InsaneJournal

Fic: Send Me An Angel 2/2 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.
______________________________________



Much to his chagrin, Peter ended up having to let his mother carry his bags to the car. Worse yet for his personal sense of manhood, she was the going to have do the driving. He wasn't allowed to drive because of his head injury. That and the little factoid of letting his license lapse.

In Polis City, only the tourists and immigrants drove. Even people like that asshole A.D.A. had their own drivers, albeit an import from Haiti. He had read about the man's family driver in the paper shortly after arriving. Something about how he was the highest paid driver in the city.

It didn't matter, the fact was the Petrelli family was rich, and thick as thieves with the Mayor. Speaking of thieves, the Mayor was a mobster. It was no wonder the police protected rapists, rewarding them even.

Why the fuck did he even want to stay in the shit hole of a city?

Pulling off his sunglasses, Peter effectively cut off his nervous trail of thoughts. It was now or never. He had been putting off for three days. Now was the time!

Taking a deep breath, Peter raised his eyes to look at his reflection.

For several seconds, he wondered who the stranger in the mirror was.

Then he realized that the shaved frankenstein was him. Until just that moment, he hadn't even noticed they had shaved his eyebrows. One, because it was necessary for the surgery. The other had probably been for aesthetic purposes.

Why they had even bothered, he didn't know. He looked like a freak!

The only thing that separated him from the patients of Henry Memorial Ward was the ugly row of stitches over his left eye. Examining it, he found a slight protrusion of the flesh. It was barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. To his eyes, though, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

He immediately identified it as the plate. The only thing holding the front portion of his skull together. Spots started to appear before his eyes, making him realize he was starting to hyperventilate.

Dropping his head, he forced himself to take a deep breath through his mouth. After two more breaths, his pulse started to slow down. Light headed and feeling weak, he clutched at the bathroom sink in front of him. This was how his mother found him.

"Peter, do you know a Sylar?" Holding a green paper wrapped bundle of flowers, she frowned. "He sent you some flowers. There aren't very many and I'm almost certain they were picked from the park."

Turning on the tap, Peter washed his face and scalp. Standing up, he made a show of drying off. "Yes, I know him."

"If he's trying to express himself, he's sending a cheap message." Holding up the card, she turned it so Peter could see it. "He said he's hoping to hear from you soon. You should lose his number if this is his idea of romantic."

"Mom!" Snatching the card from her, Peter slipped on his sunglasses. "Sylar is broke, not cheap. He works for the Polis City Herald." Pushing past her, he didn't see the expression on her face. He didn't have to.

"Oh, Peter. Not one of those." Following along behind him, she carried the flowers in to the kitchen. "You know those writer types never make any money. He'll be living off you the rest of his life, and he'll end up drinking."

"Not everyone is like Uncle Martin and Aunt Faith." Peter back tracked to his mother. Taking the flowers from her, he headed for the door. "Let's go before I change my mind."

She looked about to say something, but he picked up his pace. Sighing, she shook her head.

Once more, Peter started to seriously reconsider going back. Even if it was just for two weeks.

He could do two weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Staring out the window, Peter watched a field of corn go by. His mother would have to pick the road with the most boring scenery. It didn't help that the sun was behind them. That meant, every time he blinked, he was treated to the magnificent fuck up that was his reflection.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and turned away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The early morning light made his family home look the same as it always had. Peter knew it had the same siding, same old roof he had helped his father put on it in high school. Some things never changed.

Climbing out of the car, he kept his head low to keep the sun out of his eyes. Even with his sunglasses, it still hurt to see bright lights. Looking down was why he didn't see the blonde rocket heading his way.

"Peter!" The shriek was almost deafening.

Wincing, Peter tried to brace himself, but there was no real preparation to being attacked by a sixteen year-old girl. He tried not to cringe as Claire threw her arms about him. When he felt her stiffen against him, Peter knew he failed.

Gingerly at first, he reached up. Realizing how much he was upsetting her, he forced himself to just go ahead and do it. This was not the time for him to get squeamish. He was a Bennet, damn it, he did not let some stupid asshole ruin his life.

No matter how much he wanted to curl up and sob.

Closing his eyes, he sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Hey, Claire." In spite of his discomfort, he smiled at her when she pulled back.

Staring up at him, Claire gave him a the biggest smile she could muster. "It's good to have you home again, Peter!"

"Yeah." There was only so much enthusiasm he could fake. Shifting his attention from her, he glanced up the front walk. Standing on the porch, Lyle and their father were waiting for him. Keeping his head held high, Peter nodded towards them.

His father said something to Lyle, which caused the teen to look at him. Bennet said something else that had teen running off the porch.

Instead of coming towards Peter, Lyle ran to the old car. It had belonged to his father for almost twenty years before Peter had bought it from him. Much to Peter's amusement, Lyle was having a hard time with his bags where their mother had none.

When he looked back to his father, Peter found Bennet coming down the path towards him. Peter tapped Claire's shoulder to make her let go. Once he was free of her, he climbed up the curb to get on the front walk. They met halfway through the front yard.

For several heart beats, Peter stood there staring at his father. He knew they should say something, but words seemed to heavy for him to utter. Swallowing, he took a shuddering breath. "Dad."

"Petey." No sooner than Bennet opened his arms than Peter launched himself in to them. Squeezing Peter up tight in his embrace, Bennet closed his eyes and pressed his cheek to Peter's forehead.

Behind them, Claire wrapped an arm around her mother's waist. When watching them became too much, she buried her face in her mother's neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking up the stairs, Peter glanced down the hall towards his old room. It had been his from as far back as he could remember. Now, the old placard he had made was replaced with ugly fliers and what appeared to be a stolen street sign. Peter cast a look back towards the kitchen where Lyle and the rest of his family were.

With only three rooms, when he had left, Claire and Lyle had been sharing. It seemed his brother had not only taken over the room, he had been busy ruining it. Peter hesitated at the door, his hand resting on the handle. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open.

He was grateful he had braced himself.

The room was a total ruin. His old posters were gone. The top mattress was partially off the bed, there were no covers to speak of. A huge pile of stinking laundry lay at in front of the bureau. The one mirror in the entire room was covered in stickers from bands he had never heard of.

Closing his eyes, Peter knew he had stepped in to the fifth circle of hell. If something popped up, he was going to kill it. Then he was going to kill Lyle.

His once pristine room was no where to be seen.

Sighing, he walked over to the bed. An air mattress had been inflated next to the closet, but there was no way in hell he was going to sleep on it. After righting it, Peter kicked everything Lyle had piled next to it towards the far corner. Just as he had suspected, there was a new set of sheets in the night stand's cabinet.

After fixing the bed, he Peter tested the center of the bed with his hand. Finding it dry and sturdy, he was relieved. One could never tell with Lyle. His mother's calls had been filled with the runt's exploits.

Peter was feeling a little light headed by the time he finished. He understood the orders for not over doing it, but this was all new for him. There were still limits he was having to find for himself. Taking a break was recommended, in his expert medical opinion.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he let his head and shoulders droop. In the quiet of the room, he tried not to. For the first time since it happened, he was alone with his thoughts. Wiping at his eyes, he eased himself back against the pillows.

Above him, the ceiling fan was still going on the same setting. The ceiling and walls were the same old color, under the posters and various pinned items that is. Despite the changes Lyle had made, it was still his old room.

Not everything had changed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Be back in time for dinner! We're having pork chops and pasta melt." Waving from the kitchen, Noah finished drying his hands off on the towel.

"We will!" Extracting his arm from Claire, Peter returned the wave. While he still had it up, he used it to open the front door. The afternoon sunlight was shining brightly, so he tugged the hat down further. It was Claire's boyfriend's, but he wasn't there.

Back to clinging to Peter's arm once they were outside, Claire stopped only long enough to let him close it behind them. She took in his appearance with an appraising eye. "Wanna know the truth?"

"No, but I'm sure you will tell me anyways." He wasn't exactly sure where he wanted to go. Claire wanted to take him and show off to all her friends. The idea of being around so many idiot teenage girls was not at all appealing to him.

Claire whacked him in the back. "Quit being a jerk."

"You're still the same old spoiled princess, I see." As they passed the big house on the corner, Peter waved to Mrs. Johnson. When she waved back, he smirked. She had never liked him when he was a kid.

Seeing this, Claire nodded. "It's exactly as I thought." At his raised eyebrow, she snorted. "You look like one of the jocks at my school. Without your hair, Daryl's hat, and that scar above your eye, it all fits." She tugged on his shirt where the sleeve was missing. "Even this. Since when did you start wearing cut offs?"

"It's not mine." Peter smirked at the memory. He wouldn't tell her about where he had come by it until she was older. The fact it was still in his clothes was a testament. Usually, they left before clothes became an issue.

That didn't deter her though. "One of your boytoys?"

"My what?" He stopped dead in his tracks. Turning to face her, he felt a smile tug on his lower lip. "Have you been listening to mom and my phone calls?"

She shrugged. "Sure. It's the best way to get any information on you. You don't tell me any thing." The scandalized look on his face was worth it. Cackling, she poked him in the stomach. "It's not hard to tell when you get to the good parts, mom gets this hushed tone. Dad just turns up the volume on the tv."

Wide eyed and scowling, Peter made a noise of annoyance. "Anyone else know about this?"

"Just a couple of my friends. They're not sure you exist. Wait until you meet them, they're going to scream!" Grabbing his arm, she nearly jerked him off his feet. "Come on, they're about to get out of school. I'm sure they've come up with something to explain why I wasn't there and I'll have to do total damage control!"

"Why are you friends with these people?" It was a complete mystery to him why he allowed her to drag him along.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Main Street Dairy Queen was still the same as when he and his friends used to hang out there. Why Claire and her cronies would do the same was just baffling. They had so many other better places to go. He knew it wasn't the same reason he had, because it was the one place jocks never went.

The Jocks were, in fact, at the next table. Trying to keep a low profile, Peter kept Dumbass' hat pulled down over his eyes. He couldn't remember Claire's boyfriend's name, but it had begun with D. The boy was currently busy trying to suck the entire contents of his soda through a hole in the bottom.

And failing.

Peter pitied the teens who were working behind the counter. If this mess was the usual result, then they weren't getting paid enough. Sitting back, he avoided Claire's friend Pink Scrunchie's arm as she passed his sister her home work.

"You should have seen Maxwell's face. After what Tiffany said, I thought for certain those thick glasses were going to fall off his face!" Cackling, she dropped herself in the booth chair across from Peter. Her train of thought jumped the track when she spotted Peter. Letting her eyes do a slow once over, she sucked on her bottom lip. "When did you dump Daryl, and pick this one up? A def. prove!"

"Back off, Tracy." Stuffing her books down inside the bag Daryl had brought her, Claire sighed with disgust. "This is my brother, Peter."

For a second, Peter thought Tiffany was going defy her biological limits and pop her eyes out of their sockets.

"No fucking way!" Grabbing a passing girl in a tight pink top, Tracy pulled her down in to the seat. "Mandy! This is Peter!"

The girl Tracy had snatched shifted in the seat to get comfortable. Having been raising a hand to fix her top, she froze. She looked up to Claire, then let her eyes fall upon Peter. The moment she saw him, her jaw dropped. "What happened to his face?"

"The same thing that's about to happen to yours, idiot!" Tracy elbowed Mandy in the ribs. "Grow up, freak, quit staring, god!" Rolling her eyes, she leaned over the table. "Sorry for the kid, she's a year younger, totally immature."

Having been watching them through out the entire event, Peter felt exhausted. These girls were total air heads. What the hell did Claire see in them? He knew she was smart, their mother had emailed him her report card to brag. Just to be friendly, he gave them a short wave. "Hi there."

Mandy giggled, loud and nasal.

Clenching her eyes closed, Claire leaned her head on Peter's shoulder. "Okay, so may be this wasn't so hot."

Peter could have told her. Pushing her face off his arm, he stood up. The crack of his pants started to ride up, so he had to pull them down. When he saw the girls' eyes follow his hand, Peter stopped. "I'm going to get a blizzard. Who wants one, my treat?"

"Banana Sundae." Tracy raised her hand. Pointing to Mandy, she smirked. "Butterfinger. Claire likes a chocolate vanilla swirl with gummibears. And Carla, when she shows her fat ass, likes cookie dough."

"Got it." Uncomfortable, Peter unconsciously flexed in his shirt. When this caused Mandy to gasp, he groaned. This was not going to continue for the next three hours. He would slit his wrists with that damned plastic red spoon first.

Walking around the bar that divided the restaurant and the order counter, Peter heard more than one whistle. A couple had even been from the jock's table. Now, he remembered why he hated coming back for a visit. In Polis City, he was considered mildly attractive. Keeping in shape was a necessity for his job and social circle. Here, he was a piece of meat that was fought over by every hungry dog.

Ordinarily, that would have had him over the moon, swelled with pride. But, it was the last thing he needed. At least he heard Claire chastising her friends. It would do no good, though. Unless he was willing to explain why, they would think it the was usually sibling crap.

Forcing it from his mind, Peter took his place in the only line. For as long as he had been hanging out there, only one register ever worked. Seems it had never been replaced. Looking up at the ceiling, he groaned for the shit of it all.

A chill went through him, causing him to rub his arms up his sides. Why had he thought it a good idea to go around in Ted's shirt? Oh yeah, it was hotter than hell outside. He started to shiver again until a hand touched his side.

Peter jumped back, spinning to face whoever it was. His hands had come up to defend himself. Heart racing, he found a familiar face grinning at him behind black framed glasses. Realizing what had happened, Peter dropped his face to hide his reaction. "What are you doing here?"

Alarmed, Sylar stepped towards Peter. Seeing his body language, though, he kept from touching him. "I'm on assignment." His hands twitched, half raising before he put them back at his sides. "I saw you in the window and thought I'd surprise you."

The chuckle Peter let out was dark and throaty. "Congratulations. I'm surprised."

Sylar frowned when Peter eventually looked up. He didn't wince or recoil, though. "I had heard, but didn't know it was this bad."

That earned a snort from Peter. "Yeah, well, you should have seen what happened to the other guy." The joke fell flat when neither one of them cracked a smile. Eventually, Peter looked out the front window.

Feeling bold, Sylar crossed the last bit of space between them. He slowly reached up to place a hand upon Peter's waist. The skin was warm beneath his hand, tensing under his touch. "If I'm bothering you, I will go away."

Swallowing, Peter slowly faced Sylar. "I, uh, I'm here with my sister and her friends. They're expecting me to get them something." He jerked a thumb towards the now open counter. "Uh, you want something?"

"I'll get it." Sylar suddenly grinned at him. "I've got an expense account now."

Peter realized just how close they were. He could practically smell the drying sweat on the other man's body. His stomach started to rebel even while his heart started to speed up. "I can't do this." It was a harsh whisper, but it echoed in his ears.

"Okay." Instead of taking the hint and backing up, Sylar leaned in even closer. Even as Peter tried to pull back, he caught up to him and pressed his nose against the other man's cheek. Taking a deep breath, he growled in Peter's ear.

Peter froze. The low rumbling coming from Sylar's throat caused his eyes to flutter shut. Inhaling slowly, his breath hitched. He realized Sylar's hand had come up to cup the other side of his face.

He nuzzled the side of Peter's face, pressing his lips against his skin, again and again. When eventually his growl ceased, he pulled back.

A deep calm filled Peter. Pressing his face in to Sylar's hand, he felt almost content. Eventually, those fingers left his skin and he shivered. Opening his eyes, Peter stared at Sylar.

Something inside him clicked. He knew.

Sylar placed a finger to Peter's lips. He shushed him with a smile. After a few heart beats, he released Peter completely. Stepping back, he winked at him from behind his glasses.

As Sylar started to leave, Peter felt the peaceful feeling begin to slip away. Panic constricted inside his chest, making him grimace from the pain. "Sylar, wait!"

Slowing down, Sylar glanced over his shoulder.

"Do you have a car?" Peter really hoped he didn't sound that desperate to anyone but himself.

Smirking, the reporter nodded. "Yes."

"Can you give me a ride home?" This was it. Peter couldn't explain why, but this was very important.

The smirk turned in to a smile. "Sure, Peter." Glancing the other man over, Sylar licked his lips. Then he continued out of the store.

The loss of Sylar's comforting presence caused Peter to sag. Swallowing, he walked up to the register.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His head resting upon Sylar's shoulder, Peter ignored the way Claire continued to glare at him from the back seat. The other man's arm was draped around his shoulders, holding him close. Every breath he took filled his nose with the heady, comforting scent of Sylar.

Clearing her throat, Claire kicked at the back of Peter's seat. Apparently she was still pissed over leaving her friends behind. It wasn't his fault she wanted to come along with him and Sylar.

This caused him to press his face in to the side of Sylar's neck. He could feel the stretch and coil of muscles under his lips. Smiling, Peter closed his eyes. He could sense the car slowing down, but didn't have the energy to care why.

As the car came to a complete stop, Claire reached up and smacked Peter on the back of the head. "Hey, moron, we're home!"

Blinking, Peter peered about him blearily. They were indeed pulled up in front of their house. He couldn't remember, but he must have gone to sleep. Pushing himself up had the negative side effect of taking him away from Sylar's comforting embrace. Almost as if summoned, Sylar's hand found his back and peace returned.

"About time." Reaching for her door handle, Claire shoved Daryl's hand away from her shoulders. It wasn't until she had it open that she saw a black Lincoln pulled up in their driveway. "Who's that?"

Having just noticed himself, Peter shook his head. The plates indicated the car was a rental from Dallas/Fort Worth. "I don't think we're going to like this."

"I can always take you away from here." Smiling hopefully, Sylar tilted his head towards the road. The action caused his glasses to slip down his face.

"No." Reaching behind him, Peter grabbed Sylar's hand in his own. He hoped he didn't look as desperate as he felt. The feeling seemed to becoming more familiar with each passing day. "Will you come in with me?"

"Are you certain?" At Peter's nod, the back door slammed violently shut. Sighing, Sylar grabbed his door handle and pushed it open.

Peter felt a lump rise in his throat as he climbed out on his side. There was a serious risk of his stomach rebelling before he reached the front steps, yet he was not to be denied. This had to be done.

By some miracle, he made it up the porch and to the front door. It was still partially open from Claire having stormed her way through. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Sylar behind him, smiling comfortingly. Returning the smile, Peter pushed open the front door.

The moment he stepped through, all his peace was ripped away. He couldn't explain what the source was, but the inside of the house had lost the spark that made it home. Peter almost went back outside, just to see if he could recapture the feeling.

The steady presence of Sylar at his back was the only thing keeping him there.

Head held high, he continued on inside the rest of the way. He could hear Sylar close the door, taking away the light from outside. As his eyes adjusted to the new level, he saw several people in the living room. Every person but one was familiar.

Peter chose to focus on the one who he automatically thought was in charge. Eyes landing upon his father, he found Noah wouldn't meet his gaze. "Dad, is this man giving you any trouble?"

"We're here to take you home, Peter." It was the stranger who spoke. She wasn't much in the way of physical strength, but her appearance spoke of money.

"I am home." Seeing the way she held herself, Peter knew she thought she was in charge. Well, he had some news for her. Taking a step towards her, he clenched his fists to keep from snapping. "If you've threatened my family, I will do everything I can to make sure you suffer!"

"Nathan." Turning to face the man sitting to her right, the woman sighed. "He's being unreasonable, you deal with him."

"Ma, don't start." Standing up, Nathan drew himself to his full height. He tugged the bottom of his suit jacket until it sat comfortably about his waist. "Peter, there's something you need to know."

"No there isn't!" Standing up from her chair in the far corner of the living room, Sandra clenched the wadded up ball of tissues in her hand. Her eyes, puffy from crying, were now challenging and defiant. "He's my son, and that is all there is to it. I want all of you to get out of my house this instant, and never come back!"

"You had your chance," the woman snapped at his mother. "It's time for Peter to rejoin his true family."

"I'll never let you have him back." His mother threw the tissues down. Taking a step towards the woman, she seemed to grow in size. "You gave him to me and I'll never let him go!"

"He's my son. He's a Petrelli! It's time he learned that."

Chest constricting, the sound of his own pulse filled Peter's ears. It wasn't true. He glanced from his mother to the woman for confirmation. She looked old enough to be his grand mother.

"Pete." The old familiar name came from Nathan's lips, but it sounded as if from a great distance.

Shaking his head, Peter tried to fight it to no avail. After a particularly bad spasm, his knees gave out. Luckily, Sylar was right there to catch his fall.

"Peter!" The shout came from several directions.

It was all too much. Peter decided he didn't want to fight it any more. Letting go seemed almost painful, but once he did, it was so easy. Alarmed faces and shouts faded away rapidly, taking all his problems with them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He awoke to a cool cloth being run across his forehead. The familiar pleasure of Sylar's presence kept him at peace. Peter moaned, ending with a giggle. "I seem to be ending up in this position a lot lately."

"I don't mind." Removing the cloth, Sylar dipped it in a large bowl on the bedstand. "I got you in to bed."

"Not the way I was hoping when we first met." His limbs felt heavy, sluggish to respond. "How many of those pills did I take?"

"None. A doctor the Petrelli's brought with them gave you something." Sylar pulled the cloth out of the bowl. Wringing it out, he shook the excess water from his hands. He returned the cloth to wiping Peter's face and chest. "You were running a slight fever, but the Doctor seems to think it was nothing but stress."

"Gee, I wonder what I have to be stressed about." He was too exhausted to laugh, but he smiled when it caused Sylar to snicker. "Were they the reason you showed up here?"

Sylar shrugged. "Partially."

In a surprising move, to himself at least, Peter reached up to grasp Sylar's arm in his hand. "Back in the hospital, that night." His voice broke, but Peter made himself continue. "You saved my life."

This caused Sylar to look away. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Fingering the water bowl, he licked his lips. "This water's getting warm. I'll go change it."

"Please." Tightening his grip, Peter waited until Sylar was looking at him again before speaking. "I would be dead right now without you. Of that, I have no doubt. He wasn't going to let me live after that. It wasn't the first time he's done it. If he hadn't been caught before, there had to be a reason."

Swallowing, Sylar lowered his eyes. His back straight, he took a slow breath. "The creature that saved your life..."

"Is my guardian angel." Peter slid his hand up to rest upon Sylar's cheek. His thumb slid over the other man's mouth. "Whatever else you may be, I want to know every part. I want to love you, if you'll let me."

Raising his gaze, Sylar found the other man staring at him, unflinching and inviting. "It will take time."

"I have the feeling that's the one thing I'll have plenty of." A happy smile spread across his face. His fingers slid around Sylar's neck to give him a better grip.

When the expected tug came, Sylar allowed himself to be tugged down to lie next to Peter. He stretched out completely, draping an arm over Peter's waist.

"I feel safe in your arms." Turning his head, Peter pressed a kiss to Sylar's forehead. "My beautiful Gabriel, my guardian angel."

Staring back at Peter, Sylar's solid black eyes lazily closed.



THE END...............................