A Bad Dream Ends (1/2)
By velja
Characters: Nathan, Peter and Angela Petrelli (and two surprise guests)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, Drama
Summary: Nathan knows what he has to do now that he's found out the truth. He's gonna fix it for everybody. That's what he always does, isn't it? That's what everybody's counting on after all. He's gonna fix everything.
Follows Episode 4x10 "Brother's Keeper" up to the tiny spoiler of next episode's Thanksgiving dinner. This is what I'd wish to happen though I know it won't.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to NBC and Tim Kring and are used for entertainment purposes only. Some words were taken directly from the show. Also, the song used in here is "A Bad Dream" and belongs to Keane.
He woke up, not sure for a moment where he was.
Again.
But this time it was different. After he'd blinked the sleep from his eyes to take in his surroundings Nathan recognized the crisp white linens his body was nestled in. He also recognized the smell of them as coming from his own bedcovers. This was his bed, at home.
Home.
He'd slept in his own bed and not in some stranger's caravan in the middle of nowhere with no memory of how he'd gotten there in the first place.
He was home.
A quick glance at the clock confirmed: It was high time to drag his ass out of bed and get ready for another day at the office. A Senator's day at a Senator's office.
Nathan flung away the covers and sat up. He scooted over to the edge of the bed and then… suddenly the memories of yesterday's events came floating to the forefront of his conscious mind.
He remembered.
He saw himself sitting at the small camping table, about the only furniture in Peter's bare apartment these days. Peter was leaning against the doorframe.
The echo of Nathan's own words reverberated in his ears:
"To the rest of the world I'm Nathan Petrelli, Pete. But every time you look at me, the way you're looking at me right now, you're gonna see Sylar. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm wrong, Pete."
Nathan blinked and the memory disappeared.
Peter had done just that, he'd told him that he was wrong.
Over and over.
And yet… Nathan had seen the truth in his brother's eyes. No matter how hard Peter had tried to convince him, no matter how passionately he'd spoken the words…
"You're wrong. I see you, Nathan. My big brother. And I love you. Nothing's ever gonna change that. We'll find a way to make Sylar disappear for good. We'll find a way, Nathan. Trust me."
Trust me…
Nathan had no idea how often Peter had repeated those words. Like a mantra he'd said them over and over again, until Nathan had finally started believing.
Hoping.
There in Peter's apartment, in the dark of the night, Nathan had eventually allowed himself to taste a sliver of hope.
But now…
Now the harsh light of a new day was quickly chasing away that tiny spark of hope. It was instantly squashed under the new dawn's foot like a bug and all that remained now was God's honest truth.
Nathan Petrelli was dead.
Peter knew it, their mother knew it, and Nathan himself knew it, too. As strange as it sounded, he knew it.
He was dead.
And this time there was no hope for an easy fix.
He couldn't just make some calls, call in some favors…
No matter how good his connections were as a Senator of the United States, they'd never be good enough for this. And no matter how many extraordinary people with different abilities he knew, none of them would ever be powerful enough to fix this.
You couldn't fix something like this.
You just couldn't.
All his connections… they were worth nothing.
So… Nathan let out a sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he took a closer look around.
This was his bedroom, his home, and yet...
It wasn't.
He didn't belong here.
Not any more.
Not when he could feel Sylar's presence in the back of his mind like a spider lurking on the edge of its net, waiting for bugs and flies to get caught in the sticky strings.
Like a vicious animal, waiting for its innocent prey.
Nathan could feel him. Lurking, biding his time, waiting for the right moment to come forth and strike.
Strike down his victims. Enemies or innocent bystanders, it wouldn't matter to him, Nathan knew that.
He knew Sylar would eventually break free, he'd take control.
And Nathan had no intention of watching it happen.
He knew what he had to do.
I'm gonna fix it, I'm gonna try.
I'm gonna do it for everybody.
Peter, my mom, for Claire.
I'm gonna fix it all, I make it all…
He'd made it through the week, just barely.
It had been a week from hell. A constant battle of wills, a fight Nathan knew he'd lose eventually.
Soon.
But first… he had to do this first.
Nathan had no idea from where Peter had dug out the two yellow candles that were currently placed on the camping table. He'd probably bought them only for this occasion. Or perhaps their mother had brought them as her contribution to tonight's Thanksgiving dinner.
Although she'd brought the pie as well.
Well, wherever the candles had come from, their soft light added an illusion of warmth to the spartan room that Nathan couldn't feel.
Despite the fairly generous weather outside and the nice temperature in the apartment Nathan felt completely cold on the inside.
Cold and… clear-headed.
Nathan nearly had to smile when he contemplated that particular phrasing. Clear-headed… over the last few days that word had gotten a completely new meaning for him. He threw a quick glance to Peter on the other side of the table before he occupied his mouth with taking a small sip of water.
No wine for him tonight, at least not yet.
Well, not that his mother would willingly let him have some anyway. She hadn't tolerated him drinking any kind of alcohol ever since he'd successfully finished the program. A program he'd been in dire need of after his downward spiral of drunken wallowing two years ago. Since then she'd never offered him a drink and she would surely not break her routine tonight.
Not when she knew precisely what losing control would mean for him.
But Nathan had decided that tonight he wouldn't give a damn. He would have his glass of wine, that much he deserved at last. He would allow himself to loosen up, even if that meant he'd lose control over…
Over what – or who - he'd been fighting for the last few days. It wouldn't matter anymore. Later, when dinner was over, nothing would matter anymore.
But right now he had to stay focused. He had to keep on fighting just a little bit longer.
Just long enough to make the people who meant the most to him understand.
Just long enough to say goodbye.
I'll wake up, it's a bad dream
No one on my side
I was fighting but I just feel too tired
To be fighting,
Guess I'm not the fighting kind
They'd made it through most of the dinner without incident. Nothing strange had happened although Nathan had felt a small tug in the back of his head, in his mind, from time to time. But he'd forced it away again. Every time he'd successfully fought it, him, and for now Nathan still had the upper hand. He was still in control.
But it was getting harder with every minute the dinner lasted.
Nathan took a quick sip from his glass again. The chilly water ran down his throat and Nathan was thankful for it. It eased the burning sensation that had started to settle there like a big lump.
He'd felt cold before. Now he could feel his palms starting to sweat and he quickly wiped them on the napkin.
The time had come.
The tug in the back of his mind grew stronger but Nathan forced it back once more. He wouldn't let the bastard win, not yet. Nathan took a calming breath.
"Ma," he started and took hold of his mother's hand on the table, "sit down. There's something I need to say and I'd like to do it before you start serving the pie."
Angela looked at her eldest and placed the carving knife back onto the table. She gave Nathan's hand a quick squeeze and motioned for him to continue.
"I thought we were already done with the 'Saying Thanks'," Peter smirked from across the table. "What else do you feel the need to be thankful for tonight, Nathan?"
"This. You," Nathan smiled and put his other hand across the table. Peter took it without hesitation though a frown crept onto his face. He noticed Nathan's smile hadn't reached his eyes, it seemed forced, strained somehow.
"You okay?" he asked concerned.
"I'm fine, Pete," Nathan took another steadying breath. "Right now I'm fine. But you both know that it won't last and I'd like to do this while I still can. While I'm still in control."
"Nathan?" Angela's voice sounded concerned, too. She eyed her son with an unsure smile. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about, ma. This is goodbye. I won't be here much longer," Nathan released them both and wiped his hands over his tired face. He closed his eyes for a second and then looked at Peter who was still frowning.
"Pete," Nathan sighed. "Ever since we found out the truth I've been fighting a battle we both know I can't win. Pete, mom," Nathan trained his eyes back on his mother. "I'm dead. He knows it, you know it, and I know it, too."
"Nathan…" No other word made it across Peter's lips. He simply stared at his brother. A strange flickering motion suddenly went over Nathan's face and Peter felt a chill run down his spine when his brother's voice sounded… off somehow.
"Guess again!"
"Oh my God," Angela gasped and stood up. "Sylar's in there with you, isn't he?" Her hand traveled involuntarily to the carving knife next to her but as soon as she'd grabbed it Nathan's hand closed around hers.
"Wait!" Nathan forced out and squeezed her hand. A shudder went through his body and he breathed deeply through his nose. "Not yet, ma. I'm still… I got it, I got him to back down. I'm good."
"I… I don't understand, Nathan!" Angela noticed that the grip around her hand loosened up and she took hold of the knife again. "How did…"
Nathan looked up. It were her son's eyes that fixed her out of her son's face and yet Angela couldn't help but avoid his gaze when he said in her son's voice: "How I found out? Or how Sylar got back inside his own body? What do you mean?"
"Nathan," Peter suddenly stood up from the table. "This isn't the right time…"
"This is exactly the time, Pete. I don't have much more!" Nathan faced his brother and then looked at Angela again. He noticed the carving knife trembled slightly in her hand. It was pointed right at his head, but that was all right. Good, even.
"Ma, it doesn't matter how it happened. It did, and you know what it means. I can feel him getting stronger every minute. I've been fighting him for a week now and… I can't anymore. He's too strong."
"No," Angela gasped and backed away. "Parkman erased every trace of Sylar… he's gone! You're Nathan, you're my son!"
"I'm not! Nathan's dead!" Nathan shouted and slammed both his palms flat onto the tabletop. Tiny blue sparks of electricity shot out from his hands and Nathan stared down in shock. When he looked up again his eyes were different. They were a much darker shade of brown than Nathan's eyes had ever been.
They were Sylar's eyes.
"Now look what you've made me do, Angela!" It was Nathan's voice and yet not. Angela knew it. "The nice tablecloth got burned!"
Two blackened spots had appeared on the tabletop when Nathan pulled away his hands and stood up. He took a few steps towards his mother and saw Peter do the same. The younger man pushed Angela behind his back and faced his brother.
"Nathan, calm down and focus!" he begged.
Nathan stared back at him with a cruel smile. A sudden shudder went through his body and when he focused his eyes on Peter again they were back to their original golden color. They were Nathan's once more.
"Stay back! I'm not done here yet!" Nathan growled and Peter needed a moment to realize that the words weren't meant for him. He saw Nathan take a deep breath before he continued: "Pete, you know I can't hold him off much longer. You have to end this! Kill him, kill him while you still can. I won't fight you but once he's in control no one's gonna be able to do it. Please, Pete!"
Realization dawned on Peter's face. "No! No, Nathan, I can't. There has to be another way. I can't kill you!"
"You have to, Pete!" Nathan urged. Then a sad smile crept onto his face. "I know that this is hard but it's the only way to get rid of Sylar. I'd make it easier on you and shapeshift into him but… If I do that he'd take over and use his powers against you. I won't. I won't fight you. Please, Pete, take the knife and…"
"You can't kill Sylar," Angela spoke up from behind her youngest.
"Sure he can, ma. Pete, just ram the knife into the back of my head and make it stick. You know the spot." Nathan turned around and braced both hands onto the table. He looked like someone ready to be arrested by the police.
Peter gulped but pulled the knife from his mother's outstretched hand. Tears formed behind his eyes when he walked up to his waiting brother.
His brother, he was about to kill his brother.
Nathan turned his head and sent Peter a gentle smile. Their eyes met and unspoken words passed from one man to the other.
'I love you, Pete. You know that, right?'
'I love you too, Nathan. I'm sorry.'
'It's alright. It's gonna be over soon. It's alright, Pete!'
Peter stepped behind Nathan and placed a hand onto his left shoulder. Nathan leaned into the touch for a second before he turned his head forward again. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
"Peter, no!" Angela cried and rushed up to her youngest. She closed her hand around Peter's raising the knife and forced his movement to stop. "You don't understand! This won't change anything, Sylar cannot be killed like this!"
Peter turned his head towards her. "What do you mean, mom?"
"The spot… it's not there anymore. It moved with his shapeshifting powers. He cannot be killed."
"What?" Nathan's head shot around and he fixed his mother with hazel eyes full of doubt.
"Sylar can't be killed. Your sacrifice won't mean anything, Nathan. He'd win and take over completely. You have to keep fighting him." Angela pulled the knife from Peter's hand and let it clatter to the ground. She placed one hand on Nathan's back and forced him to turn around. Her other arm sneaked around Peter's back and the three Petrellis stood motionless for a second.
"I need you to keep fighting, Nathan." Angela repeated with a sad smile.
"But how long, ma? I can't… he's…" Nathan closed his eyes in despair. He couldn't do this, could he? He couldn't keep fighting Sylar for the rest of his life!
A life that didn't rightly belong to him to begin with. He was dead already! Didn't she see that? How could his mother expect him to fight the bastard? How strong did she think he was?
"You can and you will, Nathan!" Angela's voice was firm and yet gentle. Determined.
"How, ma?" Nathan's voice was pleading. "How do you expect me to live like this? I can barely hold it together now! I can't focus all the time and the second I let my guard down he'll be there. He'll take over the minute I slip!"
"You won't slip, Nathan. I won't let you," Peter squeezed his brother's shoulder and pulled him into a close embrace. "I'll be there by your side every step of the way if I have to. I will remind you what it is you're fighting for every minute of every day for the rest of our lives. I won't let you slip!"
"You can't, Pete!" Nathan gulped around the big lump in his throat and let go of his mother to return Peter's embrace. The two brother's clung to each other desperately. "You'll fail and you'll get killed. I won't put your life in danger, not again."
"I can't die, Nathan!" Peter mumbled into Nathan's shoulder and focused. He felt his power reach out and then a shock went through both their bodies.
"What did you do?" Nathan asked and pulled away slightly. He stared into his brother's face.
"I took Sylar's healing power. Now I'm able to regenerate again. You won't get me killed, Nathan."
The two brother's stared silently into each other eyes. None of them had noticed Angela walking away from the table and up to the front door of Peter's apartment. Only the sound of the door being opened made them finally look up.
Without a word the Haitian stepped over the threshold and right behind him, barely visible behind the tall man, a small form followed silently. Angela gave the Haitian a nod and then took hold of the young boy's shoulder with a smile.
The child smiled briefly up at her before it took a few steps further inside. The boy turned to Peter and Nathan and his eyes focused on Nathan.
"Daddy!"
"Simon!" Nathan gasped and his eyes traveled from his son's serious face to his mother's smiling one. "What are you…? How…?"
This was Simon! His son! What was he doing here?
Nathan stared at his son, every gear in his head turning a million times per second. "What's going on here?"
When nobody provided an answer Nathan let his eyes travel towards the only woman in the room and fixed her with a stern glare.
"Ma?"
TBC...
... as soon as I know how it's gonna end. There are two directions in my head and I have to decide on which one to take. Please don't be shy with suggestions on how you want me to let this end. Review please.