Time had flown by. She was certain she had left with enough time to spare but according to her watch she was late – again. Ellen started to run down the street, her feet tramping hard on the pavement, her breath catching harshly in her chest as she gulped in the air. She reached the intersection of 5th and Jefferson and stopped on the corner to catch her breath completely unaware of the eyes watching her.
Peter watched the scene unfold in front of him as he had pictured it over and over again in his mind. Her shoe snapped on the curb and Sylar was there – out of nowhere – to catch her. He saw her smile up at him, oblivious to what he really was, and he helped her back onto the sidewalk.
Peter found that he understood a
small part of what she had done to Sylar. Here was a person who knew
nothing of his past or what he planned for the future. All she saw
was a gentleman helping her when she was in need of it.
Ellen
leaned on Sylar as he examined her shoe, his thoughts confusing and
continually contradicting themselves as Peter listened.
"I
don't want to be any trouble to you – "
Peter heard the
innocent exchange between them until they limped off together down
the street, Sylar holding her close to him as though he actually
cared for her well being.
Claire would have yelled madly at
him if she knew he was there. She would say he was torturing himself
which would not be an entirely inaccurate assumption. But he had to
see. He had
to know if things would go back the way they were. Despite all he'd
done he watched helplessly as Ellen's fate unraveled itself all
over again.
Peter felt he couldn't take much more and began to
realize how tired he was. He hadn't slept for days at least though
no actual time had passed for him.
They had gone around the corner at the far end of the street and Peter stared after them, the need to talk to Claire entering his mind. Claire was the only other person he could share things with that he could not share with Nathan. She wasn't judgmental and only gave her opinion which almost always helped Peter to see things in an entirely different way. Claire was the only one he could really talk to; who he could get a female perspective on things from until he met Ellen.
With
Ellen it was different, though. He'd only known her a short time
but from the moment he first saw her and caught the gaze of those
unnaturally bright eyes he believed he could tell her absolutely
anything.
But she was gone and Claire would have been right, he
was torturing himself by going back to see her.
Peter found himself back in his own bedroom. The room was dark and matched the black sky outside. He looked at the digital clock on the nightstand, it read 1:25am – just a few hours after he'd left to see Ellen sing and thought of the plan to save her.
His muscles
protested as he stood there, aching and in need of a long rest. Peter
groaned and took off his shirt before falling into bed. His thoughts
were irrational and stupid. They floated away the moment he believed
he could focus on one as his body relaxed and he fell asleep.
Perhaps
tomorrow he would feel better.
----
Daylight filtered
palely into the room. The muffled sounds of bird song came from
outside and woke his ears to the sound.
His body felt like lead,
sinking deeper into the mattress as he grunted and turned over.
Peter's sharp hearing was quite awake though and he heard the door
click open as quietly as possible and snapped shut again.
Peter felt a presence in the room and then the pressure of someone sitting next to him on the bed but he was so groggy he didn't really believe anyone was actually in the room with him. His mother never entered a room as gently as that and Nathan simply waited for him to wake up whenever he did.
A soft, sweet, melodic humming
touched him and he felt delicate fingers lift his hair from his face.
He slowly opened his eyes still believing he was dreaming, knowing
very well that when he turned over she wouldn't be there.
The
humming continued, warmer and more lovely than any song bird and he
felt her hand slip into his own.
It wasn't real! There is no
way it can be real.
Peter finally turned onto his back, his eyes
open and well aware that he was not dreaming.
She stopped humming, "There you are." She said brightly and saw the expression on his face, "Don't worry, I'm not breaking and entering. Nathan let me in before he left – said that you came in late last night."
Peter could not find his voice to speak
from the shock he felt. Ellen sat there next to him, whole and alive.
She wore her hair down with a baseball cap over it.
"What's
that look for?" she said.
Peter sat up, hardly blinking his eyes for fear that she'd disappear if he wasn't looking. He choked and squeezed her hand – she squeezed back. He put his hand to her cheek and neck – her skin was warm and quite real.
"You're
here." He croaked.
"I'm here." She said softly, "Are you
alright?"
"Ellen." He breathed, pushed forward quickly and
kissed her on the mouth – his final test. She responded and kissed
back and laughed when his arms took hold of her and held her tightly
to him as he kissed her on her forehead and cheeks.
"You're
alive." He said, pulling her to him and holding her in his
embrace.
"Of course I am." She said in his ear. "You've
been there to protect me whenever I've needed you." She pulled
away to look at him. "I'm alive and I'm here, Peter." She
said.
He kissed her hungrily, holding her to him and rested his forehead against hers after they pulled away. Peter closed his eyes for a moment, feeling her arms around him, her hands on his skin. He opened his eyes and felt her heart beat against his chest, her warm breath on his lips, and heard her questioning thoughts.
"Peter, you're shaking." She said and pulled
him into her arms.
He kissed her neck as she held him and felt
her hand on his neck and in his hair.
"Did you have one of
those dreams again?" her voice was strictly serious.
Poor
thing. I don't know how he sleeps at all.
Peter
truly believed in that moment that he could stay in her arms forever
and her in his – that there was no need for him to ever let her go.
He leaned back with her until they both lay on the bed huddled next
to each other.
He pushed the baseball cap off her head and kept
his arms around her.
"No," he said, "It was a nightmare.
I dreamed that you had been killed and that I couldn't save you."
He felt a stinging in his eyes at the memory, "I had to live
without you."
"It was only a dream." She said and looked at
him closely, "Are you alright?"
"I'm not sure."
She
cuddled up to him, "Whatever it was, I'm here now and nothing can
change that."
Peter couldn't understand it. Everything went back to the way it was, didn't it? Unless that accidental trip he and Hiro had made actually made a difference. But how could that fit?
"What were we going to do today?" he said.
"You
were going to take me to a baseball game." Ellen lifted her eyes to
him, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I think I will be."
Peter said, lacing his fingers in her hair. "Will you stay with me,
just for a little while before we go?"
"Absolutely." She
said
They fell silent for a minute until Peter spoke again,
"Ellen?"
"Yeah?" she said lazily as though she were
falling asleep.
"Would you sing that rainbow song?"
Ellen
smiled, "Okay, but you should know that I charge by the
minute."
Peter laughed, "I'll buy you a hot dog at the
stadium."
"Nachos?"
"Sure."
"Deal."
Ellen took a breath and began to sing softly as Peter closed his eyes and fell into the sound of her voice as the memories and emotions of the last few days melted away and left room for the ones he wanted to make with her.
----
"Thank you for coming." He
muttered softly.
"Do not thank me." He replied harshly, "This
is no favor to you. I only came because you told me someone was
hurt."
Mohinder Suresh packed his supplies back into his medical bag without taking his eyes off of Sylar as he stood there watching him. "I'm still amazed at myself that I actually believed you and decided to come."
"I have no reason to
harm you…yet." He said as Dr. Suresh stood.
Mohinder decided
to ignore the threat, "Your friend is stable for now – "
"He's
not my friend." He said quickly.
Mohinder studied him for a
moment before continuing, "He really should be at a hospital.
There's only so much I can do for him.
"But, amazingly enough,
he will be alright eventually. The wounds have managed to pull
themselves together somehow."
Unlike his usual more
confident self, Sylar avoided Mohinder's eyes, which made the
doctor even more suspicious. "Do you know who he is?"
"No."
Sylar answered too quickly. "I mean – I don't know him very
well. He's…family."
Mohinder nodded in agreement. When
he'd examined the man he could not help but notice the surprising
similarities in appearance between the two men. He started feeling
the uneasiness from Sylar and attempted to leave.
"I would ask
you now to never contact me again but even if you agreed I wouldn't
be able to believe you." He said as he headed for the door of the
studio.
Sylar didn't respond and walked with him to the
door.
"He will need rest and fluids. I cannot imagine how or
why you are going to take care of him but I really don't want to
know at this point." He nodded, turned on his heel, and strode out
of the apartment and down the street.
Sylar suddenly felt very alone. There was a man lying in the bed across the room that was a stranger to him but every bit of him believed that he knew this man very well and for certain. He had literally appeared out of nowhere with his serious wounds and a few burns on his face and neck. Sylar didn't know what to make of it.
He walked over to the bed where the man lay with his shirt off and bandages around the wounds to his chest and stomach. His breathing was sharp and ragged but steady.
Sylar listened to the weak heartbeat but its strength
was still there in it – resilient, undying stubbornness was in it.
Darkness as well as he'd seen when the man first appeared and
demand that Sylar help him.
Sylar had seen darkness, he believed
he was a part of it but this man was so deep in it that it even
frightened him a little to behold him.
The man's eyes
opened, they were a deep brown under the thick dark brows – very
similar to Sylar's features. He took in a deep breath but choked on
it from the pain he felt in his chest.
His eyes fell upon Sylar
who stood a small distance from the bed, staring at him.
"There
really is no ending is there?" he said gruffly. He eyed Sylar in
detail for a moment, "You are afraid of me." He observed.
Sylar
immediately stiffened and stuck out his chin defiantly, "Who are
you?" he said.
The man smiled vaguely and chuckled a painful laugh. "You really aren't as bright as you make yourself out to be you know. I remember believing how brilliantly unstoppable I was and look at me now. The same enemies, the same result." He touched the bandage that was over his chest. "It is fascinating how time does that to you. Full circle as it were."
He saw Sylar's confused and curious expression. There was also a small spark in his dark eyes which he knew very well. He remembered that look. It was the look of anticipation, of curiosity, of the desire that drove him to what he was.
"I apologize, Gabriel. I haven't
introduced myself."
Sylar started, "How do you know - ?"
"I
feel we've already had this discussion once haven't we?" he
adjusted himself on the bed and rolled his eyes, "I suppose I have
to lay it all out piece by piece for you." He said
sardonically.
"First I shall give you the biggest piece. I know
you just as you know me, Gabriel. I am you as you are me. We are one
and the same. We are both Sylar. Don't you recognize me?"
The End
