SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR DISCLAIMER.

A/N:

That's Right Baby Two Chapters in one day. I plan on this being a regular treat!

Just as before, every Wednesday, to help you get through the week!

Well here we go again!

Title Taken From "Make It Stop (September's Children)" By Rise Against

Warnings: A sarcastic Author, I think there is blood, maybe some language because I can't help my self. And mentions of murder, but SERIOUSLY if you've already gotten this far, I don't see how you could be uncomfortable with any of this… Drugs too.

Darkest Just Before The Dawn

"I think it will be fine." The older woman smiled, "I haven't any reason why he should not be given that ability."

The man standing across form her sighed, "it's a HUGE step, we can't just hand it over, he's still hung up on the killer."

She smiled in response, "You are not the one who Dreams, and Peter Will forget all about that man with time. I assure you, he needs to be given every reason to trust us, and if we play all of our cards right, he will have no doubt he is doing the right thing."

"I'm sure if you told him it would be easier." Her male companion sighed, "If he knew you were behind this, he'd fold a lot quicker."

"Nonsense." She dismissed, "It's his rebellion against me that caused this mess, so if he is going to be working for the Company, He will have to make that choice, but for now, give him everything we've got, show him we care for, and trust him."

"And if he doesn't' budge?" The man challenged, but the older woman seemed to find his attempt humorous.

"You can fight the future." She stated solemnly, and proceeded to leave.

Peter And Cal

He followed, and wondered where in the Hell his partner was leading him. They had been walking through the facilities for what seemed like hours, and Peter found them larger than he had previously expected. All attempts to inspect its structure were quickly interrupted by a quip of Cal's Smart ass tongue, or a snap of his damn fingers.

Where ever they were headed, The Red Head sure did not want him to know the way, and made numerous attempts at proving his counting of turns ineffective. So their journey continued, and unrelentingly began to cause Peter distress. Leaving Isaac alone was not enough for these Bastards, no, they had to send him to circle their facility at least thirty time before they could tell him why he was being led anywhere. At least after a while, all of Cal's insults began sounding the same, thus falling on deaf ears. The only thing that truly bothered the hell out of the Empath was being snapped at like an animal.

Eventually they stopped, and silently Peter thanked god that he did not have to circle the damn building any more. At least they had unintentionally given him a clue as to which turns where the wrong ones, that in itself would prove valuable when he was ready to escape this prison with Gabriel and Isaac. That fact alone made having to watch Cal snap his fingers bearable.

At that point his partner turned to him, "Do you know why we're her cupcake?"

Choosing to ignore the nickname Peter replied, "No"

"Your getting a shiny new ability!" Cal smiled with Mock enthusiasm, searching for any sign of excitement in the other's eyes, only finding disgust. Internally he cursed himself for having to do his job as His partner voiced his deduction.

"And we leave YOU people to train Isaac." He chuckled with a hint of foul humor, "I figured as much, what's going to be my new 'trick'?"

"Listen up and listen good!" The Shorter man hissed, mustering as much anger as he could, "You have to realize there are more important thing for an asset like you to be focusing on than a bloody Meth addict."

Peter stood perfectly still and smiled, "I understand."

It took him all the power he could muster not to rip Cal a new one, because obviously these people needed to trust him, and arguing was not the way to get that. And also it was true, he did understand, they needed their 'New Toy', their new Weapon of Mass Destruction to wield more power, become unrivaled. This was no longer about Sylar anymore. This was about something else, and frankly Peter didn't give a flying Fuck. He just wanted to get out, and return to something, anything that resembled his once untouchable life. He knew he would never get that perfection again, but any 'Ability' they gave him would just bring him closer to reclaiming a new life. Away from the Company, the ones who where trying to turn him into a weapon, and with Gabriel, the one who needed to heal.

Clenching his fist, Cal noted Peter's rage, hell, he was upset too. If Isaac had any chance at all, it would be with a man who could master an ability in a day. But this was his job, to ensure their greatest 'asset', he mentally scoffed at the word, was not emotionally attached to their greatest threat. Of course severing those ties would not be easy, and it being his job, he was in for the fight of his life. Because he recalled what it was like to be forced to forget. That in itself was hell. And for the sake of Peter's future he would forcibly extricate Sylar from this man. Because anything The Empath could hope for, would never become a reality. Sure, the killer may be different with him, but he would never change FOR him, that would never be true.

So, Cal inhaled sharply collecting himself, prepared to continue the training of Primatech new Pride and joy,

"The Special is just inside this room," He began, and proceeded to kick the door in an effort to appear nonchalant, "Your not going to meet him, but you should have absorbed his ability by now."

Peter took an internal examination of himself, and found nothing to be different, "What is this guy's ability?"

At that the Shorter man smiled, "Now, that you'll have to figure out yourself."

He then proceeded to circle the Empath not unlike a shark, "you know we wont always give you abilities, you'll collect them on the street, and you need to figure out what kind of stray cats have invited themselves in."

The Brunette grimaced at the illustration, but conceded to the point of it, thus he was led to a private cell which looked like a smaller version of the room he shared with Isaac. Some canvas was left for him in the corner, about three 2'X3', and a small sketch pad with colored pencils, and graphite.

Instead of painting, or even trying to figure out his new ability, Peter mad a beeline for the bed and lay down. Closing his eyes he hoped his sleep to be restful.

Isaac Mendez

He watched Peter get led away sometime ago, and simply stared at his canvas until his instructor returned. If he was to paint again he would need Peter to quell his nerves.

He could see the man with horned rimmed glasses watching him from the giant window. His gaze was normally unnoticed, but to be bored into when he was alone, cause the Painter to become anxious, and desire something the defeat his unease.

Finally, before it became too much for him to bear, and scream for a fix, the Agent put him out of his misery by entering the fish bowl. Slowly the man made his way around to capture a glance at the blank canvas. Eventually electing to grab a chair and sit across from the Artist.

"Isaac." He began pleasantly, "I want you to know that we will be bringing in a new tutor for you as son as possible ok?"

A wave of confusion knocked him off of his cognizant plain , and left him reeling, and grabbing for a coherent thought.

Noah painted a look of mock concern, internally proud that he was capable of fooling a Precog, at that point Isaac began to speak, and the Agent put his entire focus into selling the story. If his boss said that Isaac and Peter could not be allowed to fraternize, then he would ensure that they never spoke again.

"What happened to Peter?" The Painter queried, treading slowly, and carefully.

"He's gone on to acquire more abilities, he told Cal that he feels being in the field would be his most effective means of helping people." Noah shrugged.

Isaac allowed the idea to sink in, and felt a sharp pain of betrayal, and strived to sound strong as he wrenched from his vocal chords, "He said he would help me."

The agent sighed, and decided to tell the truth, because at this moment it would prove most deadly, "All he cares about is a man named Gabriel Grey, He's the reason Peter is helping us, and He's the reason we need you in the first place."

That caught the Artist's attention so Noah moved in, "Grey has killed at least ten people, maybe more."

Shaking his head he sighed, "Peter thinks he can be changed, he's an idealistic fool who'll do anything to save the Devil."

He did not know whether to believe him, or deny it all. But here was the proof laid bare before him. Perhaps that was why Petrelli didn't tell him everything, just in case a better avenue came along. And even then, the Empath's proclamation of friend who could stop it all.

"He's planning on breaking Him out." Isaac whispered, "And Soon."

The Company knew that Petrelli was planning to 'Save' Gabriel, but they believed they would have time enough to change his mind, apparently his accomplice hopeful was not as confident as them.

"What do you mean?" Noah pressed a sense of urgency overwhelming him.

Taken aback by the sudden emotion, the artist scooted away from the agent.

"Isaac, tell me, Because if Grey escapes, a lot of people are going to die."

Digging in his pillow he found the small sketch book that had come with the room, the one he had before he met Peter. Opening it he began searching, for the image he had etched, and opened it to the picture of a mangled girl, in the back drop one figure on his knees and another standing a distance, seemingly shunning the other.

"I don't know how important she is, but if I drew her, it has to mean something."

The Agent suppressed his own horror at the image, and clenched his jaw. Feeling bile rising he retreated to the door, "Try to find a way to stop Petrelli from helping Grey escape. She is far more important than you know."

With that he left, and Isaac began focusing on his former tutor, throwing himself into his work. He now knew Petrelli was truly the dangerous one, he trusted far too easily, but never again.

But as he opened his eyes he had created a sketch in graphite, the made him confused further, and even question if he should even have ever doubted his teacher.

Peter

It was real, at least it felt that way. He watched Gabriel as he wandered into a small diner. It seemed strange, but His friend turned to him and smiled.

"She has the ability to heal, if you had that, no one could ever hurt you, not even me." he whispered.

Peter could feel his golden sincerity, yet he could not help but reply, "I don't want you near her. It'll be too much."

Gabriel frowned, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." He replied, but the watchmaker sighed.

"I don't"

Peter opened his eyes and then forced them shut, and wondered if this was another mysterious precognition, or a hopeful dream of a better time. He sat up and wondered if he was simply deluding himself by hoping but shot that rationalization down. It seemed that whenever people told him he was wrong he would give up. But not this time, no, he was stronger than that. He would fight them for every god forsaken inch of land.

Life was not something to give up on, especially the only soul that ever understood, the only one who ever told him he had power over his own life. Sure he had saved Gabriel from hanging himself, but Gabriel had saved him from a life of servitude to anyone who claimed the cared.

Smiling he realized that he had not spoken with Nathan since his graduation party, and he didn't even realize it. He wondered if Nathan even cared. With one glance around his new cage, he let his thoughts wander.

He took assessment of his abilities, allowing lightening to flow from his body, then, causing the small spider plant on his bedside to take flight around the room. Suddenly without warning the plant froze, he marveled as the small crystals of Ice formed and wondered if he picked that up from Gabriel as well.

Immediately his thoughts turned to his unknown Ability. The one which had no face, nor a name. If he was to be able to use it, he would need at least one. Or was this exercise so that he would not need a face or emotion?

Peter figured this would prove a valuable lesson, and wondered if he would unlock further Abilities he had no knowledge of prior.

Closing his eyes, the Empath began to feel his abilities once more, it was difficult to find them when they had no face, and it was like a part of himself that even he did not know. It was frightening to contemplate, and even more nerve wracking to focus upon. Yet, he reached for that part of him, his words to Isaac echoing inside of his head, "Don't Be Afraid"

It was then, that he felt a rush of adrenaline, and felt quite a phenomenal sensation. Swiftly he was engulfed by thousands of thoughts, voices he'd never known. Then, his body began levitating as the voices became loud he felt himself lose materiality, and his arms began vanishing. With the sudden rush of power he began to scream.

Sylar

It was useless to struggle against the thick leather straps, the futility was punctuated by the steady feed of sedative being decanted into him intravenously.

He could barely feel his extremities and using his abilities was out of the question, the drug induced haze barely allowed that much coherent thought. Even with all this, he could hear it.

A pulsing, and agonizing scream echoed into his mind, reaching him on a level beyond even his capabilities, causing his very soul to tremble. Yet, instantly his mind felt at ease, perhaps even at home with the intruding presence, even with all of its tumultuous disturbance.

The brushing of his 'Angel's' mind was abruptly cut off, and he knew something had cut them off. Somehow even as pained as it was, that cry had brought the killer comfort in his transcendental state. It allowed him to be assured that His precious one was still alive, could still feel. Unlike he, who could not even reach out for a two dimensional thought. Only lack of sensation registered, and the drip of an IV.

In the depths of hell, a far cry had given him hope. An a light to hold onto, even if he did not deserve to hold on he would, because a man like him, he would take that which was not his. It brought him what little shame the medicine allowed, besides that, he felt nothing but soothed. A sensation which echoed like a ghost through the hallows of his once vibrant being.

Later ha may say that it was the drug induced miasma that allowed him comfort from the 'Angel'. But then, would he have taken it from another? In these moments he was left with the echoes of his mind, the ghoulish fiends which haunted him roamed free, and gallivanted through him, releasing him. Leaving only Gabriel to feel dare he say: Peter's warmth.

Slowly it would fade, but now, this once, he would allow himself this. It was not forgiveness, nor was it anything of substance, but it was this nothing was enough.

Yes, just for these lucid moments it was enough for him.

A/N:

I have reason to believe that this is the longest chapter I have EVER written for this story.

Lets go check….

Yep, by about 200 words… not much but this is the closest I have ever gotten to 3,000. Should I aim for that?

Well, I almost didn't fit Sylar into this, but with Peter's CRAZY telepathy, I was like "GOLDEN CHANCE!"

Until Next Week!

(This has been 2830 words from Phronima's Power)