who appears ready to throw a tantrum or scream or toss him out the door. “Yes. The senatorial race,” he says.
“How’d that turn out for you?”
He can’t help but smile at the question. “It was a landslide.”
Gabriel nods, and waits. Nathan can see the question in his eyes: What’s a New York senator doing in Missouri, specifically, in their motel room? Mohinder shuffles nervously beside him, running a hand through his curls with a light sigh of impatience, or frustration, Nathan can’t really tell. The silence is awkward, and he’s beginning to realize he’s not quite certain what to say. How does one explain all of this? Especially to someone who can’t even remember their own name.
“Zane,” he begins. “I’m here to talk to you about - “
“Dammit, Nathan -“
“Your family,” he finishes, ignoring Mohinder’s outburst.
“My… “ Gabriel’s eyes widen as he shoots a look to Mohinder before returning his gaze to Nathan, a flicker of hope flashing within the depths. “Do I know you?”
“Not exactly.” He smiles again. “You might want to sit down for this.”
****
Shock is an emotion that Peter believed he would never have the ability to experience again. At least until that morning, as he stares over Mohinder’s shoulder, reading the documents contained within the mysterious manila folder. He remained silent and invisible throughout the prior discussion, waiting to learn his brother’s true purpose for being there, hoping it had something to do with dragging Sylar’s ass to the Company, locking him up in some dark, dank cell, and throwing away the key.
He’d slept longer than usual, which could have been dangerous if Sylar and Mohinder had chosen to leave early. While he’d been careful to maintain his invisibility before sleep, he still didn’t want to take any chances of being discovered. As he sat up, he’d turned to glance out the window in time to see Nathan pass by the car, walking up to room 119. Seeing his brother out here, in Missouri, was almost enough to reveal himself, if only to ask what he was doing there. Quietly exiting the car, he’d moved up behind Nathan as the door opened, slipping in unnoticed with him as Mohinder stood there uncertainly.
The conversation had quickly gone from cryptic to ludicrous. By the time Sylar enters the room, Peter is pacing behind Nathan, fighting the urge within him to deny the irrefutable proof that he is somehow related to this monster. Hell, related. They’re twins, for Christ’s sake! He stops and watches as Nathan introduces himself, as he shares a smile with Sylar and shakes his hand, and then tries to deliver the news as gently as possible.
Gently!!
Peter grinds his teeth together as Nathan pulls a chair up beside the bed where Sylar sits at his request. He hands the folder over to him.
“This is going to be a little difficult to understand, I know, but just remember that most of us are as in the dark as you are,” Nathan says. “We’re all discovering this together.”
Sylar stares down at the folder, not bothering to open it. When he raises his eyes back to Nathan, there’s a bright light of curiosity flickering in his gaze. “What is this?”
Nathan takes a breath and says, “The proof that says you’re my brother. You’re a Petrelli. Gabriel Petrelli.”
It’s said, spoken, and Peter knows with absolute certainty that everything has changed. Nathan did it. He welcomed a murderer into the family.
And Peter has no one.
“You didn’t know this?” Sylar asks, staring at Nathan with an odd look of… hopefulness.
Nathan shakes his head, reaching out to tap a finger against the folder. “It’s in there. You were adopted. Raised as Gabriel Gray. You, uh… “ He glances at Mohinder who is tense and silent beside them, before returning his gaze to Sylar. “Know about the special abilities that Suresh here has been documenting? Well, I have an ability, too. And so does our brother, Peter… your twin.”
“Twin?” Sylar opens the folder quickly as he says the word, eyes scanning the first few documents with a look that’s something like wonder. He brings his head back up, looks over at Mohinder. “Peter Petrelli. You mentioned him last night. You said we were alike - that he had multiple abilities. Like me.”
Mohinder just nods and Peter recognizes the flash of guilt in his expression. The lies compounded.
Nathan actually reaches out then, touching Sylar on the shoulder; contact between brothers, and he says, “I’m beginning to think there’s a lot about you and Peter that’s similar.”
And Peter can’t take it anymore. He can’t.
“Nathan… don’t.” The plea is barely a whisper, but it’s enough.
Nathan turns quickly to face him, standing from the chair as Peter winks back to visibility. He shakes his head as he stares at him. “Don’t do this.”
“Peter - “ Mohinder’s voice carries his surprise. Along with a hint of fear. “You shouldn’t - “
“You can’t do this, Nathan!” Peter says, moving toward him, rage fueling his words. “You know what he is! How can you compare us? After everything - I won’t let you - You know what he’s done to me, to Claire. He’s a murderer, a monster. He’s kills people for those abilities and I don’t care if you try to change his name! He’ll always be Sylar, and now you want to welcome him into our family??”
There’s a gasp, and Peter knows it’s from the man who’s supposed to be his brother, his twin, but he doesn’t care. He ignores it. He whirls on Mohinder. “And you - God, Mohinder. He killed your father and you tuck him in at night, and share meals with him, and pretend like nothing’s happened!”
“Peter, why are you - “ Mohinder’s question is cut off by Sylar.
Zane.
Whoever the fuck he is today.
“Mohinder? Is it true?”
The voice is small, quiet… terrified. Peter thinks he should revel in that; it’s nice to feel the murderer’s fear. Even if it seems misplaced. Even if… it’s the last thing he expects. He tries not to look at him, but this is a moment he should remember, and by looking he sees the face of a man who’s had everything handed to him - and just as quickly snatched away. There’s an utter desolation there, and Peter knows exactly how that feels.
“Is it?” he questions again as he slowly comes to his feet. “Did I… did I murder people for these abilities?”
“Zane - “
“Gabriel - “
The simultaneous names spoken by Mohinder and Nathan are almost comical except for the immediate effect it has on the man they’re speaking to.
“Who am I?!” He shouts, the folder in his hand suddenly sailing across the room, slamming into the wall, papers flying.
There’s silence. Peter feels a sense of victory well up inside of him, however small. He says, “You’re Sylar.”
He turns to Peter with his words, the denial still evident in the dazed expression in his eyes. “I don’t - “ He cuts himself off, glancing over at Mohinder instead. “Oh god… Mohinder.”
He’s out the door before they can stop him, even as Mohinder tries to reach out to him. As the door slams shut, Mohinder spins around, dark eyes angry. “What in the hell did you set out to accomplish here, Peter? Did you get what you wanted?”
Casting a quick look at Nathan, Mohinder snatches his jacket from the back of the chair, and leaves the room.
****
Mohinder finds Zane behind the motel, where a back road leads away from the tiny town of Kingman toward farmland. He’s sitting on the fence separating the road from the parking lot, huddled into his coat to escape the cold of the winter weather, or perhaps hiding from himself. Not knowing what to say (what does one say to someone who’s just discovered they’re a murderer?), Mohinder leans against the fence beside him, staring across the road to the barren corn field beyond. He finds himself hating the drab and dreary weather, and the dismal effect it has on all of them. Glancing to his right, he finds Zane watching him silently, the look of disillusionment and betrayal unmistakable in his eyes. Swallowing against the knot that forms instantly in his throat, Mohinder turns away once more, fighting for the right words to say to make this better.
It turns out that Zane is the first to speak. “Now I understand why you hate me. It all makes sense.”
“No. Zane. I don’t hate you - “
Zane is looking at him again. “It’s all right, Mohinder. You have every right. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t killed me? Why you haven’t taken your revenge?”
It’s Mohinder’s turn to look away. He kicks at the bank of snow at his feet. “What difference would it make?” He says, echoing the words he’d spoken to Zane at another time, in what feels like another life. “My father would still be dead and you… Justice can never really be served, can it?”
If Zane finds his excuses empty, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he asks in a small voice, “Why would I do something like that?”
“I… don’t know everything, Zane,” he begins, staring down at his hands. “I’m not certain of the details of your meeting with my father or what happened between you. I do believe he knew what you were doing… the murders, but why he never went to the police with the information he had… I can’t say. I fear that maybe there was a part of him - “
He cuts himself off, fighting with the words his heart refuses to allow him to speak. “Sometimes, I find myself wondering if he hadn’t let it continue out of some morbid need to know, some inability to let go of his scientific curiosity for the sake of right and wrong. He’s my father, and we rarely agreed on much, but I still can’t bring myself to believe he would encourage such a thing, however innocuous his intentions may have been at first.”
“What happened?”
He shakes his head before bringing his gaze back to Zane’s. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s because he finally wanted nothing more to do with you or what, but… “
“What did you do… when you found out I killed your father?”
What you have done is not evolution, its murder. What I am doing is revenge.
“That’s… not really important -“
“Yes, it is,” Zane insists, twisting on the fence to stare down at him. “I want to know what happened, Mohinder. Did you confront me about killing your father? Why didn’t you kill me? How did I get away? The way you were when we met outside your apartment - I know you wanted me dead.”
“Sylar,” Mohinder finds himself correcting, still unnerved by referring to them as one and the same. “It was Sylar I wanted dead.”
“There’s no difference - “
“There is, dammit.”
“Only because you keep lying to yourself.”
Zane jumps down from his perch, landing on the opposite side of the fence. “If there wasn’t a difference you wouldn’t have been afraid of me all of this time. Don’t try to convince me that when you close your eyes at night you don’t fear me becoming him all over again - that you don’t expect this… this Sylar to reappear, to murder you in your sleep! You watch me, Mohinder. You watch me, and you wait, and now I know why, and I don’t blame you. I wish to God you’d killed me when you had the chance.”
He walks away even as Mohinder scrambles to try to make his way over the fence. His jeans get caught momentarily on a bolt, but he finally gets to the other side, hurrying to catch up to Zane, to stop him. He grabs the edge of his coat sleeve, which Zane quickly snatches away.
“Zane, stop, please -“
“I’m not Zane!” He turns back, advancing on Mohinder, though the motion is one of desperation, not menace. “I… “ He seems to deflate in that moment, a shadow of everything he ever has been. “I don’t know who I am. That man back there… Peter, my twin… he says that I’m a monster. That I’m - “
“You are not a monster. You are not Sylar.” He steps close, takes Zane’s hands in his and holds on to them tightly. “You’re Gabriel Petrelli, or Gabriel Gray, or Zane Taylor, or whoever the hell you want to be now. Don’t you see? This is your chance to start over. To be someone else, to be something else. A clean slate - “
“Not remembering doesn’t absolve me, Mohinder!”
“No, it doesn’t,” he says softly. “It doesn’t bring my father back, it doesn’t save the many innocents that Sylar murdered, and it sure as hell doesn’t buy you a free pass into what everlasting afterlife you may believe in. But it does give you an opportunity - to be something different. To make amends. To spend this life using your ability for good. The road to redemption isn’t going to be easy, and in the end you may never find salvation for the crimes that have been committed, but you can’t ignore what’s been given to you. Second chances don’t come often, Zane. And that’s exactly what this is - a second chance for you, for me, for your brothers… for us.”
Zane looks disbelieving. “What if things are no different? What if I go down the same path? How do you know that monster isn’t simply sleeping, waiting for the moment to reemerge?”
“We all harbor a dark side within us.” He thinks Mine came out the day I tried to kill you as he reaches up to wipe away the lone tear that hovers within Zane’s left eye. “Why yours chose to set itself free, we may never know. But I’m not going to allow that to happen. I’m going to be at your side, and I’m not going to let you slip. I see the potential within you. If you want to be the man I see inside, if you want to make a difference, there’s nothing stopping you.”
Zane shakes his head and looks away, and Mohinder feels the incomprehensible need to make this right, to make this work. He can’t begin to imagine that it was inevitable for him to become a killer; that would be like saying the choices they made in life held no significance, your path was fated from the moment of your birth. Mohinder refuses to accept that, and maybe if he could go back and do it all again, there may have been some opening he hadn’t recognized, some moment between him and Sylar that could have made a difference.
If only he knew what had happened between Gabriel Gray and his father.
“Zane, look at me.” He waits until the dark eyes focus back on his own. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together now. No more secrets. I’m sorry that it was necessary to lie to you, but… I was afraid of losing you. I still am,” he admits.
“Because you’re worried I’ll become him again - Sylar.”
Mohinder shakes his head. “No. Because I’m afraid that there are those who will try to take you away. And I’m not going to let that happen.”
There’s a flicker of something in Zane’s eyes, and then he moves. The kiss seems to come as a surprise to both of them. Mohinder knows he wants this but the moment it happens he feels an indescribable need to pull away, something very much like panic. It’s the touch of Zane’s fingers moving through his hair, cupping the back of his head, pulling him closer, that stops him. He gives in to it, closes his eyes, wonders briefly why this feels so right when it shouldn’t, and then just concentrates on the kiss. How warm Zane’s mouth is against his own, and how the world just seems to fall away, and everything he’s ever regretted doesn’t matter so much anymore. Surely there was purpose to everything if only to lead to this moment.
Before he can stop himself, Mohinder’s hands clutch Zane’s jacket; he pulls him closer, kisses him more deeply, fearing that this might be all there is. One fleeting moment on a roadside in the middle of nowhere, when he finally gives in to purely selfish needs, and bathes himself in the one thing he’s wanted since that door opened in Virginia… Zane… Sylar. It doesn’t really matter at that moment, when need overtakes sensibility, and Mohinder knows with a special kind of certainty that this is meant to happen. Their lives have been intertwined since long before they knew the other existed. And even if this is it, even if this is all there ever will be, Mohinder wants to take what he can, and remember it.
It’s Zane who ends it, too soon, Mohinder thinks.
They break away and catch their breath, and he suddenly can’t seem to meet Mohinder’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t - I’m not sure why I did that.”
But he hasn’t let go of Mohinder. He’s still holding on to him, eyes closed, forehead pressed to Mohinder’s own, breath coming in short wisps. Mohinder wants to tell him there’s no need for an apology, but there is; this is a complication they could really do without right now, no matter how right it may seem. He’s never felt this close to anyone - not Mira or Eden or anyone else. And though the questions and lies and everything else still lingers between them, Mohinder still feels more hopeful about the future than ever. He thinks he should tell this to Zane, but he doesn’t want to disturb the moment, so he says nothing. He closes his eyes like Zane, wraps his arms around him, and lets the world fall away a little longer.
Its a few moments before Zane speaks. “I need to hear it, Mohinder. I… I need to know everything.”
He draws in a breath at the request and finally opens his eyes, pulling back from their embrace. There’s no more running from this.
“All right.” Taking one of Zane’s hands in his, he smiles. “Let’s get back inside where it’s warm, and I’ll tell you… whatever you want to know.”
****
After Mohinder’s exit, Nathan finds himself in the room alone with Peter, staring at his brother with the realization that he’s never really seen him before. Oh, he’s always known that Peter is ruled by his emotions, ever since he was a boy and Nathan was leaving for the Navy, and Peter had cried for days, afraid his big brother was never coming home. But Nathan has always regarded those emotions as a weakness, something that Peter would have to overcome if he was ever going to survive in this world. Even in those rare moments that he would allow himself to perceive some emotion as strength; he’d never really gotten it, never really looked into the actual depths and seen… the danger.
It’s more than a certainty that Peter’s inability to control his emotions is what led to the explosion. Now that he thinks about it, that was exactly what Linderman and their mother had been counting on. Peter’s basic ability to feel everything, and let it take control of him. But Peter’s emotions are in their rawest form here, in this very room, leading to his confrontation with Sylar.
Gabriel.
Peter’s anger over his comparison to the serial killer is understandable but Nathan isn’t going to take it back, not when it’s so very obviously true. They’re both obviously emotional time bombs, and Nathan marvels over the fact that he’s the one who somehow harbors all of the control.
Maybe even too much control.
“I can’t believe you did that, Nathan.”
He glances up at Peter’s words. He reaches up to rub at his chin, thinking. “Exactly what is it that I did, Peter? Uncovered a family secret? Discovered truths that our parents and Linderman and who knows who else tried to keep buried? Found a possible way for us to fight back?”
“You know what I’m talking about!” Peter glares at him, stabbing the air with his finger as he speaks. “How can you - do that?? How can you just accept it? He’s the reason I - none of this would have happened if - “ He stops himself, as if unable to say anymore, turning away from Nathan.
“He’s not the reason.” Nathan walks up to him. “He’s been a pawn in this, Peter, the same as all of us. What happened in New York was going to happen, period. It was planned, whether you and Gabriel had ever confronted one another or not.”
“Sylar,” Peter snarls, pushing past Nathan to stalk across the room. He stops, facing the wall, and then slams his fist into it, punching a hole straight through.
Sighing, Nathan slips his hands into his pockets and waits, having learned his lesson that approaching Peter at this particular moment would be unbelievably stupid. And Nathan isn’t stupid. So he eyes his little brother, watching and waiting for the inevitable moment when the anger fades and the desolation takes over. It doesn’t take long, and Peter is turning, sliding down the wall to the floor, staring ahead, mouth moving but saying nothing. Knowing that this might be his last chance to truly reach him, Nathan quietly makes his way across the room, crouching down in front of his brother. He reaches out to touch his knee.
“I know this is difficult - “
Peter laughs without humor, the sound of a sob breaking through. “Difficult? God, Nathan, you have the most inappropriate gift for understatement.” He wipes at his eyes. “Even if what you say is true… even if there was no way to stop what happened, he’s still a murderer. He’s still… insane.”
“The man he is right now doesn’t remember any of that,” Nathan points out quietly. “And I want you to ask yourself something: what turned Gabriel Gray into Sylar?”
“Does it really fucking matter?”
Nathan shrugs. “I think it does.” He wipes at a bit of dust on Peter’s knee. “What’s the one truth about us, Peter?” His brother looks up at the question. “That we’ve always had each other. That no matter how bad things ever got, even when we were at each other’s throats, we still had the other to fall back on. The Petrelli family is filled with stubborn, emotional, hard-headed individuals all looking to stand out, all looking to be at the top of the pile. And even though you accepted your spot in the background, you’ve always still wanted more. Don’t tell me you never have, Pete. Otherwise, you never would have jumped off that roof.”
Peter clenches his jaw, looks away.
That little streak of rebellion makes Nathan smile. Right now, he wants nothing more than to hold Peter, to assure him that everything is going to be all right, and to try very hard to take some of that guilt off of his shoulders. Sobering, he says quietly, “Imagine one of us without the other. I’ve spent my entire life determined to rise above everyone else, and it’s mattered very little to me who I stepped on to get there, what promises I made that I never meant to keep, what lies I accepted - “
“No.” Peter brings his gaze back to him. He shakes his head. “That’s not you, Nathan. You’re not like that.”
“Only because you don’t want to see it,” he replies. “Only because you’ve always been there to rein me in at the last moment. To show me that there are things more important than power and strength and success. Without you, I would have become someone very different.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“No?” Nathan holds Peter’s gaze for a long moment before saying, “I let my own brother explode, killing millions. I left you alone, Peter, because I believed I had the right to make a decision that might one day take me to the White House… where I could make a difference in the world.” He laughs, and shakes his head. “Jesus, Pete. And you expect me to cast moral judgment on Sylar?”
He looks up to see an odd expression flicker across Peter’s face, something like understanding. Peter frowns. “You think… he would have been different… if we hadn’t been separated.”
“I’m saying it’s a possibility,” Nathan corrects. “We’ll never have the answer, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t ask the question. We shouldn’t forget, and we don’t have to forgive, but neither can we turn our backs on him. Sylar… Gabriel is blood, Peter. He’s family. He’s your twin… maybe in the most corrupt form, or maybe in the purest. We’re never going to know if we don’t at least try to make this right.”
He reaches up, touches Peter’s cheek. “I want to make this right. All of it. What I’ve done to you, what’s been done to him… We have to stick together, Pete. Don’t you see that? We need each other.”
Peter’s eyes are red and shining with unshed tears, and Nathan knows he needs to push just a little harder. Pushing the dark bangs off his brother’s forehead, he tells him, “I love you, Peter. And I’m not going to let you push me away this time. Please, let me make this right.”
A single sob signals Peter’s collapse, and Nathan quickly pulls him into his embrace, placing a kiss against the dark hair and holding him as if it is a matter of life or death. And maybe it is. Peter cries into his shoulder, leaving tear stains that will probably never come out of the silk jacket, and Nathan whispers that it’s okay. He remembers holding Peter like this in the past; but then it had been skinned knees and broken arms, and there was really nothing he’d ever be able to say that would make this okay. It’s going to take a lot more than a simple hug. Maybe he’ll never be able to put the pieces of his little brother back together again, but now he has the chance to try.
Maybe the Petrelli brothers, all of them, would be all right in the end.
Hearing the door behind him, Nathan glances over his shoulder to see Mohinder and Gabriel enter the room. He squeezes Peter a little more tightly, silently assuring him that everything is going to be all right, before helping him to stand. Once on their feet, he gives Peter another long look, and waits. He won’t go any further without Peter’s permission, and his brother seems to silently understand that. He glances toward Gabriel before returning his gaze to Nathan, and nodding once. Nathan smiles, touches Peter’s cheek affectionately once more, and then turns.
He takes a breath and walks over to Gabriel. The other brother. The one who, for whatever reasons, once took the ugliest pieces of them all, and let them takeover. That was then, and this is now, and Nathan thinks that maybe Linderman was right: They all have their roles to play.
Only this time, the decision to do so would be theirs.
“I know this must be difficult for you,” he begins. “It’s not going to be easy for any of us. But the fact of the matter is, we’re brothers. All of us,” he glances back at Peter before bringing his attention back to Gabriel. “And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that there’s no stronger bond in the world.”
Gabriel shifts uncomfortably, looking nervous and out of place, afraid to meet his gaze, or even to look at Peter. Not long ago, Nathan had believed he’d never be able to look his brother in the face again, either.
“Welcome to the family, Gabriel,” he says as gently as possible, before stepping forward and pulling his other little brother into an embrace.
Borrowed Time - Part Five
Feedback is appreciated and loved!
Author: evil_is_pretty
Series: Sequel to All My Sins Remember'd
Pairing: Ensemble, Mylar
Spoilers: Season one, and mixed season two.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A reunion.
Notes: Poor forsquilis ... If I didn't post this part now, I may have ended up forcing her to read back through it about a bajillion more time...
Borrowed Time - Part One
Borrowed Time - Part Two
Borrowed Time - Part Three
“I’m outside the motel. Have you found anything?”
“Hang on… Okay, can’t make out the room number but on the satellite photo, it looks like it’s the second door down from the east side of the building… Is that right, Molly?”
There’s a momentary silence and then Nathan hears her soft voice answer in the affirmative. Parkman returns to the line, “Yeah. Second door down from the east side.”
“Thanks, Parkman. Tell Molly thanks.”
“Yeah - wait. She wants to talk to you.” A muffled noise and then the young girl’s voice on the line says, “Senator? Can you tell Mohinder something for me?”
“Sure, Molly.”
“Tell him I miss him. And I hope he’s safe. And he has to come back. But I don’t want him to bring the boogeyman with him.”
Nathan nods, wondering for a moment just how they were all going to bring themselves to accept the necessary measures that would need to be taken if they planned on making all of this right. Unfortunately, it’s the youngest ones who won’t understand.
“I’ll tell him, Molly. And thank you for your help.”
After hanging up the phone and slipping it into his pocket, he pushes the door open, grabs the oversized manila folder on the seat beside him, and step out, the newly fallen snow giving way beneath his feet. He took the red-eye flight, landing in St. Louis over three hours earlier, rented a car, and then called the Parkman household, waking Parkman and Molly to find out where to go next. The young girl continues to be a trooper, anything to assure Mohinder’s safety, even waking at some god-awful hour to locate him. They’d been waiting by the phone for his next call, when he finally made it to Kingman, a tiny no-account town west of St Louis. Molly has pinpointed their location down to the exact room, and Nathan finds that amazing. Just imagine what an ability like that could do for intelligence organizations and military campaigns!
“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath, the sharp cold air stinging his nose as he breathes inward.
Ever so often, he finds himself drifting, thinking in terms better left unspoken and unacknowledged. If the government ever got a hold of Molly, or him, or god forbid, Peter, he can’t begin to imagine the outcome. He still believes that what he said to Simone was right - the public can never know the truth. It’s the one subject he’s certain he’ll be in conflict on with Suresh.
One of many to come.
It’s just past nine that morning when he knocks on the door to room 119. He tucks the folder under one arm as he slips his hands back into the pockets of his overcoat, waiting. When the door finally opens, there is a rush of warm air from inside, and Suresh is standing there in a ridiculous brightly-colored scarf, his hair wet from a recent shower. He’s speaking before he even seems to notice Nathan.
“Zane, didn’t you take - “ He cuts himself off, draws himself up, stares at Nathan as if his eyes are playing tricks on him.
“Sorry for the early morning intrusion, Dr. Suresh. Mind if I come in?”
Nathan doesn’t wait for an invite; just pushes his way past Mohinder into the warmth of the motel room and begins to unbutton his coat. He glances around, noting the unmade twin beds, the small TV tuned into a local channel talking about the weather.
As if finally regaining his composure, Mohinder closes the door, stands there for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, before finally turning to face Nathan. “Senator, I don’t know what you’re doing here but I - “
“I’m here to see Sylar.” There was no point in beating around the bush.
Nathan doubts the geneticist has ever looked this shocked. “Sy… Sylar? I don’t know why you would think - “
“Because I know the two of you left New York together.” Nathan drops the folder onto the small table in the corner of the room before pulling out a chair to sit down. “And I’m not the only one. There are people looking for you.”
Suresh seems indecisive for a moment, then finally moves into action, making his way over to a half-packed small travel bag. It looks like something purchased at a truck stop. “Yes, I… we’ve been trying to avoid them.”
“Which brings me to the million dollar question, why? Why are you traveling with Sylar, Dr. Suresh? And why does it appear as if you’re trying to protect him?”
“I - “ Mohinder remains with his back to Nathan, his shoulders tense. Finally he turns, meeting his gaze. “He isn’t Sylar. I mean, he doesn’t remember Sylar. I found him in New York,” he explains, shaking his head as he glances away once more. “I was going to do the right thing, I was going to turn him over to the Company, but I… I changed my mind.”
“Obviously.” Nathan lets out a breath. “And for that, we can all be grateful.”
“What?”
Nathan considers his words, wondering whose side Mohinder will ultimately come down on. He asks, “How much do you know about the bomb? The circumstances around its occurrence?”
A frown as he says, “Bits and pieces of what Peter told me. He said that you were responsible.”
“And he’s right,” Nathan says without hesitation as he holds the folder out to Mohinder. “I want you to look at this.”
Mohinder appears more likely to tell him where to shove the folder, but he finally takes it, flips it open, and scans the first page. As his eyes widen and his brow furrows, he flips through the pages, more frantic with each turn. “This… No, this is impossible. This doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s pretty much what I said until my mother confirmed it for me. The man we know as Sylar is, in fact, a Petrelli.”
Mohinder seems ready to argue, though at a loss for the right words to say. He snaps the folder shut. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with -“
“We’re pawns, Suresh,” Nathan says quietly as he gets to his feet. “All of us. Maybe even you. Or maybe you weren’t supposed to be involved at all. I don’t know. But so far, all evidence points toward the elder generation, my parents, Linderman and others, planning our destinies, laying the foundations for our lives even before some of us were born. The proof is there, in your hands. Peter and Gabriel. Twins. Experiments meant to create an advanced human; an evolved being meant to…”
“To what?”
Nathan shrugs. “I don’t know. That’s what we have to find out.”
A dawn of realization spreads across Mohinder’s face. “Wait. You want to tell him, don’t you? You’re here to tell him everything.” He slams the folder against Nathan’s chest. “Well, you can just forget it. I haven’t come this far just to have you destroy it, destroy him.”
“Suresh - “
“Don’t you get it?” He continues vehemently. “Sylar is gone. He doesn’t remember anything of that life, and we’re safe as long as that continues. He’s building a new life - a better one. And the moment you start filling in the missing pieces, Sylar may come back. And the world is in danger all over again.”
“The world is already in danger,” Nathan says, tossing the folder to the nearby twin bed. “And I’m not entirely certain you have the moral authority to decide that Sylar’s crimes can effectively be wiped away simply by pretending he never existed.”
“I’m not - “
“Then what are you doing, doctor? What is your purpose?” When an answer doesn’t seem forthcoming, Nathan nods and turns away, walking over to stare down at the TV as he thinks. He says, “We don’t necessarily have to tell him about Sylar, you know. We can leave all of that out, for the time being, if you feel it’s safer. We’ll simply tell him he’s Gabriel Petrelli, and go from there. The information about Sylar isn’t in the folder. He doesn’t need to know.”
Glancing over his shoulder, he sees that Mohinder is considering his suggestion when the door to the motel room opens.
“Sorry but McDonald’s was as far as I could make it without freezing my ass off.”
“Uh… Zane.” Mohinder hurries to his side in an extremely protective gesture, taking the bag of apparent breakfast items and tossing it behind them. “We, uh… have company.”
Zane flashes a look that clearly says “Duh, I can see that” before turning his attention back to Nathan, and holding out his hand. “Hi. I’m Zane.”
He isn’t what Nathan expected. When one is faced with the prospect of meeting the “boogeyman”, one forms certain preconceived notions. It is as if someone cut out pieces from each of the family members, and formed them into one person. The man standing before him is clean-shaven, with a youthful face, strong Roman nose and dark features that practically scream Petrelli. His hair is somewhere between Nathan and Peter’s - not long, not short, obviously brushed, but seriously in need of some kind of product to set it into place.
Realizing he’s staring, Nathan forces a smile and shakes Zane’s hand. Zane. No, Gabriel. His brother. “I’m Nathan Petrelli.”
“Petrelli,” he repeats, frowning slightly, as if he’s heard the name. “You were… part of the election. In New York. Weren’t you?”
Nathan glances over at Mohinder who appears ready to throw a tantrum or scream or toss him out the door. “Yes. The senatorial race,” he says.
“How’d that turn out for you?”
He can’t help but smile at the question. “It was a landslide.”
Gabriel nods, and waits. Nathan can see the question in his eyes: What’s a New York senator doing in Missouri, specifically, in their motel room? Mohinder shuffles nervously beside him, running a hand through his curls with a light sigh of impatience, or frustration, Nathan can’t really tell. The silence is awkward, and he’s beginning to realize he’s not quite certain what to say. How does one explain all of this? Especially to someone who can’t even remember their own name.
“Zane,” he begins. “I’m here to talk to you about - “
“Dammit, Nathan -“
“Your family,” he finishes, ignoring Mohinder’s outburst.
“My… “ Gabriel’s eyes widen as he shoots a look to Mohinder before returning his gaze to Nathan, a flicker of hope flashing within the depths. “Do I know you?”
“Not exactly.” He smiles again. “You might want to sit down for this.”
****
Shock is an emotion that Peter believed he would never have the ability to experience again. At least until that morning, as he stares over Mohinder’s shoulder, reading the documents contained within the mysterious manila folder. He remained silent and invisible throughout the prior discussion, waiting to learn his brother’s true purpose for being there, hoping it had something to do with dragging Sylar’s ass to the Company, locking him up in some dark, dank cell, and throwing away the key.
He’d slept longer than usual, which could have been dangerous if Sylar and Mohinder had chosen to leave early. While he’d been careful to maintain his invisibility before sleep, he still didn’t want to take any chances of being discovered. As he sat up, he’d turned to glance out the window in time to see Nathan pass by the car, walking up to room 119. Seeing his brother out here, in Missouri, was almost enough to reveal himself, if only to ask what he was doing there. Quietly exiting the car, he’d moved up behind Nathan as the door opened, slipping in unnoticed with him as Mohinder stood there uncertainly.
The conversation had quickly gone from cryptic to ludicrous. By the time Sylar enters the room, Peter is pacing behind Nathan, fighting the urge within him to deny the irrefutable proof that he is somehow related to this monster. Hell, related. They’re twins, for Christ’s sake! He stops and watches as Nathan introduces himself, as he shares a smile with Sylar and shakes his hand, and then tries to deliver the news as gently as possible.
Gently!!
Peter grinds his teeth together as Nathan pulls a chair up beside the bed where Sylar sits at his request. He hands the folder over to him.
“This is going to be a little difficult to understand, I know, but just remember that most of us are as in the dark as you are,” Nathan says. “We’re all discovering this together.”
Sylar stares down at the folder, not bothering to open it. When he raises his eyes back to Nathan, there’s a bright light of curiosity flickering in his gaze. “What is this?”
Nathan takes a breath and says, “The proof that says you’re my brother. You’re a Petrelli. Gabriel Petrelli.”
It’s said, spoken, and Peter knows with absolute certainty that everything has changed. Nathan did it. He welcomed a murderer into the family.
And Peter has no one.
“You didn’t know this?” Sylar asks, staring at Nathan with an odd look of… hopefulness.
Nathan shakes his head, reaching out to tap a finger against the folder. “It’s in there. You were adopted. Raised as Gabriel Gray. You, uh… “ He glances at Mohinder who is tense and silent beside them, before returning his gaze to Sylar. “Know about the special abilities that Suresh here has been documenting? Well, I have an ability, too. And so does our brother, Peter… your twin.”
“Twin?” Sylar opens the folder quickly as he says the word, eyes scanning the first few documents with a look that’s something like wonder. He brings his head back up, looks over at Mohinder. “Peter Petrelli. You mentioned him last night. You said we were alike - that he had multiple abilities. Like me.”
Mohinder just nods and Peter recognizes the flash of guilt in his expression. The lies compounded.
Nathan actually reaches out then, touching Sylar on the shoulder; contact between brothers, and he says, “I’m beginning to think there’s a lot about you and Peter that’s similar.”
And Peter can’t take it anymore. He can’t.
“Nathan… don’t.” The plea is barely a whisper, but it’s enough.
Nathan turns quickly to face him, standing from the chair as Peter winks back to visibility. He shakes his head as he stares at him. “Don’t do this.”
“Peter - “ Mohinder’s voice carries his surprise. Along with a hint of fear. “You shouldn’t - “
“You can’t do this, Nathan!” Peter says, moving toward him, rage fueling his words. “You know what he is! How can you compare us? After everything - I won’t let you - You know what he’s done to me, to Claire. He’s a murderer, a monster. He’s kills people for those abilities and I don’t care if you try to change his name! He’ll always be Sylar, and now you want to welcome him into our family??”
There’s a gasp, and Peter knows it’s from the man who’s supposed to be his brother, his twin, but he doesn’t care. He ignores it. He whirls on Mohinder. “And you - God, Mohinder. He killed your father and you tuck him in at night, and share meals with him, and pretend like nothing’s happened!”
“Peter, why are you - “ Mohinder’s question is cut off by Sylar.
Zane.
Whoever the fuck he is today.
“Mohinder? Is it true?”
The voice is small, quiet… terrified. Peter thinks he should revel in that; it’s nice to feel the murderer’s fear. Even if it seems misplaced. Even if… it’s the last thing he expects. He tries not to look at him, but this is a moment he should remember, and by looking he sees the face of a man who’s had everything handed to him - and just as quickly snatched away. There’s an utter desolation there, and Peter knows exactly how that feels.
“Is it?” he questions again as he slowly comes to his feet. “Did I… did I murder people for these abilities?”
“Zane - “
“Gabriel - “
The simultaneous names spoken by Mohinder and Nathan are almost comical except for the immediate effect it has on the man they’re speaking to.
“Who am I?!” He shouts, the folder in his hand suddenly sailing across the room, slamming into the wall, papers flying.
There’s silence. Peter feels a sense of victory well up inside of him, however small. He says, “You’re Sylar.”
He turns to Peter with his words, the denial still evident in the dazed expression in his eyes. “I don’t - “ He cuts himself off, glancing over at Mohinder instead. “Oh god… Mohinder.”
He’s out the door before they can stop him, even as Mohinder tries to reach out to him. As the door slams shut, Mohinder spins around, dark eyes angry. “What in the hell did you set out to accomplish here, Peter? Did you get what you wanted?”
Casting a quick look at Nathan, Mohinder snatches his jacket from the back of the chair, and leaves the room.
****
Mohinder finds Zane behind the motel, where a back road leads away from the tiny town of Kingman toward farmland. He’s sitting on the fence separating the road from the parking lot, huddled into his coat to escape the cold of the winter weather, or perhaps hiding from himself. Not knowing what to say (what does one say to someone who’s just discovered they’re a murderer?), Mohinder leans against the fence beside him, staring across the road to the barren corn field beyond. He finds himself hating the drab and dreary weather, and the dismal effect it has on all of them. Glancing to his right, he finds Zane watching him silently, the look of disillusionment and betrayal unmistakable in his eyes. Swallowing against the knot that forms instantly in his throat, Mohinder turns away once more, fighting for the right words to say to make this better.
It turns out that Zane is the first to speak. “Now I understand why you hate me. It all makes sense.”
“No. Zane. I don’t hate you - “
Zane is looking at him again. “It’s all right, Mohinder. You have every right. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t killed me? Why you haven’t taken your revenge?”
It’s Mohinder’s turn to look away. He kicks at the bank of snow at his feet. “What difference would it make?” He says, echoing the words he’d spoken to Zane at another time, in what feels like another life. “My father would still be dead and you… Justice can never really be served, can it?”
If Zane finds his excuses empty, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he asks in a small voice, “Why would I do something like that?”
“I… don’t know everything, Zane,” he begins, staring down at his hands. “I’m not certain of the details of your meeting with my father or what happened between you. I do believe he knew what you were doing… the murders, but why he never went to the police with the information he had… I can’t say. I fear that maybe there was a part of him - “
He cuts himself off, fighting with the words his heart refuses to allow him to speak. “Sometimes, I find myself wondering if he hadn’t let it continue out of some morbid need to know, some inability to let go of his scientific curiosity for the sake of right and wrong. He’s my father, and we rarely agreed on much, but I still can’t bring myself to believe he would encourage such a thing, however innocuous his intentions may have been at first.”
“What happened?”
He shakes his head before bringing his gaze back to Zane’s. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s because he finally wanted nothing more to do with you or what, but… “
“What did you do… when you found out I killed your father?”
What you have done is not evolution, its murder. What I am doing is revenge.
“That’s… not really important -“
“Yes, it is,” Zane insists, twisting on the fence to stare down at him. “I want to know what happened, Mohinder. Did you confront me about killing your father? Why didn’t you kill me? How did I get away? The way you were when we met outside your apartment - I know you wanted me dead.”
“Sylar,” Mohinder finds himself correcting, still unnerved by referring to them as one and the same. “It was Sylar I wanted dead.”
“There’s no difference - “
“There is, dammit.”
“Only because you keep lying to yourself.”
Zane jumps down from his perch, landing on the opposite side of the fence. “If there wasn’t a difference you wouldn’t have been afraid of me all of this time. Don’t try to convince me that when you close your eyes at night you don’t fear me becoming him all over again - that you don’t expect this… this Sylar to reappear, to murder you in your sleep! You watch me, Mohinder. You watch me, and you wait, and now I know why, and I don’t blame you. I wish to God you’d killed me when you had the chance.”
He walks away even as Mohinder scrambles to try to make his way over the fence. His jeans get caught momentarily on a bolt, but he finally gets to the other side, hurrying to catch up to Zane, to stop him. He grabs the edge of his coat sleeve, which Zane quickly snatches away.
“Zane, stop, please -“
“I’m not Zane!” He turns back, advancing on Mohinder, though the motion is one of desperation, not menace. “I… “ He seems to deflate in that moment, a shadow of everything he ever has been. “I don’t know who I am. That man back there… Peter, my twin… he says that I’m a monster. That I’m - “
“You are not a monster. You are not Sylar.” He steps close, takes Zane’s hands in his and holds on to them tightly. “You’re Gabriel Petrelli, or Gabriel Gray, or Zane Taylor, or whoever the hell you want to be now. Don’t you see? This is your chance to start over. To be someone else, to be something else. A clean slate - “
“Not remembering doesn’t absolve me, Mohinder!”
“No, it doesn’t,” he says softly. “It doesn’t bring my father back, it doesn’t save the many innocents that Sylar murdered, and it sure as hell doesn’t buy you a free pass into what everlasting afterlife you may believe in. But it does give you an opportunity - to be something different. To make amends. To spend this life using your ability for good. The road to redemption isn’t going to be easy, and in the end you may never find salvation for the crimes that have been committed, but you can’t ignore what’s been given to you. Second chances don’t come often, Zane. And that’s exactly what this is - a second chance for you, for me, for your brothers… for us.”
Zane looks disbelieving. “What if things are no different? What if I go down the same path? How do you know that monster isn’t simply sleeping, waiting for the moment to reemerge?”
“We all harbor a dark side within us.” He thinks Mine came out the day I tried to kill you as he reaches up to wipe away the lone tear that hovers within Zane’s left eye. “Why yours chose to set itself free, we may never know. But I’m not going to allow that to happen. I’m going to be at your side, and I’m not going to let you slip. I see the potential within you. If you want to be the man I see inside, if you want to make a difference, there’s nothing stopping you.”
Zane shakes his head and looks away, and Mohinder feels the incomprehensible need to make this right, to make this work. He can’t begin to imagine that it was inevitable for him to become a killer; that would be like saying the choices they made in life held no significance, your path was fated from the moment of your birth. Mohinder refuses to accept that, and maybe if he could go back and do it all again, there may have been some opening he hadn’t recognized, some moment between him and Sylar that could have made a difference.
If only he knew what had happened between Gabriel Gray and his father.
“Zane, look at me.” He waits until the dark eyes focus back on his own. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together now. No more secrets. I’m sorry that it was necessary to lie to you, but… I was afraid of losing you. I still am,” he admits.
“Because you’re worried I’ll become him again - Sylar.”
Mohinder shakes his head. “No. Because I’m afraid that there are those who will try to take you away. And I’m not going to let that happen.”
There’s a flicker of something in Zane’s eyes, and then he moves. The kiss seems to come as a surprise to both of them. Mohinder knows he wants this but the moment it happens he feels an indescribable need to pull away, something very much like panic. It’s the touch of Zane’s fingers moving through his hair, cupping the back of his head, pulling him closer, that stops him. He gives in to it, closes his eyes, wonders briefly why this feels so right when it shouldn’t, and then just concentrates on the kiss. How warm Zane’s mouth is against his own, and how the world just seems to fall away, and everything he’s ever regretted doesn’t matter so much anymore. Surely there was purpose to everything if only to lead to this moment.
Before he can stop himself, Mohinder’s hands clutch Zane’s jacket; he pulls him closer, kisses him more deeply, fearing that this might be all there is. One fleeting moment on a roadside in the middle of nowhere, when he finally gives in to purely selfish needs, and bathes himself in the one thing he’s wanted since that door opened in Virginia… Zane… Sylar. It doesn’t really matter at that moment, when need overtakes sensibility, and Mohinder knows with a special kind of certainty that this is meant to happen. Their lives have been intertwined since long before they knew the other existed. And even if this is it, even if this is all there ever will be, Mohinder wants to take what he can, and remember it.
It’s Zane who ends it, too soon, Mohinder thinks.
They break away and catch their breath, and he suddenly can’t seem to meet Mohinder’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t - I’m not sure why I did that.”
But he hasn’t let go of Mohinder. He’s still holding on to him, eyes closed, forehead pressed to Mohinder’s own, breath coming in short wisps. Mohinder wants to tell him there’s no need for an apology, but there is; this is a complication they could really do without right now, no matter how right it may seem. He’s never felt this close to anyone - not Mira or Eden or anyone else. And though the questions and lies and everything else still lingers between them, Mohinder still feels more hopeful about the future than ever. He thinks he should tell this to Zane, but he doesn’t want to disturb the moment, so he says nothing. He closes his eyes like Zane, wraps his arms around him, and lets the world fall away a little longer.
Its a few moments before Zane speaks. “I need to hear it, Mohinder. I… I need to know everything.”
He draws in a breath at the request and finally opens his eyes, pulling back from their embrace. There’s no more running from this.
“All right.” Taking one of Zane’s hands in his, he smiles. “Let’s get back inside where it’s warm, and I’ll tell you… whatever you want to know.”
****
After Mohinder’s exit, Nathan finds himself in the room alone with Peter, staring at his brother with the realization that he’s never really seen him before. Oh, he’s always known that Peter is ruled by his emotions, ever since he was a boy and Nathan was leaving for the Navy, and Peter had cried for days, afraid his big brother was never coming home. But Nathan has always regarded those emotions as a weakness, something that Peter would have to overcome if he was ever going to survive in this world. Even in those rare moments that he would allow himself to perceive some emotion as strength; he’d never really gotten it, never really looked into the actual depths and seen… the danger.
It’s more than a certainty that Peter’s inability to control his emotions is what led to the explosion. Now that he thinks about it, that was exactly what Linderman and their mother had been counting on. Peter’s basic ability to feel everything, and let it take control of him. But Peter’s emotions are in their rawest form here, in this very room, leading to his confrontation with Sylar.
Gabriel.
Peter’s anger over his comparison to the serial killer is understandable but Nathan isn’t going to take it back, not when it’s so very obviously true. They’re both obviously emotional time bombs, and Nathan marvels over the fact that he’s the one who somehow harbors all of the control.
Maybe even too much control.
“I can’t believe you did that, Nathan.”
He glances up at Peter’s words. He reaches up to rub at his chin, thinking. “Exactly what is it that I did, Peter? Uncovered a family secret? Discovered truths that our parents and Linderman and who knows who else tried to keep buried? Found a possible way for us to fight back?”
“You know what I’m talking about!” Peter glares at him, stabbing the air with his finger as he speaks. “How can you - do that?? How can you just accept it? He’s the reason I - none of this would have happened if - “ He stops himself, as if unable to say anymore, turning away from Nathan.
“He’s not the reason.” Nathan walks up to him. “He’s been a pawn in this, Peter, the same as all of us. What happened in New York was going to happen, period. It was planned, whether you and Gabriel had ever confronted one another or not.”
“Sylar,” Peter snarls, pushing past Nathan to stalk across the room. He stops, facing the wall, and then slams his fist into it, punching a hole straight through.
Sighing, Nathan slips his hands into his pockets and waits, having learned his lesson that approaching Peter at this particular moment would be unbelievably stupid. And Nathan isn’t stupid. So he eyes his little brother, watching and waiting for the inevitable moment when the anger fades and the desolation takes over. It doesn’t take long, and Peter is turning, sliding down the wall to the floor, staring ahead, mouth moving but saying nothing. Knowing that this might be his last chance to truly reach him, Nathan quietly makes his way across the room, crouching down in front of his brother. He reaches out to touch his knee.
“I know this is difficult - “
Peter laughs without humor, the sound of a sob breaking through. “Difficult? God, Nathan, you have the most inappropriate gift for understatement.” He wipes at his eyes. “Even if what you say is true… even if there was no way to stop what happened, he’s still a murderer. He’s still… insane.”
“The man he is right now doesn’t remember any of that,” Nathan points out quietly. “And I want you to ask yourself something: what turned Gabriel Gray into Sylar?”
“Does it really fucking matter?”
Nathan shrugs. “I think it does.” He wipes at a bit of dust on Peter’s knee. “What’s the one truth about us, Peter?” His brother looks up at the question. “That we’ve always had each other. That no matter how bad things ever got, even when we were at each other’s throats, we still had the other to fall back on. The Petrelli family is filled with stubborn, emotional, hard-headed individuals all looking to stand out, all looking to be at the top of the pile. And even though you accepted your spot in the background, you’ve always still wanted more. Don’t tell me you never have, Pete. Otherwise, you never would have jumped off that roof.”
Peter clenches his jaw, looks away.
That little streak of rebellion makes Nathan smile. Right now, he wants nothing more than to hold Peter, to assure him that everything is going to be all right, and to try very hard to take some of that guilt off of his shoulders. Sobering, he says quietly, “Imagine one of us without the other. I’ve spent my entire life determined to rise above everyone else, and it’s mattered very little to me who I stepped on to get there, what promises I made that I never meant to keep, what lies I accepted - “
“No.” Peter brings his gaze back to him. He shakes his head. “That’s not you, Nathan. You’re not like that.”
“Only because you don’t want to see it,” he replies. “Only because you’ve always been there to rein me in at the last moment. To show me that there are things more important than power and strength and success. Without you, I would have become someone very different.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“No?” Nathan holds Peter’s gaze for a long moment before saying, “I let my own brother explode, killing millions. I left you alone, Peter, because I believed I had the right to make a decision that might one day take me to the White House… where I could make a difference in the world.” He laughs, and shakes his head. “Jesus, Pete. And you expect me to cast moral judgment on Sylar?”
He looks up to see an odd expression flicker across Peter’s face, something like understanding. Peter frowns. “You think… he would have been different… if we hadn’t been separated.”
“I’m saying it’s a possibility,” Nathan corrects. “We’ll never have the answer, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t ask the question. We shouldn’t forget, and we don’t have to forgive, but neither can we turn our backs on him. Sylar… Gabriel is blood, Peter. He’s family. He’s your twin… maybe in the most corrupt form, or maybe in the purest. We’re never going to know if we don’t at least try to make this right.”
He reaches up, touches Peter’s cheek. “I want to make this right. All of it. What I’ve done to you, what’s been done to him… We have to stick together, Pete. Don’t you see that? We need each other.”
Peter’s eyes are red and shining with unshed tears, and Nathan knows he needs to push just a little harder. Pushing the dark bangs off his brother’s forehead, he tells him, “I love you, Peter. And I’m not going to let you push me away this time. Please, let me make this right.”
A single sob signals Peter’s collapse, and Nathan quickly pulls him into his embrace, placing a kiss against the dark hair and holding him as if it is a matter of life or death. And maybe it is. Peter cries into his shoulder, leaving tear stains that will probably never come out of the silk jacket, and Nathan whispers that it’s okay. He remembers holding Peter like this in the past; but then it had been skinned knees and broken arms, and there was really nothing he’d ever be able to say that would make this okay. It’s going to take a lot more than a simple hug. Maybe he’ll never be able to put the pieces of his little brother back together again, but now he has the chance to try.
Maybe the Petrelli brothers, all of them, would be all right in the end.
Hearing the door behind him, Nathan glances over his shoulder to see Mohinder and Gabriel enter the room. He squeezes Peter a little more tightly, silently assuring him that everything is going to be all right, before helping him to stand. Once on their feet, he gives Peter another long look, and waits. He won’t go any further without Peter’s permission, and his brother seems to silently understand that. He glances toward Gabriel before returning his gaze to Nathan, and nodding once. Nathan smiles, touches Peter’s cheek affectionately once more, and then turns.
He takes a breath and walks over to Gabriel. The other brother. The one who, for whatever reasons, once took the ugliest pieces of them all, and let them takeover. That was then, and this is now, and Nathan thinks that maybe Linderman was right: They all have their roles to play.
Only this time, the decision to do so would be theirs.
“I know this must be difficult for you,” he begins. “It’s not going to be easy for any of us. But the fact of the matter is, we’re brothers. All of us,” he glances back at Peter before bringing his attention back to Gabriel. “And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that there’s no stronger bond in the world.”
Gabriel shifts uncomfortably, looking nervous and out of place, afraid to meet his gaze, or even to look at Peter. Not long ago, Nathan had believed he’d never be able to look his brother in the face again, either.
“Welcome to the family, Gabriel,” he says as gently as possible, before stepping forward and pulling his other little brother into an embrace.
Borrowed Time - Part Five
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