Thanks for the reviews, faithful readers! Oh, and you'll have to forgive me: I don't have the exact details and layout of Peter's apartment memorized, so if there are a couple discrepancies, just remember that I didn't make the mistakes on purpose. ;) Thanks, and please review more!!
VVVVV
CHAPTER TWO
"Why did we run?" Ando panted from behind us. "And why did we go down all those alleys?"
All of our feet pounded on the stairs up to Peter's apartment. It was like he had forgotten about the elevator. Peter still grasped my arm.
"The reporters didn't leave," Peter gritted. "And they tried to follow us."
"I noticed that," Sylar commented. "They chased all the way to the church before we lost them—they didn't want to climb over the wall, I suppose."
"Peter—" I tried.
"Just a sec, Claire," he cut me off. We reached his floor, he dug in his pocket and brought out his jingling keys, and rammed them into a lock on a door. The door swung open and he urged me inside, then turned and put a hand on Emma's shoulder and spoke to her earnestly.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she nodded, giving him a warm look. Dad pushed past her, eyes wide but jaw tight, and came right up to my side.
"Claire, I don't know what's going on here," he hissed in my ear so no one else could hear. "But I wouldn't put it past Sylar to have taken Parkman's ability."
My heart thudded and my gaze flashed to his.
"You mean—"
Dad gave me a meaningful look.
"Peter could be—"
The door shut, the lights flipped on, and the deadbolt clacked as Peter latched it. All of us stood inside the dimly-lit apartment—Emma, Peter and Sylar near the door, Dad and I opposite them, and Hiro and Ando somewhat apart. I risked a glance around. Peter's apartment really was empty. There was a little eating area with a table, a door that led into a kitchen that had a refrigerator and stuff, and another room behind us that looked like a bedroom. But there was no rug, no curtains, no pictures, nothing. A pang ran through me.
Peter turned around and appraised the place, then let out a long sigh.
"We're gonna have to pack this place with books or it's never gonna feel right."
Sylar looked at him, then gave a reflexive grin.
"Then maybe half a dozen clocks—what do you think?" Peter didn't smile, but winked at him as he walked past him and took hold of Emma's elbow. Sylar blinked, then nodded.
"Yes, I agree."
I was so bewildered. I felt numb all over. All I could do—in fact, all that Dad, Hiro and Ando could do, either—was watch as Peter guided Emma into the kitchen while Sylar followed. Now Peter and Emma were blocked from our view by a wall, but Sylar stood just through the door, in front of the fridge, observing them.
"Do you want to sit down?" Peter asked Emma, from out of our view.
"Yes, please."
We heard the sound of a stool scraping the floor.
"Do your fingers hurt much?" Peter wondered.
"It stings, and it hurts down deep," Emma answered.
"Gabriel, can you get me the antiseptic?"
We saw Sylar straighten.
"Where is it?"
"In the cupboard." We heard Peter walk across the kitchen to get something else. Sylar turned around and faced the line of cupboards above him.
"Um…" he said.
"It's right there," Peter grunted, pulling a box out from under something.
I so wanted to go in there, to be near Peter, to try and get some answers, but Sylar's presence loomed like a black shadow before me, and I couldn't take even one step toward that kitchen.
Sylar reached up and pulled open one of the cupboards. A box of crackers, another box of plastic forks, and two cans of olives greeted him.
"Not here," Sylar said, sounding befuddled.
"It's in the one next to it," I heard Peter set a box down on a table—probably a first aid kit. Sylar sighed, shut that cupboard and opened another. There stood a jar of pickles, two jars of oil, a box of noodles, and a bottle of blue antiseptic. Sylar turned and gave Peter a bemused look.
"It's with the pickles?" he said flatly. I heard Emma chuckle.
"What?" Peter protested. Sylar gave him a look of disbelief.
"That makes no sense."
"I know where it is."
"That's stupid—I could reach for the cooking oil and dump antiseptic on my eggs."
Emma laughed again.
"Speaking of eggs," Sylar said as he pulled the antiseptic down. "I'm really feeling like raiding your fridge right now."
"Go for it," Peter said, and for a second I saw him as he took the bottle from Sylar. Then he went back to attending Emma. Sylar turned and opened the door of the fridge. I could not see what was inside—his back blocked it.
"Oh, Pete, please tell me you have something to drink besides bottled water," Sylar moaned. "I'd even settle for orange juice."
"Oh, understandable," Peter said heartily. "I think I have some five-year-old milk in the back there… I don't remember."
"Good. I swear, I am never drinking bottled water again for the rest of my life."
"You and me both."
Sylar bent over the fridge, leaning on the top of the door with his left arm. I glanced at Dad, then at Hiro and Ando. But they were watching Sylar like three hawks.
As he considered the options in Peter's fridge, Sylar put his right hand to his chin and rubbed it. Then he stopped.
"Holy cow, Peter…" he said, slowly straightening and looking over at Peter.
"What?"
Sylar's face looked like he had just had a revelation.
"I need to shave."
"That's awesome," Peter declared. I looked at Ando out of the corner of my eye.
"Is anybody else really confused?" I breathed.
"Me," Hiro said, still fixed on the kitchen.
"I'm not," Dad gritted. "It's obvious Sylar has Peter under some sort of mind control."
"If that is true," Hiro mused. "Why would Sylar not know where the blue bottle was?"
"And why would Peter call him 'Gabriel'?" Ando added.
"It's an act," Dad insisted. "Sylar's maintaining an illusion so that—"
Sylar looked at him. Dad stopped. Peter stuck his head around the doorframe, frowning.
"What did you say?" He looked upset. Sylar shut the fridge and folded his arms over his chest.
"He thinks I've crawled inside your head, now."
Peter rolled his eyes and held up a placating hand.
"Would you guys please just give us a second before you start discussing conspiracy theories?"
Sylar watched as Peter went back to work, then arched an eyebrow at Dad, his voice cold.
"Peter hammered against a wall that didn't move for five years. He's too stubborn to get brainwashed."
"I guess I'll take that as a compliment?" Peter said from out of sight. Sylar inclined his head to him.
"That's how it was intended."
"What?" I finally demanded. "What wall?"
Sylar's eyes flew to mine—it was as if my voice had thrown him off balance.
"Just a sec, Claire, okay?" Peter said instead. I barely heard him. Sylar's eyes were flitting over my features. I tried to mask my emotion, but it was as if he was seeing right through me. I hated it. And apparently he didn't like it either—he swallowed and he looked away.
"Okay, Emma," Peter said, and the stool squeaked again. Peter led Emma out of the kitchen by the hand, as if he had been holding her fingers and just forgot to let go. Sylar ducked his head and filed out behind them, keeping his gaze away from me. Dad pulled me back. Hiro shifted to just in front of me. I bit back a protest. They liked to protect me, the immortal invincible. I wasn't in the mood.
Peter stopped and cast his gaze over all of us—and suddenly he smiled. I blinked. He secured his hold on Emma's hand, which surprised her. He then stepped forward and slapped Hiro's arm, then pulled Emma to the table. Sylar winced, but followed Emma between Ando and Hiro. Peter went to the head of the table and sat down, guiding Emma into the chair to his left, and then motioning to Sylar. Sylar eased down next to Peter and Peter briefly rested his free hand on Sylar's shoulder—his other hand on the table, his fingers interlaced with Emma's, again, as if he had forgotten about it.
At the sight in front of me, I really had to fight to choke back my tears. I had no idea who this Emma was, and Peter and Sylar…
I didn't know my uncle anymore.
"Have a seat," Peter urged, gesturing to the other empty chairs. There were only two. Hiro turned to me, and then bowed slightly. I gritted my teeth, then stepped forward and slipped into one of the chairs. The piece of furniture felt cold. The men hesitated, but then Hiro settled down next to me. I heard Dad cross his arms and move up right behind me. Sylar cleared his throat and shifted, hunching his shoulders and staring at the table top.
"Okay…" Peter sighed, meeting each one of our gazes in turn. "We've got a really long story for you."
TO BE CONTINUED