It had been awhile since Peter dreamt. As his mother might say, this was due to exhaustion. There had been no rest, no time for absent thought or bemusement. It was strange -- one would presume that long distant road trips would grant time for sleep, but that was not the case. No, not here. Ever since his future-self had placed him in this other person's body, there had been no sleep. He was tired, and weary, and frankly disgusted with his "friends." Of course, he had to pretend that he was Jesse Murphy, a big man with tattoos and the ability to manipulate sound. This was only, of course, only a slight problem. Somewhere out there was future Peter Petrelli, complete with a scar on his face, and a very bad attitude. He wondered how he, his future-self, that is, became so disgruntled. He grumbled to himself with his semi-newfound voice.
"Hm?" he heard one of his, well, Jesse's buddies, question. "Somethin' wrong?"
Knox. The man who ate fear for breakfast and translated it into strength. In Peter's opinion, he was a tool. But he was not about to say that out loud.
"Oh, uh, nothin'," Peter said with Jesse's voice, "Just thinkin'."
"Right, well Imma need you to think a little quieter, sound man."
Knox could be a real bitch. "Yeah," Peter agreed, but with some agitation, "sorry."
"Jesse, you've been up for a while," another voice chimed in from beside him, "why don't you get some sleep?"
That was Flint, who as far as Peter could tell, was actually a nice enough guy, stupid as he was. Peter had decided that he could not judge him as much as he wanted to, as his mental capacity prevented him from actually being as much of an intended problem as much as he was just being used. Peter actually felt bad for the guy at times, but then that feeling was usually followed by an action of which forced him to immediately reconsider his position. Whatever the case, the guy had his nice moments, so he considered he deserved an honest answer.
"I haven't been able to sleep much lately, truth be told," Peter said.
"I can fix that," came another voice from inside the car. It was the German. No one actually knew his name, and no one seemed to bother to ask. Peter thought it must be some identity thing, where he had erased his identity from all records, but in reality, that was a mere theory, and only a decent one at best. "I can control the energy in your brain to aid you in sleep, if you wish."
"You never told any of us that," Flint said in his obnoxious tones, "if you could make some one sleep, doesn't that mean you could make them do other things… like… you know… other things?"
And there went Peter's sympathy. Apparently everyone else in the car had also felt the same impatience that Peter had, as there were muffled sighs of hopelessness abound.
"No," the German spoke, plainly, "Would you like help, or not?"
Peter considered this for a moment. While sleep would be nice, he could not determine whether or not it would actually be a good idea considering he was still in another man's body, and that might yield unpredicted results; however, he also did consider that this might be his only chance to get some sleep before… whatever they were going to do, and the less alert he was during this, the more chances there were to getting killed. If he was killed, he was uncertain about what would happen to him, but certain of what would happen to Jesse. He could not have that on his conscience, or, at least, the conscience that was in another body. Damn, this was confusing.
"Whatever, sure," he agreed almost reluctantly. He watched as the German slowly lifted his hands, and before he was aware of it, Peter was out.
Peter suddenly found himself in a dark room. His view shifted around and he noticed the way the room looked, well, almost cold. The visual experience tended to prefer image to physical feeling, but it was all an out-of-body experience anyway. The image tend to blur some, and more often than not, change shade in color and hue, meanwhile shifting and corrupting, as if the experience was being controlled by a bad camera man. He could hear sounds echo from distances away, but tended to focus on the present, as much of a present it was.
The image shifted around, to reveal that he was not in a room at all. This was a hall; a long, dark corridor that had very dim lighting at a few key points. Where was this? It reminded him of the holding cells at Primatech, but somehow different. This hall was longer, and there were no cells that he could see. In the distance, he heard screaming. It was a man's voice, and a familiar one at that, but he could not distinguish it from the other four thousand sounds that surrounded him at the time. Flashes began to berate his images. He willed himself forward, however, to investigate the source of the screaming. Was someone being killed? Perhaps by Sylar? It would only make sense. He brushed the thought off, and willed his thoughts forward.
He managed to reach one of the sconces that dimly lit the hallway, and noticed that there were two doors: one to his left, and one to his right. The scream was coming from the door to the left, so he willed himself in that direction. He found himself in another corridor, which was just as dimly lit, but not as long. He willed himself to run, as he heard the screams continue. It was then he noticed that the scream was coming not from on this level, but a level above, and it was moving. There were footsteps accompanying this movement, and the sound of wheels being rolled on the floor. Then he heard the distant sound of a toaster a few blocks away. Magnified hearing was a bitch.
The images began rolling in faster, as he willed himself to run further, until he came upon a set of elevators at the corridor's end. He decided whatever was happening upstairs was of the utmost importance for him to see, and he knew he had a limited time to do so. He willed himself through the elevator door, and up, up, up, to the floor where the sound was coming from. He would be remiss to say that he curiosity was not getting the best of him. If what he had gathered from the sounds was correct, he was in some sort of hospice facility, but with only one doctor, and one patient, as it seemed dark, and abandoned. Lucky for him, he knew his way around medical facilities, and would be able to have an astute understanding of what he was looking at.
He might be able to save someone.
Peter pushed himself through the hallway that contained the screaming, and followed his instincts as he flew to his destination. When he arrived at the source of the sound, he had noticed that the screaming had stopped. He panned to notice that the sounds had been coming through a glass window, with the blinds shut. He willed himself through into the other room, and quickly noticed his surroundings. His theory was correct, he was in a medical facility, and if his instincts proved correct, then he was in an operating room. The room looked cold and sterile, albeit not the typical ideal settings for an operation, as the only source of light was a lonely blinking incandescent bulb at the top of the room. He was confused at the sight of no heavy operating lights, but he figured that this was not an ordinary medical facility, given that other than himself, there were only two other individuals in the room.
One of the individuals he could not see save from behind. It was a man, about of his own height and build, with an operating cap, gown and mouthpiece in tow. This was as far as he was being allowed to will himself. He struggled as he attempted to look around to see who was being operated on, but he could not. He watched as the operator was handling the situation with a careful efficiency, which reminded him somewhat of an individual he knew… something very familiar, something… wait. This was himself.
He realized this slowly and surprisingly as he looked on, and the individual turned out to grab an instrument. There was a scar across his face, which looked exactly like the one he had noticed his future-self possess. Why was he operating on someone, and more importantly, how? This was the future, but he seriously doubted that he had become a surgeon in less than a few years. He noticed the surgery that was happening behind his future-self. It was a man, as he had previously heard, with a shaved body and… an incision in the abdomen region? The flaps of skin were being clamped down in a typical operation-like procedure. Peter immediately trickled back in his database of operations that he had studied in nursing school and quickly recalled what this was. It looked like an emergency C-Section. But this was a man, so that made little to no sense. A man with a child? He realized that modern medicine had advanced tremendously, but could think of no scenarios where a man could give birth, let alone develop a child. The organs just simply were not there. What was stranger, though, was that he was performing this bizarre, futuristic operation, with a scar in tow.
A few moments later, he almost swore he gasped in shock as his fears had been realized. He, well, his future-self, was delivering a child from a man's body. This was a living, breathing, child that a future him was holding up proudly, all whilst the child was crying, no, wailing, he decided.
"Hey there, buddy," future him gleamed, with obvious mixed emotions, and wonderment, "I guess you're a boy."
And a boy it was. Peter noticed the small baby parts as future Peter cut the umbilical cord from the host's body and promptly placed him in a small cradle-like container that Peter recognized to be an incubator. He then guessed the child was somewhat premature, which would make sense considering it was being birthed of a man, and also from the fact this was an emergency C-section, which meant emergency labor. He had not noticed the device previous to this; however, he guessed that was because he had been too engrossed in the mystery of what was going on. Who was the pregnant man, anyway? He continued to ponder this, but he still could not see him.
As his future-self closed the incubator, and turned his attention to his male patient. Peter then noticed that he seemed to hesitate for a moment. He then proceeded to take the clamps out from the man's skin, and he removed them into a container. Then, in a very non-surgeon like manner, he pushed the flaps of skin together quickly. Peter was about to wonder why he would do this at this stage, but then his question was quickly answered, as the skin seemed to regenerate itself, and bound itself together. So this guy had abilities. Specifically, the man had the ability to regenerate, like Claire, which Peter found oddly disconcerting.
"Wake up," his future-self grunted, with a mixture of emotion. Peter thought he could sense a deep sadness in those two words, but it was masked by something else… something that he had not felt since…
Peter brushed that thought off quickly as he focused his attention on the matter at hand. He quickly realized that the regenerate was obeying commands, and woke up with a gasp. A very manly gasp.
"It's a boy," his future-self asserted with a sense of pride and happiness.
The other soul was breathing deeply, and sat up after a moment, and Peter watched with curiosity. Maybe he would finally see who this miracle child-carrying man was.
"How is he?" The other man spoke softly, with a voice that resonated a deep whirlwind of feeling. Peter recognized the voice as the one that was shouting earlier, and watched in awe as he began to piece together sound bytes of old that might give clue to who this person was.
"He's premature, so he's in need of some intensive care," his future-self assessed, whilst stroking the other man's face, "but if he's anything like his daddies, then he's going to be just fine."
Daddies? So this child was conceived of two men? How the hell was this possible? Peter's mind began racing as bits and pieces slowly began putting two and two together. His thoughts were interrupted as he watched his future-self lean forward and, to his astonishment, kissed the other man. It was only a chaste moment, but it was nonetheless undeniably a kiss.
When did this happen?
"You and him are just lucky to be alive," his future-self assured his future male companion.
"All thanks to you, Peter."
"Don't mention it," Peter said, "I love you."
"I love you too."
Okay, now, unusual as this situation is, this was actually a sweet moment, despite how horrified Peter actually was. How could this happen? Was he to fall in love with some guy in the near future? And the twain was to conceive a child together? Peter was so stumped. He had stopped trying to figure out who the man was, and began trying to figure out when in his life he had missed this part of himself. The only person he had ever felt this way about was Simone… but she was dead, and ever since then, he could not bring himself to love another, not really even Caitlin. So what had changed? He watched as his future-self moved over to the incubator, and then got a cold-hard look at the man whom he was to be attached to. He could not believe his eyes.
"So what do you want to name him?" His future-self managed to ask this question without seeming to be too invested in it.
"…How about Noah?"
There was a pause. "After Claire's dad?" the Peter from the future asked quietly.
"Well,
yeah, after all that has happened, what I've done, I think it would
be good to honor him, you know?"
"…Noah," future Peter considered carefully, "Noah Gabriel."
Peter then gaped in horror as Sylar smiled at his future self.
"I like it," he gleamed.
"It's settled then."
A/N: If you managed to get through my babbalish writing, I hope you enjoyed yourself. This is intended as a one-shot, but now that I am done, I am considering continuing this. What do you think? If it seems to worth the trouble, then I'm game. If you review, and tell me what you think, then I might have cookies shipped your way. And a little bit of Sylar too. ;)
Also, my apologies for not putting MPreg and Slash warnings on the description. I wanted the shock factor.
