Masks
Senator Nathan Petrelli.
It's what the sign said on the door. It's what the many plaques on his wall read, amongst medals and certificates. It's what everyone called him. But he didn't feel much like Senator Petrelli lately. Something had happened, that was for sure, but what it was he had no idea of. All he knew was he felt like a stranger, trapped inside Nathan Petrelli's body. Like someone returning to their birthplace after ten years, only to find it was completely different. Everything fit. His memories, his looks, his name. Everything, except his senses kept screaming that something was wrong.
As he headed out the door and down the marble steps, his mother following inches behind him and chatting his ear off about something or another, Nathan heaved a sigh. Something was incredibly wrong. It seemed as if the memories she was talking about were nothing more then a paragraph he'd read in a text book. They were familiar, he could remember them, but he couldn't remember how he felt at any particular moment. He couldn't remember what they spoke about; laughed about.
Bringing a hand up to rub his temples, he smiled unconvincingly at Angela, waving a hand dismissively and putting it down to executive stress.
"I thought we'd try that little Italian restaurant on Franklin Boulevard, hm?" Angela spoke, it wasn't a question, it was a command, and sure enough he followed it. The two reached it within moments and strode in to find Peter was already there, arguing with the man behind the counter about their reservations.
"What's wrong?" Angela sighed, leaving Nathan's side to sort out the ordeal, leaving the male more than enough time to continue pondering his predicament, only snapping out of it to smile toward the manager who had obviously just been informed that the reservation was for Senator Nathan Petrelli, and he'd be in trouble if it wasn't fulfilled. Soon enough they were seated and the familiar chatter began, though Nathan felt like an outsider eavesdropping on their conversation.
"Nathan," Peter spoke, raising a brow, "Huh? Oh-Sorry Pete, I'm just a little distracted," Nathan murmured, Peter scoffing, "You think? I've been trying to get your attention for the last few minutes. What happened to you, Nathan? Ever since we burned Sylar's body you've acted weird…" Peter murmured, wincing as Angela slapped the top of his hand in an irritated manner. "There will be no talk of that. Sylar is dead. We all just need to move on," She ordered, and that was that it seemed.
Hours later, kissing his mother goodbye, Nathan trudged up to his room, dropping onto his bed and scowling. It was getting harder and harder to play like nothing was wrong, when there was this nagging pain in the corner of his mind, and day after day he struggled to recognize the man in the mirror.
Poor Nathan.
"Who said that?" Nathan demanded, sitting bolt upright, staring around the room, his eyes narrowing into the shadows, though there was nothing there. Nothing had changed except the insistence of the clock ticking in the corner. It was off. There was something wrong with it.
Fix it.
Again, he glanced around and there was no one there. Sighing and walking to the bathroom, he leant over the basin and splashed cold water on his face, toweling it off and glancing into the mirror. His eyes were different. They weren't his anymore, he was sure of that. They were an unfamiliar brown, a colour he could barely recall. A colour he could name, but the name didn't seem to come.
Fix the clock, Nathan.
Swallowing, Nathan glanced across the room and finally convinced his legs to move, taking the clock down from the wall and opening the back. His fingers expertly moved pieces into place, tightening things and removing others. And then, it went black.
-
"Mom, do you think there's something wrong with Nathan?" Peter murmured, "I dunno, he just seems a little…Distracted?" He continued, the female rolling her eyes in a dismissive manner. "Nathan is Nathan. He's not just going to drop thoughts of being the President because you want more attention, Peter," She answered from over the top of a newspaper, Peter sighing, "Do you always have to be so blunt?" He complained, scratching at the short strands of stubble on his chin before glancing up at footsteps, Nathan appearing, his eyes red and his hair a mess.
"Whoa, what attacked you?" Peter snorted under his breath, "Uh-…Just didn't get much sleep last night," Nathan smiled, patting his hair down with a short yawn, "Anyway, I was thinking, I have things to do at the office so-" "In this condition? I think they'd send you home. C'mon-I need a distraction from other things, don't you think you could spend time with your brother?" Peter grinned, Nathan seeming hesitant for a moment before nodding, "Fine, just a couple of hours, then I'm going to try and get some extra paperwork done," He decided.
-
"Remember when we first stood up here?" Peter questioned, finishing off his cola and standing on the edge of the Deveau building rooftop, staring out at the city below. "It was a couple of nights after I first flew-I wanted to know that I'd done it-I didn't just want to be ordinary anymore," Chuckling, Peter looked at his hands, "I wanted to save the world."
"I remember," Nathan spoke calmly, "You yelled at me, you were so angry, and then…You flew again," He nodded, as if reciting information he'd heard from another source. "Yeah," Peter chuckled, "I miss it, too. Flying, I mean…" He trailed off, "Just-I wish my powers were back to normal. Sometimes I even wish everything was back to normal, like it used to be, then I think-We would have never met Claire, or Mohinder, Hiro…" He trailed off thoughtfully before laughing, "What am I saying-I guess I've just been distracted-You too, right?"
Nathan cleared his throat, "Look, Pete-I've got to get back to work so-" "The world is safe right?" Peter asked, glancing back at his brother in a hopeful manner, "I guess-Why?" Nathan questioned, quirking a brow. "I want to fly," Peter decided, striding toward Nathan with a flash of a grin, grasping his hand, absorbing his power, jumping off the side then…
Falling.
"Wha-Nathan!"
-
"But I fell-Nathan!" Peter insisted, "Look, Pete, maybe you didn't absorb my powers, okay? There has to be a logical explanation," Nathan finalized, avoiding Peter's eyes and tightening his tie, "Look, I'm late for a meeting, Pete. I'll talk to you later," He said before slipping into the building, leaving Peter standing infront of the door, staring after his older brother with a confused expression.
"He's getting too suspicious…" Nathan muttered under his breath, pacing his office with a frown on his features before pausing behind his desk, placing his hands on it's surface. "I'm going to have to get rid of Peter," He scowled, that definitely wasn't something he wanted to do. There was no fondness he held for the other male, but if Peter disappeared, suspicion would rise, and for all he knew, most of the Petrelli family was aware of exactly why he was feeling unlike himself lately, though it was a risk he'd have to take, and scooping up his cell phone, he dialed Peter's number, listening to the tone ring through before clearing his throat.
"Peter, we need to talk. Yes-I'll meet you at your apartment. Okay…Goodbye."
-
"Nathan-" Peter cut off as his body was thrown against a wall by an unseen force, Nathan stepping into the light with a twisted smile, unfamiliar to his features. "What's the matter, Pete? Don't recognize me?" He smirked, tightening his grasp, Peter making a choking noise. "Nathan-You can't-…This isn't you, but Mom said-" Frowning, he silenced himself. Since when had it been smart to take his Mother's word on anything at all. "Come on, Peter. Say it-Who am I?" Nathan demanded with a chuckle, stepping forward.
"Sylar."
"Good guess," Sylar drawled, Peter struggling to free himself from the grasp, "Show your face!" He demanded, "Oh, but why do that…I'm enjoying this body. So much power-So much strength and I know, Peter wouldn't lay a hand on what's left of his older brother," Sylar smirked, dropping Peter, and dodging swiftly as a chair was thrown in his direction. "Now, now, Pete. Surely you know…I killed Nathan," Sylar chuckled, "Sliced right through his throat-You should have seen it-Good craftsmanship on my behalf," He chuckled, striding toward the other male.
"You're lying!"
"No, and you know I'm not lying. A good power it is-Every time someone tells a lie, you get this sort of tingle-Very helpful," Sylar murmured, crouching down infront of Peter, "Just think-This is the last you'll ever see of your brother-Maybe I'll kill you while looking like him, so you have that last image before death…" He chuckled, picking Peter up by the front of his shirt, "Oh, I could have fun with this…" He grinned, stroking a finger down Peter's cheek and causing the other male to shudder.
"You asshole," Peter hissed, squirming against the hold, his eyes hardening, "I'm going to make sure you're dead this time," He threatened. "Oh, Peter…" Sylar tisked in a condescending tone, shoving the male's body roughly against the wall, his own chest keeping Peter trapped between the wall and himself, his breath against Peter's throat and his lips brushing the skin, "You won't have the chance. Because, I'm going to kill you before you can interfere anymore than you already have…" He chuckled.
Swallowing tightly, Peter shoved against Sylar to no avail, "Aw, Pete-Don't try getting away, you're broken-And I…I'm perfect," He spoke, "Mm…But killing you does seem slightly anti-climactic. How about we have fun?" Sylar suggested, "Tell me-Peter, who do you want me to be? I can be anyone you want-How about Claire? Or is Nathan just the type to kill you, hm?" He trailed on, leaning close and breathing in Peter's scent, "Delicious," He growled, Peter shuddering at the fact it was his brother's voice speaking his, and he let out a strangled groan as Sylar clasped his lips over a portion of flesh on the other male's throat, sucking at it hungrily, his hands capturing Peter's wrists and pinning them above his head, digging his fingernails into the skin with a smirk on his lips.
Scraping his teeth across the abused patch, the redness obviously not going to fade for some time yet, Sylar grasped both Peter's wrists in one hand, moving the other down to dip beneath the bottom of Peter's shirt and brush across the skin, "Why aren't you fighting? Scared to hurt your brother?" Sylar taunted, "You're not my brother!" Peter yelled, his eyes flashing dangerously, Sylar's lips drawing into a delighted grin.
"It's much more fun when you're like this-Angry, upset…Weak," He concluded, his fingers finding a nipple and pinching it, rubbing his thumb circles around the stub, watching the disgust on Peter's face as he witnessed his brother committing these acts instead. Peter couldn't say which it was that disturbed him the most. The fact it looked like Nathan, or the fact it was Sylar.
Grinding their hips together, Sylar bit back into Peter's throat before jerking the shirt up and dipping down to suck at the spare nipple while his fingers continued their actions on the right one. Peter's teeth sunk into his tongue, as much as he'd deny it, the actions were doing their toll against his body, and he couldn't help but react the way he was forced too, with a short, reluctant moan.
"That's sick, Peter…" Sylar chuckled against his skin, "Getting off when it's your brother doing this to you," He murmured, sliding his hand down the top of Peter's pants before slipping beneath the clothing and beginning to work on the already hardening member, feeling Peter begin to jerk around, hoping to escape this game of cat and mouse unsuccessfully. "What's the matter? Powerless?" Sylar smirked, "See, since I met a certain man over seas, people can't use their powers around me, which means you are more pathetic than usual," He smirked, lifting his hands and stepping back, Peter growling as his body was forced out of his control and he strode over to his own bed, sitting at the edge, his body tensing against the psychic restraints placed on him while his 'brother' undid his tie and shoved him back into a laying position.
"Tell me, Peter-How do you feel?" Sylar cooed in a taunting tone, inclining his head and drawing his tongue down the shell of Peter's ear before biting at it, his fingers working on removing the clothing from the other male and soon enough his own followed suit, resting abandoned on the side of the bed, their naked groins pressed together, "I'm going to make you remember this-Who knows, I may even allow you to live if you entertain me enough," He chuckled beneath his breath, not bothering to prepare Peter before thrusting inside the male's lithe body, ignorant of the harsh breaths and the painful groans emitting from the other.
"This is your first time, right?" Sylar laughed, "Just kill me-I'm sick of your games," Peter choked behind the growling within his throat, his fingers digging into the mattress to relieve some of the stress, "Mm…But this is a lot more fun," Sylar smirked, forcing himself completely inside the other, feeling the muscles around his cock tighten as Peter tried everything to free himself.
"You know, this sight isn't bad…" Sylar drawled, bringing himself in and out of the male in a rough, quick pace, his spare hand wrapping itself around Peter's member and jerking him off as he continued his ministrations, sweat beginning to bead his chest and moans escaping Peter, mingling with Sylar's, or more rather, 'Nathan's' grunts. As the minutes passed, he felt a warm liquid track down his fingers and Peter's eyes diverted in ignorance, his body shaking all over and the evidence of his orgasm on Sylar's own hand.
"I knew you'd come to like it, Pete," Sylar smirked, plowing into him until his own completion came and his seed spilled inside of the other, trickling down his thighs as Sylar pulled out, standing himself up and cleaning himself off, leaving the naked body upon the covers, confused and exhausted.
"Wait-Aren't you going to kill me?" Peter questioned, his tone empty, "No, you're more fun alive," Sylar chuckled, walking back, already dressed in a suit, "But don't worry, you won't be able to tell anyone about this-You won't even remember yourself," He murmured, his hand reaching out and covering Peter's eyes, a hollow scream emitting into the apartment before he took his leave, Peter fast asleep underneath his covers, unaware of who Nathan truly was, and when he awoke hours later, the guilt only came from the fact he'd done the unspeakable with his own flesh and blood.