Heroes fanfic: Confrontations, chapter 14
Title: Confrontations (Chapter 14/15)
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, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen
Read here or at FF.net
Chapter 14
Peter Petrelli and Sylar
Outside Building 26, Present Day
Everything was black. And red. And nothing seemed to stand still. It was all one big motion blur, dreamy and disorientating.
Peter's head pounded and all he could hear was an overwhelming ringing in his ears. That and his muffled heart beat, pulsing inside his chest. That's when he noticed. A sharp, rocky object poking through his stomach, red blood surrounding it. He looked away briefly, trying to calm himself and rid of the sudden wave of nausea that threatened to overpower him. He placed his hand over the large rock, feeling its rough surface before closing his eyes. Okay. One. Two. Three.
He pushed down hard on the rock, using his other hand to support his body and lift himself upwards. His eyes closed together tightly, fighting the pain. He bit down hard on his lip, holding his breath and trying to ignore the agonising torture.
He heard footsteps approach him and he relaxed again, having failed in removing the object from his wound. His hands were crimson and his face, a pale white. But he looked his enemy in the eyes, breathing deeply.
"Go on then. Do it," he murmured weakly, blood beginning to drip from his mouth. Was this it? Was this James' vision? He had no scar but was this possibly how he was going to die? Sylar, finishing him off after a bad fall and a sharp rock through the stomach? The cold wind made him shiver, his wound still bleeding excessively and the pain paralysing him.
Sylar glared at him, raising his hand and pointing his finger towards Peter's head. He had no words. Just the desire to finish what he had started. He had scarcely begun to cut when the scene around them changed and they were no longer outside of Building 26, but in a homely living room with stripy yellow wallpaper and pictures on the walls and ornaments placed neatly on little tables.
Sylar spun around with confusion. Peter weakly got to his feet, the wound already healed and the energy slowly returning back to him.
"Which one of us is doing this?" Sylar demanded angrily.
Peter caught his breath and shook his head gently, "I didn't think you COULD do anything like this," he looked around slowly, "No, it must be me."
"How can you be sure?"
Peter took one last look around and drew in another breath, "Because this is the living room of the house I grew up in."
A beat of silence. Sylar shook his head, "What, so we just teleported here?" He watched Peter walk over to the door and try and open it. No such luck, it was locked. He than made his way over to the window and pulled back the curtains. Outside appeared to be a large field of emptiness. It was dark too, not a street lamp or headlight in sight. This definitely wasn't the city.
"I think it must be Parkman's ability," he muttered, still breathing deeply, "It may look and feel real but it's not. I'll try and get us back. "
"Don't bother," Sylar smirked, "It doesn't matter where I kill you." He eyed a silver medieval-looking sword on the wall, "Interesting choice of decoration."
Peter watched him carefully, "You like swords?"
He took it down from the wall and felt the blade with the tip of his finger, drawing blood. The cut healed instantly, "Not really. But something's occurred to me. You're a lot stronger than I thought. As long as you have Claire's ability, no matter what I do to you, you'll just heal and be as good as new."
"Hence the stalemate," Peter folded his arms patiently, watching the other man with curiosity.
"Then I thought," he continued, "Without that crucial element that keeps allowing the rest of your body to regenerate, you'd be like any other poor sap I've killed. Easy."
Peter nodded, biting the inside of his cheek, "So you want to behead me? With a sword?"
"Sounds fun, doesn't it?"
He raised his eyebrows and smiled at him, "How'd you know I won't just grow a new head?"
He held the sword out threateningly, tilting his head to one side, "Only one way to find out."
Nathan pushed back his wet hair with frustration. The sprinklers hadn't stopped yet and he muttered to himself angrily. Luke trailed behind, glancing around him suspiciously.
"The Hell you think's happening with the others?" Luke asked, catching up to Nathan and staying close to him.
"No idea," Nathan replied, biting his lip, "But probably nothing good. This is exactly what I was afraid would -"
He suddenly felt hands grab at him and throw him in to a wall. Not again! Nathan didn't have time for this. He struggled viciously, raising his elbow and thumping the person behind with it. They backed away and Nathan charged him, kicking him down on to the floor.
He turned quickly to see what had become of Luke, but the little squirt had already made a run for it. He rolled his eyes, turning back to the man on the floor, "You," he demanded, "Where's Danko?"
Sylar leapt towards Peter with the sword, lunging at him. He dodged him and rolled to one side, heart racing at the near-miss. Growling, Sylar turned and used telekinesis to pin him to the wall. Peter struggled to move his arms but they seemed indented to the wall, impossible to move. Sylar was furious and Peter knew all too well he was strongest when he was angry. He watched as the man stormed over to him like a vicious animal preparing to attack its prey. He raised the weapon and struck.
A sharp noise echoed throughout the room as Peter managed to break one arm free and use it to grab the end of the sword, cutting his hand in the process. Sylar attempted to pull it away but, with an immense struggle, Peter fought to free his other arm and he eventually used both to turn the weapon away from him.
"Let go," Sylar demanded furiously, using all his strength to prise the weapon away from his enemy's grip.
"Make me," barked Peter continuing to force the sharp object in the opposite direction.
Luke made his way up the stairs quickly before reaching the door and meeting a familiar gloomy corridor. He waded through the puddles of water on the floor and arrived at the double doors. There seemed to be less bodies on the floor now which prompted Luke to be even more suspicious. He glanced around him quickly before kicking the doors open and rushing back in to the prisoner's room. There were puddles on the floor, the sprinklers continuing to soak everything. Cots were on the ground too, along with the breathing tubes and destroyed machines that were placed next to them. His eyes scanned the room.
He searched for that ice figure. Samson. He felt drawn to him, he couldn't leave without him. But as he searched, he felt his breathing pace increase and he let out a small cry. He wasn't here.
Nathan wiped the blood from his fist and rushed down the corridor urgently. God knows what Danko and his men were doing to Peter. He'd be lucky if he hadn't been killed by now. And with Sylar in the building, he had a nasty sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach. Now, like all the others, he just wanted this nightmare to be over. Start a fresh. Do things right.
He pushed open another door and his eyes lit up briefly before his facial features darkened once more. Emile Danko was standing some distance ahead of him. He almost didn't notice the horrifying sight in front of him. A battle of some sort. The specials fighting Danko's men. Nathan's men. Except they wouldn't listen to Nathan anymore. Not until he got rid of Danko. His features sharpened as he felt himself thunder towards the man in a fit of rage.
He grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, shoving him against the plain wall and holding him against it threateningly, "You back-stabbing son of a bitch."
Danko seemed somewhat surprised to see him. But once the initial shock had subsided, his features reanimated in to a pompous smirk, "As I recall, Senator, it was you who betrayed me. First by lying to me and then by trying to help the people we've put so much effort in to catching to begin with."
"You're going to stop this. Let these people go now."
"Are you insane?" Danko spluttered, "It's too late! You brought me here for a reason and I intend to finish what I started!"
Nathan shook him violently, "Stop this or I will!"
"And how do you intend to do that?"
Nathan kneed him in the crotch and Danko collapsed with pain, yelling out furiously. Two guards came to his aid but Nathan flew himself up towards the ceiling.
"What the - ?"
The two men stared upwards with amazement. Danko glared up at him from the floor, "Sonofabitch." It was one thing to know about such a thing, but to see it in action was quite different.
An instant later and the Senator came shooting downwards, kicking one man in to the other and sending them both hurtling to the floor.
Danko had just got to his feet again when Nathan pushed him in to the wall before the two others recovered, "Last chance," he barked at him angrily.
"I'm sick of this game," Danko retorted, lips close to Nathan's ears, "I can't stop this now. Not knowing what I do. I'll kill everyone in this building if I have to," he sneered, taking pleasure in Nathan's frustrated reaction.
One, two, three times Peter had managed to stab Sylar in that greasy meat-suit of his. He took a sort of disturbed pleasure in feeling the sword dig in and seeing that defeated look on the evil man's face. However, once the weapon was removed - and it would always be removed, one way or another - Sylar was as good as new, just as he said Peter would be unless his head was in some way removed from his body. Perhaps the man was right. Sylar wasn't going to stop until he had Peter's head. And he couldn't be stopped until his own brain was disconnected from the rest of him. It looked like one of them was going to lose their head today, quite literally..
Peter felt a foot kick him in the chest and he found himself flying in to the coffee table, china plates and ornaments smashing to the floor. A blurry figure emerged over him, the silvery object in hand. He raised it. Peter's heart stopped. Sylar breathed deeply and loudly, beginning to let out an angry cry as he struck with the weapon for the last time with such a force it unnerved even him.
Peter shut his eyes tightly. Hell, nothing could have prepared him for such a violent outburst. Admittedly, Sylar was scary. But at that moment, he was the scariest he had ever seen him. He tried his hardest to move away but it was too late. The only movement he managed to make was turning his head slightly to the right, at the same time screaming so loudly the amplified sound sent Sylar falling back slightly.
Nathan threw the guard in to the wall, returning back to Danko's weakened frame. He wiped the blood from his nose, wrapped a hand around the man's neck and squeezed.
It was then he heard a piercing scream. It was torturous, terrifying. It was Peter! His eyes snapped to the open window on the other side of the room. The broken glass around it spoke for itself. He ran towards it and peered outside. Peter?
Sylar stepped back and observed his handiwork. Peter lay trembling, his hands red with blood. On his face, from his right eye to his left cheek, was a bloody red mark. It was bound to scar. The man was hardly recognisable until he wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve, wincing at the pain. He pulled back his arm and examined the profuse amount of blood on his sleeve. Somehow he knew exactly what had happened, and what now scarred his face.
"It always had to be you," he spat hatefully, the blood still dripping down his face. The pain radiating, burning through his skin.
Sylar seemed somewhat surprised, "Why aren't you healing?"
"I told you," he breathed shakily, his red eyes narrowing, "It looks and feels real, but it isn't."
Sylar stared at him. He hadn't noticed he was back outside Building 26. The sword disappeared from his hand and the scar had faded from Peter's face. He was still on the floor, the rock piercing through his stomach. He let his head drop on to the gravel, closing his eyes and breathing the cold air deeply.
"No," Sylar mumbled standing in front of him in disbelief, "Fine, I'll do it the usual way." He raised his hand and began to slice across Peter's neck, more blood seeping from the fresh wound. But before he could get any deeper, a figure swooped down and knocked him over.
Peter looked up weakly, "Nathan?"
Nathan didn't respond, didn't even exchange a look with him. He focused purely on Sylar and beating the crap out of him. He kicked him violently over and over. Sylar grabbed his foot and pulled him down with him, and the two-man fight continued.
Peter watched with panic. There was no way Nathan could take on Sylar, and Nathan had no way of healing! He tried again to free himself from the rock, wincing with pain as the sharp stone rubbed against his wound and his insides. He bit hard on his bottom lip to try and restrain himself from yelling out. During his struggle, the scar on his face kept appearing and disappearing, the scene around them alternating between Building 26 and the old Petrelli Household. His brain was screaming at him and it showed. Reality seemed to be slipping further and further away and he had difficulty controlling it.
Nathan rolled on to Sylar, using both his fists to smash in to his face. Sylar threw him off with ease and Nathan landed on the ground a few metres away.
"Nathan!" Peter cried, his head spinning so fast he could hardly comprehend what was happening.
Nathan jumped to his feet with a low snarl and charged Sylar, raising him up in to the air. Peter glanced up, squinting as he watched them fly higher and higher until they were mere dots among the clouds. Then, one dot grew larger and larger until he could see clearly a figure come hurtling down, smashing in to the ground below. Sylar squirmed and groaned, the ground dented from his fall. Peter was amazed he was still conscious. A moment later he noticed Nathan land gently on the ground beside him. He began to circle him slowly as the other man moaned to himself, cradling his temporary wounds.
Peter wasn't entirely sure what happened next, but he heard a loud shudder and a bang, accompanied by some voices. It wasn't that of Nathan's, or Sylar's, but it sounded familiar nonetheless.
"You think I'd be finished that easily?" He heard a dripping noise too, as if the person was sopping wet. It could have been anyone from inside; the sprinklers soaked everyone.
"You're not dead," Sylar said with difficulty yet surprise as he struggled to his feet.
Peter strained his eyes. He could see Nathan pinned to the brick wall opposite, obviously in pain from the invisible force that held him there. His eyes glanced over to Sylar who stood with his back to him, focusing entirely on the figure in front of him. Peter could just make out an older man with a beard, hunched over and dripping with water. He trembled violently yet still seemed perfectly in control of his actions. He had a sinister grin that made Peter want to avert his gaze. And then he realised who he was.
Impossible! Wasn't it? He had seen the man freeze right in front of his very eyes. His limbs became ice and his body was encased in the frozen prison, impossible to escape. He had assumed his heart had stopped and the body, shut down. Yet here the man was, standing right in front of them, alive and furious. Samson Gray, back to finish what he and his murderous son had started.
Samson looked terrible; his eyes were bloodshot, his flesh was sore and pink, his hair a frizzy untamed mess. He looked like a madman, and he probably was one. His invisible grip on Nathan tightened. Peter struggled, feeling nauseous and dizzy.
"Look what you've done to me, boy," Samson growled, glaring at his son, "Look! For years and years I couldn't have cared less about you. And now you've woken up something in me I've been trying to suppress all this time."
"What I've done?" scorned Sylar, returning the scowl, "You did this to yourself. You're pathetic. I've seen how you've been living, what a monster you are."
"Like father like son," he smirked, and Sylar shocked him with a fresh bolt of electricity.
"I am NOTHING like you. I may share your blood, have those same desires and urges. But you - you're weak, pathetic."
"I never wanted a fight with you," Samson grit his teeth together tightly, recovering from the attack, "You're right, I am weak. I'm sick. I'm dying." Sylar stared at him. "It comes from living the life I do, and one day you'll end up just like me," he told him, "But dammit, boy. Why couldn't you just let me die in peace?"
"You don't deserve peace," Sylar responded darkly. And for the hundredth time, a violent fight ensued.
Peter tried to shield himself from the blinding lights and flying objects that flew his way. Loud bangs and screams and crashes deafened him. His wound was getting worse; it needed to heal. But as long as he was impaled, stuck like this, he couldn't regenerate. His face had paled and the unbelievable pain started to turn in to numbness. It was only when a panicked Nathan scrambled over to him and spoke his name reassuringly that he began to feel safe again.
"Peter, look at me!" He turned his younger brother's head towards him. The light in his eyes was fading and his skin was shockingly pale. He seemed like a ghost. The dark red blood that pooled around him was a horrifying contrast, "Tell me you can heal, Peter. Tell me you're able to heal!" When his brother didn't answer, Nathan grabbed his cold hands and squeezed them, "I'm going to pull you up, okay? On the count of three."
He tightened his grip on his brother, "One."
He stepped back, readying himself, almost hesitating, "Two."
Ignoring the fight behind him he secured his grip on Peter's arms and began to pull him up vigorously, "Three!"
Peter flew in to his arms and Nathan caught him, holding on to him and patting his back gently as his brother began to regenerate. He could feel the wound repairing itself, growing new flesh and sewing together the deformed tissue that had been damaged. He could scarcely breathe. In fact, he didn't. But after it was over, he took in as many deep breaths as he could, gripping on tightly to his older brother's shoulders and feeling the colour return to his cheeks.
They could hear the argument not far from where they were standing. This was nothing short of a nightmare. Except, obviously, this was stone cold reality.
"Can't you see I was doing what's best for you?" Samson growled as Sylar pinned him threateningly against the brick wall, "I would have made a terrible father."
"What's best for me?" he scorned, "Liar. You seem to have had a wonderful time playing Happy Families with that brat, Luke. He seems to think the world of you. You should have heard him tell me these idyllic stories about you, it was sickening."
He threw him to the ground. Samson breathed heavily, "Luke was my second chance. I told you, I tried to change. And I felt like I had to make up for my past mistakes with you."
"Why didn't you find me?" shouted Sylar angrily, "I was your son! Not some random kid you met on the street one day. I'm your own flesh and blood."
"Oh, please," Samson rolled his eyes, "Do you really think I'd waste my time on some random boy I met at a baseball game or something?" A beat of silence, "He's my kid too. I met his mom at a bar one night several years ago and…" Sylar froze, his eyes darting from side to side quickly with thought.
"No," he whispered.
"We were both young and as we know, men like us are pretty impulsive. Then the girl tells me she's goddamn pregnant. And there we have it. We were never really a family but something about that kid made me wanna change. Like I said, he was my second chance. Was still kinda a crummy father though, kid doesn't even know I'm his dad. "
Sylar pushed back his hair, appearing more and more distressed with every word, "No!"
Samson shrugged, "Wish I could tell you what you wanna hear. But truth is, you never really crossed my mind. But Luke? If it was family you're looking for, he'd be your best bet. He's your brother after all."
A few deep breaths and Sylar looked like he was about to explode. This was too much information to handle. With a furious yell he attacked again, shocking the man with the blue electricity and shouting abuse at him. It just couldn't be true!
The brothers watched curiously from a safer distance, Peter finally recovering and returning to reality. His vision blurred out of focus slightly and his eyes fell upon a familiar figure. He stepped back quickly.
"Nathan."
"Are you okay?" his brother asked him with concern.
.
"I came here to stop you, all of you."
Nathan nodded, "I got that," he indicated to the battle beside them, "And you thought bringing him was a good idea?"
Peter's heart beat faster, "I did what I had to."
"Look, it doesn't have to be this way anymore."
"Don't."
"Don't what? I'm only trying to help," he stepped forward.
Peter stepped back, "Stop it, Nathan!" He knew now that Nathan wasn't the monster he thought him to be. But when he set his mind to something, he was always very persistent. And he had a way with words. He didn't want to listen to his brother's empty speeches about how much he cared for him and wanted him to be on his side, that what he was doing was for the greater good and that he and Danko would make the world a better, special ability-free place. Nathan wanted to make him ordinary, and Peter wasn't sure whether he could stop him anymore. He was alone, he was tired. And his head felt like it was about to implode on itself.
"Will you listen to me?"
Peter felt his warm head with his palm, feeling the long indented mark across his face. It wasn't real, but it burned in to his face as if he were branded with it forever. Perhaps not physically, but mentally at least. It seemed as if it would always be there.
"God, Peter. What the Hell?"
He stepped closer and Peter shoved him away before taking off and flying high in to the air. Nathan bit his tongue and followed him, leaving the battles below.
"PETER!" he bellowed as the cold air hit Nathan's face. But the boy wouldn't slow down, he flew onwards, further and further away. He swerved and dived and picked up his speed; Nathan wandered when it was that his brother became better at flying than himself.
He reached out a hand and tried to grab his foot but, noticing this, Peter kicked him away and dropped his height slightly. Nathan followed, "Stop this!" he yelled as loudly as he could, unsure if his brother could even hear him.
"Leave me alone, Nathan," replied Peter, "I can't confront you, not now!"
"You're not going to save all those people back there by running away from them are you?" Nathan shouted back, hoping his words would have an effect. It seemed to do just that, and Peter slowed down slightly. Nathan took this as an opportunity. He caught up and grabbed him, losing control and sending them both tumbling down in to a small forested area.
When Nathan had gathered himself and had struggled to his feet again, he approached Peter who was currently fighting to catch his breath on the soft ground.
"Why?" he asked panting.
"Why what?"
"Why did you do all this, Nathan?" he clarified, sitting up and staring at him "Why did you do this to us?"
Nathan sighed, "I'll tell you why," he knelt down beside him, "I was never quite sure what to make of these…powers. I just wanted to pretend they were never there," he paused a beat, "When I was taken prisoner in Haiti, those two girls I was with were so…helpless. Powerless. I couldn't help thinking how unfair it was. I wanted to help them and I thought dad and Primatech were the only way…the only way to change all of that, to make everyone equal and able to defend themselves," he shook his head and swallowed, "But I was thinking too much about the girls, and not about their attackers. If they didn't have those abilities, they wouldn't have been capable of such things - they wouldn't have been next to unstoppable. People like that, and people like Sylar, are why I chose to do this. So then they wouldn't be capable of such power anymore, and to prevent them from hurting more innocent people."
"But they can be a good thing too, Nathan," protested Peter, "If it wasn't for you and your ability, half of New York would be in ashes right now."
"And if it hadn't have been for you and your abilities, none of that would have happened anyway. There would have never been any danger of you destroying half the city, I wouldn't have had to save your ass, spend months in the hospital with my face in ruins and have my wife take my kids away from me."
"So you're blaming me for your divorce now?" Peter got to his feet angrily.
Nathan stood too, "No, I'm just thinking of the bigger picture. I'm trying to explain what drove me to such extreme lengths. I don't expect that my answer is justifiable, and I don't expect you to forgive me. But I want you to know," he continued, tone becoming even more serious, "I know where this will lead now. And I want to stop it just as much as you do."
"You do realise I can't trust you," Peter muttered, "Not yet."
Nathan nodded, "I just want you to help me. Danko, he's in charge now. He's controlling everything."
"I know," Peter frowned.
"So, we're on the same team here?" Nathan asked warily, "We both want the same thing."
Peter nodded gently, still eyeing Nathan with a sense of caution, "Let's finish him off," he shifted his weight from one side to the other and stared at Nathan so closely, the older man could almost see his own shallow, miserable reflection in his brother's eye, "But don't for one second think this makes everything okay. Don't just assume things will go back to how they used to be. What you did…I'm not sure I can forgive you for that."
Nathan nodded solemnly, wanting to form a response but being unable to. Peter gave him one last glance before setting off again and flying high in to the sky. With a shaky sigh, Nathan followed shortly afterwards.
TBC - one more chapter!