Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in multi_fiction, @ 2009-02-28 14:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | au, heroes, rated: explicit, slash |
Fic: Send Me An Angel 1/2 Heroes
Title: Send Me An Angel.
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Characters: Peter, Gabriel, Sandra, Mohinder, HRG, Claire, Nathan, Matt (unnamed).
Words: 12,244
Prompt: Secret Identity
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Peter
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Language, Violence, Rape, Murder, Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort.
Summary: In the midst all of life's tragedy, Peter discovers that there is someone out there who watches over you.
Author's Note: Contains Reporter/Watch Maker Sylar, Doctor Peter.
______________________________________
HOODED TERROR STALKS THE NIGHT!
By: Niki Sanders
Eyewitnesses haven't much to say on the subject. Police reports are alarmingly vague. Aside from dead bodies and broken glass, there were no other signs this strange person even exists.
And yet, he does.
Last night, at around eleven p.m., two darkly garbed assailants broke in to Polis City Bank's Delaware Avenue branch. They intended to rob the vault of cash. With plans to the bank's security system and the right equipment for the job, it should have been a sure thing.
After all, from the evidence, this was not their first time robbing a bank.
It was during the attempt to blast their way in to the vault that things went terribly awry. Cameras were offline, but our forensics expert can partially reconstruct from the evidence, the following events.
"They were inserting the last of the detonators when it happened," says Doctor Irene Riviera. "As we can tell, the blasting cap had been affixed to the explosive, but the detonator was never armed. Blood spray patterns indicate one of the suspects was standing right next to it when he was decapitated."
That's right, the suspects were brutally murdered by having their heads cut off. This was done so quickly, they hadn't even the time to react. Their bodies fell where they had been standing, preparing for the blast.
Who could do this? Why would they go to such a violent extreme?
Only a passing senior citizen, out walking her dog, saw their killer.
"He wore a large, black coat. You know, like them dusty things cowboys in the movies wore, only it had a hood. No face was visible, he had it pulled up over his entire head. My poor fluffy, I thought he was going to eat her. Scariest thing I ever saw, swear to god!" She asks to remain anonymous for safety reasons.
Adding further to this mystery was a single word scrawled in the victims' own blood. Police are unsure whether it is his calling card, his name, or some other clue. Until we know more, all we can assume is that this 'Gabriel' is still out there.
A probable motive for why they struck: Polis City Bank is the city's largest holder of mortgages and leases. The Delaware Avenue Branch processes most of those payments. Statistically speaking, most people pay their bill in cash.
Branch Manager Steve Tellus gave the following statement: "The potential month's worth of delays caused by this would have been devastating to customers on fixed incomes. While we grieve for the loss of life, we can't help but feel some what relieved for our customers' sake."
Whatever his motives, Gabriel's actions say he is violent killer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
HOODED GABRIEL STRIKES AGAIN!
By: D.L. Hawkins
A rash of muggings in Mainstay Park came to a violent end last night. Found dismembered, a gang of three men were piled up under another bloody signature.
As many of our long time readers may remember, a series of muggings have been committed in the Mainstay Park area for the past six months. While nothing more than a black eye and a few soiled underwear have resulted, the thieves had made off with an estimated three million in cash, jewelry, and other valuables.
Police had been unable to track down any leads as the criminals worked quickly and left few clues. Even a task force formed specially by Mayor Linderman failed to turn up any new evidence. A curfew enforced by the police failed to protect or even slow them.
Well, in thanks to the efforts of this Gabriel, Mainstay Park is now once more safe to walk alone at night.
Reactions vary across the board. Some people hail this latest action as a crime, while others claim it a god send. Whatever the personal feelings in the matter, A.D.A. Petrelli reminds everyone this vigilante is still a murderer.
If you have any evidence to report, contact your local precinct house.
~~~~~~~@@@~~~~~~~~
"Clear the way, we've gotta code blue coming through!"
Standing off to the side, Peter watched the gurney as it was rushed by towards the surgery. The cop on top of it didn't appear like he was going to make it. He was pale and there was too much blood. The nurse straddling him was doing chest compressions. Peter knew Eden would do her best, but she wasn't a miracle worker.
Trailing after the gurney, two more cops and a man dressed in a blue polo shirt tried to stay within sight.
Since his last patient was now on his way upstairs, Peter was free. He moved quickly to block their path. He threw up his arms, showing that he wasn't budging. "Sorry, gentlemen, but you can't go in there."
"Get out of the way!" The cop didn't even look at Peter, just tried to rush him. That got him no where fast as he bounced off the smaller man.
Grabbing the other cop by the front of his shirt, Peter hauled him off course. This served to distract the third man as well. Now faced with two irate police officers, Peter met their pissed off gazes with his own calm one. "I am sorry, but it is not only against hospital policy, but it violates health codes. You will have to wait out here."
The first cop that had rammed him appeared mulish, threatening to go off. Then his fellow got between him and Peter. "Outta the way! It's Johnny!"
"Don't try it, Brooks!" The second officer had to move twice to keep Brooks from running him over. After the second try, he wrapped the other man around the head with his arms. Pulling his face down to his chest, he pressed his mouth to his ear.
Peter couldn't hear what was being said, but it seemed to be working. Satisfied the officers wouldn't be any more trouble, he searched for the third person who had come in with them. Not finding the man, Peter sighed. Before he could start a more earnest search, another patient was escorted in to his section.
He hoped the man had been smart enough to just wait outside. Removing his stethoscope from around his neck, he rushed to the gurney.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time three a.m. rolled around, Peter was near to dragging his ass. The last time he had seen three a.m. was in his medical school. God, he did not miss those days at all. And damn Mohinder for making him relive them.
Stumbling towards the cafeteria, he stretched his neck muscles. Having been up to his elbows in soar throats and ear infections, he had spent most of his time with his head bent forwards. Peter would have thought his head was gonna roll off his shoulders if he wasn't medically certain against it.
The hallways were empty, and for that, Peter was grateful. It wasn't that he didn't like people, but after seven hours in the ER, he was glad of the quiet. There were just times when he needed to be alone. At the entrance to the cafeteria, he stopped long enough to stretch.
It was standing there he saw the man from earlier. He only remembered him because the cop had ended up dying. That had hit the man's partner hard, but Peter wasn't surprised. What would have taken him for a loop was if he had pulled through.
Forcing it from his mind, he staggered towards the freezer case. Since it was three in the friggen a.m., the kitchens were closed. Any food in the case would have to be reheated. It was bad enough fresh, Peter wasn't certain he could handle it rehashed.
Checking the freezer case, he found there were only desserts left. Despite being the most expensive, it was usually the first thing gone. He was surprised to find any. There must have been a surplus of milk, either that, or the supplies were about to go bad and they wanted to be rid of it. Either way, the pecan pie was half priced, which made it right in his range.
Feeling a little lighter for having it, Peter carried it over to the cash register. He smiled at Ethel, unclipping his ID badge. Slipping it through the reader, he waited for a receipt, thankful for the hospital's payment system. With it, everything was automatically deducted from his bank account. Receipt in hand, he picked up his pie and carried it out in to the dining room.
Glancing about the almost empty room, he found no other tables occupied but the man's. It was either pick an empty one, or play nice and talk with a complete stranger. Since he was tired of the misery, but not quite to the point of apathy, he chose to try his luck.
Peter wandered over to the man's table. It didn't take long for the stranger to look up. Staring in to warm brown eyes, he felt himself involuntarily smile. "Is this seat taken?"
"No," his voice held a soft growl of exhaustion that matched his half lidded eyes. "Please." He gestured for Peter to take the chair next to him.
"Thank you." Moving around the table, Peter set his pie down. He didn't miss the way the man's eyes followed it. Grinning, he plopped down in his chair. "I saw you earlier."
"Hmm?" Breaking away from another look at Peter's pie, the man glanced up at Peter in question. He studied Peter's face for a second, before realization dawned upon him. "Oh, yes, I remember you."
Peter unwrapped the cellophane from around his pie, setting it aside. Picking up his plastic fork, he cut away a large chunk of it. After he sniffed it, he stuffed it in his mouth. The instant flavor hit his tongue, he moaned in pleasure.
Instead of chewing it, Peter let the piece melt in his mouth. Opening his eyes as he savored the bite, he realized he was the center of the man's attention. Smiling, he took cut another chunk of the pie. Putting it on the fork, he held it out for him to take with a raised eyebrow.
The man didn't have to think about it long. Accepting the fork, he shoved the piece of pie in his mouth. He made more noise than Peter, seeming to shudder in pleasure.
"How long has it been since you had pie?" Highly amused, Peter used his finger to scoop up another bit off the plate. He ran it over his tongue, taking great pleasure in smearing the flavor.
"I've forgotten." Holding up the fork, he reluctantly handed it back to Peter. His gaze was only for the remaining pie. "It's very good."
"Yes, it is." For the first time, Peter allowed himself to really see the man. Large features were made even more pronounced due to his size. His arms were muscled, but still too lean for someone his size. Under his shirt, Peter could make out his chest. "What do you do?"
"Some times I write for the Polis City Herald, some times I fix watches." Hesitantly, the man raised his gaze to meet Peter's. "Most of the time, though, I study people."
"A reporter?" Peter snorted. "Explains why you were with the Officers."
"Yes, I was doing a story." His gaze went back to the pie. "I suppose I will be writing a different one, now."
"Yeah." After taking another bite of the pie, Peter pushed the plate towards the man. He wasn't surprised when the man reverently accepted it. Peter knew that look, had seen it on his own face more times than he liked to count. "I'm Peter, by the way."
"Dr. Peter Bennet, yes, I know." Pointing towards Peter's ID badge, the man began cutting the pie in to small sections. He placed a small piece in his mouth. Closing his eyes, he sucked on it slowly. When he finished, he exhaled with a shudder. "My name is Sylar Gray. Most people call me Lar. I hate when they do that."
Rolling his eyes to the side, Peter snorted. There was a real shocker, hating a nickname. "What should I call you?"
"Any time." Looking up, Sylar met Peter's amused expression with one of his own. There was a quirk in his cheek as he smiled. "Sylar is fine."
"All right, Sylar." Sitting back, Peter watched the last of the pie disappear. It had been good pie, but his heart was bigger than his stomach.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"And since I called him out on it, Dr. Suresh stuck me with graveyard shift for the next month." Sipping his coffee, Peter winced at the bitter flavor. Even with all the sweetener and cream, it still had that horrible after flavor of sitting in a pot for hours. "Of course, I might have deserved it too. One doesn't threaten their attending without consequences."
Sylar snickered, pushing up his glasses before returning his fingers to the strap of his messenger bag. "How did you find out he was sleeping with her?" The hall they were walking was coming to a T, one side led to the entrance, the other the elevators. His destination was the entrance so he slowed down.
"Maya's not the first resident he's had his way with." Winking over the edge of his cup, Peter enjoyed the way Sylar's eyes wrinkled at the corners. "She is, however, the first one he's given preferential treatment too."
"Is he going to get in to trouble?" He could hear the sound of the elevator opening at the end of the hall. Turning away from it, Sylar stopped completely.
Peter understood his reluctance to go there. He didn't want to go end their conversation either. "Nah. Mohinder did the right thing this morning, she's been suspended for the next two weeks. Whose shift do you think I'm working?" He used the cup to gesture around them.
Shaking his head, Sylar smiled for Peter. There were just some things in life that it was all he could do. "At least she didn't get away with it."
"Yeah, there is that." Peter drank down the last of the vile coffee. When he finished, he squeezed the cup until it was crushed. A glance to the clock on the far wall told him he would be late if he dawdled any longer. Sighing, he glanced down at the floor. "Well, I hate to say this, but the second half of my shift starts in ten minutes."
"All right." Sylar couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice. Still, when Peter looked up at him, his breath seemed hard coming. "I'll see you around some time?"
"I've got your card, I'll call you for sure." Patting the pocket on his lab coat, Peter grinned. There were a few cards in there, but he wasn't about to say that to Sylar. The guy had a sweet charm about him that made him seem out of date. Some how, he thought Sylar would prefer remaining ignorant of his competition.
Shifting, Sylar started backing down the hall towards the front entrance. He nervously adjusted his glasses again. "Well, I guess I better get going then."
"See ya." Waving, Peter followed him in to the main hall. He stopped at the juncture, since his destination was doing rounds on the fourth floor.
"Bye, Peter." Sylar waved quickly, then spun and raced out the front door.
Shaking his head, Peter couldn't hold back the laughter. If he wasn't a virgin, Peter knew that he could count on one hand the number of times Sylar had been on dates. You couldn't fake that kind of naive enthusiasm.
Fiddling with the cards in his pocket, Peter walked over the elevators. If he didn't get up to the station and sign in within five minutes, Mohinder would be on his ass in the morning. Not that he'd mind Mohinder on his ass, but the other man wouldn't do anything but yell at him.
Waxing nostalgic for a two week fling made Peter realize something. Stepping on the elevator, he sighed. "God, I need to get laid." May be he'd call Sylar and give him an anatomy lesson.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Checking on Mrs. Reddy's test results, Peter hummed to himself. He knew it was terribly off key, but the song had been stuck in his head for the past twenty minutes. If Nurse Devons would listen to something less annoying, he wouldn't have to make other people suffer like this.
But she didn't, and Mrs. Reddy was asleep, so it wasn't really a problem.
With a high pitched whine, he finished the last refrain. A quick annotation for the next Doctor on rotation, and he was finished. Closing her chart, he slid it back in the shelf on the wall.
Fingering the end of his stethoscope, Peter walked over to her bed. Her vitals were normal, and her color was fine. A quick touch to her cheek confirmed her temperature to him. It wasn't standard practice, but one scare in medical school and he wasn't taking any more chances.
Satisfied, he turned and walked to the other side of the current. Mr. Mason was just as he had left him five minutes before, asleep and snoring. With a smile, Peter let himself quietly out of their room.
At four in the morning, the hall was blissfully quiet. Peter was eternally grateful to Mohinder for scheduling him during the night shift. He hadn't realized exactly how cushy a job Maya had until now. After six hours in the ER, four hours of rounds was a cake walk.
Starting for the next room, Peter realized he had started humming that damned song again. Groaning, he put his fingers in his ears. May be if he didn't hear himself singing, he would stop.
The pain was sudden and blinding. Crying out, he tried to get his hands up to the back of his head. A violent shove from behind slammed him face first in to the wall. The force of the impact drove the air from his lungs, effectively cutting off his cry.
Sliding to the ground, Peter felt liquid heat running down the side of his brow. It was soon covering his left eye, making him blink to clear his vision. He tried to focus, knowing it was important in a head injury.
Instead of his medical training, he found his attention solely the hands at his waist. They were making quick work of the drawstring on his scrub bottoms. Alarmed, Peter fumbled uselessly to stop them. A slap to his face knocked spots in his good eye.
"Think you're a big man?" A voice came out of the darkness, hissing and spitting at his face.
Peter felt his hips raised as his pants and underwear were jerked down. Shaking his head, he tried to move his legs, but the voice was stronger.
"Hold still, you little fucker!" This order was accompanied by another hit.
Feeling a pain in his lip, Peter was certain it was busted. He started to whimper, unable to help himself. A quick jerk around his shoes pulled them and his pants completely off. His bottom against the cold tile floor made Peter shiver.
Chuckling, the voice was close now. "You think you're so smart, that that degree makes you automatically better than the rest of us. Well, you're not!" Another blow to his face. "Whiny little bitches. Always demanding shit!"
Hands were on his legs, pulling him. Peter cried out when he fell back, his head impacting against the floor.
"Gonna show you what a real man feels like. Gonna make you feel it!" Then the voice was above him. Weighing him down, pressing him in to the tile floor.
The stinging smell of alcohol singed his nostrils a moment before Peter felt it. Eyes going wide, he shook his head. "Nah..." The weight on top of him shifted, shoving the dick hard against his ass.
"Here's a real man for ya." Whispered in his ear, it was the only thing in the terrible silence.
Then the dick was shoved hard, breaching his insides. Peter would have screamed but a thick hand over his mouth muffled his cries.
"Oh god!" The muttered words were breathy. A quick moan sounded screamed in his ear. "You goth whores are always so tight."
Pulling out, the thick head scraped against his raw hole. Peter knew he was more than likely bleeding inside. His medical knowledge drew up an image from the texts. That was driven from his mind by the violent thrust inside him again.
Sobbing, Peter tried to jerk away. His hands, he realized, were pinned above him. Why hadn't he tried to use them? Peter couldn't recall why he hadn't tried to use his hands. He might have fought the monster off.
A groan in his ear told him the man enjoyed the next thrust inside him. "You feel that, pretty? You feel me? I'm inside you, beautiful." Pulling out, he began to push back. His thrust started taking on a pattern. "So tight. You're enjoying this, I know you are."
Peter tried to shake his head, to deny the voice. There wasn't anything he could do, he wanted to thrust the man from between his thighs, but even his legs were refusing to work. He cried out as a particular thrust worked itself deeper than the rest.
"Feel this? That's what a real man feels like." The voice reached a high pitch when he gasped. "So good, so damn good!" Moaning, he kissed against Peter's cheek. "You're a sweet whore. So good." Then he gave a guttural cry.
Chest heaving, Peter just lay there. He couldn't fight it, he knew that now. If he just lay there, it would soon be over. That's all he had to do, was wait, and it would soon be over. It would soon be over.
"Beautiful." Edging himself up on one arm, the voice stared Peter directly in the face. "Did you enjoy that? Don't bother denying it, I know your type. This is what you..." His eyes went wide. Making a sucking sound, the voice was silenced.
Then, he was gone.
As he was jerked out of Peter's body, Peter screamed from the sudden withdraw. It was then he realized he was free. Shrieking, he curled on his side. His vision was blocked by tears and what he now knew was blood. So much so that he couldn't see what was going on.
But he could hear.
The voice that had been inside him was screaming. Incoherent and filled with pain, it was every where. After a particularly violent shriek, it was suddenly silenced.
Then there was nothing but quiet.
So much quiet.
Shaking, Peter tried to draw his knees inside himself. When he felt the soft touch upon his brow, he almost cried out. Almost. There was something different about this one. Something that drove away all the pain, the fear.
Sighing as the world went away, Peter felt nothing but calm and peace.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter could feel hands touching him.
He didn't want hands touching him. There were voices attached to the hands. People were talking. Someone was asking him questions.
A light shown in his good eye. The light then moved to his other eye. It burned in both, making him whimper.
On some level, he was aware of everything that was going on. He knew who these people were, he knew what they were doing. A random thought told Peter he had done this for other people himself.
But Peter didn't care.
Despite the insisting voice, he let it all go. He just wanted to sleep. Bad memories threatened him if he stayed awake. There was no real good reason that he could remember that made him want to stay awake.
So, went ignored them. Ignored the distant pain. Ignored the light. Even the touch, ignored.
Eventually, not even thoughts of ignoring registered any more.
~~~~~~@@@~~~~~~~
The editors would like to apologize to our readers for the delay of this edition. This was due to the change in our lead article. We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience.
DECORATED OFFICER TORN TO PIECES BY GABRIEL!
By: Niki Sanders
A gruesome scene greeted a nurse at Polis City General early this morning.
Working the forth floor recovery wing, Nurse Tarin McLayne was making her early morning bed checks. As part of her job, she would note any changes the Resident made during his rounds that morning to patient charts and implement them. Ordinarily, hospital policy said he was to have checked in with her.
But he had not reported back.
In the process of carrying out her duties, she came upon a scene that will haunt her for the rest of her life.
Some time around four A.M. this morning, a second year resident was sexually assaulted. Police assume that Gabriel was in the middle of his attack when he was discovered by officer Jim Brooks. In his attempt to stop the psychotic killer, the officer was horribly murdered. Above his remains, smeared in his own blood, the name 'Gabriel'.
The Medical Examiner's initial report says he was alive as he was torn to pieces. Blood spray patterns at the scene confirm this. Since the patients in that wing were heavily sedated, no one heard his anguished cries.
Officer Brooks was a fifteen year veteran of the PCPD. Given numerous citations for bravery and excellence, he was honored twice by the city for his part in bringing down major crime rings. It is reported that he was at the hospital yesterday due to the fact his partner was murdered in a shoot out.
Mayor Linderman is calling on all citizens to report everything they know about Gabriel. A fifty thousand dollar reward is promised to anyone who provides information that leads to his capture.
The resident assaulted this morning has been placed under police protection. No information on his condition can be provided as per doctor-patient confidentiality. It is the stance of this paper never to report an assault victim's name without authorization from said person.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SHOCKING TWIST IN POLICE MURDER; M.E.: GABRIEL NOT GUILTY!
By: D.L. Hawkins
According to the M.E. autopsy report, prior to his murder, officer Brooks was involved in the sexual assault.
Blood and fluid samples taken from the cop's remains show he had been engaged in sexual activity just prior to his death. Analysis confirmed the blood type was not his own.
Further DNA testing is being done on suspicions that he was, in fact, the one who assaulted the doctor early Tuesday morning. Results will be back in three days.
When asked if the victim was able to speak yet, ADA Nathan Petrelli stated that he was still in an artificially induced coma. Independent sources told us that hospital security camera footage had been seized. Mr. Petrelli had no comment on this.
Just the mere chance of these allegations being true have victims' rights groups up in arms. The police are denying all involvement in this and have ordered a full investigation. When asked to provide a more detailed service record, our reporters were told it was not possible without a court order. This is in violation of the freedom of information act, and was later denied by other sources.
Further attempts to investigate were hindered by the closing of the city records office.
~~~~~~@@@~~~~~~~
Fingers on his wrist woke him. On instinct, Peter jerked his hand away. This caused his head to move, sending a wave of nausea through him.
"Careful!" The hand moved up his arm to rest upon his shoulder.
He opened his eyes. Much to his relief, the dim light was soft enough not to hurt. When he could focus, Peter found the pleased expression of his superior smiling down upon him. Groaning, he tried to turn away, this time, more slowly.
"Good, you're awake." Mohinder gently squeezed Peter's shoulder, ensuring not to cause any more pain. "You've been unconscious for three days, partially due to the medication. I suspect the rest was just plain stubbornness."
Snorting, Peter slitted the eye open that didn't hurt. "How bad?"
"You've sustained a supraorbital fracture. Dr. Smith had to go in and implant a plate." Mohinder's hand moved over the top of Peter's skull. "He ordered you shaved completely, said it was his one chance. Still, you're quite lucky he was oncall. Otherwise, you might have a permanent curious expression."
Again, Peter snorted, then he moaned as the pain caused him to close his eyes. "What else?"
"There were some rectal tears, Dr. Smith took care of those too. He knocked two of your front teeth loose, so it will hurt until they heel. Aside from that and quite a number of contusions, you were unharmed. Physically." He added the last part almost as if hurt him to say it. Tracing the lines of Peter's skull, Mohinder continued to watch him closely.
Peter nodded once. It hurt too much to speak and he wasn't quite sure he could stand to see Mohinder just yet. Memories of the act caused his breath to hitch in the back of his throat. "Did they...catch him?"
"There was no need." Mohinder's voice was quiet, sounding a little pleased.
This caused Peter to look at him despite of the pain. Much to his annoyance, Peter found his left eye wouldn't completely open. If it was partial paralysis from the medicine or damage, he would find out later. Right now, he had other things to consider. "What happened?"
At this, Mohinder did smile. It was bitter and ugly on his features. "Gabriel happened to him, that's what."
"Who was it?" Peter was afraid to ask. If it was someone he had known, he didn't think he would ever look at anyone again. That it had happened to him alone was bad enough.
"Some cop. His partner was admitted during your shift. The police think he targeted you for stopping him from entering the surgery with the him." What he thought of that was written clearly on Mohinder's face. "Speaking of police, an ADA Petrelli is here with an officer to take your statement."
"What does he want?" Peter sighed when Mohinder shook his head. Him knowing had been too much to hope for. "I suppose they won't wait?"
"I can send them away, but that might only make things worse in the long run." He glanced to the doorway, making it clear which way he was leaning.
Peter followed his gaze. Sighing, he nodded. It was probably best to get it over with now. At least he could always interrupt by saying he was tired.
"Very well, I'll be over here if you need me, though." Walking to the door, Mohinder pointed to the visitor's chair. He walked out in to the hall, letting the door close behind him.
The noise of three people speaking came through the thick door, so they had to be almost shouting. With a sinking feeling, Peter started to reconsider his agreement. But it was already too late.
The door opened with a severe looking man pushing his way inside the room. Behind him, Mohinder and a man in a PCPD uniform followed in his wake.
Peter absently reached for the bed controls. Upon finding the remote, he hit the bed-up button so that he could sit. This caused a twinge in his bottom, but he kept his face neutral. Twisting his head, he used the pillow to hold his head up.
Stopping off to the side of Peter's bed, the man adjusted his suit jacket. He studied Peter from head to toe. What he saw didn't seem to sit well with him. "Peter, my name is Nathan Petrelli. I'm with the District Attorney's office."
"Hi." Peter felt like telling him to just go away. Something about the way the man wouldn't look him directly in the eye exhausted him. "What do you want?"
"I need to know what you saw." For his part, Nathan kept his voice steady despite his obvious discomfort. "After the attack, that is. Did you see who murdered Officer Brooks?"
"Murdered?" Peter couldn't help the scoff. He didn't really want to, now that he thought about it. "I was raped by one of your people and you want me to help you put away the person who saved my life. Yes, saved my life, because I have no doubt he was going to kill me!" By the time he finished, Peter was leaning forward, breathing heavily. His head hung, barely maintaining eye contact.
"Peter." The ADA looked about to say more, but shook his head. "Mr. Bennet, this is important. This Gabriel is a dangerous killer. It's your duty to help us put him away."
"Get out." Drawing attention to his presence, Mohinder walked around the side of the bed opposite Nathan. He raised his head, staring the other man down. "You've upset my patient quite enough. Threatening him is one step too far. Get out and take your pitbulls with you!" Mohinder pointed towards the door.
Ignoring Mohinder, Nathan tried his luck with Peter once more. "Pete."
The way he said his name struck Peter as familiar. There was just something about it. Tugging on the collar of his gown, he tried to fan himself.
Mohinder marched over to the intercom at the head of Peter's bed. Pressing a red button, he glared at Nathan. "Security to room four-o-two. Code four." He released the button. "You have thirty seconds. I suggest you leave now before I have you arrested."
His fists clenching was the only sign that Nathan was angry with the ultimatum. Another quick look to Peter, then he nodded. "I am leaving an officer here on the door. Peter is still under the city's jurisdiction."
"Unless he's committed a crime, you have no authority to invade my hospital. You will be taking all of your people with you." While Mohinder had finished speaking, the door opened.
Standing in the entrance, two guards had their batons drawn. "Dr. Suresh, is everything all right in here." The one that spoke looked between Nathan, the officer, and Mohinder.
"No, please escort these gentlemen out of the hospital. Make sure they do not..."
Peter wanted to hear what else Mohinder had to say, but the world suddenly got very dark. Letting his head lull in to the pillow, he closed his eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A hand ran over the stubble of his hair.
Turning his face away, Peter reached up to knock away the offending appendage. Much to his annoyance, whoever it was returned their hand to petting his hair. Grumbling, he tried to turn in to the pillows.
Her laughter echoed in the room.
Peter knew that laugh. Curling tighter in his blankets, he tried to pretend she wasn't there.
"I know you're awake." She slid her hand down the back of his head to rest between his shoulder blades. This was a familiar position, one she had used on him countless times.
That didn't matter, though. He didn't want to be awake. Since he wasn't a kid any more, she couldn't force him to do anything he didn't want to do. Right now, he wanted to go back to sleep.
Peter tried pulling the blankets up to just under his chin. This failed because her hand blocked them from moving up his back. Squeezing his eyes shut, he groaned.
Chuckling, she started moving her hand in circles over the center of his back. "Petey, honey."
"Go away." Picking up his pillow, he pulled it down over his head. Why wouldn't she take a hint? The hand on his back stilled.
Instead of leaving, she sat down on the bed. Her other hand came up to rest on his chest as she curled up behind him. Raising the pillow, she smiled against his cheek with a kiss. "I'm not going away. Your father paid so much for a first class ticket, the least you can do is acknowledge me."
"Mom," he groaned at her. He hated when she used guilt on him. She used it so infrequently, he had no tolerance.
"That's my little boy." Pressing her lips to the side of his temple, she rubbed her cheek against his. "I've missed you so much. The times we see each other go so fast that it hardly seems like any at all."
So long as Peter kept his eyes closed, she wouldn't see. The familiar hint of her perfume was only now detectable. That meant she had been waiting for him to wake for a long time. "I've missed you too."
"You can go back to sleep, I'm here now." She pulled the blanket up between them until it covered his shoulders. Just the way she knew he liked. Fifteen years of watching him sleep couldn't be forgotten in nine years of absence.
Peter brought her hand up to his lips before laying his head down on the pillow. "I love you, mom."
"I love you too, Peter." Settling in on the spare pillow, Sandra leaned on one elbow so she could watch his face as he slept.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I can't do it!" Catching himself, Peter only stopped himself from taking out his frustrations in a yelling match with his mother. Instead, he ground the shirt between his hands in to a ball. Throwing it at the far wall, he watched it impact against the cracked plaster. "I have a job here, a life. I can't just pack up and move back to Texas."
"I'm not asking you to leave Polis City. Just come home for a couple weeks." Sandra stopped at the entrance to his bedroom, a hand towel over her shoulder. Seeing his wadded shirt on the floor, she sighed and walked over to pick it up. She folded it, then held it out for him.
Snatching it from her, Peter glared at his feet. There was no point in him being a mule. He knew what she had meant from the start. There was just a part of him that wanted to be a contrary for the sake of being contrary.
Still, he couldn't deny the fact that she wanted him to come home made him feel a little better. He knew that it wasn't because she thought he couldn't survive on his own. It was that in times like this, parents tended to become over protective. A very normal response.
Unfortunately, he wasn't feeling particularly normal.
Turning, he threw the shirt in his open dresser drawer. He wanted to throw some other things. He wanted to go on a rampage, smashing everything and anything that got in his way. Why the fucking hell had this happened to him?
Clenching his fists, he brought them up to his temples. "Running away is not the solution, mom. Both you and Dad taught me that."
"This is not running away." Her voice was soft, but held the unyielding strength that had kept him together over the years. "There is nothing to run from, that son of a bitch is dead and he better be damn glad of it. Your father wanted to come up here himself and track that bastard down. It took all I could to make him stay home."
Raising his head, Peter faced his mother with wide eyes. He had never heard her speak in such a manner in all his years. "Did he really say that?"
"That's the squeaky version." Her mouth set in a tight light, she tried to smile with her eyes. Sandra failed and her face fell. It was her sniff that set Peter off.
His eyes burning, Peter quickly wrapped his arms around her. He clung to her for dear life, afraid if he let go, that this might actually be a dream.
"We have always prepared Claire, knowing that some day she might have to fight... I never dreamed it might happen to you." Sandra raised up her hand from under Peter's arm to wipe her face. She knew that her voice was breaking, but couldn't stop. "This is the worst feeling in the world, knowing I couldn't protect you. It's my job, you're my baby. I was supposed to..."
"Stop, please." Peter squeezed her tight, trying to draw the pain from her. There was already enough hurting going on. "It wasn't your fault, mine either. That... It was just something that happens."
Shaking her head, Sandra didn't know what exactly that it was she was trying to deny. The action seemed to be the right thing to do. Turning her head, she pressed her lips to his cheek. "Please, just for two weeks. Just so we can know you are going to be fine."
"How? I don't know if I'll be okay." The sob she released caused his chest to clench. "I won't fly, you know how much I hate it."
"All right." Relieved, she slid her hand up to cup the back of his head. Sandra pressed his face in the crook of her neck. She knew that his face was still sore, his stitches snagged on her necklace, but it calmed him none the less. "My baby boy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ice cream made the world a better place. Of that, Peter had no doubt. Partially leaning on his mother's arm, he slowly made his way towards a park bench. It wasn't that he needed the support, the world just had a bad habit of deciding it wanted to tilt at random intervals. His mother's arm helped him keep his feet during those spells.
It was a win-win situation. He got help, she got to be a doting mother.
Squeezing his hand, Sandra smiled at him. "I'm glad that nice Dr. Suresh was so understanding."
"Mohinder's always been very understanding when it comes to my needs." Snickering, Peter enjoyed the way his mother just shook her head. There were times when being perverse had it's advantages. Shocking his mother was one of them.
Sandra slapped his shoulder with the bottom of her soda. "I swear, some times you have the morals of a dog in heat." When they came to the bench, she took the lead and spun around first. She quickly set her purse and soda down. Holding his arm, she helped ease him to the bench by a hand under his arm.
"Thank you." He was almost breathless from the pain and effort. It shouldn't have felt like that.
Digging through her purse, Sandra came up with an orange pill bottle. She quickly uncapped it and shook out two in to her hand. Holding them and her soda out, she whispered, "here."
Accepting them, Peter quickly tossed them back. The soda did the trick of washing out the cottony effected they had on his mouth. He took an extra sip before handing the soda back to her. "Thank you."
Sandra nodded. "This is a lovely park." After wiping off her straw, she took a quick sip of her soda. "Very peaceful, considering the city."
"It hasn't always been." He pointed a shaking hand towards a series of bushes in the distance. "I got mugged there about a month ago." Peter rolled his eyes at her alarmed expression. "Don't worry, it won't be happening again. They found the guys responsible."
"I hope they put them away for a very long time." Frowning at the bushes, she missed Peter's smirk.