A/N: Hola to Liz, and may I just say huzza to ZQ for having the courage to come out yesterday and give hope and inspiration to members of the LGBT community and remind us all that while true equality remains to be achieved, living openly and honestly is a step toward real progress.

Chapter 14- Triage

"Forgiveness is not always easy. At times, it feels more painful than the wound we suffered, to forgive the one that inflicted it. And yet, there is no peace without forgiveness."

-Marianne Williamson

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Maria knew that the situation was dire the moment Hiro's phone started belting out ludicrously cartoonish sounding music and he frowned when he read the screen. He didn't explain or even say goodbye- he didn't need to. Everyone in the room knew what the call was and every one of them held their collective breath when he disappeared to fulfill his role in Plan B. Even Emma seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and she quietly began checking her array of medical supplies she had prepared on the counter. If Hiro had been summoned, that meant something had gone terribly wrong and Peter wasn't able to bring them back. Emma believed in keeping a calm head, she had to in order to be a successful doctor, and she also believed that preparation would go a long way in avoiding costly mistakes and wasted time but there was no way she could prepare for what happened.

It seemed as quickly as Hiro left, he had returned and suddenly the floor of the lab was littered with the bodies of the wounded and the traumatized. It looked like he had pulled them directly from the front lines of a war- one that by all indications they had nearly lost judging by the way their eyes stared vacantly around as though they were still experiencing the horror around them. It broke Maria's heart to see them all so young and scared. It frightened her more when Claire's eyes finally met with hers and she saw nothing but despair as she cradled Peter's head in her lap. Maria was speechless, staring down at her beloved assistant as he quietly bled on her floor and looked to be dead. She once told him that she could never bear seeing him hurt as he was and she meant every word, she was paralyzed with sorrow. Peter didn't deserve to suffer and although she desperately wanted to help him, she was frozen. Thankfully, Emma had the stomach for it and took over the chaotic scene with far more certitude than she could ever muster in the face of so much suffering.

Emma waded into the crowd, looking over each one carefully but quickly to assess the hierarchy of medical rationing. "Mohinder, help Matt get him onto the table." She ordered, pointing down at Peter. "And then get some pressure on the wound." She squatted by Claire as Peter was carried away from her and gave her a compassionate look. "Thank you for bringing him back. Are you ok?"

Claire looked at her blankly. "Physically yes, but…" her eyes began to water just a little, "what about Peter? Will he be ok?"

Emma always believed that the best policy was honesty. "I don't know. But I promise you I will do everything I can, ok?" She got a small nod from her and that would have to do for the moment. She stood up and resumed her inspections, clearing Hiro and West before stopping briefly at Damian and deciding that his needs weren't emergent. While he did need attention, his wounds looked to be a little older and could wait. Finally, she kneeled next to Sylar who hadn't moved much since his arrival. She lifted his torn and bloodied shirt to look for any wounds and he attempted to bat her hand away, but she was faster and more persistent than he bargained for. Lucky for him, the traces of being gouged with a sharp stick and bludgeoned had faded, leaving behind perfectly healthy skin and therefore nothing for her to pester him about, but it wasn't that easy. She noted the fresh blood running from his nose and the uncharacteristically slow reaction time of his movements. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn he looked like he had a concussion, but even if that were the case she had bigger fish to fry.

She crossed the floor to Maria, who was still staring at Peter in disbelief as he lay languidly on her table. Emma grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face the other side of the room. "I need your help." She declared in a steely voice in an attempt to get her to snap out of it. She fully understood how it must have felt for her to see him like that, but there was no sense in grieving when he wasn't dead yet and they still had a chance. "I need you to go check on Sylar. See if you can get him to respond to you. Sit with him, talk to him, do anything you have to make sure he's ok. Can you do that?" Maria's eyes drifted to Sylar and they hardened with a sense of resolve. "Good. Once he's alert, look at the other man. Get Claire to help you if you want, but let me know what you find." With that, she turned her attention to Peter with every intention of keeping her promise to Claire.

Maria positioned herself at Sylar's side and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "Gabriel." She quietly called, giving him a light shake to rouse his attention, "Gabriel, can you open your eyes?" He slowly turned his head to her and lifted his dark eyes to hers. They were clearer and sharper than she was expecting, but their color harkened back to when she first met him: a warm, chocolate brown devoid of ill will or malice of any kind. "Hello," she stammered somewhat surprised by his apparent change in condition. "Emma asked me to come and check on you…make sure you were ok." She paused and with a small smile asked, "Are you?"

He lay there amid the chaos and tension in the room like an island of calm while the world swirled around him. Was he ok? In a manner of speaking…as much as he could ever be, that was, given all that he'd experienced and done both before and during the war. Even up until recently, he always assumed that no matter what happened, no matter how crazy the world became that empires would rise and fall but he would live through it all. But a short distance away, Peter looked like he was losing his battle and he was reminded that his own immortality was no guarantee. Call it a moment of crisis or post traumatic stress, but a softly whispered 'no' fell from his lips and he didn't regret it.

The sincerity in his eyes was overwhelming to her and it was as though he were secretly pleading with her to fix him in some way, to offer some sense of peace or serenity and she wasn't sure she could do it, but she felt compelled to try. She bravely smiled and promised herself she would be as open with him as she could. If she didn't have the right words to say, then perhaps he would at least be able to pick up on the sentiment behind them and know that she would support him as much as she was able and hope it was enough. "Thank you, Gabriel, for risking your life to save Claire and Damian. It means a lot to me that you brought him back here where he's safe."

Sylar looked away, completely unaccustomed to being appreciated so directly by his given name, but he managed a small nod of acceptance. What he couldn't bring himself to tell her was that deep within his soul, his hunger clawed at him mercilessly and Damian's slip about his ability dangerously whetted his appetite. It was torturously maddening- the thought of possessing a new power and the temporary satiation of his torment would have been a divine relief, but he chose to swallow it all down and deny himself the very thing that would ease his own suffering because he couldn't bring himself to wound her a second time. In the end, it was better that he suffer than she. It was a mutual contract that had no expiration date- probably one of the few he'd ever agree to.

She noted the shyness with which he responded and just for a moment she was taken back to the time before the war when he sat at his desk, smiling demurely after she'd embarrassed him in much the same way. It was endearing perhaps because it was so contrary to his reputation. "And I didn't get to thank you for the beautiful watch you sent. Someone with impeccable taste, indeed."

A slow smile graced his lips. "I suppose if you ever needed to, you could sell it."

"For what?" She laughed. "A ride into space on a Russian shuttle?"

"That might just about cover it."

"I think I'll hold onto it just the same." She assured him. "It was an incredibly thoughtful gift, but really, it wasn't necessary."

"Gifts aren't." He reminded. "However, it was more of a payment- something owed."

"You don't owe me anything." She said quietly. "Knowing that you are well is good enough for me." She frowned at his torn and bloody clothing, a reminder of what once was. "Well, relatively speaking."

He bravely looked into her eyes with a sense of gravity and ventured, "Let's not ignore the elephant in the room, here. I think we both know we can't pretend forever." She sighed and hung her head, unwilling to face the moment. "I can appreciate that you didn't know about me when I first came here, but now that you do you don't have to humor me for Peter's sake. I am a killer, Maria, and I don't expect you to understand it but I know that there are consequences for my choices. I know that there is a part of you that resents me, I can see it every time you look at me. You have to swallow it down in order to face me."

Her eyes swelled with tears and her voice trembled slightly. "Because you killed him."

He nodded slightly. "I did."

"Are you even sorry for what you did?" She asked, her hot tears falling down her cheeks and soaking into his tattered shirt.

His eyes were steady and unflinching. "I wish I could tell you that I'm sorry for taking his life, but I'm not." He waited for her to curse him or slap him in the face, but she just quietly sobbed and that was almost infinitely worse. When he felt the moment had passed and she could hear him, he continued, "What I can tell you is that I didn't mean to bring you so much misery. As I said, I know that there are consequences for my choices, but I've never stuck around to see them. I can't bring him back or replace what you've lost, but I am aware of what I've done. I know that you may never believe me when I tell you that I never wanted to be the monster that I am, but that's what I've become and I have to live with it."

"You don't have to be." She smiled sadly. "You write your own future and you can be the better person you want to be. I can see it in you, you are still good."

"Not enough." He whispered as he looked away in despair. He had tried to change…and failed.

"Then grow it." She demanded. "Nurture your good side and let it see the light of day. You have proven to me that you are capable of honor and worthy of respect by your actions- by not giving me up to Jessup, by saving Damian only because I asked you to. I am deeply grateful to you for those things. I can't help but miss the man I thought I would grow old with, but denying you the opportunity to better yourself if you truly regret your actions hardly seems the appropriate way to honor his memory."

His eyes were wide with apprehension and his voice was halting. "So, you forgive me?" It seemed too good to be true. She had to hate him, she simply had to.

She sighed. "I can't offer you absolution right here on the spot, but I can promise you I will work on it so long as you do." He couldn't promise her anything either, and given his history the prospect of his ever gaining her complete confidence seemed remote, but something was better than nothing. She at least believed in him and that was more than anyone else had dared do…except for perhaps Peter but even he was starting to lose faith and see his potential in more realistic terms. "Are you sure you will be alright?" She checked.

He gave an affirmative nod. "I just need a little time to rest. I feel so tired."

"Your old room is still available." She suggested. "And you've become such a light sleeper that I don't think you can stay down here. You won't get a minute's peace."

He faintly smiled as his eyes drifted shut. "I'll go in a minute." Yes, he had become a light sleeper, but that was partially because he didn't feel safe and for the moment that had changed. He dropped off in record time knowing that he need not be paranoid and his body demanded downtime to repair itself.

Maria stood quietly so as not to disturb him and glanced over at Emma and Mohinder as they continued to work on Peter. She wanted desperately to know if any progress had been made, but she thought it best to let them work uninterrupted. She couldn't read minds the way Matt could, but she could discern facial expressions and Emma's grim demeanor wasn't encouraging. Per the doctor's orders, Gabriel had been attended to and appeared to be in better shape than initially thought, so she moved on to Damian who had taken a seat on a countertop, patiently waiting his turn in solitude- his right leg swinging like a pendulum marking the time.

"Damian," She smiled as she approached, "nice to see you again."

He returned her friendly gesture timidly. "Thank you, Mrs. Siegel." He immediately flushed red with embarrassment when he realized his mistake. "I mean, Ms. Siegel." He nervously pursed his lips and mumbled, "Sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"It's ok." She granted. She knew he meant no harm, he always was a polite and contentious young man. "I haven't seen you since you moved to New York. You certainly have grown, haven't you?"

He grinned broadly and gave an easy laugh. "I guess so. That was about 8 years ago."

"Well, I'm sorry we have to meet again like this, but I am glad that you're more or less alright." She spoke softly and gestured to his bloody clothes. "What happened to you, Damian?"

His blue eyes darkened slightly and he glanced away, hoping she wouldn't see the memories of the misery and torture he suffered at the hands of the agents reflected in them. "I um…" he stammered uncomfortably, "I ran into some trouble back in DC."

She recognized his reluctance for what it was and decided not to push him for details. Perhaps he would tell her at a later time when he felt ready. "Can I see?" She asked hopefully. "I have unfortunately gained some experience in first aid since the war started. I can help you if it isn't too serious."

He was hesitant at first, but decided that he was among colleagues and he trusted them not to make a big deal of his injuries because there were others among them in far worse shape to obsess about. It just wasn't in his nature to be the center of attention and everyone else seemed preoccupied with watching the drama on the table unfold. He slowly peeled off his shirt, pausing a few times to gently work his injured shoulder into a position that allowed him to free himself from the sleeve with little more than an occasional "ouch" as his stiff muscles pulled painfully, but he persevered and gave a small sigh of relief when the ordeal was over. His simple cotton shirt may as well have been a straightjacket and he tried not to flinch as Maria pulled off the bandages.

She paused as she took in the red and swollen bullet wound that permeated his left shoulder just below the collarbone. "You ran into some trouble, alright." She noted dryly. "Or rather it ran into you. Did you go to a hospital?"

"Yes," he dutifully answered, "but they obviously didn't do anything because they thought I had powers." He shook his head sadly. "I guess they were right."

She felt sorry for him. To be injured and denied medical care for an ability he didn't know he had must have added to the trauma he experienced- and it couldn't have happened to a less deserving person. "I'm sorry, Damian." She consoled as she gently swabbed the area with antiseptic in the hopes it wasn't too badly infected. If it was half as painful as it looked, he was in bad shape but doing an admirable job in hiding it. "I always knew you were special, just not like that." He gave her a small smile, which encouraged her to continue. "So what is it that you can do?"

He hung his head. "I don't know. Kill people, I guess." He peeked up at his former neighbor fully expecting her to be disgusted by his very presence. "Some ability, huh? I guess it was too much to ask to just fly or something."

Maria was a little disturbed by his admission, but she wasn't quite ready to jump to conclusions. "What do you mean you kill people? How?"

"I don't know." He sighed in exasperation. "It just happens. I don't even know how because I usually pass out and when I wake up, everyone's dead." He glanced miserably in Claire's direction as she was standing by West's side and he wrapped his arms around her while they watched Peter's decline unfold before their very eyes. "I even did it to her, but she woke up again. She's lucky." His eyes filled with sadness and self loathing. "I shouldn't even be here. I don't know if it will happen again and if it does…"

"We will take that chance." Maria stated, placing her hand on his arm to comfort him. "You don't have it in your heart to hurt people, Damian, you never have. Even as a child you cried when you stepped on ants on the sidewalk. I'm surprised you learned to walk at all because your poor mother had to carry you everywhere until you got too big."

He smiled bashfully. "Maybe I was just lazy."

"You have never been lazy." Maria argued. "You were the type of kid that didn't play outside because you were busy helping your mother fold laundry or feed and look after your younger siblings. I remember being at your house when you were about 7 and I watched you spend a solid hour patiently teaching your sister how to tie her shoes. Now tell me that's what a lazy kid does."

"I guess not." He reluctantly admitted. He didn't see himself as extraordinary for those things, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

"I never had an ability, but Bryant did. What I learned from him is that no matter what gift you have, it's your intentions that matter and as long as you listen to your heart you can't go wrong. What happened was an accident because I can't believe for a minute that you planned it even if they deserved it."

"It was, but I don't know how to control it. Claire said that maybe Peter could help me figure it out but…" He couldn't make himself finish because he didn't want to seem pessimistic or selfish.

Claire heard her name from across the room and noted the hopeless mood that seemed to have overtaken Damian as he sat with his shoulders slumped. She heard enough of the sentence to know the context of his concerns and she took leave to give her opinion- even if it wasn't immediately embraced enthusiastically, which she was almost certain it wouldn't be. She was even less certain it would actually work, but it was worth a shot. "Hey," she smiled nervously when he looked to her as she got closer, "I couldn't help but overhear the conversation. I hope you don't mind, but I have a crazy idea."

He wasn't convinced of her mental state to begin with, but he was willing to entertain just about any possibility. "What's that?"

"Well," she began slyly, "I did suggest that Peter might be able to help you figure out your ability, but there is one other option. I know it's not the best and it would take some work, but it will certainly solve the problem and we will have definite answers."

Damian perked up at the possibility of a solution to his dilemma. "What is it?" He asked expectantly.

Claire's fingers twisted into a ball of knots in front of her as she gave a hopeful smile and rocked back and forth on her heels. "…Sylar?" She proposed in a small voice. Suddenly he didn't seem so excited to adopt her idea and everyone else who heard her thought she had lost her mind as well, including Sylar who watched her with a slight scowl on his face. Seeing he was awake and very dubious, she kneeled down beside him and leaned in close so only he could hear. He flinched slightly as her blonde hair fell over her shoulder, brushing his cheek as she whispered, "Just hear me out, Sylar. I don't know what all he can do with his ability, but if anyone has a chance at figuring it out quickly, it's you. This is a winning situation for everybody here. You get a shiny new toy to play with, Damian gets answers and we all get to live if he can control it."

"Not everyone wins," he reminded her in a flat tone, "Damian will have to pay a pretty high price for his answers. You know how I work."

"Not this time. You don't have to kill him." She hissed. "You have the ability to use empathy, the same as Peter."

"I'm not Peter." His eyes were dangerously dark. He could only tolerate so much of Claire's demanding, immature nature. It was true he was a patient man but even he had limits.

Sensing she was getting nowhere with him, she softened her stance and changed her tone. "Please," she asked with all sincerity, "you might be the only hope we have to save Peter."

Sylar paused, momentarily shaken by her sudden yet honest change in demeanor. She wasn't trying to play a game with him- she was genuinely throwing herself on his mercy and asking for his help. "So that's what this is really about."

"Yes." She fully admitted. "Damian somehow sees…I don' know…people's life force or something and he can take it away. If he can take it away, maybe it can be given to others."

Sylar's eyes widened slightly and darted to the side as his mind quickly worked through the mechanics and implications. "Like telekinesis."

"Maybe…" She guessed in an encouraging tone. She didn't know how telekinesis worked, but if it in any way made sense to him, she was willing to go along with it. "I don't need to tell you how important Peter is to me…to all of us. Please," she implored him, "do this one thing."

"And?" He asked, his eyebrow arching slightly.

"And I will only hate you for just shy of eternity for what you did to me."

He seemed to contemplate the deal before giving a tight nod. "It's a start."