Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes!
Set during: Season 3, Volume 4: Fugitives.
Summary: When Peter came in contact with Niki Sanders, he absorbed a lot more than her super-strength. Now, he's running. Running away from the harsh truth that now defines him. Peter has his own 'Jessica', and his reflection is ready to come out and play.
A/N: I made Angela a hag in this chapter, fair warning!
"What I am... You can't fix."
Niki Sanders: Season 1, 'The Fix'
The first time it happened, it was only for a second.
Blackness had engulfed his vision only to disappear a moment later. Peter had thought nothing of it, just thought he had fallen asleep for a second on his shift. He was working a lot of those lately.
How wrong he was.
The second time it happened, it was for a longer period of time.
When Peter had woken up, he wasn't in his apartment. He was in the back of some night-club with more than a couple of drinks on the table in front of him. And one hell of a hangover that lasted for several days.
He had thought he had forgotten everything due too drinking to much.
The third time, it saved his life.
He had run into a burning building, unable to bear hearing the screams inside as people fought to get out. Peter's hero complex won over his own survival-instincts as he dashed through the fiery hallways and the collapsing rooms.
Smoke clung to his eyes and lined his lungs as he fought his way though, not caring about his own life, just the lives of the people he couldn't get to. Who he couldn't save!
A piece of ceiling fell down in front of him, emitting angry red sparks as Peter's arms went up to protect his head. If only he still had regeneration, he could get through this with no problem, but now was not the time to dwell on those thoughts.
Instead, Peter pushed his way forward, not noticing how the ceiling in front of him start to buckle then collapse until he was right underneath it.
Peter's eyes had widened as he heard the familiar sound of tortured metal and he glanced up just in time to see the ceiling come down on top of him. He had shut his eyes tightly, knowing that this was the end.
The blackness washed over him and when Peter had woken up, he was outside of the building, clutching a young girl. A boy was clinging to his back and as Peter turned around in confusion, he watched as the building collapsed in on itself, crumbling to the ground.
Everyone was staring at him as though he had grown two heads and all Peter could do was grin crookedly before taking the two kids to one of the ambulances, brushing off all questions.
He didn't have a single wound.
Adrenaline rush?
The fourth time... he was out for a whole day.
Peter had been on his way to see his mother, to talk to her in the morning. Suddenly, he was in the middle of a strange hotel room with a couple of beers in front of him, a strange headache and feeling of bliss that wouldn't go away in the middle of the night.
Peter had drunkenly stumbled out of the hotel room, clutching his head when he first saw it.
In the mirror.
The reflection that wasn't his reflection. As he stared, the Peter that stared back at him was... different somehow. Peter couldn't put his finger on it, but something was very off. He blinked for a split second, and when he opened his eyes, the other him was gone. Replaced by his own haggard form who looked like he had been through hell and back.
Peter had shrugged it off as a drug induced illusion, and left the hotel.
Except, it kept appearing.
At the hospital, in the glass panels that separated the rooms. In his own home, in the mirrors. Even at the park, in the still surface of the lake he stared into when he thought about... ending it all.
Everywhere.
Every time he saw it, the reflection would just crookedly grin before mouthing something Peter couldn't make out, no matter how hard he tried.
He thought he was going crazy, taking to many shifts at the hospital or drinking to much.
Now, looking back, Peter could only wish that was true.
Then Peter started to hear a voice. His voice.
But he wasn't talking.
The first time it happened, he had been talking to Nathan on the phone about joining his campaign. He was again being berated and looked down upon and Peter just wanted to scream in frustration.
That was when he first heard it.
"God, why don't you just scream what you're thinking already. It's not like Nathan will care. He's never cared about you." A voice spoke harshly and Peter spun around, eyes widening as he stared at... nothing.
Convinced he as going crazy, Peter hung up on his older brother and began to search his apartment, only to come up with nothing.
He frowned but pushed the incident out of his head, though a part of him was worried.
What the hell was that?
The second time the voice appeared, it was during a late night shift, Friday night.
Hesam had once again asked him if he wanted to go drinking, but Peter had said no, stating he had another shift. Hesam had just looked at him with a pitying expression before shaking his head.
"If you change your mind man, you know where we are." Was all his partner said before walking away, Peter watching him disappear around a corner.
"You know, that's just depressingly pathetic." Someone spoke and Peter stiffened, it was the same voice from his apartment.
"Who's there!?" He yelled, fists clenching as Peter glanced around, but again he saw no one.
"Live a little, Pete. You know you only live once." The voice tauntingly responded before it fell silent once again.
Yup, now Peter knew for sure. He was going insane. Great, another problem he needed to deal with.
If only it were that simple.
The third time, he was having dinner with his mother.
They were sitting across each other awkwardly before Angela broke the silence with, "So Peter, when are you going to give up this little dream of yours and finally realize where you really need to go in life?"
Peter had sat frozen, his fork halfway in between his mouth and the plate as his heart began to race. What could she mean by that?
"I'm sorry, what?" He asked, icily, placing his fork down and staring at his mother in contemplation.
She gave a small smirk before responding, "Being a paramedic. You can't possibly live on what you make can you? I think it's about time you go back to school... perhaps become a doctor. Perhaps a lawyer." Angela paused for a second before saying, "Like Nathan."
Peter's eyes had narrowed before he said, "I thought you always wanted a nurse in the family."
"That was before." Was her curt reply as she took another bite of her salad, daintily.
Fury erupted in his body but Peter pushed it down, instead smiled patronizingly at his mother, "I'll think about it." He really had no intention too, and Angela saw this in his eyes.
"I mean it, Peter." Angela had snapped, "It's high time you get your head out of the clouds and settle on earth instead." Was her sharp reply as she took a sip of the white wine that was in front of her.
He stiffened but said nothing. That's when he heard it.
"Hag. No wonder no one wants to be around her. Cold hearted-" The next word was muffled but Peter's head snapped around. He glanced around, looking for whoever was talking.
Angela noticed this behavior and narrowed her eyes, "Peter, what are you doing?"
"N-Nothing." He replied, stuttering, as he stood up and threw his napkin down on the table, "I'll call you later. Right now, I have a previous commitment."
Peter left without another word and without glancing back, ignoring Angela's sputtered indignities.
What was that?
Then it was in his apartment.
He had just come back from a double shift when he heard it. The slight snickering that soon escalated into full-blown laughter.
Peter whirled around in confusion but saw nothing. Again.
"You really spend all your days like that? No wonder you have no social life. You have no life." The voice spoke mockingly, and finally Peter cracked. He had had enough.
He clutched his head in frustration before yelling, "What the hell is going on!" His eyes wild as he searched for whoever was speaking.
Whoever was making his life a living hell.
"God, you're so dense. Hard to believe I came from you." A voice spoke from behind him and Peter whirled around, only to see... himself. Or more accurately a reflection of himself in the mirror.
Except it wasn't him.
This Peter was... darker. Angrier. His eyes held a hidden rage that seemed to burn as hot as the sun. He stared straight into Peter's soul before saying, "Then again, I am the manifestation of everything you abhor, so of course I would be your opposite in every way."
Peter's breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened as his reflection crookedly grinned, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Hello Peter. Or should I say... other me."