Heroes fanfic: Confrontations, chapter 7
Title: Confrontations (Chapter 7/?)
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 6.1, 6.2
Read here or at FF.net
Chapter Seven
Present Day.
It was the same questions over and over again: "Help with what?" "Where are we going?" "What's happening?" "Who are you people?"
None of them were in a position right now to sit down and have a little Q and A about the situation, so they could only reply with short, simple answers. "You need to help us fight a war, for our freedom." seemed to be Mohinder's favourite answer whereas Peter preferred to keep the "war" part secret for now. At least until they knew a war was absolutely necessary. He would simply tell them to stay close and keep an eye out, that they were in danger and they must do what he said if they wanted to survive. Of course they didn't like this. But Mohinder's reply didn't seem to be very appreciated either. Luke merely followed, grumbling to himself and complaining about his wounded arm.
There were seven of them now. They had found another four people in the remaining cells in the long corridor. None of whom, any of the previous three had ever met. And they certainly liked to ask a lot of questions.
"What does he mean by 'a war?'" the small blonde woman questioned Peter as she practically ran a long side him.
"Zoe, right?" the woman nodded a yes to him, "I'm going to be straight with you, Zoe. You were brought here because you're special, like me. Like all of us. You have a gift, is that right?" he didn't pause for another response, "Well, these people that brought you here, they don't like people like us. That's why we need your help. We need you to help us fight back."
She seemed to take the news maturely, "Sounds dangerous."
"It might be. But the truth is we have no choice. We need to get everyone out of here before anyone else gets hurt. And we need to bring this whole organisation down to make sure nothing like this ever happens again."
She was almost panting at the speed in which they were walking, "And how are you going to do that?"
He swallowed before continuing, "I'm going to confront the people in charge and persuade them to change their minds."
She simply stared at him. Peter couldn't bring himself to look back at her. She may not be Claire but she looked so much like her. And deep down it hurt to not know where she was and if she was alright. He cursed his mind for being elsewhere. It was important he stayed focussed. Especially now.
Their heads turned at the sound of a gun shot. Before Peter could stop her, Zoe had leapt in front of them with a protective arm out in front. The bullet simply bounced right off her. The others blinked at her curiously. Her ability? She glanced at them quickly.
"It does that whenever I'm scared or angry. Skin becomes as hard as metal."
"That'll be useful right now," Mohinder spoke up behind the crowd. Peter nodded gratefully at her before turning his attention to their attacker. He felt his muscles tighten at the sight of him.
"Ah, the infamous Peter Petrelli. I've been very eager to meet you," the cold, brazen voice echoed down the halls. It was the man from his visions, from his and Matt's drawings. The man he came here to stop. Danko.
"And I've been eager to meet you," he replied roughly, stepping forward.
The enemy didn't seem impressed, "Is this where you make your righteous speech about how wrong I am to keep you all locked up here? How you're going to stop me? Let me save you the trouble. You've crossed a line here, kid. And you're going to regret ever coming here."
Peter breathed deeply but nothing could contain his anger at that moment. He could feel the burning rage filter through his finger tips, boiling the blood in his veins. He couldn't control it. His fingers twitched vigorously. The bones in his wrist felt as if they were in knots. He had to lash out at somebody; at this man, who thought he was above them, above authority, who thought he had the right to play God and take away life as he pleased. Or at least, would. Peter knew exactly what man he would become, and what man he was, without ever having met him before. The static stung between his fingers. He didn't need a verbal response. His hand shot up and the electric blue rocketed towards him. Danko lost control of his body and Peter watched as he writhed helplessly on the floor. Mohinder tapped him on the shoulder frantically.
"Peter. Peter!"
It was as if he were in a trance. It didn't seem to bother him that a man he hardly knew was suffering through so much pain because of him. But Peter couldn't shake the thought that this man had caused pain himself, that he deserved such agony. But even Mohinder noticed he wasn't behaving himself. The blue light flickered like the failing yellow lights above them had, almost hypnotising. The screams echoed though the building.
"Peter!"
More gun shots could be heard over the unpleasant mix of shrieking and crackling electricity and it was then Peter realised Danko hadn't come here to confront him alone. He stopped, horrified and ripped his hand away. He turned to face the others who were watching with frightened and anxious eyes. Peter took no time in accessing his actions, or to bother explaining himself,
"Go find Tracy and the others. She'll need your help. Go, quickly!"
They began to hurry down the corridor but Mohinder lingered, worriedly.
"It's okay, Mohinder. Go with them. I just need to settle this."
He nodded, knowing Peter could handle whatever it was that was coming to him. As he left, Peter turned his attention back to Danko who had risen slowly from the floor, clothes a little sooty and torn but otherwise fine. He didn't know how lucky he was to be alive, or to still have his brain in one piece.
"You think killing me will get you what you want?" the old man grumbled as he cleared his throat and shook the pain away. He raised a shaky hand towards the shooters to tell them to lower their weapons.
"No harm in trying," Peter muttered in response. He could almost feel the sharp glare from his opponent.
"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself in to. And I'll tell you now, there's no way out. You're going down, you and the rest of them."
Peter lifted two fingers and flung him in to the wall. He cried out in pain, mumbling as he got up. The guards had already lifted their weapons, just waiting for the word. But Danko told them to wait.
"The only thing going down around here is your insane idea to kidnap and experiment on innocent people with abilities. And if I have to kill you to spare the lives of hundreds of other people then so be it."
Danko dusted himself off and only smirked at him, "And what about your brother? Will you kill him too? You know this was his idea. If I'm gone, he'll still be here to continue where we left off."
Peter growled, "You've got him wrapped around your little finger, haven't you? But I'm betting he's not the one who's planning to execute innocent people for damn experiments," he yelled the last part and sent Danko flying without meaning to, along with several other men and any other objects that may have been placed in the corridor. He paused, stunned. Yes, he remembered that power, back when his Future self had imprisoned him in that low-life criminal. He just didn't know that Sylar had taken it. And he knew what that must have meant.
Danko slid along the floor, hitting the wall again before pulling himself back up to his feet, "Whatever happens during the experiments, there are bound to be complications that lead to a loss of the patient. You're in the medical profession. You of all people should realise in order to successfully heal someone, there's going to be a few losses on the way." He should've sounded like he was making these excuses in order to support his actions but his tone suggested he couldn't care less whether he got Peter's approval or not.
"You are not healing people. You're taking away who they are. Who gives you the right to play God?" barked Peter angrily. He was born with abilities, it was who he was. It was who he wanted to be. All this time of searching for a purpose, of longing to be somebody. The day he flew those days of searching were over. And now he had his powers back he was complete. There was no way in Hell he was going to let a man like Danko take it all away again.
"What gives you the right to play God, Mr. Petrelli?" Danko shot back bitterly, "What makes you so special, that you were given these abilities and not someone else? Why do you deserve them?"
Peter was taken aback. He had never really stopped to ask himself those questions before. How had he been so lucky in receiving these gifts? He remembered Nathan had believed they were gifts from God, so that they could do good things and be heroes. Obviously, he had had a severe change of heart since then. Mohinder had told him it was purely genetic, that people like him had existed for years and the genetic code had been passed down through generations. He knew he was a good person, or at least, tried to be. But he never really stopped to think if he truly deserved such abilities. He focused on Danko again who stared at Peter arrogantly, as if he had achieved something.
"Just lucky I guess."
"Luck doesn't even begin to describe it," Danko smirked, stepping closer, "You're just a mutation. I would have thought someone like you would long for this kind of opportunity. To be normal, to have a normal life. Isn't that what everybody wants?"
This was something Peter had considered before. Being normal. And after going over and over the same thoughts in his head, he had decided he was tired. Tired of thinking the same dreary thoughts, tired of imagining what his life would be like if he had never received these abilities, if he had never been burdened (or blessed) with saving the world. There were a few things he would change, but he had settled on one thing: he wouldn't change what he had been through. No, this had been his journey, his life. Whether it had been normal or not, he wouldn't change a thing about who he was now. He looked up and returned the irritating grin,
"Not everybody."
"So normal's not good enough for you? You Petrelli's, always aiming impossibly high, wanting what you can't have. You think you're in charge of the world, that it rests in your hands. Well, let me tell you something, Peter. You're not as strong as you think you are and you are nowhere near as superior as you'd like to be. It's over. You're over."
He nodded towards the gunmen and they headed straight for him. Danko's words didn't quite satisfy Peter. But he grinned all the same. Not long ago this scenario would have gone a very different way. But now that he was practically unstoppable, he had no doubts about what would happen next.
He strained his lungs and shouted as loud as he could. Sure enough, the men had lost their sense of balance and were being propelled in to the air. Most of them lost their consciousness too, but the others seemed paralysed with fear and refused to make another move.
Furiously, Danko ordered them to get up. But no one budged. It seemed pointless, futile. Getting anywhere near the man was next to impossible. Peter was beginning to understand why Sylar found this so amusing. But instead of using it on innocent people, Peter was using it to beat the bad guys.
Another flash appeared and Peter didn't seem to recognise the bald-headed man he saw in his head. His power sure seemed interesting though…
The evil man in front of him frowned deeply as if the expression were permanently indented in to his features. Peter grinned darkly, held out a hand and bent his fingers to create a claw-like shape.
Using Danko as a literal puppet wasn't as amusing as he thought it would be, but it did give him even more of an advantage.
"You're going to evacuate this building and let everyone out of here. Do you understand me?" Peter asked as he approached him.
The man looked as if he were hovering in mid-air, his features hardened, his voice was rough, "You may be in control of my body, Mr. Petrelli. But you can't physically make me give the orders. Not unless you have that ability too."
That's when Peter remembered. Earlier, he was able to read Mohinder's mind. Matt's power. Surely, that meant he could manipulate minds too? But it was impossible, right? Once again, he concentrated. This kind of ability took a lot of focus. Danko looked confused,
"What are you doing? Let me go!" he snapped angrily, his eyes shut tightly closed as he tried to resist.
"Take out your phone," Peter demanded, "Tell your men to evacuate the building and let the prisoners go free. Do it. Do it now."
The man reached for his phone with a look of fury. But somehow, he couldn't stop what he was doing, as if it were natural, like he wanted to make the call. Of course, this was all against his will. But it felt like a part of his own brain was telling him to do it, that he wasn't able to resist.
Peter stood patiently. It would finally be over. He wasn't even wasting time figuring out how it was possible to have Sylar's abilities and Matt's at the same time. On some level, he didn't even care. Maybe it was like Mohinder said-it was his old power resurfacing, his real DNA kicking in. Or maybe, he was wrong. At that moment, it wasn't important. He watched as Danko raised the phone to his dry lips.
One phone call and it will all be over.
How horribly wrong a person can be.
Something rock hard had hit him over the head and Peter tumbled painfully to the floor. He shook his throbbing head and looked above at the blurred image. It looked like one of the previous men from before: the one with the phone that Luke had attacked. He was back, and he wasn't happy. He seemed to have lost his gun and was now armed with a large metal bar with a sharp end. This wasn't good. The man pounded him with the weapon, causing Peter to cry out in agony. The hard metal collided with his leg and even though no permanent, or even temporary, damage would be done, Peter was sure he would be feeling the soreness of that for a while. The man raised the weapon and attempted a third strike but Peter lifted his arm and caught the metal in mid-swing. He was surprised at what strength he had, but even more surprising was what happened to the weapon itself. They all watched with amazement as the dull metal object transformed in to a gleaming bar of gold.
Now this, Peter didn't remember anyone having. Which was probably why he wasn't able to control it. His attacker seemed stunned for a second, and so did he, before he felt a boot kick him over on to his stomach and the newly golden object stabbed in to the back of his head. Brutal, but necessary. It was the only thing that could kill him now.
He only struggled for a second before the life escaped from him and he remained completely still.
Perhaps he wasn't unstoppable after all.
Tracy stared at the ice statue in front of her. Had she really killed this man, Samson Gray? He only seemed to be encased in the frozen liquid, which prompted Tracy to wonder: could a man survive something like this? She had gradually grown to accept she had killed, but she hadn't intended to make a habit of it. Granted, Peter needed her help and she did what she could. But sometimes it was hard to fully accept what she was capable of. The man's icy features glared back at her as he stood in a vicious, frozen stance. Maybe it was best he was like this. He wasn't a good man, and his intentions were no better. Still, it was strange to see this man, who had not long ago been alive and kicking (and trying to kill his son), now a paralysed life-sized ice cube.
Matt called her name as he tried to help the wounded people Sylar had attacked during his attempt to kill Tracy. Sylar hadn't been here when they returned so Matt had warned her to keep an eye out. He knew all too well, Sylar could be ten times more dangerous when he had lost his temper. He still had the scars across his torso from when he had taken those bullets the day Peter 'exploded' over New York City. He couldn't remember much about that night, perhaps he should be thankful for that.
Tracy walked towards him, passing an unconscious Nathan in one of the nearby cots. Her idea. That way they couldn't expect anymore interruptions from him or his attempts to manipulate them. That and she secretly enjoyed putting him in the position she had been in. Strapped down to a table, drugged, weakened, humiliated. She smirked slightly as she passed him and approached Matt who told her they should probably start to wake up the other prisoners and attempt to explain this insane situation to them. She nodded and turned to see Mohinder and Luke at the door with four other confused and distressed looking people
"Matt!" Mohinder smiled at the sight of his friend, "What are you doing here? I thought you got away."
"I did. I came here to help," Matt stood and looked at Mohinder as if he were foolish to question his presence here. Of course he came back! What kind of friend did Mohinder consider him to be?
Mohinder only grinned, happy to be reunited with part of his original team. He glanced at Tracy who eyed him and the people behind him with curiosity, "Tracy?"
"Nice to see you again, Mohinder," she smiled a half-smile, "Who are your friends?"
The Indian man turned to glance at the newcomers, remembering, "Ah, they were in the cells outside," he quickly explained, "Come in," he told them, "We'll explain everything shortly. You just need to stay here where it's safe. They won't hurt you if we're all together."
"Bull crap," Luke mumbled, clutching at his bloody arm as the people he arrived with slowly wandered past him to find somewhere to sit or stand, "Anyone got any painkillers? I'm starting to wish I never came on this trip."
"Yes, I feel a bit like that too," Mohinder muttered under his breath, "Tracy, can you find something to tie around his wound? It's probably best he keeps pressure on it for now."
She looked slightly stunned, as if the idea of asking her to do something like that was ridiculous. But after a few seconds, she gave in and with a roll of the eyes, she grabbed Luke by the other arm and they headed off in to the other direction.
"Mohinder, what is going on?" Matt whispered to him as he pulled him in to the corner.
"Funny, I was about to ask you the same question."
"No, I mean where's Peter? And Claire? I thought after Sylar had confronted his father, he was going to go and get her."
Mohinder nodded regretfully, "It wasn't Claire. He found me instead. And some others. We bumped in to that man. Danko, was it? Last I saw, they were ready to tear each other to pieces. But we shouldn't worry, he has his abilities back."
"Sylar finally gave him his abilities? That's fantastic!"
He nodded, "Where is Sylar?" Mohinder glanced around as if expecting to see the man leant against the wall with his arms crossed, hating helping them out as usual. But something else caught his eye. Something that looked very much like a human ice sculpture, "And what," he began with wide eyes, "is that?"
Matt's eyes followed Mohinder's until they fell upon the giant ice figure, "Ah," he started, "I think that's Sylar's father. Don't ask. I tried not to."
Mohinder stared at Matt expectantly with keen interest and Matt knew he would have to repeat to his friend everything he knew: everything Tracy had told him about Peter's plans, about running in to Nathan, about Daphne, about freezing Samson Gray, about Sylar attacking Tracy and then Peter jumping in at the last minute to rescue her with his new (or old) abilities.
Mohinder was a mixture of smiles and frowns as he listened to Matt. He was relieved to hear about Daphne but something troubled him. Peter thought he was unstoppable. But Sylar wasn't immune to blows to the head, or beatings (as he well knew from past experiences), or being stabbed in the right spot to prevent him from regenerating. If there was a chance Sylar could be taken down, if only for a minute or two, so could Peter. And suddenly, he didn't trust that his friend's safety should be one of the least thing's on his mind. And he would be right.
A soft muttering could be heard in the unsettling darkness as Peter found himself returning to life once again,
"Don't drug him yet. He needs to regenerate first."
It felt like swimming to the surface after having hit the bottom of the ocean. The darkness, the sudden pressure on your lungs as you struggle to breath. No oxygen. Returning to life was like taking that first deep breath of air once you tear your way through the water and reach the top to the fresh oxygen. He could feel the torn skin on his neck repair itself and his eyes snapped open, vision gradually blurring in to focus.
Danko's cold, frowning image was not the first thing you'd want to see after returning from the dead. But, unfortunately for Peter, he had no choice.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Petrelli," the frown disappeared for a moment and was replaced with a sinister smile.
Peter took in his surroundings and realised he wasn't in that corridor anymore. He was in a dark room, like a prison cell and underneath him was a rock hard bench or table. His wrists were bound, as were his legs. He was beginning to get tired of being in this sort of situation. He struggled but his arms were held down so tight, he could barely move. That's when Danko gave the nod for the drug to be allowed in to his system. One man held his head in place while another set it up for him to inhale. The effects were fast.
"You killed me," he bit down hard on his lip. This wasn't supposed to be how this went. He had imagined a very different situation, preferably where Peter was the one smirking at his triumph over defeating Danko, not the other way around.
"I expect it won't be the first time," Danko grinned darkly, "You're a very…interesting subject, Peter. And when we do start the experiments, I can guarantee, you shall be the first one we test."
"No," he mumbled, the effects of the drug making him drowsy, "I won't be your lab rat. I won't let you experiment on me, or anyone else."
"I'm afraid you don't have the choice. You're in a very different position now and I have my men ready to take down whoever's upstairs. Soon they're going to wish you never set them free."
"It doesn't have to be this way."
"Of course you would say that. The fact is, it is this way. And it's going to stay that way," Danko glared at him momentarily, "I'm waiting for your cliché line. 'You're not going to get away with this.' Isn't that what all you wannabe hero-types say?"
"Goes without saying," Peter muttered, staring at him hatefully.
"I'm going to love proving you wrong," the smile sketched it's way across his face for another moment before he stepped towards the door and nodded at the guard again, "Well, anyway, if you haven't noticed we have a bit of a situation going on at the moment and I am going to have to deal with it. Your brother seems to be missing and Bennet's ran home to check on his precious little family," he noted the look of relief on the other man's face, "Personal insecurities over actual important problems such as a security breach-very unprofessional, I know. But to my disagreement, he was told he could go anyway," he complained, "Still, it's understandable. I suppose he wouldn't want anything happening to that beautiful daughter of his. It would be a shame if she got involved in this mess, wouldn't it? Though I don't see how she's any different to any of the others we have here. It's just wrong to make exceptions, don't you think?" he smirked, amused with himself and Peter's reaction.
Although he felt so tired he could rest his eyes and drift off to unconsciousness, the anger caused by Danko's words gave him enough energy to snap back furiously, "Leave Claire out of this!" She didn't deserve any of this. She was too young, too innocent. And if Danko's threats had any meaning, it would mean the future he had been told about was a step closer to becoming true. They find Claire, he can hear his older form reveal to him in his head, they find a way to….she couldn't heal. They kill her. It made him think. Only a monster could be capable of this. He knew Nathan and Noah didn't want Claire involved in this anyway. That just left Danko, who would undoubtedly use his twisted manipulated ways to get Claire and experiment on her like a helpless lab animal. "This is insane," he spat, "you're a joke. This whole thing is just one huge ridiculous joke," he almost found himself laughing bitterly, but he was too weak and it turned in to a half-smirk.
"Your brother doesn't seem to think so."
"My brother is a hypocrite," he growled, "Nathan's been lying to you this whole time."
Now, Danko seemed interested. He stepped closer. Ever since they first started working together, he had sensed something wasn't quite right with Nathan. He couldn't trust him and he didn't like him. He got the unsettling feeling that Nathan had been lying to him about something. That he was hiding something that Danko could never know. But Nathan underestimated Danko. He wasn't stupid, he knew something was going on. And he would find out what.
Peter seemed triumphant at capturing Danko's attention. Maybe if he knew the truth about Nathan, he would just see how ridiculous this entire idea was, "You really believed his story? How he's just the odd one out of all of us? He has the ability to fly. He's just like any of us," he breathed deeply, "he's ashamed, that's all. He doesn't get it. He doesn't get that it can be a good thing. But he is one of your so called mutations," he smiled slightly, "you've been taking orders from a self-absorbed hypocrite, the very sort of person you'd have locked up."
The older man stood perfectly still, almost stunned by the information. His eyes stopped focusing on Peter as his mind drifted off in to his own thoughts. This would make sense, perfect sense. It explained many things about the older Petrelli's behaviour. But could he trust Peter was telling the truth?
"Are you lying to me?" Danko glared, baring his teeth.
"No," Peter responded, his voice almost a whisper, "Ask him. Make him show you. He's been playing you all along."
His frown was as concrete as ever as he took a step backwards and placed a hand on the door handle to leave, "Goodbye, Peter," he muttered, shutting the heavy metal door and leaving him in darkness.