Takes place between "Sam" and "Messenger" for SPD; completely AU for Heroes. There is background to this fic, most of which should be clear from context. Please feel free to ask any questions.
This was originally posted on Livejournal, writtne on request for a friend there, and will be followed by the sequel when it's done.
Heroes Don't Always wear Spandex
Bridge was dreaming.
At least, he hoped he was dreaming. If he wasn't, his life had taken a turn for the really bizarre.
He was standing on a high school football field, wearing a male cheerleader's uniform, while Mora fussed and tugged at it. "Well, it's not you," she said finally, "but I guess it'll do."
"Blue's not my colour," Bridge protested, fiddling with the lacy gloves.
"Things change. Can't hide forever." Mora was looking towards the stands. Grumm and Broodwing were sitting together, Grumm with a huge foam hand and Broodwing wearing a nacho hat, and both waved fondly at her.
Mora clapped her hands, spinning back to look at Bridge. "Now! You wanna save the world, right? First you have to save them."
Bridge followed her gesture to see the rest of his team, also wearing cheerleader outfits, standing calmly in the middle of the field. Syd and Sky both looked the part, blond and blue-eyed, though Sky towered over her. Z, with her dark hair and eyes, looked far more exotic in the uniform, and Jack's dark skin and dredds should have looked out of place, but didn't.
"They don't—seem to be in much trouble," he said cautiously.
Mora turned a handstand and shook her head at him. "You would say that. You don't even know what you are."
"Bridge," he said automatically.
"That's who, not what." Bouncing back to her feet, Mora produced a long-handled, antique mirror from behind her back and offered it to him. "Come on, Bridge. Save them, you can save the world."
"No." Bridge put his hands behind his back, very aware that his gloves had vanished at some point.
"Don't you want to save the world?" Mora's voice was at its' sweetest.
"From you," Bridge agreed, backing away.
"We're here, among you. In the shadows. In the light." Mora had an odd look on her face; Bridge would have said she was worried for him, if she wasn't Mora. "Everywhere."
Bridge reached for the mirror.
He woke himself before he touched it, flailing so hard he almost fell out of bed. Sky shifted but didn't wake; Bridge sighed in relief, settling back.
The dream was already fading.
Across town, Peter Petrelli screamed himself awake.
Nathan was there within a minute, robe hastily thrown on; Peter snatched at him, clinging on for dear life. Matt hovered uncertainly in the doorway, keeping Claire out.
"Peter?" Nathan said softly. "It's ok. Calm down…what's wrong?"
"I didn't…" Peter gasped in a breath, struggling to sit upright without letting go. Nathan waited patiently, smoothing back the rebellious bangs.
"I had a dream," Peter said finally. He was much calmer, breathing easier, and Matt let Claire slip past to sit on the end of the bed.
"A 'dream' dream or a you dream?" Nathan asked. Peter hadn't had a prophetic dream in a long time, but they weren't uncommon enough for him to dismiss it.
"I don't…I'm not sure. I wasn't in it." Peter shuddered, burrowing closer to Nathan. Claire shifted uncomfortably and he loosened one hand from Nathan's shoulder, reaching down to catch her hand and tug her towards him. She followed the pull, settling beside him.
"Tell me," Nathan said quietly.
"I don't…something about a cheerleader, and a mirror…" He shrugged helplessly. "I can't hang onto it."
"Cheerleader," Claire repeated.
Peter nodded. "In a blue uniform."
"Blue?" She frowned thoughtfully. "I don't remember any school with a blue uniform."
"There was a little girl…she scared him."
"Scared who?" Nathan asked.
"The cheerleader. The guy who was actually dreaming." Peter leaned harder against him; the adrenaline was starting to wear off now. Nathan nudged him upright long enough to lean against the headboard, supporting both of them.
"A real cheerleader?"
"No. He didn't…it wasn't his uniform, and there were others…not cheerleaders either, but dressed like them. Save the world…" He trailed off, frowning.
"This was someone else's dream? Can you do that?" Claire asked.
"Not that I know of. But it wasn't my dream." Peter closed his eyes, tugging Claire closer. "It wasn't."
"OK," Nathan said, brushing the bangs back again. "Matt, you can go back to bed. We're ok."
Matt nodded, letting himself out and closing the door behind him.
"I should just move into this room," Nathan said idly. "Save time."
"We could take it in turns," Claire agreed. She didn't mean it, of course; Peter tolerated no one but Nathan on nights like this.
"Sorry," Peter murmured without opening his eyes.
"Go to sleep," Nathan said affectionately. "Someone may as well get some."
Peter was too close to sleep to answer. Nathan and Claire talked quietly until his breathing had deepened into sleep; then she slipped away, leaving Nathan to doze uncomfortably until the next morning when Peter woke up. Per usual, he was apologetic and uncomfortable and Nathan made himself scarce as soon as he was sure Peter was himself again.
Though he asked, Peter didn't remember the dream, didn't even remembering waking. That wasn't totally unusual lately, but it unnerved Nathan anyway; Peter often woke screaming, but those dreams weren't easily forgotten.
Still, Peter seemed to have shaken it off, so Nathan did likewise and prepared for the day ahead.
Morning briefings never changed. Grumm never attacked at night, and Boom rarely blew anything up before lunch, so there were no reports. Cruger simply handed out assignments, turning a blind eye to the minor infractions along the way.
Like the way Bridge often had a plate of toast with him, crunching away at it during the meeting and smearing butter over all the reports. Sky often came straight from morning training—on one memorable occasion, directly from the Mud Run. Jack, if he'd overslept or had the morning off, often showed up in civvies. Syd sometimes forgot to remove her face mask and Z had a bad habit of staying in bed and sending a replicate instead. Jack was the only one who could catch a replicate right off—though Bridge could do it if he tried—and depending on his mood, he either outed her right off or let the replicate stay and went to boot her out afterwards.
This morning, however, they were all present and correct, wearing the right uniform, not eating or muddy, chatting idly together but not fighting. This kind of day was too few and far between for Cruger's liking, but he took what he could get.
"Rangers," Cruger started, and they settled, ceasing their own conversations and turning to look at him. "Secretary Nathan Petrelli is coming to tour the facility this afternoon. Your patrols have been cancelled and you will be on hand."
"Sir, Nathan Petrelli is the Secretary overseeing Metas," Sky protested. "Why is he coming here?"
"Rangers qualify as Meta and therefore fall under his jurisdiction. He has no say in your deployment but he does have the right to examine your facilities and resources."
"Great," Jack muttered. "So who's coming?"
Kat glanced at her clipboard. "Secretary Petrelli, his aide, a bodyguard and his brother."
"The bodyguard's brother?" Syd asked, confused.
"The secretary's brother," Kat corrected herself.
"Why's he bringing his brother?" Sky asked.
Z had gone pale, griping Jack's arm, but he ignored her to tell Sky, "Nathan Petrelli goes nowhere without his brother."
"That's kind of creepy," Syd muttered.
"Enough," Cruger said mildly, and everyone shut up. "Who the Secretary brings or does not bring is not your concern. Your only concern is to have yourselves here, in dress uniform, at fifteen hundred. Dismissed."
The Rangers filed out and wandered back to the Rec Room, at a loose end now until the afternoon. Bridge flopped down beside Syd, nudging her with his elbow. "So tell us about the Petrellis."
"Why would I know anything about them?" Syd asked blankly.
"They're old money, right?" Sky sat on her other side. "Your parents must know them."
"My parents only wish they knew them. We're not big enough snobs for them."
Jack glared at Z as she started to answer, cutting her off before she could speak. She raised an eyebrow: Jack grimaced, shaking his head at her, and she laughed out loud. Smiling innocently, she told the others, "Nathan used to be a real hard ass. Since the thing with Peter, he's a lot different."
"What thing with Peter? That's the brother?" Bridge asked.
"You don't know about it?" Z said in surprise.
"It got kept out of the news," Jack reminded her. To the others, he continued, "Peter Petrelli was kidnapped a couple of years ago. Nathan figured it was to put pressure on him, at first, but no demands were ever made. So he walked out of the Cabinet one day, put together his own team. Some ex-criminal from Nevada, two Japanese guys, an ex-FBI agent, anyone he could find."
"And they found Peter?" Syd asked.
"Took nearly a week, but they found him. Drugs in his system no one had ever seen, no idea where he was or what was happening, but he was more or less in one piece."
"He had a mental breakdown, a while later," Z said softly. "Nathan tried to put him in a hospital, but he couldn't handle it, couldn't cope with being with strangers who kept trying to sedate him. So Nathan took him home."
"None of it hit the news," Jack continued, looking almost warningly at Z. "But it was all over the streets, because one of the guys on Nathan's team was smart enough to ask us what we knew. That's how they found Peter."
"They asked Piggy?" Sky said dryly.
"Funny. Peter's supposed to be pretty much back to normal, now, but Nathan never lets him get very far away."
"Can't be much fun," Syd commented. "Why'd they go after Peter?"
"Rumour was he's Meta. Super powerful, or something. No one knows; if he is Meta, it's not one of the visible powers, and he's hardly ever out in public any more."
"If he is, does that make Nathan one too?" Bridge wondered.
Jack shrugged, about to answer, when Z interrupted. "Jack, can I talk to you for a minute?"
Jack grinned at the others and followed her to the corridor just outside.
Z spun to face him as soon as they were out of the others' earshot. "Jack, Peter Petrelli…"
"…Won't remember anything," Jack interrupted. "And Nathan never saw anything."
"We pushed him into a nervous breakdown," Z hissed.
"No, we didn't," Jack said firmly. "The guy was on the edge, you know he was." Z shook her head, turning away. "Where are you going?" Jack yelled after her.
"To enjoy my morning off. I'll be back."
Jack shook his head, watching her all but run down the corridor. "Can't run away from this, Z," he murmured, heading back into the Rec Room.
Three Years Ago
Z really didn't think this was a good idea.
"Jack, I really don't think this is a good idea."
"Why wouldn't it be a good idea?" Jack's head asked. The rest of him was on the other side of the very high, very thick wall surrounding the Petrelli estate.
"Because you're breaking into the Petrellis! This is the guy who fired the FBI from his brother's case! There's more security in there than there is in the National Mint."
"Z, have you been breaking and entering without me? You know I hate it when you do that. Now shut up and get in here."
Z grimaced, closing her eyes and creating a replicate on the other side of the wall. She carefully shifted her perceptions to the new body so that when she opened her eyes, she was looking at Jack's back. "Tell me again what we're after."
Jack jumped, spinning to face her. "I wish you wouldn't do that," he complained. "It's creepy. How many of you are there?"
"The Living Ghost thinks I'm creepy? Tell me what we're looking for."
"A painting by an artist called Isaac Mendez. He painted it on commission and it's valuable now 'cos he doesn't do that any more."
"He doesn't paint?"
"Not on commission. This way."
"Isaac Mendez," Z mused as they skirted the artificial lake. "Yeah, there's some of his stuff in the Deveaux Gallery."
Jack shot her a look over his shoulder. "The Deveaux Gallery?"
"What? It's warm and dry, and Simone doesn't throw you out unless you make noise. Better than some of the places you hang out. She's good at giving work to people who need it, too, delivery jobs and things."
"Shsssh." Jack phased noiselessly into the nearest tree, and Z slid behind it as a guard plodded by.
Ten minutes later they'd climbed through a second story window in the main part of the house. Z followed Jack quietly down a hall to the main staircase.
"To the left," Jack breathed, drifting down through the floor. Z darted down the stairs, feeling horribly exposed all the way, and rejoined him in a long corridor lined with pictures. Issac's was halfway down on the left, and Z stood guard while Jack rewired or disabled the alarms and began to remove the painting.
A flash of light at the end of the corridor caught her eye, and she tapped Jack's shoulder in warning and moved soundlessly towards it. She was impressed by Jack's silence; three steps away and she couldn't hear him at all.
The light was coming from under a door, and she considered it for a long moment. As long as she didn't make any noise, whoever was out there should have no reason to come through, and the fewer people who saw them the better.
She was backing noiselessly away when the door opened.
The boy—man, she corrected herself, a few years older than her—jerked to a halt when he saw her, dropping the glass of water he held in one hand. Z reached for it instinctively; the floor here was tile and if it hit the whole house would be awake.
At the same time a replicate appeared briefly next to Jack, long enough to shove him in warning before vanishing again. The boy in front of Z stumbled; he'd been reaching for the glass, but the stumble threw him off and he crashed into her. Trapped between him and the wall, Z squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the glass to shatter and wake the whole house.
The noise didn't come, and she opened her eyes to see him crouched in front of her, glass in one hand. Z slid her eyes to her left, where he was also crouched, staring wide-eyed at his double.
"How are you doing that?" he demanded, one hand tightening on her arm. Another figure of him appeared, and then more, all over the room.
"It's not me," she protested, trying to slip free. The two of him had her pinned against the wall, though, and she couldn't move.
"Make it stop," the one in front of her demanded. He'd set the glass down at some point and was gripping her upper arms, hard enough to raise bruises.
"I'm not doing it," she said again.
"It has to be you!" His gaze slid over her head. "Or not."
One of them let go of Z, scrambling to his feet just as Jack charged…
And passed right through. Jack tumbled to the floor, yelling as he crashed into a table.
On the floor above them, someone reacted, yelling and running.
The one holding Z turned wide eyes on her. "Make it stop. I can't…"
"I'm not doing it," Z whispered.
There had to be more than twenty copies of him. Z had never made it past four; the headaches and sickness just couldn't be ignored.
"They're still you," she told him. Across the room, Jack yelled her name, but she ignored him to coach the boy. "Just send them away."
"I…" He swallowed, letting go of her to curl into a ball, but the replicates were fading.
Lights suddenly came on, flooding the room, and Jack dodged his opponent and darted into the corridor. "Z!"
"Coming…" She pushed to her feet, watching as the last replicate came to crouch beside the original. "All of them," she coaxed him. "You can't keep him, you'll be sick."
"I need…" The boy gasped, hyperventilating.
"Peter?" someone yelled from upstairs. Footsteps sounded, coming closer.
"Z," Jack said, directly in her ear. "Go. I'll meet you outside." He was gone when she twisted to look, fading through the walls.
Z scrambled back into the corridor, pausing in a shadow to watch as the last replicate faded away. Peter curled tighter on himself, keening softly, and she was about to go back to him when two men appeared at the other end of the room. One dropped to his knees beside Peter; the other glanced warily around, raising a gun. Z drew back into the shadows and his gaze passed over her, sharpened and came back.
"Come out here! Hands up!" he barked, taking a couple of steps forward and stopping between her and the two men.
Z looked past him at Peter, who was crabwalking backwards away from the older man. Shaking her head, she murmured "I'm sorry," and closed her eyes, sending herself back to her original body, knowing this one would just fade away.
The mind Peter had latched onto vanished and he screamed with the pain, cramming himself into a corner. Nathan tried to calm him, to touch him, but Peter was flailing wildly and he couldn't get near.
Matt was hunkered nearby, one hand on the floor to steady himself, and he looked almost as bad as Peter. "That was…not fun," he muttered.
"Where is he?" Nathan demanded.
"She's gone. Just…vanished." Matt shook his head, easing down to sit on the floor. "That's what screwed with Peter, she's Meta."
Nathan stared at him for a second. Peter's screams had faded into whimpers but the whole house was heaving now.
"Close the room," he said finally. "Get everyone back to bed."
"Yeah. You want…" He gestured vaguely towards Peter.
"Yeah, bring it down with you," Nathan agreed, settling himself on the floor near Peter.
Matt nodded, shoving to his feet and heading down the corridor. Halfway down he paused to call back, "The Mendez is gone!" Nathan waved a hand in response and Matt kept going.
"Peter," Nathan murmured. One foot kicked, the only sign that Peter had heard him. "What happened?"
Peter's whimpers had eased, and now he laughed softly. "Overload."
"The girl?"
"And the guy. Two…she helped me, Nathan. Falling apart…"
"Can you come out of there?" Nathan asked, ignoring his words. Peter had wedged himself into a corner under a table and was more or less inaccessible.
"No!" Peter shoved his hands away, trying to burrow further into the corner. "I'll fall apart! Too many pieces…"
"Right," Nathan said slowly. "OK. What were you doing up, anyway?"
"I was thirsty," Peter said guiltily.
"That's what you have Matt for," Nathan reminded him.
"Matt was asleep."
"I pay him not to care when you wake him up…want to come out of there yet?"
"No!"
Nathan touched Peter's foot lightly, pretending not to notice when he kicked wildly. "You're freezing."
Peter shook his head stubbornly. "Never never never coming out. Not even if you drug me." He caught Nathan's guilty flinch. "Nathan…"
"Then don't make me," Nathan protested. "Come on, Pete, you know I'm only trying to help you."
"I'll fly away. All the pieces of me," Peter threatened.
"You can't even hold your head up," Nathan pointed out mildly. "I doubt you could fly anywhere."
Peter sat up suddenly, bashing his head off the table without even noticing. "How many of me are here?"
"Are you bleeding?" Nathan demanded.
"How many, Nathan?"
"Just you, Pete. Are you bleeding?"
"What? No." He touched his head absently, glancing at his fingers. "No."
"Good," Nathan murmured, looking up as Matt reappeared.
"Hey, Pete," Matt said brightly, crouching. "Want me to help you up?"
"The pieces will go everywhere!" Peter protested, kicking at him.
"He thinks he'll fall apart," Nathan explained.
"Want me to get Claire?" Matt asked doubtfully.
"Not like that! All me, all over the room, me me me…" Peter shook his head, frustrated.
Nathan gestured to Matt, who passed him a syringe. He held it up for Peter to see. Peter paled, shaking his head, but he'd backed himself right into the corner and had nowhere left to go.
"Come out?" Nathan asked him quietly.
"I can't, Nathan, please, I'll fall apart…" His breathing was starting to speed up again.
Nathan glanced at Matt, who shook his head. "He won't come out. I don't think he even can. He's not really thinking right now."
Nathan nodded, checking the syringe and looking directly at Peter. "You gonna let me do this?"
Peter licked his lips, eyes locked on the needle, and nodded jerkily, once. Nathan coaxed him to extend one arm and slid the needle in with an ease born of much practise.
"Ow," Peter murmured.
"Aw, come on. That didn't hurt." Nathan dropped the syringe into his pocket and gestured to Matt, who carefully lifted the table away. Peter whimpered, trying to scramble backwards again. Nathan slid in beside him, ignoring the half-hearted punch, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
Peter clutched at him as though drowning. "Don't let me fall apart," he begged.
"I won't. I've got you, Peter. You're safe, I promise." He met Matt's eyes as he spoke, though, and there was something very different there.
Peter's grip relaxed as the sedative kicked in. Nathan shifted, letting Matt pick him up.
"I want Claude here tomorrow," he said, opening the door and stepping aside.
"Think that's wise?" Matt asked doubtfully.
"He helped Peter before."
"Peter wasn't…this bad before."
"Get him here," Nathan said flatly. "Send Claire away somewhere, and reassign whatever Metas are here. No one but you and me gets near him."
Matt lowered Peter onto his bed. "You don't think Claire can help?"
"No." Nathan sat beside his brother, brushing his bangs back. "I don't think she can."
Now
True to her word Z was back, in dress uniform, at a quarter to three. When Jack tried to catch her eye she looked fixedly in the other direction; eventually he gave up and led his team to Command.
Apart from the on-duty tech, Kat was the only one there, and she smiled quickly at them. "The Secretary's party just arrived. Commander Cruger's gone to meet them."
Jack nodded, falling into parade rest. "Anything we should know?"
"Don't talk unless answering a question, and keep it short. He's going to want to talk to you; don't give him anything he can use against you or this facility."
"Could we?" Syd asked in surprise.
"Nathan Petrelli is a politician, and he's good at it. He could convince you you were working for Grumm if he tried…he used to be a lawyer, and he never lost a case."
"Anything else?" Jack asked.
Kat shook her head. "Just—be careful. He could make things very difficult for this facility, if he chose." She glanced over the other Rangers. "Z, are you alright? You're very pale."
"Just didn't sleep much."
"Bad dream?" Bridge asked sympathetically. "I had a dream—I don't really remember if it was good or bad, which is odd, cos I always remember my dreams, but it woke me up and I nearly fell out of bed, but I didn't wake Sky, so…"
"Bridge!" Z interrupted. "I'm fine. Promise."
Boom scuttled in, clutching a clipboard nervously. "They're coming!" he hissed.
The group was right behind him; Cruger led them in, talking politely with the Secretary. Kat winced internally; Cruger's body language all but screamed how unhappy he was, and that was always a bad sign. Cruger believed the best thing to do with anger was spread it around liberally.
"Ah, Kat. Good." Cruger took a couple of steps away from Nathan; he immediately stepped closer again, deliberately staying in Cruger's personal space. "Secretary Petrelli, this is Dr Kat Manx, my head of R and D, and her assistant, Technician Boom. And these are my Rangers; Cadet Landors, team leader, Cadet Tate, his second, and Cadets Delgado, Drew and Carson."
Nathan shook hands with everyone, repeating all their names, and then introduced his party. "My aide, Dr Suresh. Matt Parkman, my bodyguard…could have left him at home today, I guess, I'm probably the safest person on the planet right here…Niki and Micah Sanders. Micah won a contest, he's representing his class here with me today." He glanced over his shoulder before finishing abruptly, "And Peter."
Dr Suresh was a serious looking Indian man, holding a file folder, a PDA and a mobile. Matt looked every bit a bodyguard, dressed in a suit and hovering behind Nathan's elbow. Nathan himself was dressed to impress in a perfectly-fitting suit, a sharp contrast to Peter's more casual slacks and sweater. Micah, a young mixed-race boy, was wearing what was probably his school uniform, and his mother, a pretty blonde, wore a sundress.
Peter was lurking at the back of the group, talking quietly with Micah, but he looked up and raised a hand when Nathan said his name. He glanced over the team, raising an eyebrow at Bridge and taking a step back when he saw Z and Jack; but Nathan either didn't see or ignored him, turning back to Cruger.
"What does that do?" Micah slipped between Niki and Matt and reached for the central console. Boom automatically stepped forward to block him; he must have bumped something, because the panel lit up behind him, controls flashing in sequence.
"Micah!" Niki caught his arm, pulling him back. "Sorry," she said to Z, who happened to be standing closest to her. "He's fascinated by technology."
"Boom, maybe Micah would like to see your lab," Kat suggested.
Boom nodded agreement, glancing at Niki. "Is that…would you like to come?"
"Yeah, we'd like that," Niki agreed. "And we won't touch anything, right, Micah?"
"Uh huh." Micah nodded eagerly. "How do the Zords change size?"
Boom grinned, beginning to explain as they headed out. Peter tapped Matt's shoulder and the bodyguard went with them, leaving Nathan, Peter and Dr Suresh.
"This is your B Squad, am I right, Commander?" Nathan asked.
"A Squad are missing in action. This is my highest ranking team," Cruger answered.
"And a fine job they're doing too, just fine," Nathan agreed. "Cadet Landors, how long have you been leading this team?"
"Five months, sir!"
"That's great. Cadet Drew, how long have you been training here?"
"Three years, sir!"
Nathan smiled. "Well, how polite you all are. Cadet Carson, how long before you graduate?"
"Sir?" Dr Suresh interrupted, glancing apologetically at Bridge. Bridge didn't seem to mind, relieved that he couldn't say anything that might get them in trouble.
Nathan looked back at him, glancing at Peter, and turned to Cruger. "Let's move on to the outdoor facilities, shall we?"
"Is there a problem?" Kat asked neutrally.
"No problem." Nathan smiled at her. "I just think we could do with some fresh air."
"Nathan," Peter murmured. Nathan immediately went to his side, watching him concernedly. Peter had paled and was holding Dr Suresh's arm tightly.
"Commander, we may need to take a break," Nathan said without looking at him. "My brother is unwell."
"I'm just…I need some air," Peter said apologetically.
"Cadets Drew and Delgado, escort Mr Petrelli outside please," Cruger ordered.
"No," Peter protested, adding quickly, "You need to talk to them. Mohinder will come with me." Mohinder nodded quickly, shifting his folder slightly and readjusting his grip on Peter's arm.
Nathan's eyes widened. "All of them?" he demanded, touching Peter's chin to guide his eyes up. At his nod he spun on Cruger. "All of your Rangers are Meta?"
"All Rangers are Meta. You wrote the laws that say so," Cruger said blandly.
"Mohinder, take Peter outside.—Have you any other Metas hidden away?"
"I have no Metas hidden at all."
Bridge was watching Peter, who had refused to go with Dr Suresh and was watching his brother. He was steadily growing paler, and Dr Suresh was supporting him almost totally now.
Bridge slid off his glove; catching the movement, Syd coughed to cover up the sound of the Velcro. He eased his hand around and waved it in Peter's direction.
lightsoundpressurenoisepeoplecrushfeelingsLOUD……
Bridge went down.
Carson went down hard, bare hand cradled against his chest. Peter stumbled backwards, gasping for breath; one hand landed on the console beside him, and he yelled as skin flared into metal.
"Pete…" Nathan followed as he dropped to the floor, holding his face in both hands. "Pete, stay with me. This isn't you."
Peter was gripping his wrist with his other hand, staring at it in disbelief. Nathan had half a heartbeat to feel relieved when it faded back to skin; then it flared blue and a forcefield knocked him backwards. Mohinder, on Peter's other side, was shoved back as well.
The Rangers were shouting over each other, the girls kneeling over the boy Carson, Tate yelling at Dr Manx and Landors watching Peter with bright, suspicious eyes. Cruger was attempting, without much success, to calm them; Nathan's inner politician noted absently, Group Commander unable to maintain control of group.
Mohinder gestured wildly, catching his attention, and tossed his phone over. Matt was already talking when Nathan caught it, demanding to know what was happening and if they should come back.
"No. Stay where you are," Nathan said sharply. "Peter's overloading."
"Overloading on who? There's no Metas registered here! I checked!"
"So did I," Nathan agreed grimly. "Stay on the line."
He tossed the phone back to Mohinder and rose to his feet. One hand brushed lightly over the forcefield, waiting for it to drop. It held some kind of charge, stinging his fingers as he touched it, but he barely noticed.
"Secretary Petrelli." Dr Manx halted beside him; behind her, two med techs pushed Carson out on a stretcher. Manx reached out to touch the forcefield, flinching at the static charge. "Is your brother…"
"None of you are on the list." Nathan's voice was perfectly even, but it cut through the noise in the room and everyone fell silent. "Care to explain, Commander? Are you on the list?"
"We're not Meta," Drew protested.
"Syd, say nothing," Cruger said firmly.
Nathan leaned harder on the forcefield; it flared, and Peter flinched. "Which of you throws forcefields?" he asked calmly, ignoring the charge it was sending through his hand.
Tate shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Cruger before blurting, "He shouldn't be able to hold it that long. That's not—it doesn't work that way. He's hurting himself."
"Sky," Cruger said warningly.
"He's hurting himself, sir," Sky repeated stubbornly.
Cruger held his gaze for a long moment. Finally he growled, looking away. "Jack, can you get through?"
Landors eyed the field uncertainly. "Usually, sir, but with Peter projecting it…" He reached towards the field; it flared around his fingers, but they pushed through.
That's when Peter fell through the floor…