Title: Partners

Author: Bluehawaii

Pairing: Gabriel 'Sylar' Gray/Peter Petrelli

Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes

Summary: The Company sets out to find and employ more people, starting with Peter and Gabriel. As the years go by, they team up to help. Eventual Petlar. Both are around 17 years old.

Chapter 3

The first thing Peter did, after recovering from finding the body of an unconscious boy in the back of a car he had stupidly gotten into, was make a lunge for the door. The man in the front watched through the rear view mirror. He sighed, one hand rubbed at his forehead while the other flicked on the child locks.

The door rattled uselessly under Peter's hand and refused to swing open. He then peered hopelessly through the windows, only then remembering that they were tinted, therefore making it impossible for anyone outside to see him.

Peter slumped back in the chair, trying to focus on leveling his breathing. Panicking now wouldn't get him anywhere; he had to think clearly if he was going to get out of here. With guilt seriously weighing him down, he thought about the boy in the back. He was obviously hurt and in need of medical help, but it would be difficult getting them both out and safe, especially considering his unconscious state. He had to think realistically.

"There's no point trying to escape now you've gotten in the car. You should have thought it through before you got in really." The man spoke to him while looking through the mirror again. All Peter could see was his eyes. "We'll have to work on your naivety. I was expecting you to put up a fight at least."

Peter crossed his arms and attempted to glare as best he could, which was a challenge considering the fear that was coursing through his veins.

"What would be the point? I'd only have ended up like him." Peter jerked his head, indicating the bruised and battered body behind him. "Did he put up a fight? Is that why you attacked him?"

"We didn't know what he was capable of. We had to be cautious."

The man signaled that that was the end of the conversation by starting up the car. Though, Peter wasn't having any of that.

"Where are you taking me?" The question was met with silence. Peter didn't bother asking again. He knew it would be fruitless.

Outside, through the tinted windows, trees buzzed by and Peter just sat back and watched them. At first he recognized the places they passed, but very soon it began to form unfamiliar territory. They had only been moving for about ten minutes, but for the first time ever, Peter actually regretted the fact that he didn't wear watches. He thought they were more annoying than useful. He had always hated the feeling of wearing a watch in hot weather, how it would stick to you and make you feel claustrophobic. However, right now, he wished he had a way of telling the time.

He could remember bringing up his dislike for wearing watches to Nathan once. He had simply laughed and said he should get a pocket watch instead, but when Peter had seriously considered it, he just laughed harder.

Nathan. God, he was going to get an earful from him. Though, in hindsight, Peter couldn't really blame him, this had been a stupid idea.

Peter was in the middle of running through ways of talking his way out of it, when he heard a groan. Instantly, he had twisted around and was kneeling on the seats. The boy was waking up. This was good. Two was better than one. Maybe they'd be able to escape now. The boy groaned again, this time it was louder, and his fingers twitched behind his back. Peter dared a glance back, the man was flickering his eyes between the road and him quite rapidly. A hiss of pain from the boy caused Peter to pay attention to him again.

Without thinking, his hand reached out towards the boy. His eyes were still closed at the time, but he was definitely awake now. The moment Peter's hand brushed back the strands of hair from his face, the eyes widened. The dark brown eyes saw him, and the hand touching him and he flinched back. Words gurgled in the boy's throat, but Peter couldn't understand any of them.

The boy quickly maneuvered himself into a sitting position facing Peter; his hands were still twitching every so often behind his back. The deer in headlights look the boy had first been sporting was swiftly replaced by a glare, but he couldn't seem to decide who to direct it at. His ever moving head let Peter finally get a good look at the gash, over his eye, which was still oozing blood. The more he moved, the more blood seemed to trickle down his face and drip off his chin.

The realization that he was bound and useless must have only just registered in the boy's mind because he suddenly started thrashing about. Twisting and turned, trying to dislodge the rope that was holding him. Peter was pretty sure he had heard the boy growl, under his breath, as well.

"Whoa, calm down. You need to stop moving."

Peter held out his hands, in what he hoped was placating gesture. If the boy kept moving around like this he was just going to exhaust himself, and they would need all the energy they could get if they were going to escape together.

His words went un-listened to though, as the boy continued to twist every which way, trying in vain to free himself. He had even started muttering, but Peter had to lean forward over the seats to catch the words.

"Where is he? I can't…I don't…I can't find him." The boy said this through gritted teeth, and his face was set in a determined expression.

Peter was slightly taken back by the tone the boy's voice had reached. It seemed much too deep and malicious for a boy currently wearing a sweater vest.

"Who? Who can't you find?"

The boy stopped, like he had just been frozen. His eyes stared ahead and he appeared to be deep in thought.

"He's not answering me. I can't even feel him anymore."

His face dropped in disappointment and something dripped off his face and landed on his shirt. For a moment, Peter thought it was tears, but then he remembered the blood. The boy didn't seem to notice, and anyway his hands were tied so he would have a hard time trying to wipe it away.

Another bead of blood made its way down his face, but this time it followed the curve of his neck and disappeared underneath his collar. The warm sensation brought him out of his reverie and he looked up to meet Peter's eyes for what felt like the first time.

"Who are you?" The boy all but growled out the question.

"I'm Peter." He then proceeded to hold out his hand, waiting for a handshake, only stopping when he remembered the situation and the current position the boy was in. "Never mind."

The car was still moving, and the man was still looking his way when he could, but Peter decided to ignore them and started to climb over the back of the seat. The boy gave him an odd look but he ignored him as well. Now that he was partly hidden behind the seats, Peter felt more at ease talking to the boy. The boy, on the other hand, still looked a bit weary about being so close.

The boot in the car wasn't big, but there was enough room for both boys to sit with their knees drawn up and still have a large enough gap between their feet.

"What's you name?"

The boy shifted before he answered, he was probably debating with himself whether to tell the truth or not.

"Sylar."

Peter's eyebrows rose at the strange name, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Ok, Sylar, do you remember how you got here?"

His eyes darted down and then to the side, towards the man who was driving. Peter didn't know if it was just a shadow or not, but he noticed Sylar's eyes darken.

"I remember that man. He came to my door with a gun. He followed me home." His eyes flickered back to Peter's. "Did they get you too? You don't look hurt."

Peter couldn't hide the sheepish look that crossed his face.

"Well, I went a bit more willingly."

Sylar scoffed lightly, as if the idea of going willingly had never once flashed through his head.

"We have to get out of here, but I can't really do anything at the moment." Sylar's voice dropped to a husky, confidential whisper. He leaned forward and shifted his shoulders to show Peter he was still tied up.

"Oh yeah, if you move forward a bit I'll untie you."

Trying to maneuver two bodies around showed them that the boot wasn't as big as they first thought. Sylar had managed to slide forward enough for his hands to now be in the open, but that left less room for Peter, who was now attempting to crawl to the other side. Against all logic, Peter somehow made it across, with minimal elbowing and kicking. It took a while, due to the odd angle he was being forced to do this, but he eventually undid the knot and freed Sylar's hands.

Straight away, his hands rubbed at the raw skin that had been disturbed by the rope. After that he used the back of the seat to hoist himself on to his knees. Peter saw what he was doing and, although he was glad he was trying to escape, he knew it would be pointless to go about it that way.

"Don't bother. Child locks."

Sylar reached over and tried anyway. When it didn't budge, he sighed then eased himself back onto the floor of the boot, using the seats to help him.

"Damn it, I though they were meant to help people. You know safety and all that."

"I don't think the people had kidnappers in mind when they made them."

Sylar frowned at Peter trying to lighten the mood, but then decided that frowning was a bad idea when it made your whole face ache. Gingerly, Sylar brought up his hand and ran it over his eyebrow. The contact instantly sent a shudder down his spine. By touch alone, he could feel that it would probably need stitches, and the drying tracks of blood down his face only proved further how urgently they needed to escape. He ran a hand through his hair and his hand got caught in the dry clumps of blood and matted hair.

Peter watched Sylar take account of all the damage down to him, but his eyes kept being drawn to the particularly nasty one above his eye. It should have stopped bleeding by now, but it still glistened when Sylar turned his head into the light.

"There must be a first aid kit around here somewhere. I mean they brought a gun, they must have been expecting a reason to use it."

Peter said this mostly to himself, he hadn't intended for Sylar to hear it. He had heard it though, because he sent Peter a disbelieving look. Peter, again, ignored him in favor of searching for a first aid kit. Following Sylar's example, Peter pulled himself to his knees and peered over the back of the seats. He couldn't see one from here, unless it was in the glove compartment, but that meant there was no way he would be getting it. Both men were silent in the front of the car, and Peter didn't want to ruin it

He was about to sit back down again when he noticed where he was sitting. Sylar followed his gaze to the floor; there was some sort of trap door.

"Move over a bit would you?"

Sylar did as he was asked, and Peter crouched down beside him. He latched his fingers under the handle and pulled. Inside, there was a folded up blanket, a torch and a first aid kit.

"See. What did I tell you?"

While smiling, Peter lifted out the kit, closed the compartment and turned back around to face Sylar. He settled down next to him, each facing opposite ways. It was a bit of a squeeze, but he needed to get close if he was going to help with these cuts. Sylar moved so that his back was flush against the side of the car. To make it easier for Peter he also straightened out his legs, hopefully giving him more room.

When Peter opened the first aid kit, he was hit by the sterile smell of a hospital room. He sifted through all the bandages and needles until he found some antiseptic and a clean cloth then closed it, as the strong smell was making him lightheaded. He opened the bottle, put the cloth over the top, and then tipped the bottle upside down.

"Okay, sit back and relax. This is going to sting."

Sylar closed his eyes and winced when Peter first dabbed the cut. Thankfully, after a while, the antiseptic began numbing the area as well, so Sylar's hand unraveled from the tight fists they had formed.

"I can't believe they did this to you."

"To be fair, it was the coffee table that did this." Sylar smirked and lifted his hand to point at the cut.

"But still, to pull out a gun. That's taking it too far."

"Not really. I mean, I wasn't exactly just going to hand us over."

"Us?"

Sylar open his eyes and sought out Peter's. He didn't have a look as though he had just slipped up, but Peter was sure he hadn't meant to say that.

"Ur…yeah. I meant you and me."

"Oh."

Peter didn't pry; he already had a pretty good idea who he was really talking about. This person must have gotten away, that's why he can't find him.

Peter finished up with the antiseptic then delved back into the kit to find a bandage big enough for the wound. With it taped in place, Peter sat back. He rested his arm across the one knee he had drawn up.

"So why did they come after you in the first place?"

"I have no idea. He didn't say, he just appeared on my doorstep." Sylar said while his hands twitched down by his sides. "Why do you think they came after you?"

Peter cupped a hand around his mouth, as though he was about to whisper a secret.

"Well, it could be because I can fly."

He had been expecting a more interesting reaction from Sylar, but he simply blinked in response. He had splayed his hands out of the floor next to him, probably to stop the twitching.

"I'm not making this up. I really can fly. So can my brother. It must be some sort of hereditary thing."

"Oh, I believe you." Peter looked surprised for a second, until his face broke out into a grin.

"Really?"

"I've heard weirder things. And besides, it makes sense."

"Why? Can you do something? Do you have an ability?"

Sylar smiled at Peter's sudden enthusiasm. He guessed they were about the same age, but you wouldn't know it by looking at them.

"Well, for the past couple of months I've been able to move things with my mind. It's basically telekinesis."

If it was possible, Peter's grin grew even bigger. It was dangerously close to splitting his face in two. Sylar hadn't noticed this before, but his smile was crooked. Normally, it would look weird, but on Peter it didn't, it suited him. His smile was infectious though, and Sylar found himself smiling back. It was no where near as large as Peter's but it was a step up from the usual glare.

"Wow, that's so much cooler than flying. Imagine how many people you could freak out with that. Just moving something slightly, every time they turned around. Nathan would really hate that."

"I don't know. I really like the idea of flying. You'd be able to escape from anything. Just jump and fly away to safety."

The grin faltered at what Sylar had said.

"It hasn't helped us get away from here, though, has it?"

"Well, if it's any consolation, I can't seem to do telekinesis at the moment either." He brought his hand up and flexed it in front of his face. "See, nothing."

Peter pulled up his other knee and folded his arms over the top of them.

"Do you think they have abilities?" Peter indicated who he was talking about by tilting his head towards the two men in the front of the car.

"The man with the gun didn't use one from what I saw, and the other guy I didn't really see at all. He came up behind me and knocked me out with a lamp." Sylar chuckled at his own words.

Everyone in the car was silent for a moment, until Peter spoke up again.

"Does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?"

"Your head. Where you were hit with the lamp."

His hand once again found itself buried in his hair. He managed to locate a lump and a patch where the blood had plastered the hair to his scalp.

"To be honest, I can't really feel anything. I mean it's throbbing, but it's numb."

The hand that had came out of his hair had drying blood on the fingertips, and Peter saw this then mentally scolded himself for not checking earlier.

"Sit forward. Let me have a look."

Sylar copied Peter's sitting position, he drew up his knees, put his folded arms on top then put his forehead down on top of them. He felt Peter's fingers delicately part the hair around the wound. He couldn't stop the hiss of pain he made when Peter brushed over the lump.

"Would you look at that? I guess it's not numb."

With his face buried in his knees, he didn't think Peter would have understood him, but he apparently had.

"That just means it's going to sting more when I put antiseptic on it."

"Just get it over and done with." Sylar sighed. Peter reached for the bottle and the cloth again, this time folding it a different way so that there was relatively no blood on it.

"The good news is that I don't think this will need stitches. It's already stopped bleeding."

"Aren't I lucky?"

Peter chuckled and Sylar felt the breath ruffle his hair. Though, with the antiseptic on his head, a breeze blowing on it wasn't a very pleasant sensation.

"Were you alone when they came for you?"

The, out of the blue, question caused Sylar's back to stiffen, but only for a second.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

"I guess we're both latch key kids then."

Peter cleaned the rest of the wound in silence. After he was done, he packed everything back into the kit then moved it to the other side of the car. That left the space next to Sylar empty. He twisted around so that his back was against something solid, and put his head back, similar to the way Sylar was sitting.

"I wonder how long we've been here."

Something shifted beside him, and when Peter looked he saw Sylar was staring at the watch that was on his wrist. The rope burns were further up his arm, so it probably didn't hurt to wear it.

"It can't be more than an hour."

"Do you always wear a watch?"

Puzzled, Sylar turned his head towards Peter.

"Yeah. I find it…comforting." He said this as if he was picking his words very carefully.

Peter didn't have a chance to explain his aversion to wearing watches, because as soon as Sylar finished talking, they felt the car roll to a stop. The engine was turned off and the doors were thrown open.

The man in the horn-rimmed glasses didn't get out right away like the other man did. He, instead, turned in his chair to face the boys in the back.

"We're here, so any plans you two have concocted will have to be put on hold for the moment."

Sylar scowled at the man, while Peter crawled on his knees to the opposite window. Outside, it looked normal. They were parked in front of a normal looking building, which was surrounded by other normal buildings. There were other people walking around, just carrying on with their day like they would normally do. Most of these people probably worked here, doing whatever it is that they do here. That thought didn't fill him with confidence. Escaping now would be difficult.

The door slammed shut and the man walked around to the back of the car. He opened the boot and stared at the two boys sitting in the back. Under his jacket, the pistol, that had once been in Sylar's grip, sat in the waist of his trousers.

"Come on, get out."

Peter and Sylar shot each other a look that said 'What should we do?' Sylar made the first move. His legs were killing him and he needed to stretch. Peter watched him go and followed soon after when he realized how long he had been trapped in the car. The man waited until they were both out before he began walking towards what Peter guessed was the entrance.

"Follow me."