HEROES: Perspectives - Barstow

Disclaimer: I own NUTTINK!

Characters: Peter, Gabriel, Phil Coll--er, Sprague/OC, Janice

Setting: 2010, events mentioned in "Visiting Ours" expanded.

--

Frank Sprague was an ordinary man. A mechanic by trade, he felt more comfortable under a hood than anywhere else. In fact, he never really wanted much else. He was just an average guy and he was happy with that.

Nope, nothing more than an average guy living an average life.

Of course, that changed when he learned his cousin, Ted, lost his wife to cancer and he was being charged as a terrorist and possible serial killer. He also found out from the news that Ted had somehow blown up the car his Federal captors were moving him in, and he had escaped.

Shortly thereafter, he saw they were reporting his recapture in New York City. (How he got from LA to NY was never known.) Unfortunately, his transport was somehow flipped, the drivers killed and poor Ted had his skull cut open while hanging upside-down in chains. The body was cremated before being returned to the family. "It was what he wanted," said the blonde FBI agent who delivered the remains. She seemed upset at the whole affair.

That was enough drama to keep Frank for the next several years.

He occasionally read the tabloids they bought for the garage, and happened across a series of articles claiming there were real life "mutants". People who could do extraordinary things.

Frank dismissed it, as usual, but one of them mentioned a man who was a walking nuclear reactor and had been arrested as a serial killer by the FBI before his "untimely demise." What little details they gave, left no doubt to Frank they were talking about his cousin. There were even pictures from a New York artist's gallery that seemed to show people performing unexplainable things. Some even displayed victims of this mystery skull splitter. Supposedly, he was psychic, but had also mysteriously perished at the same time Ted had, having been crucified to his studio floor and his skull had also been opened.

Frank knew there had to be a connection, but didn't know what. The tabloid ran the articles intermittently, and he tried to keep up. Was this real? Were there really people who could fly, read minds, teleport, slice people's skulls open, and lord knows what else out there?

Fiction became fact when "Formula P" hit the streets. No one really seemed to know where it came from, but for those who could afford it, they also gained powers as if they were comic book characters come to life.

Of course, with every "exciting" and "hip" thing, there came the knock-offs. A few enterprising (and highly intelligent) individuals discovered the keys to the formula and the black market for "P" boomed. Of course, the black market version was unstable without the catalytic agent the "true" version of P contained. It was often fatal and disfiguring without further treatment. A single dose cost thousands. Most saved up (or otherwise acquired the funds) and took their chances with one shot.

Frank didn't care. He was happy living his life quietly.

That all changed one Sunday in 2010.

He was finishing up tuning his classic '68 Mustang convertible for the local car show the following weekend when he noticed that the coolant seemed to be getting warmer as he leaned over it. Not just warmer, it was boiling.

"What the hell?" He stumbled back.

"Having problems, friend?" came a voice from the end of the driveway.

Frank looked over to see a red-haired man in a suit smiling at him. Great, the missionaries are prowling today, he thought as he waved his rag over the steam coming from his engine.

"Did it overheat?"

"It hasn't even been on for a few days," Frank replied, staring at the engine. "I'm not sure what happened?"

The man stepped forward and extended a hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. My name is Charles Fabian, and I believe I can change your life," he smiled. "Forever."

Frank gave the man a suspicious look. "Not interested."

He continued smiling. "Don't you want to hear what I have to say? Like I said, I could change your life."

"I told you, I'm not interested," Frank repeated, turning his attention back to the car. The steam had subsided, somewhat.

"I'm not sure your cousin, Ted, would have agreed with you."

Frank spun to stare at the man and his smile creeped into his brain. "Who are you? What do you want?" he demanded.

"I want to change your life, my friend."

Frank picked up his socket wrench. "Get the hell out of here and leave my family out of whatever sick fantasy you think you know."

"Are you sure about that?"

The man's smile was making Frank very nervous, now. He raised the wrench as if to strike the man, but realized it was starting to warm up in his hand. "What the--?" He looked at it, it was starting to glow orange in his hand.

No, not the wrench. It was his hand that was starting to glow. The silver plated wrench was merely reflecting it.

"W-what's happening? What's going on here?"

"Take my hand, friend," the man said again. "I can help you."

Frank hesitated, dropped the wrench. Unsure, he shakily reached out and the man grasped his hand.

Frank felt hot air wash over him. He was blinded by the light that came from this man. Through the fingers of his other hand, blocking his face, he saw the other man disintegrate.

No, not just the man, his home, his neighborhood, his city.

Frank dropped to his knees, stark naked in a landscape of ash. "help me," he moaned as he passed out.

He had no idea how long he had been asleep. He rubbed his eyes, thinking it had been a nightmare. He felt a warm breeze against his body. He dropped his hand from his face and screamed in terror.

"Gabriel! Over here!" he heard and looked to see two men fly down near him. Both were wearing hazmat suits with a sign Frank recognized as the nuclear waste symbol.

"He's still alive?" he heard Gabriel say.

"Barely. He needs medical attention right away!" the first man said. "My name's Peter Petrelli, do you know what happened? How did you survive the blast?"

Frank stared at the man, then surveyed the devastation.

"F-Frank. Frank Sprague," he said, shaking with fear. Peter jerked his head back in surprise. "God help me, I think I caused this!" he cried.

Peter gave him an intense look. He felt fingers tickle his brain. "What happened, Frank? How did this happen?"

The minutes before the blast raced through Frank's brain. "I was working on my car. There was a man. He had a creepy smile. He took my hand, and then--" he broke down, sobbing.

"Boom."

"Mr. Sprague, stay with us," Peter insisted. "Did he give you a name?"

"Ch-Charles...Fabian, I think?" Frank answered between sobs. "He-he also mentioned my cousin. He knew about Ted."

Peter stood up and backed away. He stared at Gabriel, who seemed to be as shocked as well to hear the name.

Peter finally found his voice. "Ted? Sprague? Ted Sprague was your cousin?"

Frank looked at the man. He was horrified. "You knew him?"

Peter and Gabriel shared a look. Gabriel nodded. "Yes, we knew him. He was like us. He was a walking nuclear reactor."

Peter finished. "Just like you."

Frank sat there, taking this in. "Kill me."

"What?"

"Please. I never knew-- I never would have-- I need to be punished for this!"

Peter was horrified. Gabriel studied him with cold eyes.

"We can't," Peter protested.

"I killed an entire city! I took the man's hand and I killed an entire city! I need to be punished! KILL ME!"

"No," Peter denied him.

"YES!" Frank insisted.

"NO!"

"We must."

Both men turned and looked at Gabriel.

"He killed thousands, so he must pay the price," he explained.

"Gabriel, no!"

"Yes, Peter. It's the only way." He turned and knelt before Frank, looked him in the eye. "He knows. He understands. It seems karma is a bitch and I must now kill you like I killed your cousin."

Frank pushed himself away. What did he just say?

"Gabriel, no!"

"I took Ted's life for his power. I was hungry for it, out of control." Without breaking eye contact with Frank, he turned his head towards Peter. "You remember that, Peter? The Hunger?"

This was the man who killed Ted? What was going on here?

"I've changed. Back then, all I cared about was power. This is about justice," he said before adding, "and mercy."

Frank felt like he had been slapped. His head twisted and he fell to the ashen earth.

"Forgive me, Frank."

"Forgive me," was the last thought that went through Frank's mind. Peter relayed it to his brother.

Gabriel nodded. "We destroy the body," he told Peter. "Officially, we found nothing. Unofficially, we tell Matt and Nathan what Frank told us. It's obvious this Charles Fabian was a jump starter. Who knows what the guy had in mind for Frank, but his power was too volatile to be forced on like they tend to do to people."

"Matt told me about Ted. He had a hard time at first, too," Peter said somberly. "He wound up killing his wife with cancer, then killed her doctor when he lost his temper. He had no idea what was happening to him. If only the psychics knew who it was before today, so we could have prevented this." He turned to Gabriel, pleading, "We can still go back and--"

"No, Peter," Gabriel said as he burned the body to ash. "This was meant to happen. No more going back to make things 'right.' That's the rule. You told me I blew up Costa Verde in one timeline. You blew up New York in another. The Shanti Virus destroyed the world in yet another. In this one, Ted's cousin Frank was tricked into blowing up Barstow. If he hadn't done it, somebody else would have."

Peter knelt over the smoldering pile of ash that was once Frank Sprague. "I know. I just wish we could have gotten here in time. Who knows how many people died here? We'll never know for sure."

Gabriel put his hand on Peter's shoulder. "We can't police them all, just play firefighter when things start spiraling out of control. That's what we agreed to do. That's what we will do. If we don't," Gabriel hesitated, "then they round us up, kill us all. Just because we're different."

--

Friday evening.

"Are you sure you don't mind, Rabbi?" she asked. "I don't want to ruin your weekend."

He smiled at her. "My dear, you are family, you're not ruining anything. It would be my pleasure to watch Matthew while you and your friends enjoy yourselves this weekend."

She hesitated, brow knitting. "I've never been away from him this long, before," she protested.

"Janice, we'll be fine," he consoled her. "I've got kids of my own that are all big and grown and I still remember how to keep an eye on a youngster for a few days."

She still hesitated.

"Now hurry along," he insisted. "The buyers will be here for him soon."

She turned her attention from her son to the rabbi, wide eyed. He broke out in a big grin.

"Kidding!" He hugged her and kissed her forehead. "Go. Enjoy yourself." He pulled a ten from his pocket. "And put his on black, let it ride."

"What?"

"Don't you remember? Always bet on black."

She sighed. "You sound just like Matt."

He grinned back at her. "Where do you think I got it from?"

She looked at her son again. "You, uh, you haven't heard from him, have you?"

"Far be it from me to keep secrets from my late girlfriend's son and his ex-wife, my dear."

"That's a no, then?"

"Nothing's stopping you from picking up the phone, Janice."

She hesitated, watching her son color at the table. He looked up at her, smiled.

"Fine," she sighed. "Monday when I get back, I'll call him, catch up. Let him know we're doing fine."

Blumenfeld smiled down at her. "You don't have anything to worry about, Janice. You know the reasons why you're doing this. So does he."

"But what if--?"

He grabbed her hands. "Janice, go. Enjoy yourself. Have a blast this weekend. Worry about what you want to tell Matty next week."

"But what if--?"

"Janice. I have your cell number, I know how to dial 911, and Matt would be third on that list if anything remotely serious happened to your son this weekend. Stop worrying and go enjoy yourself with your friends."

He hugged her again and ushered her out the door. "The spare key is in his duffel bag! Just in case!" she called back as she stepped away from his door. He smiled and waved.

Matthew came running up behind the rabbi and waved goodbye. "Bye, Mommy! I love you!"

"I love you, too, Matthew!" she called getting into her car. "Behave for Rabbi this weekend, okay?"

Matthew nodded and hugged the man's knee as she drove away.

There were a few calls to let them know she arrived safely and to check up throughout the weekend.

Matthew was fine that night, and was obediently silent Saturday as the rabbi performed his duties at Temple. The young man was silently intrigued with everything, and later asked what language he was speaking and why this and why that? Rabbi had to laugh at his persistence. His grandmother told him his father never felt the pull of their faith, but his son wanted to know everything about it.

Matthew's eagerness Saturday night turned antagonistic Sunday morning. He demanded to speak to his mother, but the call went directly to voicemail. All three times. Rabbi told him not to worry about it, she probably had her phone off, or forgot to bring her charger.

Once the news broke, the boy got even worse. He was in tears, insisting his mother come to pick him up, immediately. Rabbi tried her cell again. The voice mail was full. The man could do nothing but assure the boy his mother was fine and not to worry.

Truth was, the child had him on edge. He knew about what Matt could do, but his abilities had not 'manifested' until his mid-30s. Matthew was a boy of four. Surely he hadn't manifested yet, had he?

Finally, he had given in and driven the boy home, using his spare key to get in the house. Matthew impatiently ran from room to room, calling for his mother. He cried that he couldn't find her. Rabbi convinced him to take a nap and she would be home that evening.

Once the boy was down, he went into her office and began looking for her personal phone book. He flipped through it, called her mother, who had heard nothing from her daughter that weekend. He decided against telling the woman that he had the boy. She now had enough to worry about.

He continued until he saw another familiar name, Tom McHenry. Matt's old partner from his days on the Force, and the alleged true father of Matthew. His home as well as most recent direct LAPD line were listed. His wife said he had gone in to work, to help with the crisis. He thanked her and called the man's office.

"Mr. McHenry?"

"Yes, who is this? I'm very busy right now."

"This is Rabbi Blumenfeld, Mr. McHenry. I believe we met at Matty and Janice's wedding?"

Tom paused a moment. "Yes, sir, what can I do for you?"

"Janice went to Vegas this weekend. We haven't heard from her yet. I was hoping you could keep an eye out for any alert that might mention her?"

"Did you want me to call Matt in on this?"

"No!" the rabbi said a little too quickly. "No, not yet. No need to worry Matty just yet. There is one other thing, though."

"Sir, I'm sure Matt would appreciate it if Janice was--"

"I have Matthew, Tom."

"Excuse me?"

"I offered to baby-sit for her this weekend," he explained. "The boy was very agitated this morning, when all the TV stations switched over to cover the disaster, he was convinced his mother was caught in the explosion."

"That's just him projecting, sir. It's normal for kids, young kids, especially, missing their parents to--"

"Tom," Blumenfeld cut him off. "Did she tell you?"

"Sir? I don't follow?"

"About Matt? About what he could do?"

"Yes, sir. I am well aware that Matt is...one of those people." He didn't know how else to put it.

Blumenfeld was momentarily annoyed by the man's comment for several reasons, but that was not the point. "Tom, did she tell you the truth?"

"The truth about what, sir?"

"About Matthew."

His voice came back as a whisper. "She said I was the father. Don't tell me you're going to dump the kid off on me if--if--" He faltered. He couldn't say the words.

"You made a convenient cover, Tom. I'm sorry."

What was he implying? "I'm sorry?"

"Matt believed his life to be in danger," Rabbi explained. "He--They, they both agreed to use your affair to hide the true paternity of the child."

Tom was stunned. "I--I'm--what?"

"They lied to you and everybody to protect the child, Tom. I'm sorry."

"Then-then what does that make me?" he protested.

"Someone they still trusted enough to keep a secret. Someone who must keep that secret."

"I don't know if I can," he protested.

"Tom, you must. You were always their Plan B," he explained. "Matt thought of you as a friend. You both betrayed him, but that may have turned out for the best."

"You-you want me to take the kid? Is that what you're asking me?"

"If it comes to that, yes."

"I don't think my wife will--"

For a detective, this guy wasn't too bright. "I'll keep the boy for now, Tom," he explained. "But, if something were to happen to me? You have to step up. Keep the child until Matt can claim him once more. We cannot fail Matt...or Matthew. Do you understand?"

Tom hesitated, mind churning. "I--I...yes," he hissed, tears coming to his face. "For Janice. I'll do it."

"Thank you, my son."

Janice Dawne Albrecht Parkman's body was never found. Tom confirmed she had checked out that morning, bought gas before leaving town, and then...nothing else. Not even her car was found.

She had simply disappeared. Like too many others that day.

Rabbi Blumenfeld raised Matthew as his own for the next ten years.

In late May, 2020, a man calling himself Noah Bennet called him. Two days later, Daphne Parkman and Molly Walker came knocking at his door. They agreed to keep the secret for a few more weeks. It was the best birthday present they could give the man those three loved. They reunited him with his own flesh and blood.

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