There's one more chapter after this one (author ducks various objects thrown telekinetically). It's already written, so you won't have to worry about my idiotic procrastination on that one.
Previously on Heroes (Home Fires Burning): Hiro and Claire manage to rescue Sasha from Sylar, but lose Hiro's sword to Sylar in the process. Sylar picks it up and seems quite happy about it. Meanwhile, Peter, Phoebe, and Nathan sneak away from the thugs, still hunting for Sylar. When they finally confront him, Phoebe is horrified to notice elements from Peter's precognitive paintings coming true. Peter and Sylar face each other in a large room, and Sylar slams the door shut to keep out Nathan and Phoebe. Meanwhile, Claire, Hiro, and Noah come face to face with Sylar's henchmen. One of them starts to throw a grenade, so Hiro decides it's time to be a hero...
Chapter Twenty-Six (Violent Salvation: Part Two)
Phoebe and Nathan ran to the door, quickly looking through the little window. They could see Peter and Sylar, both still standing, facing each other, in the center of the larger room.
"What's all that machinery over there?" Phoebe asked the congressman.
"I don't know." Nathan shook his head. "I have a feeling it has to do with these people… This Company offshoot. They must have been using this mall as a base for a long time." Quickly, he grabbed the door handle and tugged. Nothing happened, and he swore. "We've got to get in there!" He began feeling around the edges of the door, sharp eyes narrowed in concentration.
"Oh my gosh! Nathan!" Phoebe's hands suddenly and convulsively latched onto his shoulder. "They're fighting! Hurry!"
"Peter, your foolhardy inclination for heroism has led you straight into my trap," Sylar said quietly, smoothly, his lips quirked in a smirk. "It ends for you today."
"I don't think so," said Peter confidently. "I've seen the future."
"So have I," said Sylar softly. Then, suddenly, he made a chopping motion with his hand.
Peter was knocked down, his body crashing roughly against the floor. Wincing, he climbed shakily back to his feet. "Is that all you got?" he called boldly to his enemy. Quickly, he threw both hands before him, using telekinesis to throw Sylar backward, slamming his enemy into one of the machines lining the walls.
Sylar collapsed to the ground with a grunt, Hiro's sword clattering to the floor from his hands.
Warily, Peter inched forward. As he moved toward Sylar, he became distracted by the strange machines. They looked like the pictures of old computers he had seen in history textbooks, supercomputers from the sixties and seventies. What was their purpose?
Suddenly, Sylar stirred.
Peter stopped walking, refocusing on Sylar. He gathered his strength, preparing another onslaught against his enemy.
And then Sylar moved, his speed surprising, ridiculously fast. But he was not moving toward Peter. His arm shot out, and his hand grasped a handle on one of the machines. Quickly, the villain jerked the handle downward and jumped to his feet, facing Peter with a grin.
Concentrating hard, Peter attempted to utilize Hiro's power and freeze time. To his shock and horror, nothing happened.
Sylar began to laugh. "I hope you realize, Peter, that without your powers, you are nothing."
Peter suddenly realized what Sylar had done. Somehow, those machines worked similarly to the metal bracelets. His eyes widened as he realized that he was caught in a trap. The entire room was blocking his powers. He cast an agonized look over his shoulder, his heart clenching when he saw Phoebe's wide, scared eyes through the glass. He turned around just in time to take a fist in the face from Sylar.
Time stood still for Hiro Nakamura.
The little Japanese hero made his way around two of the villains, pausing beside the largest, Bill, the man whom Hiro had locked in the women's restroom of the Holiday Inn. He reached up for the grenade in Bill's hand, then frowned as he realized that he was too short to reach it. He jumped up, grasping for the grenade, and still fell short.
Stepping back and crossing his arms with a sigh, Hiro assessed the situation. Somehow, he had to stop Bill from throwing that grenade. "Aha!" Hiro moved back to the villain's side and began tugging on his enemy's big, muscular arm. Slowly, inch by inch, the arm came down. By the time it was level with Hiro, the little hero's face was red and he was puffing and panting with exertion. "Very big, very strong, very bad man," Hiro muttered as he pried the grenade from Bill's hand. "But Hiro Nakamura is his match!"
Suddenly, Hiro realized that everyone was beginning to move again, their motions slow, but steadily speeding up. "I run out of time!" Hiro exclaimed to himself, looking around frantically as he wondered what to do with the grenade in his hands.
Rocking backward on his feet, pain shooting through his body, Peter came to the sickening realization that Sylar was toying with him. The villain had never even bothered to pick up the sword. It seemed he was content to beat Peter to death with his fists.
Weakly, Peter attempted to block a blow aimed for his stomach. Attempted. And failed. The wind forced out of him, he collapsed to his knees, wrapping his arms protectively around his body.
"I can see that you appreciate my combat ability," Sylar chuckled, circling his enemy. "My new allies and I made it a goal to learn various forms of martial art. They never seem to grow tired of arming me with weapons I will one day use against them."
Peter collapsed forward on his hands, gasping for breath. He was suddenly scared. Why was it so hard to breath? Why could he taste blood? You're a nurse, Peter. Figure it out. And while you're at it, try to actually kick Sylar's butt.
"What's the matter, Peter?" Sylar asked, bending over him. "Does it hurt?"
Ignoring the raging pain in his body and the metallic taste of blood, Peter lifted his head. "Yeah. It hurts," he panted. His lips quirked in a bloody grin. "Kind of like this." With everything he had left, he launched himself at Sylar, grabbing his enemy by the legs and jerking him to the ground.
Sylar's head smacked the cement floor with a satisfying crack, spurring Peter to his feet. Clutching his aching ribs, Peter rushed across the room to the machines. He quickly located the handle Sylar had pulled down, shoving it back up. Instantly, he felt the difference as his body began to heal itself, inside out. Groaning from the pain of ribs popping back into place, he slid to the ground, leaning his head back against one of the machines, relishing as the feel of painless breathing as it returned, closing his tired eyes.
"Get up, Petrelli," came an all-too-familiar voice. "I'm not through with you yet."
Phoebe watched in horror as Peter and Sylar proceeded to sling each other around the room with their powers. Soon, they were ripping objects off the walls and flinging them at each other. Both were bloodied and battered. It was small comfort to Phoebe that Peter could heal himself. She had realized very quickly that the machines in that accursed room could block his powers.
Beside her at the door, Nathan was beating himself up inside. His little brother was getting beat up, quite literally, right in front of him and he could do nothing. Nothing! You're useless, Petrelli. Utterly useless. "We have to do something," he muttered, more to himself than to Phoebe.
But Phoebe heard him. "You're right, Nathan." She winced as Sylar telekinetically tossed a large telephone right into Peter's face, and Peter staggered backward, blood pouring from his nose. "Something. Anything." She stood back from the door. "Nathan. Get back."
"What are you doing?" he asked quickly, moving back from the door.
"What I should have done in the first place. I'm such an idiot." She held her hands in front of her and jerked hard with her will. The door shuddered, but remained closed.
"Come on, Phoebe!" Nathan encouraged. "Harder!"
Phoebe nodded, then used her power to yank on the door again. This time, with an nerve-scraping screech, the door swung open.
Inside the larger room, Peter, bleeding and bruised, heard the door opening. He flung telekinetic power at Sylar with all his might, knocking his enemy backward, then spun to face the door. "Phoebe, no!" he shouted as Phoebe and Nathan rushed toward the open door. Peter held out a bloody hand toward the door, willing it to shut.
As the door slammed shut, Phoebe wailed in fear. Before her very eyes, she saw Peter's sketch come to life--his bloody hand stretching toward the door which barricaded him from Nathan and Phoebe. And if that sketch came true… She flung her will harder on the door as the memory of Peter's seventh sketch came back to haunt her. To her surprise, the metal door began to cave in. Laughing hysterically, she continued to pummel the door with her power, her vision blurring and her breath coming in pants.
"Phoebe! Stop! Stop!" Nathan shouted.
"I can't! I have to break it down!" Phoebe cried in reply, her voice catching in an hysterical half-laugh, half-sob.
"Stop it now!" Nathan ordered, rushing to her side. He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. "You're killing yourself, so stop!"
Phoebe relinquished the power and stood staring up at Nathan, exhaustion, dizziness, and dread washing over her body. "We have to--we have to-- Peter--" She swallowed, panting, and nodded toward the door.
"You've bashed it so hard, I'm sure we could just kick it in," said Nathan quietly. She could tell he was trying to stay calm, but something in his eyes spoke of deep worry.
"What is it?" Phoebe asked, her words slurring slightly.
"Your nose is bleeding. Here." Nathan reached into his pocket and drew out a handkerchief, mopping gently at the blood under her nose. "If you kill yourself, how are you going to save Peter?"
Phoebe bit her lip. "I lost it, didn't I? I lost it." She shivered, then, her body shuddering violently. "Oh my gosh…"
"Stay with me, Phoebe." Nathan gave her a gentle shake. "We've got to stay calm if we're going to save him."
"I don't know if I can stay calm," Phoebe told him, a tear trickling down her cheek. "I'm so afraid, Nathan. I'm so afraid!"
"Everything's going to be fine," said Nathan, giving her shoulders a gently squeeze. "Now come on. No one is going to stop us from kicking that door in." He softly wiped the tear from her cheek and lifted her chin up so that she could not look away. "Peter needs us. We have to stay calm for him. Alright?"
Phoebe nodded and let him lead her by the hand, like a forlorn child, to the battered metal door. The sight what her panic had done made her wince. Well, at least good would come of it. She had made a way to get to Peter.
Just as they were preparing to push on the door, a loud bang rocked the basement, the walls shuddering. The sound of shattering glass could be heard in the distance.
Phoebe froze, clutching Nathan's arm. "What was that!?" she exclaimed nervously.
Time resumed for Hiro Nakamura.
And everyone else.
Hiro suddenly realized that he was standing in the middle of three very angry men, and they were all bigger than him.
"What did you do, little man?" one of them asked--not the big man, not the leader.
"It's kinda obvious, isn't it, Fred?" asked the leader, spinning on Fred, his gray coat swirling around him. "He tossed Bill's grenade."
"What did he blow up?" Fred asked the leader.
Another explosion sent a shudder through the mall.
"Where did you throw the grenade?" Bill, the big one, asked Hiro angrily.
Hiro took a step backward, only to bump into the leader. "I throw it in room back there, second door behind other door." Hiro pointed.
The three henchmen looked at each other, faces filled with horror, then looked back at Hiro.
"You little idiot," said the leader, a cold, calm anger coming over him. "You threw that grenade in the very room where we create experimental weapons. There's no telling what sort of flammable, explosive stuff is in that room."
Hiro blinked, not sure whether to be sorry. On the one hand, he had just blown up enemy supplies. On the other hand… He turned quickly to face Noah and Claire, who were warily observing the situation. "We must get out of here! Now!"
"You're not going anywhere," growled Bill, reaching toward Hiro.
"Hiro! Duck!" shouted Noah.
"Okay!" Hiro called, flinging himself toward the ground.
BAM!
Bill flew backward with a cry, landing on the floor, where he was still.
"I suggest you all stand back and let Mr. Nakamura come with us," said Noah calmly as smoke rose from the double barrels of his shotgun.
"Fine." The leader stepped back slowly, hands raised in front of him, motioning for Fred to do the same.
Hiro climbed shakily to his feet and hurried to join Claire and Noah across the hall. "What do we do now?" he asked.
Noah cocked the shotgun. "We get out of here."
"No!" Claire exclaimed, shaking her head emphatically. "We find the others!"
"We've got to hurry," Nathan said to Phoebe as they shoved and kicked the dented metal door. The scent of smoke was wafting into the room. "Someone's blowing things up back there."
Phoebe nodded, aiming a strong kick at the door. The metal shuddered, but the door remained on its hinges. "Nathan, maybe I should use my--"
"No!" Nathan exclaimed. "No," he repeated more quietly. He quickly flung his whole body against the door. Finally, it gave, crashing into the larger room with Nathan on top of it, the politician's eyes wide with pleasant surprise.
Phoebe quickly helped him to his feet, and the two of them stood there, staring at the sight before them.
Peter and Sylar were standing close, face to face, both of them stretching their arms out toward each other. From the looks on their faces, Phoebe decided that they were probably using Brad's pain power.
Peter suddenly noticed that Phoebe and Nathan were standing in the room. "Phoebe! Nathan! Get out of here!" he shouted, his voice tight with pain.
Phoebe shook her head. "Not until I do this." Stepping forward, she reached out with her power and flung Sylar backward, slamming him down to the ground. As soon as the villain hit the ground, she rushed to Peter's side. "Come on!" she cried, grabbing his hand.
"No! I have to end this," Peter insisted, jerking his hand from her grasp. "I have to stop him." He looked over her shoulder, meeting the eyes of his elder brother. "You know I have to do this, Nathan," he said quietly, steadily. "Get Phoebe out of here."
Nathan worked his jaw. "Peter…"
"Do it, Nathan!" Peter shouted.
"If anything happens to you--" Nathan started.
"If anything happens to me, take care of her," Peter insisted, his gaze intense. "Do you hear me, Nathan?"
"Peter!" Phoebe sobbed. "Don't do this."
Peter raised his hand. "I love you, Phoebe," he said softly. And his eyes said it, too.
Phoebe shouted protests as she was pushed backward toward Nathan by Peter's power. "Peter, stop it! You can't do it alone! Let me go!" Her shouts turned to a scream of despair, "Peter! LOOK OUT!" joining Nathan's cry of, "NOOOOOOOO!"
With everything he had, Peter practically threw Phoebe across the floor into Nathan's arms, then turned to face his destiny. He saw the blade flashing toward him and knew it was too late to move. He cried out in pain as the samurai sword ripped into his body, the agony jolting memories through his mind. The time I stepped off the building, and Nathan flew up to break my fall… Nathan coming to get me in Texas, once again at my side when I fell… Nathan flying me into the air when I was about to explode… Phoebe standing in the doorway of her hotel room, too excited at seeing me in person to move… Phoebe sitting across from me on my kitchen floor, her green eyes lit up with laughter… Phoebe kissing me in the alley… Nathan leaning on me when he was shot, trusting me… Phoebe's pulse beating in unison with mine…
Smiling calmly, Sylar twisted the blade, laughing softly as Peter gasped for painful breath.
Peter suddenly realized that only one other pain he had ever felt was as excruciating as this--and that was exploding. At least exploding was quick. If Sylar had rammed the sword all the way through, severing the spinal cord, that would have at least ended the pain. But no. Even that mercy Peter was denied.
Sylar stepped back from Peter, leaving the sword thrust in his body. The villain bowed theatrically, proudly, to Nathan and Phoebe, who stood clutching each other's arms, staring in horror. Then he turned and switched on the power-blocking machines with his telekinetic power, ramming the lever hard into the "on" position.
"Oh, Peter," Phoebe sobbed as the man she loved collapsed to his knees, clutching the sword that pierced him. She moved toward him, but Nathan jerked her back, holding her protectively close to him, his grasp desperate and convulsive, as if Phoebe was the only thing left to which he could cling.
"Peter," Nathan whispered. "Oh, God, Phoebe…" Tears began to run down his face, and he buried his face in Phoebe's hair.
"It's not over yet, Nathan," Phoebe whispered to the politician, her voice ragged with inner pain and anger. She gathered in a deep breath of air, gathered in her courage. "We can still save him."
Nathan nodded, lifting his head, eyes bright with tears. "You're right. We have to."
Slowly, they stepped apart from each other, turning to face Sylar, who stood gloating over Peter. The younger Petrelli was still on his knees, attempting to slowly pull the sword from his body.
It was much harder than it looked in the painting. The sword had gone through his abdomen on the left side, right under his ribcage. Any movement caused it to scrape torturously against the bottom rib. Maybe Sylar missed all of my organs. What's over there? The liver, I think. Maybe he missed it. Yeah, that's probably right. Sword's stuck between my stomach, my liver, and my lungs--didn't hit any of them. But as he tugged at the accursed thing, he began to wonder. He was hurting so badly that he was sure something had to be wrong…
"Come on, Phoebe," said Sylar, smiling gloatingly. "Don't you want to say good-bye?" His smile broadening, he lashed out with his foot, catching Peter in the ribs and knocking him to the ground.
Peter laid still on the floor, coughing hoarsely, his body curled around the sword that wounded him.
"This is the end for you, Peter," said Sylar quietly, intensely, bending down over his bloodied adversary. Grinning, he drew a knife from his pocket.
Thinking fast, Nathan ripped open Phoebe's backpack, nearly jerking her off balance. He quickly drew out a heavy flashlight, flinging it with all his might at Sylar.
Sylar yelled in pain and surprise as the flashlight struck his shoulder. He straightened, swinging around to face Nathan and Phoebe and raising the knife over his head.
And then, Peter was on his feet. Clenching his teeth, he grasped the handle of the sword and ripped with weapon from his body, crying out in pain as it came free. With a shout of anger, he thrust the blade toward Sylar. Sylar jumped back, eyes wide with shock, but he was too late, and the sword rammed through his chest.
Peter jerked the blade out of Sylar's body, pain blurring his vision as he watched the villain slide to the ground, eyes closed.
"Peter…"
Peter turned, swaying dizzily. He groaned involuntarily, quickly pressing a hand to his side, Hiro's sword clanging against the floor. "Phoebe…" He managed a weak smile. "We did it. We… We did it…" He took a step toward Phoebe and Nathan, then staggered as a violent, agonizing shudder shook his body.
"Phoebe, go shut off those machines," Nathan ordered, quickly taking charge of the situation. He moved swiftly to Peter's side, catching his little brother just as Peter's knees buckled.
Phoebe moved toward the Petrelli brothers, green eyes wide with fear.
"Do it NOW, Phoebe," Nathan commanded, gently kneeling on the floor and cradling his little brother to his chest.
Phoebe nodded mutely, then ran to the machines. Her eyes darted around for the lever she had seen Sylar pull. As soon as she spotted it, she gave it a shove. To her horror, the thing was jammed. "Nathan! It's stuck!" she cried. "I can't move it! I think Sylar jammed it on purpose!"
"Keep trying!" Nathan ordered. He looked down at his brother, his insides suddenly shaky, his throat burning with the temptation to break into hysterical sobs. "Pete… Pete… Can you hear me?"
Peter's eyes were almost closed, his mouth opened and gasping for air. "Nathan," he panted.
"I'm here, Pete. I'm here." The elder Petrelli gently stroked his brother's thick, dark hair. "Hang in there."
Peter squeezed his eyes shut as a spasm of pain jolted his body. A soft moan escaped his lips. "Is Sylar… Is Sylar dead?" he managed.
"I don't know," said Nathan, glancing with disgust at the fallen villain. "I hope so." He looked up at Phoebe, who was approaching them, a tear trickling down her cheek.
She shook her head, kneeling beside them. "I can't fix it. I can't." Rapidly, angrily, she swiped away the tear. "We have to get him out of here." Her expression softened as she reached to touch Peter's face.
"Phoebe," he murmured, his lips quirking crookedly.
"We're gonna get you out of here, Peter," she told him softly, bending to kiss his forehead. "No doubt about it."
"Come on, Pete," Nathan said, standing slowly and lifting Peter in his arms. His brother's limpness nearly scared the wits out of him, but he maintained control. "Hang in there for me."
The basement of Anderson Mall was on fire, smoke billowing through the corridors.
"My fault," Hiro muttered, shaking his head as he jogged along beside Noah and Claire. Oh well. At least he was still alive--and Claire and Noah, too. But the others… Plying Man, we are coming to save you! And Peter Petrelli and Phoebe Agnew, too!
This is it. This is for them.
(A/N: Thanks to all of you who are keeping up with this story! Your reviews are so encouraging! I sincerely apologize for being so slow at updating. The next chapter (and the final one) is complete and should be up tomorrow or Monday. And work on the sequel begins! It will answer a lot of questions left unanswered at the end of this story, such as, Where was Peter when he disappeared? And some of the other precog paintings start to come true.)