Whew! Well, now that the play I was in is done, I will have more time to update! Sorry for the delay, but I hope you continue to enjoy, and review!
VVVVVVVV
CHAPTER SIX
"And the world shall deal with you as it does by me, till one or both of us
shall quit it for a better."
-Nicholas Nickleby
Peter followed Emma into the kitchen, hefting his groceries, unable to keep himself from smiling at the back of her head. He stepped into the fairly large, tile-floored white kitchen and glanced around. There was a lot of counter space all around, a large stove, fridge and freezer, tall cupboards, and an island counter for cutting boards. A large window above the sink looked out over the back garden. Off to the right, there was a table and chairs in a breakfast nook.
Ando and Hiro stood on the other side of the island. The bags rustled as Hiro mechanically unpacked them. Ando just stood there—he spoke before Peter had a chance to set his groceries down.
"I still cannot believe we left Sylar here with Claire, alone," he protested.
"I didn't hurt her," Gabriel's quiet voice came from behind Peter. Peter glanced back at him. He frowned to see Gabriel halt at the threshold, head low.
"He didn't hurt her this time," Ando replied, glaring at him.
"He's not gonna hurt anybody, okay?" Peter set the bag down on the counter. Emma went to the sink and turned the handle. It squeaked, but nothing came out of the faucet.
"There's no water."
"Gabriel," Peter turned to him, and Gabriel finally lifted his dark eyes.
"Hey, could you go outside to the man hole and turn on the water?" Peter asked. "Claire's gonna want some for her shower, and it'll be hard to cook anything without it. And be careful out there," Peter warned. "Don't let anybody see you."
"Yeah," Gabriel nodded quickly, drawing himself up. "Okay." And he turned and left, crossing the living room to the front door. As soon as the door opened and closed, Ando slammed his hand down on the island table. Hiro snapped at him in Japanese, but Ando didn't listen.
"I will not stand this. Peter, this cannot go on," Ando's eyes blazed. "There is a murderer in this house—one who has killed many innocent people—and we are supposed to act as if he has done nothing?"
"Chill out, Ando," Peter advised, reaching into the bag and pulling out a dozen eggs and a loaf of bread. Ando looked baffled.
"Chill…How can I do that? Peter, this does not make sense! Sylar—"
"Peter spent five years inside Sylar's brain," Hiro said. "He must know him better than anyone." Hiro then looked at Peter in a testing way and narrowed his eyes—Peter's hackles raised.
"Then you would know exactly what he has done," Ando pressed on. "He is a madman, and a killer, and we cannot—"
"Listen," Peter thundered, facing them and looking Emma, Ando and Hiro in turns, straight in the eye. "Hiro is right. I spent virtually five years inside Gabriel's head with him, trapped. I know him better than anyone else in the world does. I know about his dreams and his nightmares, about what drives him crazy and what he thinks is funny. I know what scares him and I know what inspires him. I know everything he's done and everyone he's killed. I also know the hell he went through in there." Peter took a shaky breath. "I went through it with him. And I saw how it punished him, how it changed him—made him into a good man. But I also know he is terrified of being alone, of being betrayed. And if it costs me my life, I won't do that to him." Peter shook his head. "I just won't." He looked to Emma, desperately hoping she would understand. "So if you want to get rid of him…you should know that I'm going with him." He nodded once. "He's my friend." His voice quieted. "And I need you to trust me."
Emma gazed back at Peter, intently listening. And clarity dawned behind her eyes, she smiled a little, and nodded so only he could see. Ando glanced down. Hiro grinned.
Footsteps sounded. Peter turned to see Gabriel re-enter the kitchen. Gabriel jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
"I turned on the water and heard it start going, so that should do it." He passed in front of Peter and headed toward the sink. Emma did the same, and she took hold of the hot spicket, and Gabriel grabbed the cold, and they twisted them at the same time. The faucet gurgled, spat, and spewed out water that looked rusty at first, then flowed clear and bubbly.
"It works," Emma grinned at Gabriel. "Thank you!"
And she gave Gabriel a brief, tight hug.
Gabriel's eyes flashed and his mouth fell open—his arms started up, but Emma had let go of him and turned back to the sink before he could respond. Gabriel swallowed hard, and then smiled weakly when she met his eyes again. Peter's eyebrows went up—until Emma cast him a secret look, and winked. Peter then met Gabriel's eyes, shook his head and grinned. And Gabriel smiled back.
VVVVVVVVVV
I took the world's fastest shower. And while shampoo was running into my eyes because I was scrubbing my long hair so hard, I determined that, before breakfast, Peter and I were going to have words. I wasn't putting up with this insanity any longer.
I rinsed, got out, dried and dressed, and finished getting ready. I sat on a stool in front of a round mirror and brushed my hair over and over, trying to figure out how to knock the sense back into my uncle.
However, my hair had dried before I had formulated exactly what I was going to say to get Peter's attention when I got down to that kitchen. I rehearsed it a couple times to the mirror, firmly, determined that nothing would distract me from saying what I needed to.
I stood up. I set the brush down. I turned and left the bathroom and started down the stairs.
"Peter, we need to talk," I whispered, running through my speech again. "This morning, you left me here alone with a man who cut open my head…" I trailed off. I heard something from the kitchen—a sound that was impossible.
I hurried across the living room floor, quietly, and edged toward the kitchen door. And when I finally saw and heard what was going on inside, my entire speech disappeared from my head.
The scent of frying bacon and eggs flooded the air, and the sound of it on the skillet crackled and bubbled. Hiro and Ando stood at the island table chopping up peppers and onions—very carefully—and Peter, Emma and Sylar…
Peter and Sylar stood side by side in front of the stove, Sylar babysitting the eggs, Peter hovering over the bacon. Apparently, Ando had gotten the electricity working. Everyone's sides or back faced me, and no one saw me. Emma washed a frying pan in the frothing sink. And the impossible sound issued again.
Sylar laughed.
"Pete, you've gotta watch it—I really don't want to eat charcoal."
"Shut up and watch your own food," Peter retorted.
"Look, they're smoking," Sylar pointed.
"They are not, they're—crap!" Peter hissed and tried to turn the heat down. Sylar gagged on another laugh.
"Please move," Emma said, inserting herself between the two of them. "Let me finish, before you ruin everything."
"Ah—you're an angel," Sylar briefly rested a hand on the back of her head and stepped out of her way, giving a wicked smile to Peter.
"Shut up," Peter fumed. Sylar put his hands up.
"I didn't say a word."
Peter snatched a dishtowel and snapped Sylar in the shoulder with it. It cracked like a whip.
"Ow!" Sylar cried, slapping a hand to that spot, eyes wide. Emma whirled around, brandishing a spatula.
"Stop it or you'll catch something on fire."
And then Sylar saw me. He stopped moving, became quiet and solemn, and gazed as if he had seen an unexpected piece of artwork down a shadowed hall. Emma caught sight of me next. She smiled.
"Did the water work?" she asked. I nodded mutely. She gestured to the little white table off to my right in the breakfast nook.
"Go sit down. You can eat first—it's ready."
My stupid feet almost didn't carry me over there. I managed to sit down in one of the cute little chairs and stare at the scene in front of me again. Bottles clanked as Peter dug milk and juice out of a bag. He turned around.
"Gabriel—milk or juice?"
Sylar blinked and turned to him. He had been watching me.
"Um. Milk."
"Hiro?"
"Juice," Hiro smiled.
"Ando?"
"Milk," Ando muttered.
Peter reached over and touched Emma's arm, and asked when she looked at him. She answered that she wanted juice.
"Claire?" Peter called, looking to me. Part of my original speech rattled around in my brain, but all I could croak out was:
"Juice, please."
"See, she's got manners," Peter pointed at me briefly, then got to work on the drinks. "Nobody else said please."
"Please," Hiro and Sylar chorused—Hiro pleasantly, Sylar with more sarcasm.
"Watch it," Peter warned Sylar. "I'll get you with that towel again."
"Fool me twice…" Sylar purred.
"Oh, count on it," Peter assured him. "I'll move so fast you'll never know what hit you."
They continued bantering back and forth, like fencing with blunted swords. And a crooked thought hit me—I remembered how Sylar had stood next to Peter, and it had reminded me of Peter and Nathan. Now, however, I didn't get that sense. Sylar's speech was distinctly "Sylar"—potent, somewhat dark—and Peter's was more snarky. It was just as if Peter had always had two brothers instead of one, and Sylar was the one closer to Peter's age. Perhaps the youngest of the three. I slowly shook my head. There was no way Peter was going to listen to what I had to say.
Emma slipped a fried egg onto a plastic plate, along with three pieces of bacon, turned, took a cup of juice from Peter and then came to me, smiling apologetically.
"Peter burned the bacon a little," she said.
"I did not,"Peter called.
"You did," Sylar muttered.
"You distracted me."
"So you admit you burned it."
"I'm gonna kill you."
"Can we please talk about something useful?" Ando cut in as he handed a plate of chopped vegetables to Emma for the omelets. "Like what we are going to do about our situation, about Noah Bennet?"
Peter sighed.
"I agree." He scooped up his bacon. "But let's all get sat down first, okay?"
After that, preparation went quickly, and everybody was handed either plain eggs or an omelet, and headed toward the table. Ando and Hiro hesitated, but Peter charged on over to my right side and sat down. Sylar slipped behind me and him, and seated himself silently by Peter. Emma, after sticking two pieces of bread in an old toaster, found a place beside Sylar. Hiro and Ando thus decided it was safe to sit by Emma. The circle around the table was now complete. I stared down at my food, wondering how the heck I was going to even swallow it let alone keep it down—
"You want to—" Peter half-asked Sylar.
"Well…yes, if you think—"
"Okay. Go for it."
—and I felt a hand reach down and take hold of mine. I blinked and glanced up. Peter had closed his fingers around mine, and had also taken hold of Sylar's hand. Sylar reached out a hand to Emma. She looked at it for just an instant, smiled at him, then took it, squeezing his hand gently, then reached for Hiro's. Frowning, Hiro and Ando linked hands, and Ando grasped mine. Peter cleared his throat, then just bowed his head and closed his eyes. I saw Emma do the same. Hiro and Ando almost did. Then Sylar took a deep breath.
"Lord," he murmured, his voice low. Then, he paused for a moment, as if deciding what to say—and when he finally spoke, it was sincere. "Thank you. Amen."
"Amen," Peter echoed. I mumbled the same, automatically, trying to keep my shocked stare to myself.
"Okay," Peter said, taking up his fork and stabbing at his egg. "Hiro, I know you and Ando worked on some sort of something last night—what's up?"
"We have a little plan," Hiro declared. "The best we could come up with in this sticky situation." He took a drink. "Ando and I will return to New York and find out two things." He held up two fingers.
"First," Ando said. "We will find out if Noah Bennet is still alive, and rescue him if he needs it."
The tension in my chest relaxed a hair.
"Yes," Hiro nodded. "Second, we will find out that man from the FBI, what he knows and what he plans to do, when and where."
"Sounds good, except for the whole you and him thing," I finally said. "What are the rest of us supposed to do?"
"Nothing," Hiro stated. "Except hide here."
"But my dad—" I tried, my chest constricting.
"Only Hiro can get out of bad pinches," Ando said. "And he and I are used to working together. We can't have everyone sneaking around the FBI with us. Besides, Claire, they have warrants out for you."
Peter didn't like that any more than I did—I saw his jaw clench.
"I'm not very good at just sitting around," he muttered, cutting his egg up into about a dozen pieces.
"That is the best thing to do," Hiro insisted, gesturing pointedly. "The less you do, the less people see you, the easier it will be for everyone to forget you." He shrugged. "Maybe something else will happen—a flood or a scandal or a plane crash—and everyone will think about that instead."
"It's a good thing it was you who suggested that, Hiro," I said as I pulled my bacon apart with my fingers. "If it had been somebody else, I'd be worried."
Sylar swallowed. Ando looked at him. Emma frowned, probably because she had not been able to see my mouth. Peter just ignored me.
"I really don't like it," Peter said. "I mean, this whole situation is absolute crap. But…your plan makes sense. We'll do what you say—but just for right now," Peter pointed at Hiro with his fork. "A week, maybe. If you guys leave today, you've got to be back by Friday, regardless. Then we'll talk about what to do from there."
"Okay," Hiro nodded. "And we can go to the store in town here and get phones, and keep in touch that way."
"Okay, cool."
Just then, with a clash, the toaster spat up the slightly-burned toast.
"Oh my gosh," Sylar yelped, leaping to his feet and banging his knees on the table, making everything rattle.
"What?" Peter demanded. Sylar squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, and stared, fixated, at the toaster.
"What?" Peter repeated. Sylar's right hand drifted over and barely touched Emma's shoulder.
"Emma," he said slowly, and she watched his face. He arched an eyebrow.
"What does it look like…I mean, does your ability manifest…"
Her face lit up.
"Did you see something?"
"There was a—a flash of color," he said. "Green, mostly, with some red—"
"Yes!" she cried, laughing. "When the toaster—"
"That's incredible," Sylar breathed. "And I felt something else, too. Something…" He frowned, still staring at the toaster. My breathing slowed to nothing, and I clenched my hands under the table. I couldn't keep my eyes from Sylar. I had seen that look on his face before.
He lifted both hands, and gazed past the toaster.
And then he clapped. Emma gasped.
And the empty milk carton tumbled off the counter and into the trash can.
"What did you do?" She got to her feet, stretching her own hands out, mimicking, brow furrowing.
"He used telekinesis," I said, bewildered at her. "Like when he opened the front gate."
Emma and Sylar were already shaking their heads.
"No," Emma said. "I saw it. And I have done things with my power before—I have moved things. I cut through my wall, and I knocked Doyle over at Samuel's carnival, to stop him from controlling me."
"Sylar took your power?" Hiro asked.
"I wasn't trying," Sylar said.
"I thought you had to—" Ando drew a line across his forehead.
"No, I don't," Sylar said, still looking at the toaster. "Empathy."
"That is very good," Hiro grinned. My head started to buzz.
"Okay, we'll play with Emma's power later," Peter said. "But for right now we have to eat, okay?"
"But Peter, this is fascinating," Sylar protested, running his eyes over the whole kitchen. "Can you imagine what a symphony would be like? Or someone singing?"
"I've never seen someone sing," Emma said.
"You're not gonna see me sing," Peter said, eating a piece of bacon. The buzzing in my head got worse.
"You could try," Emma said, sitting back down. "I want to see."
"Well, maybe for you," Peter smirked at her.
And suddenly my stomach rolled.
"Peter," I gasped. His head whipped around.
"What?"
Part of my vision turned black. I groped for him and his hand found mine. I shut my eyes.
"Claire, your hands are froze." Peter's voice sounded fuzzy.
"Is she okay?" Sylar demanded.
"Peter," I said again. "I have to talk to you."
TO BE CONTINUED