Welcome to the party, come on in and disappear.
You're feeling like a stranger, but all your friends are here.
Little lies and cracks, around your eyes and mouth.
Something's trying to get in, something's trying to get out…
It's okay to be a little broken; everybody's broken in this life.
It's okay to feel a little broken. Everybody's broken, you're alright.
It's just life.
Step into the deep end, make yourself at home.
When you wonder why you're breathing, know you're not alone.
It's so hard to believe, it's easier to doubt.
You're trying to hold in, but you're dying to scream out…
Take a look around, tell me what you see.
Is who you think you are who you wanna be?
Keep on going, eyes wide open.
Everybody's broken.
It took Peter longer than he expected to find his brother. He had thought that Gabriel would be somewhere close by Elle's room, just in case…but, after fifteen minutes of wandering up and down the tiled hallways proved fruitless, Peter gave up and asked a nurse for help. She immediately knew what he was talking about.
"Mr. Gray took little Noah down to daycare on the first floor—but I'm not sure where he went after that."
Peter asked for directions and then set off again, thanking the nurse for her help. He got on an elevator and found himself next to a young woman on crutches, a large cast on her leg. She smiled at him.
"Off duty or visiting?"
Peter frowned. "Pardon?"
"Well, you're obviously not sick or hurt, so that means you either work here and are off duty, or you're visiting someone. So which is it?"
"Uh-visiting."
"Really? That's funny. I would have guessed off duty. Most people are uncomfortable in hospitals, but you just seem like you belong here."
"Well…I'm a paramedic, back in New York."
She beamed. "That must be it. New York, huh? Long ways from here!"
Before Peter had a chance to reply, the elevator slid to a halt and the doors opened. "This is my stop," the young woman said cheerfully. "I hope whoever you're visiting gets better soon."
"Uh—you too," Peter called after her as she expertly navigated her way down the hall on her crutches. THen the doors slid shut, and Peter found himself alone, staring at his warped reflection in the dingy metal door. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that the man looking back at him was a complete stranger. His skin flushed, and all of a sudden he couldn't breathe. The air felt thick, like he was trying to pump molasses through his lungs. The tinny sound of the elevator music grated in his ears, and he had the distinct impression that the walls of the elevator were creeping in on him. He panicked, his throat seizing up, and his heart was beating so hard he felt like his chest would explode. After what seemed like a lifetime, but in reality couldn't have been longer than a minute, the doors opened. Peter lunged out into the hallway, shaking, and took several deep breaths of cool air. Ignoring the stares of people walking by, Peter leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning.
Gradually his heartbeat returned to normal, and he wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.
What the hell was that? he asked himself. He had never been claustrophobic before. Not even a little bit. So…what had just happened?
He heard children laughing from somewhere close by and shook his head, trying to clear it. Whatever that had been, he didn't have time to worry about it now. He had to find Gabriel.
The daycare center was at full capacity. The two women in charge seemed like they were in over their heads, trying to keep the dozens of hyper, screaming children under control. Peter stood in the doorway, debating with himself over whether or not he wanted to bother the frazzled nurses. He saw Noah sitting in the back of the room, nudging a few brightly colored blocks half-heartedly, but Gabriel was nowhere in sight.
Then he noticed something that didn't belong, not here. He knew the smells of the hospital—industrial cleaner, latex gloves, and, in the ER, the metallic tang of human blood. But this…
Peter realized, suddenly, where Gabriel must have gone. With a quick glance at Noah to reassure himself that his nephew was all right, Peter followed the smell down the hall.
With the expertise that only long years of practice could bring, Peter dodged and wove through the milling crowd, trying to keep out of the way of the rushing doctors, nurses and paramedics. Glancing at a few signs to guide his steps, he eventually found himself standing in front of an automatic sliding glass door. He stepped through, and the faint smell of flowers that he had been following surrounded him in a rush.
Peter had never seen a hospital with a garden before, but it struck him as a brilliant idea. The aroma of the flowers was soothing, and the bright colors were cheerful and pleasant. But he didn't spend too long musing over the benefits of the garden. Instead, he walked over to a bench nestled in the midst of a cluster of rose bushes and sat down next to his brother.
"I've been looking for you, Gabriel," he said quietly.
Gabriel glanced at him.
"Peter, you look terrible. Are you okay?"
It was almost enough to make Peter laugh. Gabriel's face was completely ashen, except for his eyes, which were red and bloodshot, with heavy bags under them. His hair was matted and tangled, and he looked as though he hadn't shaved in a week.
"I'm fine," Peter lied, pushing his strange spell in the elevator to the back of his mind.
Gabriel looked away.
"I thought maybe you weren't coming."
"Don't be stupid," Peter chided gently. Gabriel's lips twitched up into what was almost a smile, but then his face fell and his eyes glazed over.
Peter sighed. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. It took a while to convince Sandra to let Claire come with me."
Gabriel sat up straight, his eyes widening in surprise. "Claire's…here?" he whispered, looking around the garden quickly.
"Not here here. I left her with Elle. They…had a lot to talk about."
Gabriel nodded mutely. Then his face flushed red and tears spilled out of his eyes, swollen from crying too much already. He buried his face in his hands, a dry sob escaping his throat.
"God…Pete…I don't know what I'm going to do!"
Peter winced, his head spinning for a moment, and he squeezed his brother's shoulder in what he knew was a futile gesture of reassurance.
"Do the doctors…"
"They said 'there's nothing we can do.' Just like that. Nothing they can do!" Gabriel raged, his fists clenched so tightly that Peter saw blood leaking out between his white fingers. "They're just going to let her…" He shook his head savagely, unable to finish his sentence.
"But isn't there anything else…" Peter started to say, glancing around to make sure there was no one close by to overhear them. "I mean…didn't you tell me that you healed her once, with your blood?"
"Don't you think I would have tried that already?" Gabriel snapped. "It didn't work. I don't know why. Maybe because it's a mutation of her cells, and not an actual injury or a foreign agent…I don't know! There's nothing that I can do to…God, Peter, there's nothing I can do! I've never felt to…helpless!"
Peter tightened his grip on Gabriel's shaking shoulder. "I know how you feel," he murmured. "After feeling so powerful for so long…"
"All the stupid things I can do, but I can't even keep my wife from…" He closed his eyes and shook his head.
"How am I supposed to live without her?" he whispered hoarsely. "Pete…I don't know if I can…"
"Stop it," Peter said firmly, both to reassure Gabriel and to quell his own rising feeling of panic. "She's not…she could still…" He sighed. "No matter what happens, Gabriel, you have to remember that you're not going to be alone. You have me, you have Noah…"
Gabriel nodded, his throat too tight to speak.
"Is there…anything I can do to help out?"
"Just having you here…"
"I know, Gabriel. But I really mean it. What can I do to help?"
Gabriel looked as if he was about to say something, but then he shook his head.
"What?" Peter asked. "What were you going to say?"
"I can't," Gabriel said. "I…it's…never mind."
"Gabriel."
His shoulders slumped and he sighed, resigned. "It's just…Elle and I never got any health insurance…and we never really had much money in the bank to start with…"
"You need help with the hospital bills?"
Gabriel nodded. "I didn't want to ask…"
Peter shook his head.
"I'll take care of it. In the meantime, why don't we pick up Noah and go back to the room? Claire and Elle might be ready for some company by now."
Gabriel hesitated, his hand an inch from the doorknob.
Peter watched him for a moment and then gave him an encouraging push.
"Go on. I'll be in in a minute. I just have to make a quick phone call. Go inside."
Gabriel nodded, but still paused off for a few more long moments before closing his fingers around the cold metal handle. He took a deep breath, balancing a dozing Noah on his hip, and then he stepped through the door.
He hadn't seen Claire in a long, long time, but she didn't look all that different. A little older, yes, but she had the same blonde hair that was like Elle's, but also different; the same little girl features that still retained their youthfulness, no matter how many years passed; and the same bright eyes that flashed with an all-too-familiar hatred when she turned and saw him walking into the room.
Elle smiled wearily. "There you are. I wondered what was keeping you."
"Sorry," he mumbled, turning his eyes away from Claire's withering stare. "I just…needed a little air."
Noah stirred at the sound of his voice and looked around, blinking sleepy eyes. He squirmed in Gabriel's arms, uttering a slurred syllable that sounded vaguely reminiscent of "down." Gabriel lowered him to the floor, and Noah immediately scampered across the room to Claire and climbed up into her lap.
"Hi!" he exclaimed happily. "Who are you?"
"Noah!" Elle chided. "You shouldn't—"
"No, it's okay," Claire said, a smile crossing her face. "I'm Claire. It's nice to meet you…wait, Noah?"
She glanced over at Gabriel before leaning in towards Elle. "Noah? Like, my dad, Noah?"
"Um…" Elle said, smiling sheepishly at Gabriel. "Did I…forget to mention that?"
"Yeah, you kinda did," Claire grumbled.
Elle chuckled. "Sorry." Then she gave Gabriel a pointed stare. "Honey…do you have anything you'd like to say to Claire?"
The atmosphere in the room grew uncomfortably tense. Claire clenched her jaw and turned away.
"Uh…I don't think…" Gabriel started to say, but then Claire slid Noah out of her lap and stood up.
"Hallway," she snapped, walking past him and out the door. Gabriel crossed the room to squeeze Elle's hand and kiss her briefly. Then he followed Claire outside.
Before he could say a word, Claire held up her hand, her body radiating a barely suppressed fury.
"I don't care what you're going to say, I don't want to hear it," she whispered, aware of the nurse's station at the end of the hall. She wanted to hit him, to hit him again and again and again until he stopped moving—but there was another part of her that was confused. The man standing in front of her was not the Sylar she had known. This man was broken, exhausted…Claire felt a surge of pity for him, even as she tried to hold on to her rage. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"Elle told me…a lot of things. About you."
She paused and Gabriel fidgeted, unsure if she was expecting some kind of a reply. Then she sighed.
"I don't know if I could ever really…forgive you…for all the things you…"
"Claire—"
"No, let me finish," she said, her voice shaking with anger. "I have to…" Her fists clenched and she turned away for a minute, her shoulders trembling. After she had composed herself, she turned back around. Gabriel was surprised to see tears on her face.
"I've hated you for years," she whispered, as tears streamed from her eyes. "There've been times when that hatred…kept me going. It's been there so long…I'm afraid to let go of it, because I don't know…I don't know what'll be there when it's gone. But…I think I understand, now, at least a little, why you are…why you were the way that you…" She fumbled over her words and lapsed into silence for a moment. Gabriel waited patiently as she collected herself.
"Elle told me what my father did to you," she said quietly. "And because of that…because of what he did…and because of Elle, and your son…I'm giving you a second chance." The words came out in a rush, and as soon as she said them Claire felt a pressure in her chest melt away. Suddenly light headed, she sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, and buried her face in her knees.
Gabriel crouched next to her and clenched his hand against the urge to reach out and touch her shoulder. He didn't think she was here yet.
"Thank you, Claire," he murmured, not sure if she was listening. He was surprised when she lifted her head and favored him with a teary smile.
"So…did you really name your son after my dad?"
He couldn't help but grin.
"Yeah, we did," he said, sinking to the ground next to her and stretching out his long legs.
Claire shook her head.
"You're completely insane. You know that, right?"
He laughed.
"You've got me there."
Peter waited as the phone rang, drumming his fingers impatiently on the top of the payphone. He glanced at his watch. He knew she would have her phone on her…but would she answer? He gnawed at his lip, listening to the rings on the other end of the line, and his mind began to wander. He wondered briefly how Claire and Gabriel were getting along. But then his episode in the elevator sprang up into his mind. He remembered the feeling of panic that had overcome him and frowned. What could have possibly caused that? And the few times since then, that he had felt it creeping up on him again…what was wrong with him?
The phone on the other end stopped ringing, and Peter heard a familiar stern voice.
"Hello? Who is this?"
He sighed in relief. "It's me, Mom," he said quietly.
"Peter! What a pleasant surprise. I didn't recognize the phone number. Where are you?"
"I…it's kind of hard to explain," Peter said. "I'm at a hospital, so I couldn't use my cell phone."
"A hospital? Peter, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Mom. Listen, you may want to sit down."
There was a pause. "Peter, what is going on?" Angela Petrelli asked, her voice tight.
"Mom, I'm here with Claire, and Elle…and Gabriel."
He heard a rustle and a soft thud that he recognized as the sound of his mother sitting down heavily.
"You…I thought he was dead."
"So did I," Peter said. "Until he saved me from Arthur a few years back."
He heard a sharp intake of breath.
"That was Sylar? Who killed Arthur?"
"Gabriel," Peter corrected her gently. "Mom, he's changed. He's got a family now." Peter felt a little like a broken record. He wondered for a moment how often he had repeated those words over the last few days. "That's…actually why I'm calling. See…Elle and Gabriel got married a few years back, and she…she's sick. She's here in the hospital, and they don't have money to pay the bills. And since Gabriel is my brother, that makes her my sister in law, and your daughter in law…so I thought…"
"He's not your brother, Peter."
Peter frowned.
"What?"
"That was a lie that I told him, Peter, to try and control him. I'm not proud of what I did, but I needed him to help me fight Arthur. He is not family."
Peter closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the top of the payphone. He was silent for a long time.
Finally, Angela's voice filtered through the phone.
"Peter? Are you still there?"
He opened his eyes and clenched his fist around the receiver.
"You're paying the bills, Mom," he said firmly. "After everything you've put all of us through, you owe me that much."
He waited a long time for Angela to respond.
"All right, Peter," she said at last. "Send me the bill. I'll take care of it."
Peter thanked her brusquely and hung up the phone, his head spinning.
Gabriel…wasn't his brother?
It had all been a lie?
He walked back to Elle's room in a daze. He felt like the world had been pulled out from under his feet. Gabriel wasn't his brother. That changed everything, didn't it?
He stopped.
At the other end of the hall, Claire and Gabriel were sitting against the wall, laughing hysterically, tears streaming down both their cheeks. He felt his heart swell.
No, he realized. He was wrong. It didn't change anything—not a damn thing. He suddenly understood that it didn't matter to him whether his mother said Gabriel was his brother or not. He had spent the last few years of his life believing they were brothers with all his heart—and now, no matter what anyone else told him, Peter knew that it was true. Gabriel was his brother. Maybe not in blood, but everywhere that mattered.
He smiled, and hurried down the hall towards his family, curious to find out just what was so damn funny.
Heartfelt apologies about the insane delay in this update. Tough couple of months, and I found Claire and Gabriel's exchange extremely hard to write. But I promise that this time I will be more efficient. I'm expecting the story to have about three more chapters, and that should be it. So sorry again, and look for more updates soon!