Heroes fanfic: Confrontations, chapter 6, part 2
Title: Confrontations (Chapter 6.2/?)
Author: Jemma
Rating: To be safe, T (13+)
Disclaimer: Not my show or characters.
Characters: Peter, Nathan, Matt, Mohinder, Sylar, Future!Claire, Future!Peter, Future!Mohinder, Future!Nathan, Future!Danko, Danko, HRG, Mary Campbell, Luke, Tracy, mentions of Hiro.
Summary: My own interpretation of “Fugitives” after “Trust And Blood”. I started this before Volume Four began but added to it as new episodes showed. It follows Future!Peter in the future Fugitives-verse and the made of Awesome Trio which is Matt, Mohinder and Peter in the present. The three fugitives go on an important mission to find Sylar in an attempt to get Peter’s abilities back while, in the future, Future!Peter struggles with the changes of reality and suddenly finds himself in the same position many of his friends had been put in before they met a cruel fate.
Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six 1
Read here or at FF.net
A/N: cut in to two so it's easier on the eyes *_*
Three Years in to the Future.
Nathan appeared in front of him, distressed. His hair was a mess and lose strands poked out from the once neatly combed cut. Red circles could be seen under his eyes, but not from crying-from exhaustion.
"Nathan," Peter breathed as he tried to push himself to his feet. Failing, he landed on the concrete again, "Help me."
Nathan's eyes showed the deepest uncertainty he had ever seen as he stood, planted to the concrete beneath his feet. Peter turned, letting out little grunts of pain as he nursed his sore leg and watched the man above him expectantly. Nathan breathed shakily, "I..I can't."
That was enough to distract him from the agony, "What?"
"I'll take you back inside. It'll be okay."
"It's gone to Hell in there, Nathan! They'll kill me!" spat Peter.
"No, I won't let them."
"Is that what you said to Claire?" Peter almost yelled, pushing himself up with difficulty, "Didn't you make the same promise to me? I don't think you're in control as much as you think you are."
"Peter-"
"Just help me, Nathan. I don't want to go back there. I won't go back there. We can fly out of here and figure out some way to stop this. Please."
"You don't understand," Nathan began, a frown across his face, "I can't. We have a deal. It's too late."
Peter limped towards him, an angry yet bewildered look on his face, "What do you mean?"
He hesitated, clearing his throat before answering, "Danko knows about me. He's known for a while now. But," he paused, biting his lip momentarily, "He's agreed to keep it quiet as long as I let him call the shots. Don't you see? I have to stay here and make sure things don't get even more out of hand then they already are."
Peter laughed through the hurting, "Are you out of your mind? How much worse can things get?" he yelled furiously, "This stupid deal," he continued, "this deal is obviously more important than your family if you let them die for it," he added hatefully.
"How many more times do I have to tell you? Claire was an accident. She was never meant to…she shouldn't have died. They were running some tests…and somehow…she just never woke up. That's the truth. It wasn't intentional..."
"She's not the only one though, is she?" Peter interrupted bitterly, "All of those people-our friends. Family. It took me a while to notice mom's never at the house anymore. Do you even know where she is?"
"She's safe."
"You know that for a fact now, do you?"
"Peter, I'm sorry," Nathan glanced down apologetically, "but I'm going to have to take you back. You won't get far with that leg anyway. You're safer here."
Somehow, that didn't appear the case. Now was the perfect opportunity to escape and if Nathan wasn't going to help him then he'd have to do things his own way. He pushed passed him and concentrated hard on the past. To before he was caught, before Claire died, before he was given this hideous scar and back to when he could change things. Just to a place and time where he knew he could stop this from happening. Even if he couldn't, it was just a comfort to know that, some way and somehow, it was a possibility.
He slowly opened his eyes and saw Nathan in front of him. His lips moved quickly but Peter couldn't hear a word he was saying. He felt dizzy, as if he were swaying very gently from side to side. He was still here but the world felt different somehow. Everything seemed quiet and dreamy, the scenes around him played slowly and hazily and for a moment he thought he himself had slowed time. But it wasn't that at all.
Nathan watched nervously as Peter unsteadily looked down at his side and placed a hand on the side of his stomach. He slowly lifted his shaking palm in to view, revealing a dripping handful of blood. He let out a few short breaths, sharing a fearful glance with Nathan before collapsing in to his arms. Nathan grabbed him and they sank to the floor,
"Peter! Peter!" he gently tapped at his face as Peter struggled to breath, both hands grabbing at Nathan's arms. The wounds from his leg and stomach formed a red pool of blood beside them, "No, no, no, Peter," His grip on Nathan loosened whilst his eyes slowly closed, as if finally leaving like he had so desperately tried to before, "Peter, wake up! Wake up! I said wake up!" Peter didn't move but Nathan continued to shake him, "I'm so sorry, Pete. No," his lip quivered, "Peter?" Nothing. Peter's bloodied hand dropped to the floor and his chest stopped rising and falling. His eyes remained firmly shut. Nathan half expected him to re-generate and open his eyes again like he had before. But he knew he couldn't. It was clear he wasn't going to miraculously wake up. He was gone. Tears streamed down the older man's cheeks and he held his brother close, hanging on to whatever was left of him. He closed his eyes and rested a hand on the back of Peter's head, rocking him gently without even realising, "I'm sorry." He was so drowned in his grief, he didn't even realise that the old scar from Peter's face was no longer there.
3 Years Earlier
It was the moment he had been waiting for all this time, what his future self had suggested he do to save the world, to save everybody. To prevent the horrors he had lived through and to create a better future for people like him. This wasn't just for himself, but for the population of "special" people around the globe who wouldn't be safe until he ended this, finally.
He had lived up to his side of the bargain. Now he was going to take what was his. He felt reality vanish before him and drown out the sound of bullets from outside the room, the various yells that echoed through the halls and the vicious snarls of the man that tried so desperately to push him away. He seemed to find an inner strength. The strength he had craved for so long; not just physically, but mentally too.
He felt something, but was unsure what it was. His mind suddenly began to spin. Faces danced in front of his eyes, memories he had not lived through, people he had not met, murders he had not witnessed. Yet they were playing right in front of his eyes. He suddenly saw the familiar figures of his friends, family and with them their powers. He hadn't realised his grip had loosened. He clutched at his head, feeling the rush, the stream of sensations, emotions and images of these people; how they made him feel and think and how they controlled their abilities. He was overwhelmed. His body shook slightly and his brain begged for relief. He released his grip from Sylar and within seconds found himself face up on the floor, a fist heading straight for him.
He cried out at the impact. He heard a female voice yell his name as he lifted his head groggily. Tracy. She was still here. He remembered now. His eyes glanced upward at the furious man above him, eyes wild with fury, "You killed him," his eye twitched angrily, "I told you to back off but you couldn't wait to have your precious powers. Now what, Peter?"
Tracy attempted to pull the other man off of him only to feel an invisible force sweep her off her feet and slide her quickly across the room. Peter unsteadily watched her crash in to the wall behind her. Dazed, he returned his glare back to Sylar.
"I was supposed to make him suffer!" he shouted hysterically, surprising Peter in the process as the feeling of awareness slowly returned to him. He noticed Sylar looking at Tracy who held her head as she recovered from the attack, "You," he began darkly, "You'll wish you never listened to him," he stalked slowly towards her, fire erupting from his palms. Peter wiped the blood from his lip and crawled to his feet. Tracy tried to do the same as she leant against the wall with no escape, armed with a sharp yet fearful glare as Sylar raised his hand to attack. You can't fight ice with fire. Fire always won. And this, Tracy knew. She swallowed. Sylar smirked. If he couldn't get revenge on his father, he would on these two, starting with the lucky blonde ice princess. He stepped towards her. The last step he took before the ground beneath him seemed to vanish and he became airborne before meeting the floorboards on the opposite side of the room. Tracy stared in astonishment and directed her gaze to her rescuer. Peter stood with mainly the same expression as his arm gently dropped to his side again. He had attacked Sylar with the familiar power, Telekenesis. The open-mouthed shock soon formed in to a wide smile. His powers were back. He could feel it, familiarise with it. It was as if they were never gone. He shared a small smirk with the woman in front of him,
"I know it sounds cliché but, come on-we have work to do."
"Let's not play games, Matt. I know he brought you here. What's he trying to do now?"
"He's trying to stop you. We're trying to stop you. What you're doing is wrong and you know it. I know you, Nathan," Matt took a gentle step forward, "This is all going to end in a way you don't want it to."
"I've got it under control," Nathan scowled as if Matt's words were an insult, "You don't understand the dangers these abilities bring. I'm just trying to help."
"So is this how you help Daphne?" he indicated to the limp woman in his arms, "She never did anything and you were going to let her die just because of the way she is."
"I'm sorry, Matt," Nathan glanced down piteously, "I'm going to call for back up."
He began to raise the phone to his face as Matt sighed deeply, "Didn't want to have to do this, Nathan."
Any additional noise or thoughts silenced from the older man's mind, except one voice: Matt's. The phone dropped from his grip and smashed to the floor. Nathan shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his fingers but free will seemed to vanish despite his efforts. He stepped aside involuntarily, allowing Matt to proceed to the exit.
"Don't do this!" Nathan managed to exclaim as he stood perfectly still whilst Matt made his escape. Determined, Matt continued to the stairs where the back exit was, Daphne still clutched in his arms as he carried her down the stairway and out of the building. He began to make his way across the concrete when, to the right of him, he noticed a few armed men inspecting the car that Sylar and Peter had arrived in. He rested against the brick wall, planning his next move. Breathing heavily for a few moments, he shot across and hid behind the next building. Nobody had spotted him to his knowledge. He didn't think a hospital was very far away-he just needed a way to get there. For now he had to concentrate on getting her far away from here. He felt guilty for leaving the others behind, knowing they were in so much danger but Daphne needed urgent medical attention and staying here wouldn't get her the help she needed. He hurried off in to the distance, stealing a glance at the wretched place as he travelled farther and farther away.
Sylar hadn't stirred since his forceful landing so Peter could only assume he had been knocked out. Luckily, this meant he could enter the next phase of the plan without interruptions from him. He told Tracy to start freeing the prisoners and to help them escape knowing full well the amount of guards that awaited them outside. He decided this would be their war. Us against them, as he described it. These people were civilians but they were civilians with special advantages. They had powers that could enable them to rise above the enemy. And with the right amount of organisation and team work, they could very well win.
He was on his way to get Luke when the boy hurtled through the door, clutching at his left arm in agony, "They caught me off guard," he muttered, trying to ignore the pain, "There was just too many of them. I couldn't hold them off any longer."
Peter held his arms out to inspect the injury cautiously, "It's just a flesh wound. You'll be fine."
"Easy for you to say," Luke grit his teeth through the pain and stared at Peter from the corners of his eyes.
"Listen, I need you to show me the cell where you were kept…you told me a blonde was in there with you."
"I don't think now is the time or the place, man."
Well he was right about one thing; this was not a time for light comedy, "Just show me where she is, Luke."
"Now? Out there? There's, like, eight guys out there!" Luke protested, still holding his bleeding arm tightly.
"I'll deal with them," Peter breathed before turning to face Tracy hesitantly, unsure whether to leave her.
"Go," she told him as she began to tend to the other prisoners, "I'll be fine."
He nodded and told her he'd be back soon before heading towards the doors and beckoning for Luke to follow. He could at least make sure the armed men outside couldn't bother her. Luke followed him as he walked through the doors and was greeted with a shower of bullets. The boy leapt to the ground whilst Peter cried out in pain at the bullets lodged in his body. One by one he pulled them out whilst the others stared at him with astonishment. The wounds healed in no time at all.
"Woah," he heard Luke say from his hiding place.
The metal bullets dropped to the floor and with a swipe of his hand, so did their guns. He smiled, "I really missed those," he commented referring to the pleasing convenience of telekenesis and self-healing.
One of the men began to speak in to his radio, presumably calling for back up. This was easily avoided. They gasped as a blue bolt of electricity headed straight for the radio, preventing the device from being used. The lights blinked on and off. Peter realised if he was to avoid hurting anyone, he would have to scare these men off before they could make a move. He held his breath as a ball of fire emerged in his palm. It was funny, he thought to himself, how the first time he had this power he almost destroyed half of New York. Now he felt perfectly in control. He aimed and shot right in front of the men opposite, causing flames to rise up around them. They jumped back in fear. Now they really had to decide what was more important: their lives or their duty? One of them towards the side seemed to have finished a short emergency radio call and then began to order the group to retreat out of the area. They filed out of the hall, leaving Peter and Luke alone. The boy slowly got to his feet.
"You did it. They're gone."
But something told Peter this wasn't over. The lights suddenly shut off, leaving the whole floor in darkness. Luke stood next to Peter who glanced up as the lights faded. Fortunately, sunlight from the windows allowed them to see,
"Let's go," Peter told Luke calmly as he began to make his way towards another exit.
Sylar seemed to be sleeping soundly at the side of the room, dry blood upon his forehead-the wound healed, of course. Tracy wasn't sure how long he would be out for, and she didn't have time to check to see if he was waking up. All was quiet in the dark surroundings. The gun fire had ceased and there was only silence outside. The only noises were that of Tracy attempting to wake up her fellow prisoners and their groggy moans of disturbance as they were awoken from their peaceful drug-induced sleep. She had woken up two people by the time two dark pairs of eyes shot open from across the room.
Sylar pulled himself up with ease and faced Tracy's back as she continued, oblivious to his presence, to help the others. He approached her slowly and, with a sly grin, tapped her on the back. She turned around and stared at him with a pair of stunned blue eyes as the owner of the ones in front of her threw her against the beige wall.
"Let me go!" she demanded furiously, though the fear in her voice betrayed her as her arms and legs struggled desperately to break free.
"I told you that you would regret ever listening to Peter Petrelli," Sylar told her in a low, serious voice, "I made the same mistake."
The other, lucid prisoners watched fearfully from their cots. One man attempted to fight him off with laser-type matter that shot from his finger tips but his bravery was wasted and he watched the man in front of him sweep his fingers at him before feeling a hard surface hit his back and head, knocking him out instantly. After that any other attempts to overthrow the man weren't executed.
Tracy gasped for air as she felt a force squeeze around her neck like a thick rope, tightening more as Sylar stepped closer towards her.
"You're quite a tough one, aren't you?" Sylar asked her, not expecting a coherent answer, "Shame I have to kill you now," he finished, raising his right arm to do what he did best.
Timing seemed to be a relieving factor for Nathan Petrelli as he saw the commotion and raced to Tracy's aid. Clobbering Sylar with a folded chair seemed to stun the mad man as he dropped to the floor, yelling in agony. Nathan finished him off with another strike. And another. And one more until he couldn't find the strength to recover quickly enough. He held a hand out to Tracy and she returned his gesture with a harsh glare.
"Come on," he told her, "Before he tries to kill you again."
"So you can lock me up again?" she spat scornfully, "I think I'll try my chances."
"You saw him! He was going to kill you," the man in front of her reminded her, "Please. We need to go. Trust me."
The hesitance shone in her eyes as her muscles tightened, warning her to stay where she was. Her mind screamed at her, advising all sorts of different solutions, presenting various scenarios. But the fear throughout her entire body seemed greater. It appeared she had no better option then to trust Nathan at that moment.
She held out her hand and he grabbed it, locking his palm with hers as he lead her out of there as fast as possible. She glanced back as he pulled her onwards,
"What about the others?" she cried, "Aren't you going to let them free?"
There was no time to stop. He lead her down the corridor, though the darkness, "I said I'd help you, not let them go."
She stopped in her tracks, tugging her hand away, eyes wide and anxious, "Where are you taking me?"
He held his hands up reassuringly and took a gentle step towards her, "Somewhere safe. Don't worry. I'm trying to help you."
"You're not helping me," she bit her lip angrily, "You don't care about me-you're going to lock me up again."
"That's not true," he assured, "I swear, Tracy. I never wanted you mixed up in this. I do care about you. That's why we've got to go-right now."
She stepped back again, eyes narrowing furiously, "You don't care about anyone."
She was expecting Nathan-the well respected politician, the responsible older brother-to reply with an offended comment about how he cared deeply for anyone from his family to each individual in the country. It was his job, after all, to care. What she wasn't expecting, however, was for Matt Parkman to appear out of nowhere and pound the man over the head with his fist. Nathan collapsed to the floor, revealing Matt behind him,
"Sorry, Nathan," he apologised, shaking the pain out of his fist. Normally, he disliked such violence but in this case, it had to be necessary. He had felt guilty leaving his friends here to battle by themselves but at the same time felt the same pang of remorse by leaving Daphne to fight for her own life alone in that hospital. By the looks of it though, he had got here just in time. He turned his attention to the blonde woman in front of him, "Need some help?"
She tried to focus her thoughts. That's when she remembered, "Sylar. He's with the other prisoners. They need our help!" Normally, at this point, Tracy's first instinct would be to get out of there and save herself. But something told her she needed to go back. She needed to help the others so they could help her. So they could destroy this building and everything it was. She understood Peter's desperation to take down this place and get revenge on the people that had hurt him. She too was hurt and she too longed for some satisfying revenge. Nathan would had to wait. The others needed her now.
"We need to hurry," Peter warned Luke as they rushed down the long, grey corridor.
"So you keep saying," muttered Luke, trying to keep up with the older man that accompanied him. And he thought he was leading the way!
"Which way?" demanded Peter as they neared the end of the corridor.
Luke was no more impressed with his tone and behaviour then he had been five minutes ago, "Who is this girl anyway? Like a girlfriend or something?"
"She's my niece," he explained quickly, hardly glancing at him, "Now which way?"
"This way," Luke overtook him and lead him down another corridor, feeling his way through the dark and squinting as his eyes fought to see through the shadows. Peter eagerly followed. Sooner this was all over, the better. Peter hadn't been too surprised that Nathan had allowed his own brother to be hunted like a common animal, but his teenage daughter? Had he really sunk that low?
Luke stopped almost causing the restless Peter to bump in to him, "What is it?" he asked.
Luke turned, looking thoughtful as he glanced around, "I think it must be one of these."
"One of these? Can't you remember which one?" Was this kid trying to make things hard? This would surely waste time.
"Dude, I was drugged. I was blindfolded on the way in. What more do you want from me?"
Peter nodded. He wasted no time in apologising, "Help me," he simply said as he began to knock on each door, calling Claire's name. He would never forgive himself if something had happened to her. He knew the future could change so easily-he just resented the fact that his future self hadn't come back to warn him; that Claire would be taken sooner then he first thought, that it was all beginning now and not later. He knew the future could be confusing-he thought about it all the time. But right now, the present was what was most important. He had to concentrate on now. He knew what was going to happen, and what would happen if he didn't prevent it. Now was the important part; changing things. Making a new future-a better one. It wouldn't be easy, but it was worth all the pain and panic he had already endured, and would endure.
He banged his fist on the metal door, "Claire? Hello?"
Is that Peter?
Peter stood back from the door. Those words weren't spoken aloud, were they? It was a familiar sensation. One that Peter could only identify as mind reading. But that couldn't be. Matt's power was gone. He had Sylar's now. Unless….
Peter, is that you? Can you hear me? Please hear me.
He stepped forward again and stood close to the door in front of him. Luke stood behind, watching curiously. Peter placed a hand on the door and rested his head against it, listening carefully,
"Mohinder? I can hear you."
It's me. You need to get me out of here.
"Hang on."
Peter stood back a far distance and examined the door. Which one of his many new powers could he use to knock down this door? Telekinesis probably wouldn't budge it. He gathered electrocuting it wouldn't do much either, nor would setting it on fire. God knows how many other abilities Sylar had stolen from people over time. Oddly, he could vaguely see these strangers in his mind, but it didn't much help him.
Luke rolled his eyes, "Allow me," he began as he raised his non-injured arm and aimed, with his hand, for the metal door. It gradually melted away, leaving a sticky hot dripping mess. Peter slipped through the sticky-less gap leaving an annoyed Luke outside before following, "You're welcome…"
The Indian man could be seen, gagged, in the centre of the room, arms tied around a metal bar to stop him from breaking free, "Mohinder!" Peter rushed over to him and pulled the gag from his mouth.
"Peter, I had a feeling you were here!" he breathed with relief, "When the alarm went off, they gagged me and left in a hurry."
"Well, it's okay now. We can do what we came here to do. I have my powers back," he told Mohinder before circling round him to figure out how to break him free from the metal bar behind his back.
"You have? Excellent! That'll give us a certain advantage over them."
Peter observed the metal bar and sighed, beckoning Luke to once again help him out. He guessed, even with all of these new powers, he couldn't figure out how to do everything all at once. Luke hesitantly melted the shackles around Mohinder's sore wrists. Mohinder pulled his arms back in front of him and stretched the pain from his muscles. He stood and faced Peter, "There's one thing I don't understand."
Peter looked up at him curiously, "And that is?"
"If you took Sylar's powers then how were you able to read my mind?"
He stood still and shook his head, glancing gently at Luke as if he had the answers tucked away in that pompous, hormonal brain of his. But he looked just as clueless. He locked eyes with his old friend and shrugged, considering any possibilities, "Perhaps Sylar took another mind reader's power?"
"Or maybe it's happening again," Mohinder pointed out sharply with a small smile, "Like before."
"We don't know that," Peter replied sternly. There was no point in getting his hopes us. Now he had Sylar's powers, he believed that was enough. He had gotten used to the fact that he wouldn't be able to gain anyone else's powers after Sylar's. Before it happened by accident, now he could control what powers he took he would have to be careful. It was unlikely that Sylar would let him take his abilities again. It had been difficult enough the first time. He wasn't going to be put through that a second time.
"Think about it, Peter," urged Mohinder, "It makes sense. It's happened before-it's your natural ability."
"I don't have time to think about, it" he almost snapped, "We have some people to save. Right now, I've got to find Claire."
He began to make his way out of the door, Mohinder following closely with Luke not far behind.
"Claire? She's here?"
"Just like Future Peter said," muttered Present Peter, "I just didn't think it would be this soon. I saw her earlier. Something must have happened. We must have changed something-anything to get her caught."
"This isn't your fault, you know. You couldn't have known it would happen this soon, surely!"
"Well, it doesn't matter now. I just have to find her and help her. I have to help all of them," he glanced at his friend seriously before concentrating on the path in front of him, "Luke says she's in one of these. Will you help me find her?"
"Of course."
The two began their search. Peter listened intently outside each door to see if he could hear the thoughts of the people inside. So far, there was only silence. Apart from Mohinder's pounding on the hard metal, denting the door until it broke off it's hinges and fell to the ground.
Nothing. Empty.
Mohinder glanced sympathetically at his friend, "Maybe they moved her?"
Peter shook his head and frowned, "She has to be here," he took off towards the other end of the corridor where Luke was making himself useful and melting the doors of each room.
The boy paused, shaking the pain from his arm. This was more work then he thought it would be. Extending his arm, he tried again. He was sure the girl must be in here. Most of the other rooms had all been checked by now. This had to be the one!
The door dropped to the ground as the hinges dissolved away. Inside, a blonde girl faced the wall drowsily, her hand propped up against it as if it were the only thing keeping her from collapsing. Her bright orange uniform clashed with her dark, grungy surroundings. Luke took a small step forwards, "Uh, guys. I think I found her."
Peter raced towards him and peered inside the dirty cell. There she was. He stepped inside, his heart beating fast. Finally. They could change her fate, and everybody else's. The future he had glimpsed at would never happen and perhaps, after all of this, the people he loved could be safe again. He reached for her shoulder, "Claire?" She turned around. She was the correct height, build, hair style. But she wasn't Claire. He didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed. He supposed he should be thankful that she wasn't here. Hopefully, she would still be safe at home with her mother and away from this war that was bound to ensue.
Gently, he took the tube out from the girl's nostrils and allowed the clean air to be breathed in to her lungs. She blinked a few times before finally looking Peter in the eyes.
Peter let out a brief sigh before speaking, "Come with me. We need your help."