Am I Still Nathan Petrelli?, Chapter 11: The Battle
Claire looked at herself in the mirror, at her tear-stained face. It was hard to tell if her dad believed she would go through with helping them do this. “Reprogramming” - like he was some sort of computer they could just install with a software update whenever they liked. She hated Sylar, with a passion. But the man she’d met the day before hadn’t been Sylar. He hadn’t been a sick, power-tripping egomaniac who promised to stalk her for the rest of her possibly unnaturally long life. He hadn’t so much as made a pass at her. Had he even touched her?
Now that she thought about it, she remembered when she reached out and touched him, but all the rest of the time he’d held himself apart from her. She didn’t think their fingers even brushed when he’d given her the wine cooler. If he had all of Sylar’s powers, then he could have done anything he wanted, anytime he wanted. He’d proven that when he had her in the hotel room. Thank God Nathan and Peter had showed up. She was sure Sylar would have quickly bored of taunting her and moved on to satisfying himself with her.
But her father seemed so sure… She swabbed off her face, rubbing hard. Who would know for sure? Only one name came to mind: Peter. Peter and Nathan were supposed to have met last night. She had a sudden surge of fear that maybe Sylar had killed Peter. But that was silly. Surely he’d had other opportunities. Yet there had been a distance between the two of them. She’d felt it.
She turned the water up as high as it would go and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed Peter’s number quickly, but was disappointed by the message that the number was temporarily out of service. Crap! Of all the days for Peter’s phone service to be out! She frowned at the phone. Yes, it’s awfully convenient that it would be out today. Too convenient. There was no reason why it would be out if Sylar had killed him last night - there just wouldn’t be an answer. But if someone had cut off service… someone who had access to all Peter’s personal information… and had a big reason not to want him to get any calls today… Claire knew who it was. It also proved to her that she was right and this was something Peter would want to stop if he knew about it.
Would she be able to work some sort of warning into the conversation with Nathan? Almost certainly not. From the way her dad had talked, he and Angela would be standing right there making sure she stuck to a script. She probably wouldn’t be able to warn him after he arrived either, not without declaring sides and she wasn’t as absolutely sure as she needed to be to do that. She had to get to Peter! He would know. She dialed information and then the hospital, leaving a message for Peter Petrelli, paramedic. She prayed he would get it in time.
-------
Nathan arrived on time, as he usually did these days. He could still be delayed by traffic or unforeseen circumstances but he certainly didn’t lose track of time anymore and once he made a commitment, he followed through, hell or high water. Claire greeted him cheerfully and hugged him.
He stiffened a little. “Claire… you don’t have to do that,” he said softly. He tried to disentangle himself from her gently. She looked up at him and gave him a weird, oddly desperate look.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
She hesitated and then shook her head slightly, answering in a cheery voice that didn’t match her expression, but carried well, “Come on in the dining room. Your mom should have some soup out in a few minutes.” She gave him another look. Her face practically screamed, “Run away!” He looked at her blankly.
“Claire?” he mouthed. He wasn’t going to leave if she was in danger.
Angela came out just then with a tureen of soup. “Nathan! It’s so good to see you. Please, have a seat. Claire?” She set down the tureen and gestured at Claire’s designated seat. “I’ll just go get some bread,” Angela said.
Claire sat down, smiling for Angela’s benefit. Nathan sat in his usual seat, watching Claire closely. When Angela left, they’d talk, or at least try to lip-read. The door closed behind Angela and Claire shut her eyes sadly.
Well, that’s going to make it hard to lip-read, Nathan thought. There was a sharp puff of mineral-tasting air from beneath him and that was the last thing he thought coherently.
-------
Peter threw open the door from the garden and rushed into the living room, his hair in windswept disarray. On the couch was Nathan, twitching slightly and making occasional small, strangled sounds. To Peter they sounded exactly like the noises made by those who were in pain, but unconscious. He’d heard too many of those sounds in his line of work. Noah and Matt stood nearby, interrupted in their quiet talk by Peter. Noah raised a single brow at Peter’s abrupt entry. It was very indiscreet to be flying in the daytime. Claire stood further away from everyone, biting her knuckle and looking conflicted. Angela was waiting behind the couch with hands folded behind her, an unnaturally serene presence.
Peter closed the distance, looking at each person in turn.
Only Matt spoke, saying, “It’s done. There’s nothing you can do.”
“What’s done?” Peter snapped at him, kneeling next to Nathan and taking his pulse.
“Sylar’s being taken apart. It’s just a matter of time. It’ll be over soon. Then all that will be left is Nathan.” Matt smiled slightly and shrugged. “I’m pretty sure it will work right this time,” he added, bouncing on his feet. He was so pleased. He’d finally gotten that sick bastard.
“Pretty sure?!” Peter glared at him. Matt took a step back, faced with Peter’s unexpected fury. Peter, leaving Nathan’s side, closed on Matt. “You’re pretty sure? Pretty sure you’re going to kill part of him and it won’t affect the other part? That’s like saying it’s okay to cut off someone’s left arm because it won’t affect the right!” Matt backpedaled as Peter got in his face.
Claire stepped forward and said, rather timidly, “Peter… they said this won’t hurt Nathan. Only Sylar.”
Peter looked back at Nathan’s body as it twitched more strongly and made what was actually recognizable as a small cry. Peter shook his head. “No. It’s hurting him now.”
Noah stepped in, saying, “Peter, just step away. It might be hard to watch, but this needs to be done. Don’t let your love blind you to what needs to be done.”
Peter turned and stared at Noah, meeting his eyes for a long moment. Clearly, Noah knew. More softly, Peter said, “I’d rather be blinded by love than hate.” He wheeled and grabbed Matt’s hand. A warm, yellow light shone through his hand briefly.
“What? No!” Matt grabbed at Peter, catching his shoulder and spinning him around.
Peter recovered his balance and twisted away from Matt. He said, “You said there was nothing I could do, that it was just a matter of time. All I want to do is look for myself.” He looked Matt up and down, looking like he wanted to deck him. Matt glanced at Noah, who shrugged noncommittally. Peter stepped over gingerly next to Nathan’s body, looking around the room again at each person, trying to find an ally. He looked longest at Claire, his eyes silently asking her to keep him safe while he was inside Nathan’s mind. She walked over next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He nodded. It would be enough. She looked across the couch at Angela, who remained impassive, as she had through the entire encounter so far.
-----
Peter found himself in a sterile-looking corridor lined with whitewashed concrete blocks. It seemed to go on forever, but just a little distance ahead of him was a door on the left wall. From beyond the door came howls of agony. They erupted much more loudly for a moment as Nathan opened the door and came out. The sounds damped down as the door swung shut. He was dressed perfectly, hair in place and shoes polished, but his face looked strained and pale. He walked up to Peter and hugged him warmly. “Peter! Thank God. Thank you for coming. I can’t talk to you though. Gabriel doesn’t have much time. I need to be with him.” Nathan turned and left immediately, returning to the room where the cries of human suffering trailed off abruptly to a whimper, then rose again in keening.
Peter looked up and down the corridor. It had a nightmarish quality to it somehow, like it made him dizzy just looking down it. There seemed to be nothing else to see. He followed his brother, but stopped in shock when he opened the door. Inside it was an abattoir. The floor looked like it had been covered with several gallons of blood. More of it was dripping copiously from Gabriel’s wounds, which were healing very slowly, but not as fast as he was being hurt. Mixed throughout the mess on the floor were chunks of meat and tissue ranging in size from a walnut to a grapefruit. What was left of Gabriel’s body laid upon a table, held down by bands of darkness. Shadows moved through the room, erratically swooping down on him and tearing at his body while he struggled and thrashed.
Nathan was standing near Gabriel’s head, his hand resting flat on a spot just under Gabriel’s collarbone, on his chest. That spot was unmarred and the shadows didn’t strike near it. They avoided Nathan altogether, but their attention was unwavering on the dying man. Peter hurried in the room and immediately slipped in the blood, skidding and sliding to the floor. He brought his hands up in a grimace. They were covered in still-warm blood. His pants were now soaked through in the back. He got to his feet and tried to grab the bands of darkness. His hands passed right through them. He tried to fight a shade that came at him, but it too passed him by, undeterred. He fought the next three that came at the body to no effect, only barely avoiding falling in the mess again. He caught himself by grabbing the table, his hand landing inadvertently on the stump of one of Sylar’s arms, sheared off at the elbow.
The touch seemed to rouse the body out of the senselessness of pain. He didn’t have eyes, but he could still speak. “Peter? Peter!”
“Yes? Yes, I’m here.” Peter gave up on fighting the formless shades and moved to the man’s head, across the table from Nathan. Nathan had remained pristine, without a drop of blood on him. He glowed slightly from the inside, but beads of sweat stood out on his brow and dark circles were forming under his eyes. Peter put his hand over Nathan’s on Gabriel’s chest and was startled to see all the blood on his hand and lower arm disappear. He held up his hand in surprise. It was clean and tingled slightly.
Gabriel spoke, his voice growling and burbling from his many chest injuries, “Peter, get out of here. These are my victims. Parkman set them on me to get their pounds of flesh. Let them take me. I deserve it. Make Nathan leave. He’s only delaying the it. It’ll just be him, when they’re done with me. You want him. Not me. You have to make him leave!”
Peter put out his hand again and touched Nathan’s. He tried to lift Nathan’s hand from Gabriel. Nathan resisted him and grimaced as if in pain. Peter didn’t try again. “Nathan?” Nathan looked up at him but didn’t speak. He had stress lines around his mouth and was starting to breath harder.
Peter said, “You’re trying to protect him.” It was almost a question.
Nathan nodded very slightly. Peter’s brows pulled together and he looked down at the struggling, maimed man.
“Go! Take him out of here!” Gabriel shouted at him.
Peter ignored him. To Nathan he asked, “Do you want me… to protect him?”
Nathan nodded unevenly, blinking as sweat dribbled into his eyes. He stared down at his hand on Gabriel’s chest and poured all of his concentration into it.
Peter backed away, taking care in crossing the slippery floor. Nathan was right. There wasn’t much time.
------
Peter blinked his eyes and inhaled sharply. He looked at his hands. It seemed odd that they would both be clean of blood, rather than just one. He felt irrevocably stained just from seeing that room.
“Peter?” Claire asked.
He didn’t answer her. Instead he leaped up and grabbed Matt Parkman, throttling him and dragging him next to Nathan with the strength of desperation and the advantage of surprise. He didn’t bother speaking. He tilted his head and forcibly invaded Matt’s mind.
Claire shot a look at her father. Noah lifted his brows and said very slowly, “I guess that means that Nathan isn’t unharmed by this after all.” He crossed his arms, clearly declining to stop Peter. He looked across the couch at Angela, who was looking rapidly between Peter, Nathan and Matt.
Angela looked across at Noah and hissed, “No. No! Peter can’t be allowed to prevent this.”
Noah shook his head. “I’m not coming between two Petrellis. Sylar’s one thing. Peter’s another. You know the Rules.”
“Fine! Then don’t.” She went to one of the duffel bags across the room for a gun. Claire looked at her father, whose face was expressionless. Claire dashed to the dining room and came back with the gas canister. The neural agent would be lethal to anyone without supernatural healing, but it had a very short range and an even shorter life in air before it became inert. One puff though would kill a person within a breath. Angela looked at Claire for a moment as both women measured off their respective positions. Angela could easily shoot Peter from where she was and Claire was too far away to effectively threaten her with the gas. Angela pointed and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. “Damnit!” she swore. Claire jumped forward and put herself between Angela and Peter, turning the canister so that she could release its contents with a single motion. Angela froze and lowered the gun.
“Safety’s on,” Noah said dryly.
“I noticed,” Angela’s voice dripped with acid.
Noah sighed. “Well, it’s understandable. You don’t use guns very often in your line of work.”
She glared at him, doing a good job of trying to kill him with her icy stare.
Matt suddenly fell to one knee as Peter released him. “Gah!” Parkman grabbed at his throat and coughed to get a breath. He looked up at Peter, who said to him, “Now, run!” Matt jumped to his feet and fled the house under the influence of his own ability used against him. Peter looked at Claire holding his mother at bay. He looked behind himself at Noah, who still stood with his arms crossed, doing nothing. Peter blinked at that and knelt next to Nathan, who took a huge breath and began to cough, since he’d never had a chance to clear the nerve agent from his lungs after it had killed him. Peter took his hand and helped him up. The man he pulled into a sitting position was Sylar, not Nathan.
Angela inhaled sharply.
Peter frowned to see Sylar’s face but said quietly, “Are you alright?”
Sylar coughed again. “Yeah. Nathan… he was taking it all. For me.”
Peter cocked his head. “Is Nathan still in there?”
Sylar nodded. “He’s too weak right now to stop me.” He gave a final short cough and glared up from under his brows at Angela Petrelli, then at Noah. “This isn’t going to happen again.”
Peter shook his head and said firmly, “I’m strong enough to stop you. We’re leaving Noah out of it. He’s neutral.”
“What?”
Peter looked down at Sylar and spoke as if he fully expected Sylar to follow his orders. “You leave him out of it. And you’re not doing anything to my mother either. I’m not going to let you be a killer again.” He reached down and put his hand solidly on Sylar’s shoulder for a moment, then turned to face Angela.
Angela spoke, “This isn’t over, Peter. Not until he’s dead.”
Peter stepped next to Claire. He looked at her and gave her a nudge out of the way. She moved. Sylar stood up. He glared at Noah, who eyed him coolly in return but did nothing.
Peter said very quietly, “I’m sorry, Mom. But it’s over.” He tilted his head, calling on Matt's power. She closed her eyes and dropped the gun. When she opened them again, Peter was right. It was all over. It had worked. The process was a success.
“Nathan!” She smiled at Sylar and moved towards him. “Stop looking like that horrible man!”
Sylar took a step back from her. Behind her, Peter looked at Sylar and nodded. “It’s okay. You’re Nathan. You just have Sylar’s powers. Sometimes you look like him, or even act like him. But she wants her son back. That’s what you are. You’re Nathan Petrelli.”
Claire moved next to Peter and touched his elbow. He had just done to his mother what her father had done so many times to Sandra, using the Haitian. It was painful to see. Somehow she felt better seeing the wretched expression on Peter’s face. He hadn’t wanted to do it. Even now he was thinking about how much of a mistake it was, how wrong to invade someone else’s mind and force them to see what you wanted them to see. Noah walked slowly over to pick up the gun. He checked the safety automatically and carried it back to the duffel. He collected the gas canister from Claire as well.
To Sylar, Angela said, “No member of my family wears that face, Nathan. Stop it now!” Her voice was still full of venom.
Peter said quietly, “Nathan, you need to change.”
Sylar sat down and stared at the floor. It seemed to take him a longer time than usual to muster up the rippling flesh and changed features. Nathan looked as ragged as he had when Peter had seen him in Parkman’s prison, except Nathan now also had two day’s beard and his hair was a mess. Angela smiled anyway and patted him on the cheek. “There! Much better. But you need to clean yourself up.” Her last pat turned out to be a light slap. “You look a fright!” Nathan shot her a murderous look at the slap. Peter stepped forward but there was no need. His mother walked off to another room without a backwards glance.
“Mister Petrelli.” Noah walked over and stopped about ten feet away from where Nathan was sitting. Nathan looked up at him. “Your father and I had an arrangement.”
Nathan stood up, which was a struggle, but he made it. He shook his legs a little, trying to shake away the phantom pain. He said, “I trust the arrangement still stands?”
Noah nodded. “Yes. I was after Sylar today, not you.” Noah’s eyes slid around the room, settling back on Nathan. “You just… accidentally got in the way.”
Nathan shook his head. “No, I put myself there. A little different.”
“Do you think it’s likely we’ll have problems with Sylar again?”
Nathan shook his head. “No. Not anymore.”
Noah nodded again. “Good.” He walked closer and extended his hand. Nathan took Noah’s hand in his and shook it firmly. Noah added, “You know you don’t have very much time.”
Nathan smiled and let go. “I’ve got a year or two, if I’m careful. I’m sure we’ll find a solution.”
Noah agreed. “Well, if you ever need me, you know how to get in touch.”
Nathan said, “Of course. Thank you for all your service to my family. I’ll see you out.”
As her two fathers walked out, Claire turned to Peter and said, “Do you know what’s going on?”
“No idea,” he shook his head.
“Claire?” Noah called.
“Coming,” she answered, picking up a few of her things. Peter said, “I’ll get the rest of your things to you later.”
“Sure,” she replied.
Noah and Nathan had returned from taking the duffel bags out. Now Noah held only his briefcase. “Claire, we need to let the Petrellis have some time alone.” He nodded at Nathan and Peter. He and Claire left.