Fic: Borrowed Time (5/7)
Fic: Borrowed Time, Part Five (5/7)
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: The brothers and their mother.
Notes: Sorry this took so long! My muse went on vacation without me! Once again, much love to forsquilis for putting up with my constant questions, even when she's sick!
Borrowed Time - Part One
Borrowed Time - Part Two
Borrowed Time - Part Three
Borrowed Time - Part Four
Zane sits on a bed, in the guest room of a house that is far too immaculate, far too perfect, far too well-appointed to make anyone feel completely comfortable. He’s back in New York, but not in the devastation, and that’s a small comfort since being back among the rubble is the last place he would ever wish to go. Something about it haunts him; he doesn’t like to think about it.
When they were back in Missouri, Nathan had worried over how to get them all back to the East Coast without Linderman learning what they were up to. Peter had suggested using an ability he had to transport them wherever he wanted to; amazed that was possible, Zane had immediately asked about it. The silence that had greeted his question was something he realized he was going to have to grow used to. For all that he may have been invited into the Petrelli family, they didn’t trust him. And why should they? The man they knew was a murderer, something Zane can’t even begin to reckon in his mind. He believes the images he’s seen in his nightmares are his victims, but he doesn’t remember them. Not a single one. He doesn’t understand why he would want to kill them, he doesn’t remember how, and he doesn’t want to believe that’s the person he once was… and maybe still is.
“Damn.”
He holds his head in his hands, and wonders if it’s possible to squeeze the images from his mind if he tries hard enough. He can’t stop thinking about it. It all makes sense now; the way Mohinder has looked at him, their first meeting outside the apartment, the lies. Zane can’t blame him for any of it, and he wonders why he’s still there, and he loves Mohinder for looking out for him, while hating him for being too much of a coward to do the right thing.
“Oh, god.” He sobs once, fighting to hold back the tears that threaten, wrapping his arms around his waist as he tries to concentrate on something else, something that will keep him from thinking about… everything. Closing his eyes, he listens to the sounds around the house, finding the voices of his brothers downstairs in the parlor, and instantly recoiling.
No, he doesn’t want to know what they’re talking about.
To the kitchen, where a small staff (staff!) is preparing the evening meal and there are pots being banged around, and hushed whispers between them about their employers, and Zane doesn’t want to hear that either. There’s nothing there that he wishes to know right now.
So he tries again, and this time he finds it - Mohinder’s voice. Soft, clipped tones in a hushed whisper somewhere just below the room Zane is sitting in.
“I promise, Molly, everything is fine.”
“But I know you’re with him… the boogeyman,” a young girl’s voice frets over the phone.
“He isn’t… “ Mohinder pauses, then, “People change, Molly. I know that’s difficult to understand. Not even grown-ups get it all of the time. But they can change, and sometimes you have to give them that chance. Trust me, please? I would never, ever put you in any kind of danger.”
“I know.” She sighs. “When will I get to see you?”
“Soon.”
“Cross your heart?”
“Cross my heart.” Zane can almost hear Mohinder’s smile.
Molly giggles momentarily before saying, “Matt says I gotta go. Love you, Mohinder!”
“I love you, too, Molly.”
Zane doesn’t understand why, but he aches inside to hear Mohinder say those words. Is that what he wants? Mohinder’s love? If so, he certainly doesn’t deserve it.
Blocking out any further sounds, he sits in silence as shadows move across the room, trying not to think, not to feel… wondering if without such things, does he even exist? He doesn’t know how long it is before he hears the click of the door opening, and Zane opens his eyes, looking up to see Mohinder quietly entering the room. He finds himself smiling almost instantly.
“Your brothers are worried about you,” Mohinder says softly as he crosses the room. He smiles as he stops in front of Zane, looking down at him. “I’m worried about you.”
Mohinder reaches out and touches his hair, fingers running past his temple before slipping back to cup his head. Closing his eyes, Zane leans forward, pressing his face against the soft cotton of his shirt, cheek to belly, arms wrapping around his waist. He knows he’s clinging, but he doesn’t care. Mohinder is the only thing he understands right now.
“How’re you doing?” Mohinder asks, fingers moving slowly through his hair.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I… Knowing who I was, what I was… it isn’t like remembering. And I don’t want to remember. I’m scared to remember.”
“It’ll be all right. I promise.”
Zane thinks of the little girl who Mohinder had made an earlier promise to. He finds himself asking, “Who is Molly?”
Mohinder’s hand stills for a moment before continuing the gentle stroking against his hair. “She’s a little girl I helped before the explosion. She had a rare disease that… that killed my sister, Shanti. Turns out that I carry the antibodies in my blood to cure it.”
“You saved her life,” Zane says against the soft warmth of Mohinder’s sweater. “You’re a good person.”
“I didn’t do anything that anyone else wouldn’t have done in the same situation.”
The response is humble, but Zane can hear the tiniest thread of pride in Mohinder’s voice. It makes him smile.
He’s silent for another moment, then asks, “Why does she call me the boogeyman?”
Mohinder’s fingers still once more, and this time there is a much longer hesitation. Long enough that Zane pulls his head away, leaning back to look up at Mohinder. He knows what is coming, and knows that he shouldn’t want to hear it, but he does. He has to hear it. It’s the only way to make it real.
“She knows Sylar, doesn’t she?”
Inhaling a short breath, Mohinder nods even as he touches his fingers lightly to Zane’s cheek. “Yes. Sylar… murdered her parents. He almost got to her.”
Zane doesn’t dwell too long on this information. “She’s special, then. Like Peter. And Nathan.”
“And you,” Mohinder points out with a nod. He continues to caress Zane’s cheek as he watches him. “We haven’t had much time to talk. I’m sorry. Nathan believes you’re in danger - maybe all three of you.”
“You were the one those men were shooting at in Queens.”
“Yes. But I think they just want me out of the way,” he says matter-of-factly, his fingers continuing to draw random designs against Zane’s skin.
“I won’t let them hurt you, Mohinder.”
Mohinder smiles at that, cupping his face. “I know.”
Staring up at Mohinder, thinking he has to be the most beautiful thing Zane has ever seen, the realization hits him hard that he’s unworthy of this. He isn’t good enough. What if he doesn’t deserve this? Doesn’t deserve Mohinder?
Tears sting his eyes.
“Mohinder,” he murmurs, voice breaking slightly. “Why can’t I… just be a good person? That’s all. I just want to be a good person.”
“You are, Zane,” Mohinder whispers reassuringly, touching his chin. “You are - “
“No.” He shakes his head, a mild panic settling in his chest as he says, “I’m not - He’s - How can I be a good person when I’m not even certain who I am?”
“You want to be a good person. That right there defines who you are. You’ve chosen the person you are - good, and kind, and concerned about others. You’re right when you say I’ve watched you; I have. And there’s nothing about you I would change. Should you choose to be Gabriel Petrelli, or continue to be Zane Taylor, it doesn’t matter.”
Zane furrows his brow as he thinks over Mohinder’s words. The name Gabriel Petrelli sounds so foreign to him. Even though Zane Taylor is barely a month old, the idea of a different name….
“Gabriel,” he says, testing the name on his tongue. He smiles a little. “It’s kind of weird to hear, you know. I’ve gotten so used to Zane. When Nathan calls me Gabriel… I’m not certain how to respond. He says I’m a Petrelli but… “
He glances up to find Mohinder smiling at him. “Who do you want to be?”
“I don’t - “ Zane frowns as he thinks about it. He grows silent again, considering all he’s learned in the last few hours. His brothers, the truth about his past, and Mohinder’s past, the knowledge that there’s more going on, that there’s something they’re all supposed to be a part of.
“It would be something to be a Petrelli, huh? I mean, all of this, and respect too, I’m sure, but… “ He shakes his head before bringing his gaze back to Mohinder’s. “Zane. You loved him, didn’t you?” he asks. “I mean, before you knew… about Sylar.”
Mohinder appears surprised by the question at first, gazing at him for a long moment before letting out a soft breath. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
Zane smiles, bringing his hand up to lay his fingers against Mohinder’s neck. “Then, that’s who I want to be,” he tells him. “Zane.”
It’s Mohinder who kisses Zane this time, ending his fears that maybe his earlier advance hadn’t been wanted. Everything seems so new, and Zane wonders if he’s done this before, kissed another man, or maybe a woman, and if they ended up as nothing more than his victim. He hates that his mind goes there, so he kisses Mohinder more deeply, more desperately, hoping to make it all go away.
As if sensing this need, Mohinder gently pushes him back, following him down to the mattress, never breaking the kiss, fingers plucking at the edge of his sweatshirt, hands slipping beneath. His breath catches in his throat at the touch of Mohinder’s hands against his skin, and he moves into it, wanting more.
“Mohinder - “
“Shhhh. Don’t talk.”
Zane shuts up as Mohinder’s lips press against his neck. There’s warmth, and a feather-like tickle, and Mohinder’s tongue, briefly, and teeth. He’s lost in the feel of Mohinder’s body pressed against his own, and the hot breath on his neck, and the touch of fingers moving across his stomach, his chest. He wants to touch Mohinder, but isn’t certain how or what’s right or what he’d want, and there’s the tiniest part of him that’s scared… scared of allowing something loose that’s supposed to remain hidden.
Realizing he can’t let this go on until he’s certain of who he is, Zane gently pushes against Mohinder. “Stop,” he says.
Mohinder does, bringing his gaze to Zane’s, frowning slightly but not unkindly. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” he lies, pulling away and sitting up, straightening his shirt.
Sitting up beside him, Mohinder touches his shoulder. “Talk to me, Zane.”
He shakes his head. “I’m… afraid.”
“Of me?”
Zane turns to look at him. “Of me.”
Nodding in understanding, Mohinder lays his head on Zane’s shoulder, and quietly holds him.
****
As Peter heads up to find Gabriel and Suresh, Nathan loosens his tie, glancing out the window to watch as their mother climbs out of the Rolls Royce and heads up the steps toward the house. He has no idea what to expect. Obviously, Angela Petrelli isn’t going to like his solution to the Linderman problem, but Nathan is beyond caring. At least for the moment. He’s recently began to realize that things always seem clearer to him outside his mother’s sphere of influence; right and wrong don’t appear quite as muddled as when she’s around. He thinks about this, and wonders over it, and why it concerns him.
Slipping on his jacket, he looks out into the hall where Peter is disappearing up the staircase. His little brother is still having trouble reconciling that the serial killer who murdered him twice, and pushed him into losing control, is also his brother and twin. Nathan wishes he could make it easier for him, for both of them. He had been honest with Peter when he said he believed things could have been different if Gabriel had grown up with them. At least they could have looked out for one another. He doesn’t like to believe himself capable of monstrous actions, but he knows the truth; he’s seen inside his own heart. Most of his choices over the last year certainly weren’t made for humanitarian reasons. His own wife doesn’t even know the real truth.
“Nathan, you’re back,” Angela begins without preamble as she enters the parlor and removes her mink coat. Waiting until the butler takes it and leaves the room, she adds, “Did you take care of our little problem?”
He winces at her reference to killing her own son as “our little problem”, then quickly reasons to himself that it’s simply her way of dealing with things. Pretend it’s unimportant, distance yourself from it, and then emotions won’t get in the way. Nathan’s done his own version of coping in the past.
“Perhaps not in the way you quite intended, Mom.”
Her eyes narrow as she watches him. “What do you mean?
“They’re on their way down, Nat - “ Peter comes to a halt in the threshold of the parlor entrance, staring at their mother like she’s an unexpected, and unwelcome, guest.
Their mother, for her part, displays more emotion than Nathan’s seen out of her in a while at the sight of his brother.
“Peter, you’ve come back to us!”
Angela moves over to him, pulls him into her embrace, holding him tightly. Peter doesn’t seem to react, and Nathan knows the healing has barely begun. Normally, there were few things Peter craved more in life than receiving a rare hug from their mother. Now, it’s quite obvious to everyone in the room that it’s the last thing he really wants, especially combined with her tears.
Nathan’s attention focuses on Gabriel and Suresh as they enter the room, and he can’t help but smile. “Peter’s not the only surprise.”
Here we go.
Angela turns at his words, gaze moving past the doorway when she stills. Nathan watches as every muscle in his mother’s body seems to tense. Beside her, Peter is shaking his head, as if he hasn’t really believed any of it until that very moment. Her reaction is telling; Gabriel isn’t supposed to be there, and she knows damn well who he is. Nathan can’t decide if he’s disappointed or relieved or what. He slips his hands into his pockets and leans back against his desk as the silence continues. Poor Gabriel looks positively miserable, as if this is the last place on Earth he wants to be at that very moment, and Nathan feels for him - he does, none of them asked for this - but this has to happen. Should have happened sooner.
“Aren’t you going to greet your other son, Mother?” he prompts.
His mom flashes him a look; the kind of look that causes most people to quake in their shoes. Luckily, he’s not like most people anymore. Angela Petrelli stopped scaring him a few weeks ago.
“Gabriel.” Their mother speaks his name with ease but she doesn’t go to him. She folds her hands in front of her and looks at him for a long moment before saying, “I’m sorry our meeting has to occur under such… unfortunate circumstances.”
Nathan doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. Sure, Angela had wanted him to kill Gabriel, to erase his existence from the planet, but he truly hadn’t believed she could continue to be so… cold toward one of her own children. His anger mounts, a familiar protectiveness for a younger sibling rising within him. He feels guilty for putting Gabriel through this. Luckily, Suresh notices that things aren’t exactly like a Waltons’ family reunion, and steers Gabriel toward the couch, whispering something to him that Nathan can’t quite hear.
“Well, that was… touching,” Peter sneers, his tone suggesting that he’s no more pleased with their mother’s behavior than Nathan feels. He walks away from her, moving to the other side of the room, and Angela is left standing by herself, facing her three sons.
“This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, Nathan,” she says quietly, shooting him another hard look. “You don’t understand what you’ve done -“
“I understand perfectly, Mother,” he corrects her, folding his arms across his chest. “I understand that for the first time… possibly ever, the Petrelli boys are going to make their own choices. We’re going to operate as a family, and there aren’t going to be any more secrets.”
She shakes her head, pursing her lips distastefully as she continues to stare him down. “Linderman isn’t going to be pleased, Nathan.”
“Why is Linderman involved in all of this anyway?”
Nathan glances over at Suresh with the question. “Oh, he’s like us - my brothers and me. He has the ability to heal things, apparently.” He looks back to their mother. “Seems there’s an entire generation before us who’ve been pulling the strings, all with abilities, just like us. And what about you, Mom? What special little trick can you pull out of your sleeve?”
She raises her chin slightly, looking tall and regal as she glares at her son. “I don’t believe you’ve earned the right to know that just yet, Nathan.”
“So, that’s how this is going to go, is it?” Nathan gives her one of his most polished smiles. “I think it’s time you start talking, Mom. I think it’s high time you let the rest of us know what’s going on in this secret little world of yours.”
Before Angela can respond, Peter asks, “Who’s Kane?”
The terror on Angela’s face is something that Nathan has never witnessed before. He flashes a sharp glance at Peter before returning his attention to their mother, her fair skin taking on a ghostly grey pallor. She touches her hand to her throat, seems to search for the strength to speak, and finally asks, “How do you know that name?”
Peter moves to stand beside Nathan. “He found me. While I was following Mohinder and… Gabriel.” He looks at Nathan as he says, “Said his name was Kane. He seemed to have multiple abilities. Called himself a god. Said he wanted to meet me.” He glances over at Gabriel. “Seemed to know you, too.”
“No.”
Their attention is shifted to Angela as she slowly drops into the lone chair in the corner, eyes wide with shock. “It’s impossible.”
“What is it, Mom?” Nathan asks. “What do you know about this Kane?”
She shakes her head, not meeting his gaze. “We had hoped that the blast would have… Surely there should be nothing left.” She looks up; almost as if hoping Nathan or Peter might have the answers she’s looking for.
Nathan frowns, starts to take a step toward her but Peter reaches out and catches his arm. “Wait. That’s why you wanted me to explode? To kill Kane?”
“That’s preposterous,” Nathan mutters under his breath, still staring at their mother who shakes her head.
“And insane.” Suresh shakes his head. “Killing millions for one man - “
“You don’t understand,” Angela interrupts the strength back in her voice. “You can’t understand. Either we kill millions, or we stand by and watch as billions die.”
“That sounds a little dramatic.” Nathan turns to pace, slipping his hands into his pockets as he rounds the corner of his desk.
“Who is Kane?” Gabriel’s been so silent that the sound of his voice is jarring. Nathan has almost forgotten he was a part of all of this.
Angela is staring at Gabriel, watching him for a long moment silently, and Nathan can’t help but wonder if she regrets giving him up. Then he remembers who this is, and realizes he doubts it very much. Angela Petrelli has never been one to regret a decision, no matter the cost. He can’t decide if that’s a trait worthy of admiration or not.
“Kane is… he was the first of us. The first human we know of to have evolved. When we first met him, years ago, he introduced himself as Adam Monroe. He was a charmer… a dreamer of big dreams who brought us all together, promised us that we could change the world, that we were meant to change the world. But somewhere along the way, some of us began to realize that his intentions weren’t altogether altruistic.”
She pauses for a moment, folding her hands in her lap before continuing. “There were those of us who were seers - able to glimpse the future. A terrible future. One where the human race was on the very brink of extinction. I was there when we brought this to Adam’s attention. I remember it so well. He just… smiled. Said only the most evolved would survive. And that was that.”
“The most evolved?” Suresh questions. “You mean, only those with abilities.”
Angela shakes her head. “Perhaps. Or maybe just the most evolved of all of us. People like Adam. People you just can’t kill. You see, Adam is immortal. He first discovered this fact in the seventeenth century. He can’t be sick, he doesn’t age, he simply… evolves. But many of us believe that he’s simply lived too long - that somewhere along the way, with everything he’s seen and done, everything he’s lived through, he’s simply lost control. Adam thrives on chaos. He wants to see the world turned on its head - the un-evolved versus the evolved.
“Once sides were chosen in the battle brewing between us, our side realized we were going to need someone like Adam to beat him,” Angela says, her gaze taking in Peter and Gabriel. “That became your destiny from the moment you were both conceived. In the end, Daniel decided that Peter was incapable of beating Adam, and Gabriel… well, we lost control of you and it no longer mattered.”
“My destiny was to blow up?” Peter’s voice is filled with bitter disappointment, disbelief.
Their mother glances down at her hands for a moment, fiddling with her wedding ring. “The bomb was meant in exactly the spirit Linderman conceived it to be - to bring the world together. To unite us under one cause. He believed that the others out there like us would want to make certain nothing like this ever happened again - show them what true destruction is like and they’ll never side with Adam.”
Nathan raises his brow. “And has it worked?”
“In a manner of speaking.” She looks hard at Nathan. “Many others have sided with us, but you’ve been fighting Daniel’s plans, Nathan. The legislation he wishes to put before the senate would serve to protect us in the future - to keep the division from happening. It’s why he’s decided to replace you with… Gabriel.”
Peter laughs. “Because Sylar has always been far more malleable than Nathan.”
Pursing her lips, Angela glances across the room at Gabriel who remains sitting on the couch beside Suresh, silently staring at his hands. “Sylar wanted power. Daniel felt he could offer that - make a deal to offer the things he wants most in exchange for making certain the future went according to plan.”
“But Linderman showed me a painting in his collection,” Nathan points out. “Of me in the Oval office.”
“The paintings done by Isaac Mendez could never be interpreted at face value,” their mother explains. “Like looking at the cover of a book and pretending you know exactly what happens inside of its pages. Seers with the ability to dream the future have a much greater grasp of what’s to come.”
“Not if we change it first,” Gabriel says quietly, finally lifting his head, looking over at Nathan.
Nathan nods, finding a smile. “That’s right. I think we’ve all grown a little weary of your generation pulling our strings, Mom. The whole idea of fate and destiny is really beginning to take on a nasty connotation in my mind, and frankly, I don’t plan on standing around, waiting for whatever’s going to happen happen. The world will be united, but not by pain and death and destruction.” He glances over at Peter. “Whatever we do next, we have to make certain the truth about the explosion never gets out. If someone truly wanted to start a war that would be the way to do it.”
“What are we going to do?”
Gabriel’s question makes Nathan frown. Honestly, he doesn’t know where to begin. Talks of the future, and visions, and changing what might be pre-destined all seems implausible. A year ago, he would have walked out of this entire conversation, calling every person in this room nuts. Now, he just doesn’t know what to think. He has a brother he never knew existed, Peter who was in hiding for having lost control and killed millions, a mother who’s been quietly manipulating their lives from the moment they were born - exactly where does one begin to deal with all of this?
He doesn’t even know how he’s going to explain it all to Heidi someday.
“I think right now our most important task is to somehow contain and control both Linderman and this Adam Monroe.”
Their mother shakes her head, and Suresh actually laughs. “You’re serious?”
Nathan glances at the geneticist before catching the gazes of his brothers. “You have met my brothers, haven’t you, doc? I’m dead serious.”
The only problem is, at the moment, he’s not quite sure how they’re going to do it.
****
“Place was empty when we arrived,” Thompson’s voice explains. “The car’s still here but they paid the motel bill and cleared out. I spoke with the manager who told me he thought he saw someone else, so I had a look around. Found a second car.”
Linderman makes a face, knowing what’s about to come.
“Rental, registered to Nathan Petrelli. Someone from the rental agency showed up about ten minutes ago with an order to pick it up.”
“And there’s absolutely no clue as to where they might have gone?”
“None.”
Smiling tightly, he points out, “Three grown men don’t just disappear, Thompson.”
“No, sir.” Then, “What if the other Petrelli was here?”
It’s a valid question, no matter how much Linderman doesn’t want to hear it. They lost track of the youngest Petrelli weeks ago, and he’s been secretly hoping ever since that perhaps the kid had decided to become a non-issue, never needing to be heard from again. After all, if he had been the one to explode and kill millions, he certainly wouldn’t want to show his face in polite society ever. He doesn’t want to believe Peter had anything to do with the sudden disappearance of the others, but he acknowledges that the possibility is entirely plausible. Perhaps his feelings of guilt have pushed him into helping his brother achieve his misguided sense of nobility.
Linderman sighs. The situation was never supposed to become so incredibly complicated. “If that’s the case, then it’s very likely they’re back in New York. I’ll put a call into Angela, just to see what she has to say. Meanwhile, I want you and Candice to get back to New York as quickly as you can. If they’re beginning to make their own moves, then it’s time for us to make ours. I want Gabriel in Vegas within the next twenty-four hours. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
****
Zane hesitates outside the parlor doorway, trying not to make a sound, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Angela notices him anyway.
“Gabriel. Come in, please. Sit with me.”
She pats the cushion on the couch beside her, where she sits prim and straight with a commanding presence that frightens him a little. He doesn’t want to go in there. He doesn’t want to hear what she has to say. Ever since learning the truth, Zane has become wary of information. Things were far easier when he just didn’t know; when Mohinder simply told him what was relevant, and that was that. The more he learns, the more twisted his life becomes, and Zane doesn’t want that. He can’t imagine how anyone would want that.
He continues to stand there until he notices Peter beside him, leaning against the wall, out of their mother’s view. He’s giving Zane a challenging stare, daring him to go inside, with just a hint of smugness that Zane decides he doesn’t like one bit. He wonders what it would be like to hit his twin, and then Peter grins at him, just like he knows what he’s thinking. Zane frowns, glaring at Peter’s raised brow before finally taking the few steps needed to enter the parlor.
He doesn’t sit next to her, though. He sits in the chair on the other side of the coffee table, saying nothing.
There’s a heavy silence between them, where Zane tries not to fidget under her stare. Honestly, he feels like a child, and wonders if it’s just him, or does Angela Petrelli make all of her children feel that way?
“You look like your father.”
Zane blinks. “I… “ He’s not sure what to say to that. He doesn’t know this man she refers to as his father. He hasn’t even seen a picture of him. He tries to be interested, though. “What... what was he like?”
She purses her lips and looks away. “Arthur was a good man. Good-hearted. He liked to believe in things, believe he had a purpose. Unfortunately, he was weak. He could never choose sides; never make a final decision as to what meant the most to him. He finally just… gave up.”
Zane wants to ask if that’s where she thinks he gets his obvious mental instability from but he doesn’t; he doesn’t want to go down that road yet. Instead, he asks, “Did he agree… with splitting us up?”
“Of course not. But he knew sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. In the end, he simply chose to ignore it. That was Arthur’s easiest way to avoid things - pretend they never happened.”
So his father merely forgot he existed. Kind of like Zane has forgotten he ever had another life beyond the one that began in Mohinder’s apartment with something as simple as a name. He glances down at his hands as he feel’s Angela’s stare on him once again. He thinks he should probably feel grateful at her interest in him, but all he can really muster is discomfort.
“Do you have anything you’d like to ask me, Gabriel?”
Yes. Please stop calling me that, but he doesn’t say it. It sounds okay to him when Nathan says it; Angela is a different matter. He can’t bring himself to believe she has the right to call him by the name she gave him. She gave that up a long time ago.
“Why?” He finds himself lifting his head, meeting her gaze.
Angela appears confused by the question. “Why what?”
“Why me? Why was I the one you didn’t want?”
“It wasn’t a question of want or choice, Gabriel,” she explains. “It wasn’t as if there was anything special that made me look at you and say ‘Yes, Gabriel, you are the one I’m going to send away’. You were simply the first born. I held you, named you, and then you were gone. Peter was born shortly after, and he came home with us.”
Zane is surprised at how much her words hurt. He thinks none of this should really matter to him, but it does. It should be easier to believe that had Peter been born first, he would have been the one given away and Zane… Gabriel would have grown up here. With a brother, a future… maybe things would have been different. But there’s something about the truth that makes it all much worse, that it was all so random, and in the end, it didn’t matter who he was, or where he might have been better off. He hadn’t mattered because there had been nothing special about him to matter. He’d just… been born. Something inside of him churns at the thought. Has he ever felt so insignificant before in his life? God, he hopes not. Living with this knowledge is painful enough for one life; he doesn’t want to imagine it happening twice.
“I am… sorry for what has happened to you, Gabriel,” Angela is saying, but he doesn’t even look up as she speaks. “What you’ve been through and experienced… “
“What I’ve become,” he whispers.
She makes a small noise of acknowledgment. “If it could have been prevented… Unfortunately, we don’t know what happened. I had worried that the environment we were placing you into was not altogether stable. Virginia Gray was troubled. She was unable to have children of her own, had always seemed quite dissatisfied with what life had handed her, but we were assured that everything would be fine. You’d be under the best supervision.”
Zane looks up at that to find her smiling at him, if only slightly. “According to reports, you were a bright boy, a quick learner, and very good-hearted. You were also a bit too shy and withdrawn, traits I’m sure you picked up from her.”
“Where is she?” he asks, suddenly wanting to talk to the woman who raised him, to see if she could help him uncover the questions as to why he became a monster. “Does she know - “
Angela stands, a bit abruptly, smoothing the front of her skirt. “I am glad to have you home, Gabriel, no matter what you may think of me. You are still my son,” she says as she moves over to him, and Zane gets to his feet, staring down at her, wondering why she won’t answer his questions.
“You are a Petrelli,” she tells him as she reaches up to touch his hair, his cheek. Her fingers are cold, even though there’s the slightest hint of affection in the light caress. “No matter how you were raised, you are still a Petrelli, and maybe you’re getting this second chance for a reason.”
****
Peter waits until his mother disappears up the staircase before he comes out of hiding. Sylar has returned to his seat, staring morosely at the floor, and Peter can’t help but understand a fraction of what he’s feeling. Not that he’s ever been told he was handed over to some strangers at birth in order to save the world, but he knows what it’s like to feel as if you’ve disappointed Angela Petrelli; that you haven’t lived up to the version of the person she expects you to be. Oh, he knows how that feels all too well. But there’s something else, other thoughts and emotions he’s been hearing from Sylar throughout his discussion with their mother that has surprised Peter, unintentionally coloring his view of the killer: the fears, the loneliness, the sorrow. It’s difficult not to think back on how he had felt after the explosion, the weeks of self-imposed isolation; the knowledge of how unworthy he was of anyone’s love.
That’s what he felt from Sylar just now, and it makes Peter look at him again; really look at him. He isn’t as frightening anymore. The distance between them is closing, however minutely. Peter understands now what Nathan meant.
He thinks he might understand his twin.
“So, I’m still the youngest,” he finally says for want of anything else.
Sylar’s head snaps up at his words, and Peter hears him think He’s a real jerk. He can’t help but smile at the thought. “Nathan’s called me a brat from time to time.”
A frown. “Wait. Are you reading my mind?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.”
Peter furrows his brow for a moment; he hadn’t even tried. Kind of like the day before he’d exploded, when he’d heard Sylar’s thoughts out of the hundreds of people around him, and he hadn’t even been thinking about him. He’s wondered about that, from time to time; what it was that sparked Sylar’s thoughts into his mind, out of so many others, and now he believes he knows why. They always say twins have some sort of connection, and as much as he hates to think of any kind of connection existing between them, he can’t deny its presence.
“Can I read minds, too?” Then, “I mean, could I?”
“No. Not that I know of. And for that, Parkman is probably damn grateful.”
“Who’s Parkman?”
“No one.”
Sylar frowns again, standing to pace past Peter, hands in his pockets, looking momentarily a little like Nathan. Peter watches him silently for a long moment, considers making a real attempt at reading his mind, and then thinks better of it. Sylar… Realizing he cringes every time he thinks that name, Peter decides to try out the name of his twin.
“Gabriel.” It sounds weird to his ears.
“What?”
He glances up to find Sylar… Gabriel looking back at him. “Nothing. I was just… “ He shrugs and offers an apologetic smile. “Look, I know you don’t remember, and that you’re different now and all, but the person I remember? Killed me. Twice. So maybe I’m supposed to be seeing Gabriel, or Zane, or whoever every time I look at you, but all I see are blood and pain, and it’s making it hard to… like you.”
Head tilting to the side slightly, Sylar… Gabriel nods. “Thank you for being honest with me, Peter.”
He’s surprised at the response. “Uh… sure. I mean, I guess if anyone can be honest with one another, it’s us, right? Considering our history… not that you remember it. But, we’re twins, too, and I guess that’s supposed to count for something.”
With the silence that follows his remark, he glances out into the hallway, thinking about their mother. “Sorry about our mom. I mean, she could have laid all of that on you in a better way, right? That’s kind of her style. I could tell you that you’ll get used to it, but it’s doubtful. I’ve lived with her all of my life and I’m still surprised by the things she does and says.” He realizes he’s biting on his thumbnail, and pulls it from his mouth. “Still love her, though.”
“She let you explode.”
Peter smiles. “Hey, if someone’s going to let you go nuclear, might as well be family, right?”
The attempt at humor seems lost on his brother, who is staring at him like he’s the crazy one. Maybe they both are. A shared crazy gene that their mom claims they got from their father.
He scratches at the back of his head as he tries to explain himself. “Mom’s no saint, obviously. And neither is Nathan. There’s you - “ He glances at Gabriel who shifts uncomfortably. “And I… hell. Dad was the closest thing to innocent in this family, and he’s gone. But, I don’t know, maybe it’s in our blood, you know? That whole Italian thing, no matter how clichéd it might be. Look at how Nathan has taken you in, like it’s nothing. And I may not like you right now but… that doesn’t mean I have any intention of letting Linderman and his goons get their hands on you.”
Gabriel smiles, glancing down at the floor. “I can just feel the love.”
“Heh. Yeah.”
“You two all right in here?” Nathan steps into the parlor, looking between the two of them, the concern evident.
“We’re not beating the shit out of each other, if that’s what you mean,” Peter replies and immediately gets a slap upside the head for his trouble. He grins up at Nathan, and relaxes, realizing this is the first time he’s felt safe, and moderately happy, in far too long.
“This is what one has to put up with when one has a kid brother, Gabriel,” Nathan tells him. “When he gets out of line, you just smack him.”
Gabriel glances furtively at Peter before responding softly, “I think I’ve done enough damage.”
Yeah. Peter can already tell that Christmas with the Petrelli family is going to filled with joyous reminiscing of the past.
Or not.
“So, uh, how’d it go with Mom?”
Peter rolls his eyes at Nathan’s question. “What a thing to ask him. How do you think it went?”
Nathan just ignores him, watching Gabriel patiently.
“She… answered some of my questions,” he says quietly, still holding himself apart from Peter and Nathan. Like maybe he’s afraid of not being included.
“Well, I guess that’s a start.” He looks down at Peter, one hand coming up to touch the back of his neck. “And you. Think we have a chance of making this work… together?”
Looking over at the man he’s known the past few months as Sylar, he understands that he doesn’t really have anything to lose by accepting him as Gabriel, his twin. The past can never be erased, and there will always be that something hanging between them, but Nathan was right when he said that none of them could cast moral judgment on the other. They all have their tribulations to bear. And it’s always possible that things might have been different if their mother hadn’t made that one fateful decision twenty-seven years ago. None of them can ignore that. None of them can ignore the second chance they’ve been given.
“Yeah,” he says, glancing back up at Nathan, smiling as his brother gives his neck a gentle squeeze. “I think we do.”
Borrowed Time - Part Six
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: The brothers and their mother.
Notes: Sorry this took so long! My muse went on vacation without me! Once again, much love to forsquilis for putting up with my constant questions, even when she's sick!
Borrowed Time - Part One
Borrowed Time - Part Two
Borrowed Time - Part Three
Borrowed Time - Part Four
Zane sits on a bed, in the guest room of a house that is far too immaculate, far too perfect, far too well-appointed to make anyone feel completely comfortable. He’s back in New York, but not in the devastation, and that’s a small comfort since being back among the rubble is the last place he would ever wish to go. Something about it haunts him; he doesn’t like to think about it.
When they were back in Missouri, Nathan had worried over how to get them all back to the East Coast without Linderman learning what they were up to. Peter had suggested using an ability he had to transport them wherever he wanted to; amazed that was possible, Zane had immediately asked about it. The silence that had greeted his question was something he realized he was going to have to grow used to. For all that he may have been invited into the Petrelli family, they didn’t trust him. And why should they? The man they knew was a murderer, something Zane can’t even begin to reckon in his mind. He believes the images he’s seen in his nightmares are his victims, but he doesn’t remember them. Not a single one. He doesn’t understand why he would want to kill them, he doesn’t remember how, and he doesn’t want to believe that’s the person he once was… and maybe still is.
“Damn.”
He holds his head in his hands, and wonders if it’s possible to squeeze the images from his mind if he tries hard enough. He can’t stop thinking about it. It all makes sense now; the way Mohinder has looked at him, their first meeting outside the apartment, the lies. Zane can’t blame him for any of it, and he wonders why he’s still there, and he loves Mohinder for looking out for him, while hating him for being too much of a coward to do the right thing.
“Oh, god.” He sobs once, fighting to hold back the tears that threaten, wrapping his arms around his waist as he tries to concentrate on something else, something that will keep him from thinking about… everything. Closing his eyes, he listens to the sounds around the house, finding the voices of his brothers downstairs in the parlor, and instantly recoiling.
No, he doesn’t want to know what they’re talking about.
To the kitchen, where a small staff (staff!) is preparing the evening meal and there are pots being banged around, and hushed whispers between them about their employers, and Zane doesn’t want to hear that either. There’s nothing there that he wishes to know right now.
So he tries again, and this time he finds it - Mohinder’s voice. Soft, clipped tones in a hushed whisper somewhere just below the room Zane is sitting in.
“I promise, Molly, everything is fine.”
“But I know you’re with him… the boogeyman,” a young girl’s voice frets over the phone.
“He isn’t… “ Mohinder pauses, then, “People change, Molly. I know that’s difficult to understand. Not even grown-ups get it all of the time. But they can change, and sometimes you have to give them that chance. Trust me, please? I would never, ever put you in any kind of danger.”
“I know.” She sighs. “When will I get to see you?”
“Soon.”
“Cross your heart?”
“Cross my heart.” Zane can almost hear Mohinder’s smile.
Molly giggles momentarily before saying, “Matt says I gotta go. Love you, Mohinder!”
“I love you, too, Molly.”
Zane doesn’t understand why, but he aches inside to hear Mohinder say those words. Is that what he wants? Mohinder’s love? If so, he certainly doesn’t deserve it.
Blocking out any further sounds, he sits in silence as shadows move across the room, trying not to think, not to feel… wondering if without such things, does he even exist? He doesn’t know how long it is before he hears the click of the door opening, and Zane opens his eyes, looking up to see Mohinder quietly entering the room. He finds himself smiling almost instantly.
“Your brothers are worried about you,” Mohinder says softly as he crosses the room. He smiles as he stops in front of Zane, looking down at him. “I’m worried about you.”
Mohinder reaches out and touches his hair, fingers running past his temple before slipping back to cup his head. Closing his eyes, Zane leans forward, pressing his face against the soft cotton of his shirt, cheek to belly, arms wrapping around his waist. He knows he’s clinging, but he doesn’t care. Mohinder is the only thing he understands right now.
“How’re you doing?” Mohinder asks, fingers moving slowly through his hair.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I… Knowing who I was, what I was… it isn’t like remembering. And I don’t want to remember. I’m scared to remember.”
“It’ll be all right. I promise.”
Zane thinks of the little girl who Mohinder had made an earlier promise to. He finds himself asking, “Who is Molly?”
Mohinder’s hand stills for a moment before continuing the gentle stroking against his hair. “She’s a little girl I helped before the explosion. She had a rare disease that… that killed my sister, Shanti. Turns out that I carry the antibodies in my blood to cure it.”
“You saved her life,” Zane says against the soft warmth of Mohinder’s sweater. “You’re a good person.”
“I didn’t do anything that anyone else wouldn’t have done in the same situation.”
The response is humble, but Zane can hear the tiniest thread of pride in Mohinder’s voice. It makes him smile.
He’s silent for another moment, then asks, “Why does she call me the boogeyman?”
Mohinder’s fingers still once more, and this time there is a much longer hesitation. Long enough that Zane pulls his head away, leaning back to look up at Mohinder. He knows what is coming, and knows that he shouldn’t want to hear it, but he does. He has to hear it. It’s the only way to make it real.
“She knows Sylar, doesn’t she?”
Inhaling a short breath, Mohinder nods even as he touches his fingers lightly to Zane’s cheek. “Yes. Sylar… murdered her parents. He almost got to her.”
Zane doesn’t dwell too long on this information. “She’s special, then. Like Peter. And Nathan.”
“And you,” Mohinder points out with a nod. He continues to caress Zane’s cheek as he watches him. “We haven’t had much time to talk. I’m sorry. Nathan believes you’re in danger - maybe all three of you.”
“You were the one those men were shooting at in Queens.”
“Yes. But I think they just want me out of the way,” he says matter-of-factly, his fingers continuing to draw random designs against Zane’s skin.
“I won’t let them hurt you, Mohinder.”
Mohinder smiles at that, cupping his face. “I know.”
Staring up at Mohinder, thinking he has to be the most beautiful thing Zane has ever seen, the realization hits him hard that he’s unworthy of this. He isn’t good enough. What if he doesn’t deserve this? Doesn’t deserve Mohinder?
Tears sting his eyes.
“Mohinder,” he murmurs, voice breaking slightly. “Why can’t I… just be a good person? That’s all. I just want to be a good person.”
“You are, Zane,” Mohinder whispers reassuringly, touching his chin. “You are - “
“No.” He shakes his head, a mild panic settling in his chest as he says, “I’m not - He’s - How can I be a good person when I’m not even certain who I am?”
“You want to be a good person. That right there defines who you are. You’ve chosen the person you are - good, and kind, and concerned about others. You’re right when you say I’ve watched you; I have. And there’s nothing about you I would change. Should you choose to be Gabriel Petrelli, or continue to be Zane Taylor, it doesn’t matter.”
Zane furrows his brow as he thinks over Mohinder’s words. The name Gabriel Petrelli sounds so foreign to him. Even though Zane Taylor is barely a month old, the idea of a different name….
“Gabriel,” he says, testing the name on his tongue. He smiles a little. “It’s kind of weird to hear, you know. I’ve gotten so used to Zane. When Nathan calls me Gabriel… I’m not certain how to respond. He says I’m a Petrelli but… “
He glances up to find Mohinder smiling at him. “Who do you want to be?”
“I don’t - “ Zane frowns as he thinks about it. He grows silent again, considering all he’s learned in the last few hours. His brothers, the truth about his past, and Mohinder’s past, the knowledge that there’s more going on, that there’s something they’re all supposed to be a part of.
“It would be something to be a Petrelli, huh? I mean, all of this, and respect too, I’m sure, but… “ He shakes his head before bringing his gaze back to Mohinder’s. “Zane. You loved him, didn’t you?” he asks. “I mean, before you knew… about Sylar.”
Mohinder appears surprised by the question at first, gazing at him for a long moment before letting out a soft breath. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
Zane smiles, bringing his hand up to lay his fingers against Mohinder’s neck. “Then, that’s who I want to be,” he tells him. “Zane.”
It’s Mohinder who kisses Zane this time, ending his fears that maybe his earlier advance hadn’t been wanted. Everything seems so new, and Zane wonders if he’s done this before, kissed another man, or maybe a woman, and if they ended up as nothing more than his victim. He hates that his mind goes there, so he kisses Mohinder more deeply, more desperately, hoping to make it all go away.
As if sensing this need, Mohinder gently pushes him back, following him down to the mattress, never breaking the kiss, fingers plucking at the edge of his sweatshirt, hands slipping beneath. His breath catches in his throat at the touch of Mohinder’s hands against his skin, and he moves into it, wanting more.
“Mohinder - “
“Shhhh. Don’t talk.”
Zane shuts up as Mohinder’s lips press against his neck. There’s warmth, and a feather-like tickle, and Mohinder’s tongue, briefly, and teeth. He’s lost in the feel of Mohinder’s body pressed against his own, and the hot breath on his neck, and the touch of fingers moving across his stomach, his chest. He wants to touch Mohinder, but isn’t certain how or what’s right or what he’d want, and there’s the tiniest part of him that’s scared… scared of allowing something loose that’s supposed to remain hidden.
Realizing he can’t let this go on until he’s certain of who he is, Zane gently pushes against Mohinder. “Stop,” he says.
Mohinder does, bringing his gaze to Zane’s, frowning slightly but not unkindly. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” he lies, pulling away and sitting up, straightening his shirt.
Sitting up beside him, Mohinder touches his shoulder. “Talk to me, Zane.”
He shakes his head. “I’m… afraid.”
“Of me?”
Zane turns to look at him. “Of me.”
Nodding in understanding, Mohinder lays his head on Zane’s shoulder, and quietly holds him.
****
As Peter heads up to find Gabriel and Suresh, Nathan loosens his tie, glancing out the window to watch as their mother climbs out of the Rolls Royce and heads up the steps toward the house. He has no idea what to expect. Obviously, Angela Petrelli isn’t going to like his solution to the Linderman problem, but Nathan is beyond caring. At least for the moment. He’s recently began to realize that things always seem clearer to him outside his mother’s sphere of influence; right and wrong don’t appear quite as muddled as when she’s around. He thinks about this, and wonders over it, and why it concerns him.
Slipping on his jacket, he looks out into the hall where Peter is disappearing up the staircase. His little brother is still having trouble reconciling that the serial killer who murdered him twice, and pushed him into losing control, is also his brother and twin. Nathan wishes he could make it easier for him, for both of them. He had been honest with Peter when he said he believed things could have been different if Gabriel had grown up with them. At least they could have looked out for one another. He doesn’t like to believe himself capable of monstrous actions, but he knows the truth; he’s seen inside his own heart. Most of his choices over the last year certainly weren’t made for humanitarian reasons. His own wife doesn’t even know the real truth.
“Nathan, you’re back,” Angela begins without preamble as she enters the parlor and removes her mink coat. Waiting until the butler takes it and leaves the room, she adds, “Did you take care of our little problem?”
He winces at her reference to killing her own son as “our little problem”, then quickly reasons to himself that it’s simply her way of dealing with things. Pretend it’s unimportant, distance yourself from it, and then emotions won’t get in the way. Nathan’s done his own version of coping in the past.
“Perhaps not in the way you quite intended, Mom.”
Her eyes narrow as she watches him. “What do you mean?
“They’re on their way down, Nat - “ Peter comes to a halt in the threshold of the parlor entrance, staring at their mother like she’s an unexpected, and unwelcome, guest.
Their mother, for her part, displays more emotion than Nathan’s seen out of her in a while at the sight of his brother.
“Peter, you’ve come back to us!”
Angela moves over to him, pulls him into her embrace, holding him tightly. Peter doesn’t seem to react, and Nathan knows the healing has barely begun. Normally, there were few things Peter craved more in life than receiving a rare hug from their mother. Now, it’s quite obvious to everyone in the room that it’s the last thing he really wants, especially combined with her tears.
Nathan’s attention focuses on Gabriel and Suresh as they enter the room, and he can’t help but smile. “Peter’s not the only surprise.”
Here we go.
Angela turns at his words, gaze moving past the doorway when she stills. Nathan watches as every muscle in his mother’s body seems to tense. Beside her, Peter is shaking his head, as if he hasn’t really believed any of it until that very moment. Her reaction is telling; Gabriel isn’t supposed to be there, and she knows damn well who he is. Nathan can’t decide if he’s disappointed or relieved or what. He slips his hands into his pockets and leans back against his desk as the silence continues. Poor Gabriel looks positively miserable, as if this is the last place on Earth he wants to be at that very moment, and Nathan feels for him - he does, none of them asked for this - but this has to happen. Should have happened sooner.
“Aren’t you going to greet your other son, Mother?” he prompts.
His mom flashes him a look; the kind of look that causes most people to quake in their shoes. Luckily, he’s not like most people anymore. Angela Petrelli stopped scaring him a few weeks ago.
“Gabriel.” Their mother speaks his name with ease but she doesn’t go to him. She folds her hands in front of her and looks at him for a long moment before saying, “I’m sorry our meeting has to occur under such… unfortunate circumstances.”
Nathan doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. Sure, Angela had wanted him to kill Gabriel, to erase his existence from the planet, but he truly hadn’t believed she could continue to be so… cold toward one of her own children. His anger mounts, a familiar protectiveness for a younger sibling rising within him. He feels guilty for putting Gabriel through this. Luckily, Suresh notices that things aren’t exactly like a Waltons’ family reunion, and steers Gabriel toward the couch, whispering something to him that Nathan can’t quite hear.
“Well, that was… touching,” Peter sneers, his tone suggesting that he’s no more pleased with their mother’s behavior than Nathan feels. He walks away from her, moving to the other side of the room, and Angela is left standing by herself, facing her three sons.
“This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, Nathan,” she says quietly, shooting him another hard look. “You don’t understand what you’ve done -“
“I understand perfectly, Mother,” he corrects her, folding his arms across his chest. “I understand that for the first time… possibly ever, the Petrelli boys are going to make their own choices. We’re going to operate as a family, and there aren’t going to be any more secrets.”
She shakes her head, pursing her lips distastefully as she continues to stare him down. “Linderman isn’t going to be pleased, Nathan.”
“Why is Linderman involved in all of this anyway?”
Nathan glances over at Suresh with the question. “Oh, he’s like us - my brothers and me. He has the ability to heal things, apparently.” He looks back to their mother. “Seems there’s an entire generation before us who’ve been pulling the strings, all with abilities, just like us. And what about you, Mom? What special little trick can you pull out of your sleeve?”
She raises her chin slightly, looking tall and regal as she glares at her son. “I don’t believe you’ve earned the right to know that just yet, Nathan.”
“So, that’s how this is going to go, is it?” Nathan gives her one of his most polished smiles. “I think it’s time you start talking, Mom. I think it’s high time you let the rest of us know what’s going on in this secret little world of yours.”
Before Angela can respond, Peter asks, “Who’s Kane?”
The terror on Angela’s face is something that Nathan has never witnessed before. He flashes a sharp glance at Peter before returning his attention to their mother, her fair skin taking on a ghostly grey pallor. She touches her hand to her throat, seems to search for the strength to speak, and finally asks, “How do you know that name?”
Peter moves to stand beside Nathan. “He found me. While I was following Mohinder and… Gabriel.” He looks at Nathan as he says, “Said his name was Kane. He seemed to have multiple abilities. Called himself a god. Said he wanted to meet me.” He glances over at Gabriel. “Seemed to know you, too.”
“No.”
Their attention is shifted to Angela as she slowly drops into the lone chair in the corner, eyes wide with shock. “It’s impossible.”
“What is it, Mom?” Nathan asks. “What do you know about this Kane?”
She shakes her head, not meeting his gaze. “We had hoped that the blast would have… Surely there should be nothing left.” She looks up; almost as if hoping Nathan or Peter might have the answers she’s looking for.
Nathan frowns, starts to take a step toward her but Peter reaches out and catches his arm. “Wait. That’s why you wanted me to explode? To kill Kane?”
“That’s preposterous,” Nathan mutters under his breath, still staring at their mother who shakes her head.
“And insane.” Suresh shakes his head. “Killing millions for one man - “
“You don’t understand,” Angela interrupts the strength back in her voice. “You can’t understand. Either we kill millions, or we stand by and watch as billions die.”
“That sounds a little dramatic.” Nathan turns to pace, slipping his hands into his pockets as he rounds the corner of his desk.
“Who is Kane?” Gabriel’s been so silent that the sound of his voice is jarring. Nathan has almost forgotten he was a part of all of this.
Angela is staring at Gabriel, watching him for a long moment silently, and Nathan can’t help but wonder if she regrets giving him up. Then he remembers who this is, and realizes he doubts it very much. Angela Petrelli has never been one to regret a decision, no matter the cost. He can’t decide if that’s a trait worthy of admiration or not.
“Kane is… he was the first of us. The first human we know of to have evolved. When we first met him, years ago, he introduced himself as Adam Monroe. He was a charmer… a dreamer of big dreams who brought us all together, promised us that we could change the world, that we were meant to change the world. But somewhere along the way, some of us began to realize that his intentions weren’t altogether altruistic.”
She pauses for a moment, folding her hands in her lap before continuing. “There were those of us who were seers - able to glimpse the future. A terrible future. One where the human race was on the very brink of extinction. I was there when we brought this to Adam’s attention. I remember it so well. He just… smiled. Said only the most evolved would survive. And that was that.”
“The most evolved?” Suresh questions. “You mean, only those with abilities.”
Angela shakes her head. “Perhaps. Or maybe just the most evolved of all of us. People like Adam. People you just can’t kill. You see, Adam is immortal. He first discovered this fact in the seventeenth century. He can’t be sick, he doesn’t age, he simply… evolves. But many of us believe that he’s simply lived too long - that somewhere along the way, with everything he’s seen and done, everything he’s lived through, he’s simply lost control. Adam thrives on chaos. He wants to see the world turned on its head - the un-evolved versus the evolved.
“Once sides were chosen in the battle brewing between us, our side realized we were going to need someone like Adam to beat him,” Angela says, her gaze taking in Peter and Gabriel. “That became your destiny from the moment you were both conceived. In the end, Daniel decided that Peter was incapable of beating Adam, and Gabriel… well, we lost control of you and it no longer mattered.”
“My destiny was to blow up?” Peter’s voice is filled with bitter disappointment, disbelief.
Their mother glances down at her hands for a moment, fiddling with her wedding ring. “The bomb was meant in exactly the spirit Linderman conceived it to be - to bring the world together. To unite us under one cause. He believed that the others out there like us would want to make certain nothing like this ever happened again - show them what true destruction is like and they’ll never side with Adam.”
Nathan raises his brow. “And has it worked?”
“In a manner of speaking.” She looks hard at Nathan. “Many others have sided with us, but you’ve been fighting Daniel’s plans, Nathan. The legislation he wishes to put before the senate would serve to protect us in the future - to keep the division from happening. It’s why he’s decided to replace you with… Gabriel.”
Peter laughs. “Because Sylar has always been far more malleable than Nathan.”
Pursing her lips, Angela glances across the room at Gabriel who remains sitting on the couch beside Suresh, silently staring at his hands. “Sylar wanted power. Daniel felt he could offer that - make a deal to offer the things he wants most in exchange for making certain the future went according to plan.”
“But Linderman showed me a painting in his collection,” Nathan points out. “Of me in the Oval office.”
“The paintings done by Isaac Mendez could never be interpreted at face value,” their mother explains. “Like looking at the cover of a book and pretending you know exactly what happens inside of its pages. Seers with the ability to dream the future have a much greater grasp of what’s to come.”
“Not if we change it first,” Gabriel says quietly, finally lifting his head, looking over at Nathan.
Nathan nods, finding a smile. “That’s right. I think we’ve all grown a little weary of your generation pulling our strings, Mom. The whole idea of fate and destiny is really beginning to take on a nasty connotation in my mind, and frankly, I don’t plan on standing around, waiting for whatever’s going to happen happen. The world will be united, but not by pain and death and destruction.” He glances over at Peter. “Whatever we do next, we have to make certain the truth about the explosion never gets out. If someone truly wanted to start a war that would be the way to do it.”
“What are we going to do?”
Gabriel’s question makes Nathan frown. Honestly, he doesn’t know where to begin. Talks of the future, and visions, and changing what might be pre-destined all seems implausible. A year ago, he would have walked out of this entire conversation, calling every person in this room nuts. Now, he just doesn’t know what to think. He has a brother he never knew existed, Peter who was in hiding for having lost control and killed millions, a mother who’s been quietly manipulating their lives from the moment they were born - exactly where does one begin to deal with all of this?
He doesn’t even know how he’s going to explain it all to Heidi someday.
“I think right now our most important task is to somehow contain and control both Linderman and this Adam Monroe.”
Their mother shakes her head, and Suresh actually laughs. “You’re serious?”
Nathan glances at the geneticist before catching the gazes of his brothers. “You have met my brothers, haven’t you, doc? I’m dead serious.”
The only problem is, at the moment, he’s not quite sure how they’re going to do it.
****
“Place was empty when we arrived,” Thompson’s voice explains. “The car’s still here but they paid the motel bill and cleared out. I spoke with the manager who told me he thought he saw someone else, so I had a look around. Found a second car.”
Linderman makes a face, knowing what’s about to come.
“Rental, registered to Nathan Petrelli. Someone from the rental agency showed up about ten minutes ago with an order to pick it up.”
“And there’s absolutely no clue as to where they might have gone?”
“None.”
Smiling tightly, he points out, “Three grown men don’t just disappear, Thompson.”
“No, sir.” Then, “What if the other Petrelli was here?”
It’s a valid question, no matter how much Linderman doesn’t want to hear it. They lost track of the youngest Petrelli weeks ago, and he’s been secretly hoping ever since that perhaps the kid had decided to become a non-issue, never needing to be heard from again. After all, if he had been the one to explode and kill millions, he certainly wouldn’t want to show his face in polite society ever. He doesn’t want to believe Peter had anything to do with the sudden disappearance of the others, but he acknowledges that the possibility is entirely plausible. Perhaps his feelings of guilt have pushed him into helping his brother achieve his misguided sense of nobility.
Linderman sighs. The situation was never supposed to become so incredibly complicated. “If that’s the case, then it’s very likely they’re back in New York. I’ll put a call into Angela, just to see what she has to say. Meanwhile, I want you and Candice to get back to New York as quickly as you can. If they’re beginning to make their own moves, then it’s time for us to make ours. I want Gabriel in Vegas within the next twenty-four hours. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
****
Zane hesitates outside the parlor doorway, trying not to make a sound, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Angela notices him anyway.
“Gabriel. Come in, please. Sit with me.”
She pats the cushion on the couch beside her, where she sits prim and straight with a commanding presence that frightens him a little. He doesn’t want to go in there. He doesn’t want to hear what she has to say. Ever since learning the truth, Zane has become wary of information. Things were far easier when he just didn’t know; when Mohinder simply told him what was relevant, and that was that. The more he learns, the more twisted his life becomes, and Zane doesn’t want that. He can’t imagine how anyone would want that.
He continues to stand there until he notices Peter beside him, leaning against the wall, out of their mother’s view. He’s giving Zane a challenging stare, daring him to go inside, with just a hint of smugness that Zane decides he doesn’t like one bit. He wonders what it would be like to hit his twin, and then Peter grins at him, just like he knows what he’s thinking. Zane frowns, glaring at Peter’s raised brow before finally taking the few steps needed to enter the parlor.
He doesn’t sit next to her, though. He sits in the chair on the other side of the coffee table, saying nothing.
There’s a heavy silence between them, where Zane tries not to fidget under her stare. Honestly, he feels like a child, and wonders if it’s just him, or does Angela Petrelli make all of her children feel that way?
“You look like your father.”
Zane blinks. “I… “ He’s not sure what to say to that. He doesn’t know this man she refers to as his father. He hasn’t even seen a picture of him. He tries to be interested, though. “What... what was he like?”
She purses her lips and looks away. “Arthur was a good man. Good-hearted. He liked to believe in things, believe he had a purpose. Unfortunately, he was weak. He could never choose sides; never make a final decision as to what meant the most to him. He finally just… gave up.”
Zane wants to ask if that’s where she thinks he gets his obvious mental instability from but he doesn’t; he doesn’t want to go down that road yet. Instead, he asks, “Did he agree… with splitting us up?”
“Of course not. But he knew sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. In the end, he simply chose to ignore it. That was Arthur’s easiest way to avoid things - pretend they never happened.”
So his father merely forgot he existed. Kind of like Zane has forgotten he ever had another life beyond the one that began in Mohinder’s apartment with something as simple as a name. He glances down at his hands as he feel’s Angela’s stare on him once again. He thinks he should probably feel grateful at her interest in him, but all he can really muster is discomfort.
“Do you have anything you’d like to ask me, Gabriel?”
Yes. Please stop calling me that, but he doesn’t say it. It sounds okay to him when Nathan says it; Angela is a different matter. He can’t bring himself to believe she has the right to call him by the name she gave him. She gave that up a long time ago.
“Why?” He finds himself lifting his head, meeting her gaze.
Angela appears confused by the question. “Why what?”
“Why me? Why was I the one you didn’t want?”
“It wasn’t a question of want or choice, Gabriel,” she explains. “It wasn’t as if there was anything special that made me look at you and say ‘Yes, Gabriel, you are the one I’m going to send away’. You were simply the first born. I held you, named you, and then you were gone. Peter was born shortly after, and he came home with us.”
Zane is surprised at how much her words hurt. He thinks none of this should really matter to him, but it does. It should be easier to believe that had Peter been born first, he would have been the one given away and Zane… Gabriel would have grown up here. With a brother, a future… maybe things would have been different. But there’s something about the truth that makes it all much worse, that it was all so random, and in the end, it didn’t matter who he was, or where he might have been better off. He hadn’t mattered because there had been nothing special about him to matter. He’d just… been born. Something inside of him churns at the thought. Has he ever felt so insignificant before in his life? God, he hopes not. Living with this knowledge is painful enough for one life; he doesn’t want to imagine it happening twice.
“I am… sorry for what has happened to you, Gabriel,” Angela is saying, but he doesn’t even look up as she speaks. “What you’ve been through and experienced… “
“What I’ve become,” he whispers.
She makes a small noise of acknowledgment. “If it could have been prevented… Unfortunately, we don’t know what happened. I had worried that the environment we were placing you into was not altogether stable. Virginia Gray was troubled. She was unable to have children of her own, had always seemed quite dissatisfied with what life had handed her, but we were assured that everything would be fine. You’d be under the best supervision.”
Zane looks up at that to find her smiling at him, if only slightly. “According to reports, you were a bright boy, a quick learner, and very good-hearted. You were also a bit too shy and withdrawn, traits I’m sure you picked up from her.”
“Where is she?” he asks, suddenly wanting to talk to the woman who raised him, to see if she could help him uncover the questions as to why he became a monster. “Does she know - “
Angela stands, a bit abruptly, smoothing the front of her skirt. “I am glad to have you home, Gabriel, no matter what you may think of me. You are still my son,” she says as she moves over to him, and Zane gets to his feet, staring down at her, wondering why she won’t answer his questions.
“You are a Petrelli,” she tells him as she reaches up to touch his hair, his cheek. Her fingers are cold, even though there’s the slightest hint of affection in the light caress. “No matter how you were raised, you are still a Petrelli, and maybe you’re getting this second chance for a reason.”
****
Peter waits until his mother disappears up the staircase before he comes out of hiding. Sylar has returned to his seat, staring morosely at the floor, and Peter can’t help but understand a fraction of what he’s feeling. Not that he’s ever been told he was handed over to some strangers at birth in order to save the world, but he knows what it’s like to feel as if you’ve disappointed Angela Petrelli; that you haven’t lived up to the version of the person she expects you to be. Oh, he knows how that feels all too well. But there’s something else, other thoughts and emotions he’s been hearing from Sylar throughout his discussion with their mother that has surprised Peter, unintentionally coloring his view of the killer: the fears, the loneliness, the sorrow. It’s difficult not to think back on how he had felt after the explosion, the weeks of self-imposed isolation; the knowledge of how unworthy he was of anyone’s love.
That’s what he felt from Sylar just now, and it makes Peter look at him again; really look at him. He isn’t as frightening anymore. The distance between them is closing, however minutely. Peter understands now what Nathan meant.
He thinks he might understand his twin.
“So, I’m still the youngest,” he finally says for want of anything else.
Sylar’s head snaps up at his words, and Peter hears him think He’s a real jerk. He can’t help but smile at the thought. “Nathan’s called me a brat from time to time.”
A frown. “Wait. Are you reading my mind?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.”
Peter furrows his brow for a moment; he hadn’t even tried. Kind of like the day before he’d exploded, when he’d heard Sylar’s thoughts out of the hundreds of people around him, and he hadn’t even been thinking about him. He’s wondered about that, from time to time; what it was that sparked Sylar’s thoughts into his mind, out of so many others, and now he believes he knows why. They always say twins have some sort of connection, and as much as he hates to think of any kind of connection existing between them, he can’t deny its presence.
“Can I read minds, too?” Then, “I mean, could I?”
“No. Not that I know of. And for that, Parkman is probably damn grateful.”
“Who’s Parkman?”
“No one.”
Sylar frowns again, standing to pace past Peter, hands in his pockets, looking momentarily a little like Nathan. Peter watches him silently for a long moment, considers making a real attempt at reading his mind, and then thinks better of it. Sylar… Realizing he cringes every time he thinks that name, Peter decides to try out the name of his twin.
“Gabriel.” It sounds weird to his ears.
“What?”
He glances up to find Sylar… Gabriel looking back at him. “Nothing. I was just… “ He shrugs and offers an apologetic smile. “Look, I know you don’t remember, and that you’re different now and all, but the person I remember? Killed me. Twice. So maybe I’m supposed to be seeing Gabriel, or Zane, or whoever every time I look at you, but all I see are blood and pain, and it’s making it hard to… like you.”
Head tilting to the side slightly, Sylar… Gabriel nods. “Thank you for being honest with me, Peter.”
He’s surprised at the response. “Uh… sure. I mean, I guess if anyone can be honest with one another, it’s us, right? Considering our history… not that you remember it. But, we’re twins, too, and I guess that’s supposed to count for something.”
With the silence that follows his remark, he glances out into the hallway, thinking about their mother. “Sorry about our mom. I mean, she could have laid all of that on you in a better way, right? That’s kind of her style. I could tell you that you’ll get used to it, but it’s doubtful. I’ve lived with her all of my life and I’m still surprised by the things she does and says.” He realizes he’s biting on his thumbnail, and pulls it from his mouth. “Still love her, though.”
“She let you explode.”
Peter smiles. “Hey, if someone’s going to let you go nuclear, might as well be family, right?”
The attempt at humor seems lost on his brother, who is staring at him like he’s the crazy one. Maybe they both are. A shared crazy gene that their mom claims they got from their father.
He scratches at the back of his head as he tries to explain himself. “Mom’s no saint, obviously. And neither is Nathan. There’s you - “ He glances at Gabriel who shifts uncomfortably. “And I… hell. Dad was the closest thing to innocent in this family, and he’s gone. But, I don’t know, maybe it’s in our blood, you know? That whole Italian thing, no matter how clichéd it might be. Look at how Nathan has taken you in, like it’s nothing. And I may not like you right now but… that doesn’t mean I have any intention of letting Linderman and his goons get their hands on you.”
Gabriel smiles, glancing down at the floor. “I can just feel the love.”
“Heh. Yeah.”
“You two all right in here?” Nathan steps into the parlor, looking between the two of them, the concern evident.
“We’re not beating the shit out of each other, if that’s what you mean,” Peter replies and immediately gets a slap upside the head for his trouble. He grins up at Nathan, and relaxes, realizing this is the first time he’s felt safe, and moderately happy, in far too long.
“This is what one has to put up with when one has a kid brother, Gabriel,” Nathan tells him. “When he gets out of line, you just smack him.”
Gabriel glances furtively at Peter before responding softly, “I think I’ve done enough damage.”
Yeah. Peter can already tell that Christmas with the Petrelli family is going to filled with joyous reminiscing of the past.
Or not.
“So, uh, how’d it go with Mom?”
Peter rolls his eyes at Nathan’s question. “What a thing to ask him. How do you think it went?”
Nathan just ignores him, watching Gabriel patiently.
“She… answered some of my questions,” he says quietly, still holding himself apart from Peter and Nathan. Like maybe he’s afraid of not being included.
“Well, I guess that’s a start.” He looks down at Peter, one hand coming up to touch the back of his neck. “And you. Think we have a chance of making this work… together?”
Looking over at the man he’s known the past few months as Sylar, he understands that he doesn’t really have anything to lose by accepting him as Gabriel, his twin. The past can never be erased, and there will always be that something hanging between them, but Nathan was right when he said that none of them could cast moral judgment on the other. They all have their tribulations to bear. And it’s always possible that things might have been different if their mother hadn’t made that one fateful decision twenty-seven years ago. None of them can ignore that. None of them can ignore the second chance they’ve been given.
“Yeah,” he says, glancing back up at Nathan, smiling as his brother gives his neck a gentle squeeze. “I think we do.”
Borrowed Time - Part Six
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