8. Mutual Enemies
Peter hadn't been in New York for months. After he'd recovered, he'd scoured the harbor looking for any sign of Nathan, but with his powers out of control it wasn't as if he could conduct his search unnoticed, or safely. Now that he had some degree of focus, he could roam New York invisibly, and not worry about being seen by anyone.
It was evening now, and he was in Kirby Plaza, watching pedestrians walk by. It was a little cathartic, being back home, sitting outside and just people watching, like he used to do during lunch breaks back when he was working. He'd always observe people, what they did, who they were talking to, and kind of try to figure out how they were doing. There wasn't any actual interaction, but Peter just enjoyed the observation. He decided he'd just do this and rest a while before setting off to look into Professor Suresh's whereabouts once again.
Presently he was watching a family sitting at a table, where two little boys were hunched over, reading a comic book together. They kept pointing out favorite panels to each other and talking animatedly; it made Peter smile and made him miss childhood. Specifically, it brought to mind the memory of Nathan smacking him repeatedly in the back of the head with a rolled up issue of X-Men once he'd discovered Peter's little toothbrush prank.
Peter half wanted to come over and ask the kids what they were reading. Apparently someone else had the same idea, because the boys looked over at the man who had just called at them.
It was a happy, bespectacled Japanese man, toting a samurai sword on his back.
He didn't even have to look twice. Jumping up immediately, Peter sprinted over, dropping his invisibility. "Hiro!" he yelled excitedly. "Over here, Hiro!!"
Hiro's jaw dropped. "Peter Petrelli!" he shouted, running away from the two boys.
Peter came over, giving Hiro a welcoming hug. It was the first time he had ever done so, but he honestly couldn't think of a better way to say hello. Hiro returned the sentiment, shouting, "You're alive! You're alive!"
"So are you!" said Peter, withdrawing with a happy grin. "Hiro, where've you been? Where'd you go?"
"Japan, 1671!" Hiro answered. "I came back a few days ago, and I started looking for you, Peter Petrelli. Where did you go? And where is Flying Man?"
It took a moment for him to figure out whom Hiro was talking about. "Wait, Nathan? I've been looking for him for months, I dunno where he is. Are you looking for him too?"
"Yes!" Hiro exclaimed, and it looked like he was going to give him a salute. "It is my mission, to find you and Nathan Petrelli! So I must follow you in your search!"
Peter was totally floored. Within days of arriving back in New York he now had an ally, someone just as committed to finding his brother as he was. "We'll look for him together, Hiro," he said determinedly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find Nathan, don't worry."
"Screw Nathan," came a voice from behind Peter. Hiro saw him twist around, and suddenly, he vanished, like a ghost.
"Uh…Peter Petrelli?" he said, now extremely confused. "Peter Petrelli?"
Peter, meanwhile, was being held up by the collar, looking into the irate eyes of the invisible man himself. "Claude?"
"Well, give the man a medal!" he exclaimed dryly. "You and I need to talk, Petrelli."
"Peter Petrelli…?" Hiro continued to repeat, certain he had heard Peter's voice but unable to locate the rest of him. "Peter-"
"—Look, you mind dropping the lost sheep impression for a bit?" Claude asked, although he wasn't courteous enough to rematerialize while asking. "We're having a conversation here."
"But who-"
Growing impatient by the second, Claude barked out something in Japanese to Hiro, who quickly silenced himself and looked down at the ground, standing absolutely still.
"Hold on, you speak Japanese?" Peter asked.
"Oh, my deep dark secret revealed," said Claude sardonically. "You used to change old guys' bedpans, it wasn't as if you went around advertising. But that's beside the point. Look, I almost got killed the other day 'cause of you, and I'd like to know why."
"What? Claude, I haven't seen you since you ditched me, why would I try to kill-"
"—I said 'because of you,' not, 'because you tried to bore me to death with another lecture on love and the earth and centrifugal motion.' Now tell me, why the hell did a man try to gut my head and happen to mention you whilst doing so, eh?"
Peter's eyes widened. "That…that was Sylar!"
Hiro too, looked alarmed at Peter's mention of the name. "Sylar…?"
"What, lanky bloke, bushy brows, unbelievable propensity to talk like a droning cult leader?" Claude asked.
"He's been killing people like us," Peter explained, still unable to believe that Sylar had almost taken Claude's brain. "He's the telekinetic guy I told you about…and he's kind of like me," he said reluctantly, "only he has to cut open your head to get your ability."
Claude squinted at Peter, actually stunned. Realizing that he was still holding the kid threateningly, he let go of his collar. "So he's a murderer," he mused. "A super-powered Jack the Ripper…hmm, can't say he's very original. Why didn't you kill him then?" But before Peter could answer, he added, "Or were you too busy exploding?" The last word was spoken with a great deal of bitter derision.
Peter couldn't control himself this time. He was about to counter with an enraged defense, but Hiro piped in loudly, answering Claude's first question instead. "But I did kill him!" Hiro insisted, and the apparent futility of his efforts was starting to drive him mad. "I stabbed him through the heart," he grabbed his sheathed sword and made a swift jabbing motion, "Yatta!! You see? I saw him die!! He cannot be alive!"
Now the Englishman stared openly at the excitable Japanese guy, finding himself wondering where exactly Peter had met up with this character. But he realized that the situation probably looked even stranger to on-lookers, because he and Peter were still very much invisible, while the Japanese guy wasn't, and was still yelling at them and miming with his sword as if they were. "Look, I think we ought to go talk somewhere private about this," he suggested.
"Why?" asked Hiro.
"This information's sensitive," Claude explained, putting his hand on Hiro's shoulder and getting the distinct feeling that he wasn't going to enjoy hanging out with these two.
Mr. Bennet was on the phone, glasses off as he rubbed his eyes. He was not supposed to be having this conversation again, and he should never have had the first one at all.
There was a reason they didn't move to Ohio right after the explosion. Destroying the Company was an extensive and arduous undertaking, and it didn't stop with simply disarming the organization of its tracking systems. And because that task had resulted in casualties—Hana, Ted, and very nearly Matt—he'd made sure that the Company itself would be completely cut off from its lifeblood, its two essential components: information and finances. This being the twentieth century, the task was easily accomplished with the help of Micah Sanders once they found a way to access the Company's intranet system and accounts. When all was said and done, Bennet then covered tracks, and ensured that there would be no reprisal on his family, the Parkmans, or the Sanderses.
Yet now, now it looked as if it had been inevitable all along.
He was about as pissed at himself as the man on the other line was. "I understand your situation, DL," he insisted, "and I completely sympathize, but for now, this is the best I can do-"
"—I could've figured that we had to skip town without your help," DL said angrily. "I just need you to tell me where I can keep Micah completely safe while I find the bastards who kidnapped my wife."
"I'm telling you, you can't do that, the Company will kill you."
"And what about Niki?" he yelled. "I'm supposed to run away while they kill her too? As a matter of fact, how do we even know that it's the same people?"
"You said it yourself, taser guns and a nighttime kidnapping. It's standard operating procedure; they did it just to let us know that it's them."
DL was silent for a few moments as he soaked this revelation in. "So if Linderman's people are still alive, then I guess you screwed up, Bennet."
He sighed, looking at the ground resignedly. "I did. And I will do something about your wife, you have my word on that. But it's vital that you do not take action right now. We don't know how strong they are yet, or how re-established everything is."
Silence answered him. "DL?"
"Fine." he heard at last. "So for now Micah and I are just gonna go to that cop in Los Angeles?"
"Yes. Take the back roads, get a new car somewhere along the way, and find another cell phone. I spoke to Parkman earlier; he's in the same situation you're in right now, so call me back in two hours and I'll give you his location then." Bennet paused, trying to make sure he had given him all the necessary instructions. "You got a gun?"
"You know I'm not taking any chances," he answered shortly.
"Good. I'll call you if something comes up, otherwise, do not divert from the plan." He hung up and quickly strode over to his office, his mind already running through details and formulating a counterstrategy. It had to be a counterstrategy; if the Company had found and gone after both the Parkman and Sanders clans in the same day, then someone was sure as hell already in the process of striking his household as well.
Something caught his eye once he got to the office. One of the drawers in the filing cabinet was about a centimeter ajar. He looked inside, but nothing was out of place. While considering the peculiar clue—as insignificant as it might've looked, it was a clue, nonetheless—he happened to glance out the window into the backyard. Comprehension struck him immediately.
Soon he had opened another drawer, and started to prepare a taser gun.
Matt wasn't supposed to be here, back at his home. He was supposed to be driving Janice and Molly out of town, making a clean getaway from the Company. But Molly was starting to get sick, and right now, the only place they could get more of Mohinder's antibodies was back at the house.
Bennet would've called him an idiot, for not planning ahead. And it was just plain stupidity to be back here at all, especially since his only backup—Audrey—hadn't picked up the five times he called her in the past hour. But given all this, Matt couldn't turn back now. Molly's old words, like a mantra from a dream, echoed too much in his ears for him to even consider doing so.
"Don't die, Officer Parkman, you're my hero."
I don't want to die, but I'd be a pretty awful hero if I didn't do this, Molly, Matt thought to himself as he approached his house, mere yards away now. In his hand he clutched a gardener's hand shovel; it was the best weapon he could find after leaving his gun with his wife in the mini-van, for protection. Scanning the neighborhood, he noticed that all of the cars parked on the street or in driveways belonged to his neighbors. Still, he didn't expect Company people to make it that obvious.
He decided to enter through the back, carefully opening the back gate and hiding behind one wall of his house, positioning himself so he could see anyone exiting the back porch. Two different voices caught in his mind, those of two men. That meant there were two people in the house. They were talking to each other right when he perceived them, but they decided to split up after a few moments. The one still downstairs, the one with a deeper voice, was surveying the living room, the room he was standing right next to.
Inhaling deeply, Matt tried to clear his anxiety. His nerves were shot, but he had to think. Mohinder's cooler was upstairs; it was no use running up there and trying to lug the whole thing down. But there was a pack of antibodies sitting in the refrigerator, enough to last for three days, maybe a little longer. It would have to do for now.
There were two back doors, one near by the living room and one in the kitchen, but the latter was on the other side of the yard. Getting there without being seen from the living room window was impossible, so Matt had to rely on the thoughts he caught.
—The guy wouldn't be dumb enough to come back home. I swear, if Candice puts us on another dumb errand ever again, I'm sticking it to that bitch…
Matt snorted. These two were lower-level flunkies, he was guessing, and they hadn't even expected him to come back. So that meant they were off-guard, right? He listened awhile longer.
Who paints their walls taupe, anyway? The Motel 6 has taupe walls, why would you want…in…own home…
The head voice drifted away as Matt hurried across the yard, ducking behind the lower wall of his porch. The kitchen door was only a few feet away now…
…Wonder if there's anything in the fridge…
"Dammit," Matt cursed. The guy was coming his way, and would see him once he was close enough to the big windows in the breakfast nook. He needed a diversion…he seized the closest thing he could find, a garden rock, and hurled it across the hard. It hit some chimes that hung in the trees, creating a loud enough clatter to attract the intruder's attention. Matt could hear the thoughts fading away; the guy had returned to the living room, heading for the back door.
This was his chance. He ran up to the kitchen door, opened it slowly, and crept in. Hurrying up to the fridge, he grabbed a portable cooler, put the antibodies in, shoveled ice over the packet-
Click.
"Officer Parkman, I presume?" came the voice from behind.
Dammit. Why did they always do that?
"Don't think we know to handle ourselves around telepaths?" asked the man pushing his gun into Matt's neck. "You're dumber than I thought, Parkman."
"I'm aware," Matt sighed.
"Still…taupe walls? Heh. Well, you know the drill, hands up, turn around."
He obeyed, the mini-cooler still held in left hand. Matt saw the man face to face now; he was a tall, stout young guy with fair hair and a triumphant gaze. The man snatched the hand shovel from his right hand, tossing it to the counter with a laugh. "What is this, a garden tool? What were you gonna do, weed us out of-"
Suddenly, the phone rang, and Matt seized the opportunity to lunge at the guy, striking his arm upward into the air. Then he head butted him, because it was the first thing that came to mind and he lacked any real combat strategy. Luckily, it wasn't such a bad tactic once Matt actually executed it, because it sent the guy falling, and he landed on the floor in a dizzy stupor.
"Noel?" came the partner's voice from upstairs. "What's going on down there?"
His head was killing him, but Matt wasted no time. He took the gun away from his dazed assailant—Noel, apparently—and scrambled towards the door with the cooler. Glancing quickly at the still ringing phone, he couldn't help but grin at the caller ID. It was Audrey Hansen's number, thank god.
In a few seconds he was tearing down the street, and soon his mini-van came into view, Janice and Molly safe and waiting inside. Matt knew that he'd been incredibly stupid, but at the same time he was also incredibly lucky. For his family's sake, he knew he'd have to work on smarter ways of staying safe, but still, there was something to be said for knowing FBI agents with a magnificent sense of timing.
It was a little late in the evening, but Claire was too content to care as she sat out in the backyard with Rodrigo, sipping lemonade and listening to his usually strange observations.
"So you're saying that you've never seen the original Power Rangers," Rodrigo said disbelievingly.
"No, I haven't! What's the big deal?"
Rodrigo shook his head. "Jodi Petersen, I'm sorry to tell you this, but you've been diagnosed with a deprived childhood. You have all the symptoms: bad memory of awesome Megazord fights, inability to perform the Morphin' Time sequence, overall lameness…What?" He received a glare for reciting that last symptom. The back door opened just then, and Mr. Bennet came out, walking towards them. "Oh, heya, Mr. P." He greeted. "Me and Jodi were just talking—EURGHH!"
The poor boy didn't even have time to react before Claire's father pulled out the taser gun from behind and shot it right at Rodrigo's neck with rapid accuracy.
"Rodrigo!" Claire yelled, getting up, but her father halted her with his free arm. "Dad! What are you-"
"Who have you been talking to?" Bennet asked the writhing boy, with a manner conveying nothing less of cold professionalism. "Who sent you here?"
"Dad, this is Rodrigo!" Claire pleaded, in absolute disbelief that her nightmares had come true, and that her dad was actually interrogating her would-be boyfriend. "He's my friend, I told you about him!"
"Claire," he looked her in the eye, very much aware that he was using her real name in front of the boy, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but this friend of yours has been spying on us."
"That isn't possible!" she yelled openly at him, furious. "He asked me to the Spring Dance yesterday! Dad I can't believe you, you're…you're being paranoid!"
He focused on Rodrigo now, trying not to allow Claire to distract his questioning. "That was a very convenient method of getting into the house, asking my daughter to a dance. But I think you're going to want to tell me who sent you here, right now."
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Rodrigo shouted from the ground. "You're mistaking me for—GAHH!" The taser went off again, and the teenager thrashed around in pain.
"I need a name, not the standard alibi they gave you."
Claire couldn't take much more of this. "Dad, stop!" she yelled, reaching for the gun, but he was still strong enough to hold her off. "You're hurting him!"
"Honey, because of this boy-"
"Rodrigo has done nothing! Give me the-"
"—It was Candice!" Rodrigo finally screamed, the pain causing tears to well in his eyes. "Her name's Candice! No last name, that's all she gave me, okay?!"
Claire blinked for a few silent seconds, unable to breathe.
Something tightened in her chest, like everything inside spontaneously twisted and knotted itself into a taut, aching mess right when she heard those words. It was familiar too, and just as abrupt in coming as the last time her world unexpectedly collapsed into itself.
She stood motionless as her father sighed, releasing the trigger and dropping the taser gun to his side, the prods detaching from Rodrigo's neck. "That's all she needed to give you," he told the boy. He looked over at his unmoving daughter, deeply apologetic but unable to express more empathy under the present circumstances.
"So I was right," he said, turning back to Rodrigo, "the Company is back in business. But how did Candice find you? And why did she recruit you to spy on us?"
"She came up to me after school one day, and said she knew about me, and my sister and mother too!" he cried, panting heavily. "She told me that if we wanted to, to…to keep the family together, I'd have to work for them! Look, I didn't want to do this, okay, but I had no choice!"
"Wait," Claire said suddenly, but still quiet, "what do you mean, they knew about you?"
"I'm special." He looked into her hurt eyes, and added, "Just like you, Claire Bennet."
She would've yelled something hateful at Rodrigo, but the porch lights suddenly flickered off, as well as those in the house and the surrounding homes. They stood in near-complete darkness now. "What-what's going on?" she managed to ask.
"They're here," said Bennet, hushed and serious, "it's a blackout tactic, they've cut off the power. Okay…Claire, honey," he knelt down and faced her in the moonlight. "I know all of this is a lot to process right now, and I'm very very sorry, but I'm going to need you to focus and follow my instructions. Go inside, have Mom and Lyle help you barricade all of the doors, and get the emergency kit from my office. And call Peter, right away. Can you do that?"
Claire nodded, making a visible effort to control the inner turmoil of emotions inside. Bennet saw her take one last hateful glance at the boy on the ground.
"As for this little bastard," he continued, snatching Rodrigo up by the collar, "apparently you're not going to give up what it is that made the Company interested enough to recruit you, but I'm not allowing them to keep it any longer. You're coming with us."
"It ain't a cozy café," Claude commented, surveying the dingy alley he'd picked for them to chat. "But it's private. Save for the rats, of course. And drunks. And the occasional dead body, but you get used to the smell once-"
"—So you say Sylar is alive?!" asked Hiro, apparently impervious to any form of dry humor.
"You know, I don't even know your name, much less why you're hanging out with Fido here," he pointed out, nodding towards Peter.
Peter rolled his eyes, but he quickly took up the formalities. "Hiro, this is Claude, he can turn invisible. Claude, this is my friend Hiro. He can bend time and space."
Claude stared. "…Say what?"
"I travel through time, and I can freeze it and teleport from place to place," Hiro explained, although his impatience hampered his usual enthusiasm. "What about Sylar?"
Unfortunately, his explanation met with growing skepticism. "Hold on," he said, openly staring, "you're trying to tell me that you can pop up anywhere in time?" Hiro nodded. "So you can go visit Charles Dickens, then? Or go and watch the end or the world?"
"Yes, I can," answered Hiro, who was actually starting to get irritated. Claude laughed, further prompting Hiro's growing dislike.
"Listen," said Claude, "I've seen some very fine abilities in my time, even one or two…well, ungodly ones…but that has got to be absolute bunk."
"I don't care if you think I am a liar!" Hiro yelled. "Please, you must tell me, where is Sylar?!"
"Sorry, but I don't know. The man tried to kill me, I wasn't about to-" Peter's phone rang, interrupting Claude mid-sentence. "…Why are you carrying a cell phone? Aren't you supposed to be dead to the world? Who the hell's calling you?"
"Family," Peter said absently, recognizing Claire's number on the ID. "Hello? …Whoa, slow down, slow down. What's going on?" Claire was frantic and breathless, but she was able to tell him about the Company and its current invasion of her household. Claude and Hiro watched Peter's expression morph into an almost equal trepidation, although he put some effort into sounding calm and resolute in his response to the distress call.
"Okay, okay, just stay calm!" He told her. "Just gimme a few minutes…Hold on till then, okay?" He hung up. "Hiro, I need you to teleport me to Dayton, Ohio," he instructed.
Hiro gave him a blank stare, while Claude had just about given up on contesting all the bullshit he'd heard from these two. "Um, where…?" asked Hiro, feeling a little befuddled with the odd change in conversation topic.
"Dayton, Ohio," said Peter, pulling out a used visitor's pamphlet and city map from his jacket. "Ohio's like three states over, and Dayton's right here." He pointed out the city on the map. "Can you teleport that far?"
"You're really serious, then?" Claude interjected. "You talk as if Ohio's the burrough up the street. Does that mean this man really can teleport?"
"Only one way for you to be sure, am I right?" Peter asked him. "Hiro, can you do it?"
Hiro nodded. As badly as he wanted to go after Sylar, he had told Peter that he would follow him anywhere, and his honor prevented him from doing otherwise. "Yes, I have teleported to Japan before," he explained. "However, I may not get us to the right house on the first try."
"Just as long as we get there quick," he said, putting a hand on Hiro's shoulder. Claude, you coming?"
Claude should've gotten Peter into another argument. He should've taken more potshots about losing to Sylar, stressed all that responsibility-to-the-world bunk, made the two young men mad enough at themselves to ignore the distress call and take care of business that Claude actually gave a shit about. But honestly…teleportation and time travel? It was absolutely ludicrous, but it was also too good to miss. Anyway, the two of them had hyped it too much to be lying…at least, that's what he'd read from the scene.
He grabbed Hiro's arm, shaking his head all the while. "Ah, what the hell. Even if you two are delusional, there are worse ways I could spend my day, right?"
Hiro stared dumbly for a second, as if he was trying to answer the question. "Well, what're you waiting for?" He asked Hiro. "Are you gonna make with the time-bending or what?"