Disclaimer: If you recognise it, I don't own it.
AN: Thanks for the reviews! Thanks Maria, this chapter opens with Peter and Claire's conversation, so wonder no longer! Thank you Sakura Scout, and here's my take on the 'majik blood' thing – the writers are ignoring it in season 3 because it's too open for abuse, everyone gets to live forever and be healed as long as one of the regenerators still has blood in them, which makes the whole story pointless and boring. So I'll be ignoring it in this fic too. There is no majik blood! Anyone can die... for reals! Exciting, isn't it? As for Peter's abilities, this chapter will hopefully answer all your questions. And for Sandra – I think she's coming to understand Noah's motives in erasing her memory. He's right, she's one of the people who should be protected from that awful stuff, but I don't agree that wiping her memory was the right solution!
16
"You said you called me. But you didn't tell me I was going to meet Sylar, Peter, you told me I was pregnant."
Her voice is cold. But when Peter reaches out for her Claire jerks away and screams, "Don't touch me!"
The sudden change startles him. He would never, never hurt her, doesn't she know that? Peter holds his hands up. Looks into her eyes, begging her to believe it. But not all the wildness leaves her. "Tell me the truth." Claire demands.
So he does. He's telling her how he tried, desperately, to get to her, when he realises she's laughing. Silently. Uncontrollably.
"Claire – "
"Don't touch me."
He won't. He won't. Peter doesn't know what's making her like this, why she was so calm and controlled downstairs and now she's…
It couldn't have anything to do with being murdered.
Oh God, he hates himself. He should shake her. But he won't hurt her. He should hold her. But he won't touch her, not if she doesn't want him to – and she doesn't.
"I'm so sorry." Peter says helplessly.
"You're sorry? Did you kill me, Peter? Did you cut me? Did you tie me to a table and cut into my skull, Peter? Did you lie to me and knock me up? Is all this somehow your fault?" Claire's fists are clenching and unclenching. "Did you take away your own abilities? Is it your fault you're going to die?"
"Please – "
"I hate you." Her voice is low and bitter and her eyes are burning. "I hate you for letting this happen to me."
Peter breaks. He grabs her arms, but Claire jerks free of him, landing a stinging blow on his bruised face. She shoves him. Her hand on his heart. And she's running past him while he's still reeling. Peter tears down the stairs after her.
She throws the front door open and his hand misses her shirt by half an inch.
"Claire!"
Noah Bennet runs past him, elbowing him out of the way, and she's halfway down the street and Peter's just standing there not knowing what the hell just happened. Ma takes his arm. "Peter, calm down. Breathe."
He can taste blood. His lip split when she hit him. Claire hit him. He can't – quite – can't quite believe it. "Peter, I am so sorry," Sandra's saying. She's come to fuss over him, and Peter can't even see Claire's bright hair flying out behind her anymore, and he's hearing Nathan say something firm about going to Washington right now when Claire is knocked to the ground before him.
And Peter hears a shot.
With a jolt he recognises himself. Older. Scarred. Holding a gun.
And then Peter hears another shot, and the other one's head's thrown back violently and he falls, that other one falls, and the gun skitters across the floor. Peter sees himself die.
"Nathan!" Ma screams.
Nathan's shot. Nathan's bleeding on the ground. And Claire is pointing a gun at Peter and shouting at him. He stares at her blankly. Dark hair, but she's not the girl who kissed him sadly, he doesn't know who she is or what's happening – and then it all comes together.
He – this other one – Peter with the scar has shot Nathan, and Nathan's dying, and a girl who looks like Claire looking like her father is demanding that Peter heal Nathan or she will kill him, she swears to God. She shot him. The other him.
"I can't – " he starts, but she shoves him roughly to the ground, beside the body. Her hand on his heart. His other self's eyes are clearing.
"He can. Take it. Heal Nathan."
Nathan is choking on his own blood. Peter focuses. Stares into his own startled eyes – healer, hero – and takes what he needs. He didn't know if he could do it, but with Claire's blow stinging his face, her gun aimed at his head, Peter finds his empathy. He knows how to fix Nathan. "I got it."
Claire drops to one knee, thumbing the cap off a hypodermic and stabbing Scarred Peter in the neck in one fluid motion. She doesn't care about doing it right – no, of course she doesn't, she just shot him in the head, what is he thinking? Peter goes to Nathan and Claire joins him and Ma. Oh God, Nathan is white. So much blood. And for a second Peter can't do anything. Claire grabs his collar and shakes him. "Do it."
Yes. Hands on him, fingers sinking into thick blood. Pull tissue together. Regenerate. Not a passive ability, this, Peter can feel himself commanding the blood and bone and organs that comprise his brother to correct themselves, to erase the bullet's violent passage. He shot Nathan. Peter shot Nathan.
Nathan's still so white. He's shaking. His eyes plead with Ma, with Claire, and Peter realises Claire's shouting at him to heal him, bring him back, and then she's begging Nathan to stay with her.
"Nathan! Come back!"
Nathan's eyes roll back in his head. He goes still. Ma chokes back a cry. Claire screams. But Peter's working fast, his mind, ability, whatever, creating all the blood Nathan needs, flooding depleted veins, and colour slowly returns to Nathan's face. He breathes in. Chokes on the blood in his throat. Ma and Claire struggle to get him upright as he coughs violently.
From the look in Claire's kohl-rimmed eyes Peter expects her to throw her arms around Nathan, but when he looks at her she leaps away from the family group like she's been scalded. She stalks around Sandra to the body. Satisfies herself that Scarred Peter is deeply unconscious. She stares into his face with the purest hatred. Peter can't process seeing Claire look at him like that. "I should put you down for good."
"Claire."
It's Lyle. The dark ponytail whips around her shoulder. And this new Claire stares at her brother. His mouth falls open. "What happened to you?"
"The future." It's all Peter can manage. Dressed in black, her brown hair pulled severely back, her green eyes blazing out of the heavy eye makeup, she doesn't look anything like the other one. "The future changed. How?"
Claire's feline eyes narrow at him. "You woke me. I was going to go back to sleep. You went to the future, and everything you saw there followed from me sleeping in that morning. But by the time you got back, I'd decided to stay awake. I went to school early. Found Sylar. Was just tired enough to tell him something that made him slip up. Forced his hand."
"I did this."
His voice is hoarse. Claire's face doesn't look like hers with that gleam of malicious pleasure in her eyes. "Yeah. You did."
"How do you know?" Lyle, again. Why is Lyle so brave?
Smirk. "Me and Peter figured it out a long time ago. Poor Peter. It nearly killed him. If it hadn't been for Nathan – " She stops. Eyes change. And then that smirk comes up again, and Claire tilts her head. She's ignoring Lyle now. Ignoring Sandra like her life depends on it. Maybe it does. "He came back to stop Nathan. Maybe he wants to die. What do you think?"
This last is aimed at the body at her feet. Peter can't let her kill him. He casts around for something, anything, to distract her. "What about the boy?"
Her eyes are suddenly dead. "The boy? You mean my little mistake with Gabriel? I took care of that. With the Haitian's help, of course. Poor Gabriel. It was his own fault - he can be surprisingly careless when he really gets going. You wouldn't think he'd have felt so devastated after the third time, would you? But it wouldn't have been fair to the kid. You did know Gabriel's your brother, right?" Head tilt. She's enjoying this now.
Peter looks at Ma. Her eyes are narrowed.
Nathan coughs again. Blood spatters. "Who the fuck is Gabriel?" He asks thickly.
"Sylar." Ma says. Her sons stare at her. Peter can't – she hit him. Gabriel? He can't understand this. His brother? Dad slept around a lot, but… no. Peter turns on Claire. What is she saying to him?
"Claire." Sandra unfreezes. She's looking at this other Claire like she's a stranger. Claire won't meet her mother's eyes. She delivers a sharp kick to the feebly stirring body on the ground. Scarred Peter groans.
"Wake up, you bastard."
His eyes open. Peter's eyes. There's a nasty little click. "Hear that?" Head tilt. "You take us home. Now. Or I kill Lyle."
That damn tilt of the head, Peter's seen it before, and he's seen the little smile that plays around her mouth before too. Claire looks at him. "You and Lyle are going to be good friends someday," she informs him. "Well. Maybe."
She can't be meaning to shoot Lyle. He's standing there like he still can't believe what's happening. Sandra lunges into the line of fire and sweeps him into her arms. "Claire, no." She begs.
Something flickers in Claire's eyes. Her mom and her brother. "Take us home, Peter."
His fingers curl around her ankle. Scarred Peter looks into Peter's eyes. There's an urgent message there.
I came back for a reason.
Peter's too scared to nod. But Scarred Peter seems to see that he understands. One moment that mirror is there, that wounded man, that insane girl, and the next – it's gone.
There's just blood on the tiles. And Scarred Peter's gun. The one that shot Nathan. Nathan's half-lying on the floor, cradled there in Ma's arms, reminding him of another son, another mother Peter has seen somewhere else. Sandra clutches Lyle to her, turns her face into his shoulder and sobs. Peter's alone. His face, fists, ribs are still dull with pain and he realises that he's not healing. When he feels for the lightning, the telekinesis, the flight even, he's got nothing. He knows how to heal other people. But that's all Peter can do.
What did he take from us, Claire?
But he knows. Sylar has taken everything.
X
Noah's longer legs keep pace easily with Claire's fast, angry strides. She doesn't know where she's going – just away, he figures. He walks with her in silence, both because he really does think it's best for now, and because he doesn't want to give away how pleased he is. He shouldn't be. He shouldn't be happy that Claire screamed at her best friend, hit him, ran away from him leaving him looking like the world had turned upside down.
He tried to kiss me. By accident.
Bullshit. Noah remembers Peter Petrelli in his cell – talking to Claire, he was pale and bloodstained but his eyes were lit up like Christmas lights. Bullshit that kiss was an accident. If he hadn't found out they were related Noah would have found Peter Petrelli on his doorstep the day Claire turned eighteen – probably with two dozen roses and an engagement ring, knowing him.
Noah came so close to losing Claire today. He can't stand the thought of anyone else having any part of her. He tries for a neutral tone. "Want to tell me what that was all about?"
"I'm not going back to that house. Not until Peter leaves it."
Sounds promising.
But then Sandra calls. Crying. Telling Noah that it's all over, but that he needs to come back right away, and he's running before he's even hung up. Claire sprints behind him. This fight can wait until she's seen her mom safe.
Noah sees the blood on the floor. The gun. Nathan Petrelli, looking surprisingly good for a man with his torn shirt soaked in what has to be his own blood. Sandra's crying and Lyle looks shaken. "What the hell happened here?"
Peter tells them. Claire starts out staring at Nathan, but as Peter goes on her eyes lose focus and her face pales. Noah can't believe it. And then – I knew going to Washington was a stupid idea. Nathan's grand plan is so stupid Peter came back from the future to kill him before he could set it in motion. And Claire – Noah can't picture Claire doing those things. Grabbing Peter to come back with him. Stopping him – with a bullet. Throwing that other Peter around like a rag doll. Bringing Nathan back from the dead. Peter even tells them the part about Claire – and Sylar. Gabriel Gray. Who, whatever Claire from the future might have thought, Noah is damn sure is no son of Angela or Arthur Petrelli's.
"I did that?" Claire says softly. Wonderingly. Noah doesn't like the way she says it.
"No." Sandra says firmly. "It was someone who looked like you and talked like you but it was not my daughter."
Claire doesn't seem to hear her. Angela's watching her, sizing her up, figuring her out. Noah doesn't like any part of this. Pleased as he might have been for Claire to get into a fight with Peter, he never wants her to be so broken that she can shoot him in the head without hesitation. Not even knowing he can heal. Not even to save Nathan. That doesn't sound like Claire. That sounds like all the worst parts of himself.
Unexpectedly, Lyle speaks up. "She was messed up. She pointed a gun at me and mom. And she had sex with her uncle." he concludes, like Claire imagining Gabriel Gray was related to her was the worst part of that scenario.
Peter looks away from Claire. That son of a bitch.
"It sounds messed up," Claire agrees. "It also sounds like she saved Nathan's life. And showed Sylar how not special he really is."
Claire sounds – sort of exhilarated at the thought. So much power, and all of it hers. Someone walks over Noah's grave.
Angela raises an eyebrow. "Taking Sylar down a peg by conceiving and aborting his child? I think you can do better than that this time, Claire."
Now she has Claire's attention. Claire's total attention. "What do you mean by that?"
"It's true." Angela lies. "Sylar is my son. Arthur and I named him Gabriel, after the angel. But someone we knew had precognitive dreams, like Peter, and soon we knew that he would have done the most terrible things to Nathan… to Peter, who was a baby then. My baby. To save two sons I sent a third away. It was a harsh choice. Perhaps a cruel one. But for better or for worse, Arthur and I made that decision. Now – perhaps it's time to bring him back into the fold. That other Claire spoke of Gabriel. Not Sylar." Angela looks at Noah, who knows she's lying. And this part is all for him. "He could be a valuable asset – brought to remember who he truly is. He could help us save the world."
Angela's a good coercer. But is she that good? "No." Noah says loudly. He doesn't want that monster anywhere near him again, anywhere near his family.
But Claire's caught Angela's drift better than he has. "You think Angela gives a damn about Gabriel, Dad? She's going to make him a weapon. And when we're done using him…"
Oh. Of course. Although, assuming Angela could create this weapon Noah knows she'd never part with it, the idea still tempts him. Lure him in. Use him. And then – make sure that bastard pays so thoroughly on earth for his sins that when they finally let him die, his soul goes straight to heaven.
And Sylar has a lot of sins to work off.
Noah likes the idea.
What he doesn't like is how much Claire likes the idea, too.
X
No consensus is reached. Nathan agrees at least to delay going ahead with his plan, and no more Terminators show up to eliminate him. It's something. At first Claire refuses to stay in the house if Peter's here, but unexpectedly it's Noah who persuades her to stay tonight. She still won't speak to Peter. But it's no more than he deserves. Peter knows that.
They go to bed that night reluctantly. Uneasily. And when Claire's first scream shatters the silence, Noah and Sandra are awake and ready to go and comfort her.
Hours pass. The house is still again. And a man appears in Nathan's darkened bedroom. But Peter knew he'd be back. Counted on it. And before he can fire, Peter comes out of the shadows behind him. "Don't do this."
The man turns around – it's himself. Scarred Peter. Future Peter.
"I wanted to help you, but I don't know what to do. You have to take me back with you. Tell me what went wrong. Show me how to fix this. Please. Help me find a way that doesn't involve killing Nathan." Peter says, with total conviction.
That other Peter scans his face minutely. Finally, Future Peter nods. "You can only hold one ability at a time, right? So take Claire's ability from me."
Peter does. It feels like his body is filling up with sunlight, her sad smile, the way she touches him, and he wonders if this is what it felt like for Sylar when – and then he stops thinking like that, and just concentrates on the way it feels for his cuts and bruises to smoothly heal. "I got it."
"You're not going to like what you see." Future Peter warns him. He knows. Then he takes hold of his arm, and they close their eyes and they're –
In Costa Verde. Outside Claire's house. It's a beautiful day. "It's six years gone," Future Peter tells him. "Abilities are synthesised. Everyone who can afford one has one. Nathan's little taskforce started out tracking the special people, but now it's a major governmental agency that supervises abilities, and he's the President." He looks at Peter's stunned expression with sympathy. "I figured I'd start you here. With Gabriel. She told you about him, didn't she?"
"How did you know?"
"Did it hurt?"
Yes. Future Peter reads his expression. He tries to smile. Shrugs. "That's how I know."
She told him because she knew it would hurt. There's something there, about only knowing what the right thing is because it hurts, but nothing about what that Claire said to him sounded right. And people with abilities, everywhere – Peter doesn't get it. "What about the virus?"
"We stopped the virus getting out. Me and Gabriel." Future Peter indicates the front door. "I think I better just show you."
When they walk in to Claire's old home Peter experiences another pang of disorientation. There are toys. There's mess. Someone's cooking waffles in the kitchen, he can smell them, and Mr Muggles runs up to him with a little boy hard on his heels.
"Uncle Peter!"
Peter staggers back. Future Peter scoops up the little boy, smiling at his crow of delight, and it's the boy from his first vision but he's younger, happier, and vibrantly healthy. And alive. It's Claire's son.
The boy catches sight of Peter, and he goes shy and buries his face in Future Peter's jacket. Hides those big dark eyes of his. Peter thought his eyes would have been green, like Claire's. They're not.
"Gabriel." Future Peter calls out. And another bizarre shock – a man who's the spitting image of Sylar comes out of the kitchen, except this man is wearing glasses, and a grey sweater, and a blue apron that says Hail to the Chef. He's holding a spatula.
His welcoming expression freezes when he sees Peter.
"He's from the past." Future Peter hastens to explain. "I went back – " Remembering the boy, he raises his eyebrows significantly. Sylar – Gabriel – nods.
"I want to help. Without doing – what he wanted to do." Peter says.
This man is his brother. This man cut into his head, sent a shard of glass flying into the back of his skull, killed him. Nearly blew up New York. Nearly made him blow up New York. This man killed Claire. And now the man who did these things is carefully taking Claire's son from Future Peter. "Hey, buddy," he says cheerfully. "Uncle Peter went back in time. Like Hiro. You remember, we talked about that?"
The kid nods solemnly.
"Well, Uncle Peter brought his old self back. This is Peter before he ever met you. I know he looks weird without his scar. And it's sure weird seeing two of them, huh?"
He smiles at the boy in his arms, who takes a peek at the two Peters. The boy giggles.
"Your waffles are ready in the kitchen, buddy. So how about you go eat them in there while me and Peter Two here have a talk? You can help Uncle Peter make himself some. Okay?"
"Okay."
He's kind of reluctant. But when Future Peter takes his hand and starts leading him to the kitchen, asking him if Daddy remembered to get syrup this time, he looks adoringly up at his uncle and starts chattering away. Peter and Gabriel are forgotten. When they're safely shut away in Noah Bennet's old study, Peter realises he doesn't even know this man.
"What's his name?"
"Noah."
Peter doesn't want to ask the next question. But he has to. "Did his… mother name him?"
Gabriel takes off the apron and folds it neatly. "No. I named him. After my mother reconciled with the Company Noah Bennet became my mentor. My friend."
No. He doesn't know this man at all. Peter tells Gabriel everything, and when he gets to the part about the abortions, he sees an old pain in Gabriel's eyes. "She was on assignment in India. By the time she realised she was pregnant with Noah, it was too late."
"She didn't tell me about him."
"Did it hurt? Thinking Noah never existed?"
That's the second time someone's asked him that. Gabriel reads the answer on his face, and nods slowly. "She can't feel pain. But she can make other people feel it, and that's what all this has been about. That's what everything's about for her now."
"And Noah?"
Gabriel knows what he's getting at. "She dumped him in Angela's arms the moment the doctor gave him to her. And as far as I know, that's the last time she's seen Noah. Official party line is that his mother was Elle Bishop. Noah only knows Claire's the cousin he never meets."
"Elle?" This is just all getting too weird. What can Elle possibly have to do with – Gabriel?
"I killed Elle when Noah was a baby." Gabriel says bluntly. "I didn't have good control in those days. I killed her, right there on the floor, in front of his crib. He thinks mommy died on assignment."
"I can't." Peter shakes his head. "I can't deal with this."
"You had my ability before. You felt that hunger."
There it is. There's Sylar. Even talking about the hunger with loathing there's something excited about Gabriel's voice that clenches Peter's fists. Gabriel catches the look on his face. "When did you leave?"
"The day you took Claire's ability." Peter says, through gritted teeth. "How could you? You killed her. You're her uncle. How could you do it?"
He's getting his mortal sins confused – if incest is a mortal sin, and Peter thinks it must be. Gabriel's eyes narrow. Sylar again. "I could ask you the same thing."
I never told anyone. Did you?
But he knows why. "It hurt you."
"She did." Gabriel admits. "She also came running to me one morning and told me Nathan had gotten pretty drunk the night before – told me she'd hit the trifecta. All with that smile on her face. I guess you know the one."
No. "That's not true."
Gabriel shrugs. His eyes are dark. "Nathan swears it's not."
"Daaaaddy," a singsong voice complains from the other room. Bizarrely, Peter hears his own voice shushing the kid, distracting him.
Noah's daddy's expression softens. "You're going to fix things. I wish you could fix them so I could still have Noah. He's the one thing I don't regret about all this. But Peter – when you get back, don't let Claire get involved with me again."
No matter what, Peter can't forgive him. He saw her in that room. "It's a little late to be concerned about Claire's welfare."
Brief laughter. Sylar's. "It's not Claire I'm worried about."
Seeing Sylar again in Gabriel gives Peter an idea. "I'm going back to fix things," Peter repeats, slowly. "You know how to fix things."
"No."
"I need your ability."
"No."
Peter considers just – reaching out, with that part of his mind, and taking –
Scorn. "Like you could."
Ah, there he is. There's Sylar. Selfish, and arrogant, and always that much stronger than Peter, and Peter understands for the first time how that girl he saw and this man could – "I have to save Claire. I need your ability."
"You don't understand what you're asking. You've had my ability but you never used it, did you? Intuitive Aptitude, they call it, but they don't tell you that every time you use it you need to intuit more, understand more, you need to acquire more – knowledge, power, everything. You need more and more of everything, Peter, and nothing is ever enough." Gabriel's voice is rising, and with a glance at the door he lowers it abruptly. "There's a hunger that comes with it. You know that. But you don't know yet that the more you use it, the more it grows. After Elle died, I quit working for the Company – it was too dangerous, too tempting, being constantly exposed to all those abilities. So I sit at home. Raise my son. Fix things that Angela and Nathan send me to fix. And every day, Peter – every single day, I fight a hunger that I barely have under control."
That look, Peter's seen it before – on Noah Bennet. "Your son has an ability."
"He hasn't manifested yet. I don't know what it is. I just know that it's there."
Peter doesn't care. He'll take that hunger if it saves them. "I need it, Gabriel."
"To save Claire? And what happens when you have? Do you want to know what it's like to look at her and want her, with everything you've got, when what you want to do is cut into her, tear her apart, find out what makes her tick? Claire at least could survive it – even if her mind couldn't. Do you want to look at Nathan like that? Angela? Simon and Monty?"
Somehow Gabriel knowing the names of his nephews – their nephews – makes it real for Peter. To want to murder the boys… the little boy in the kitchen… Claire.
Gabriel is watching his face closely. "It's not worth it." He tells Peter.
Peter sits down heavily. He looks without seeing at the brightly coloured crayon pictures on the walls. "Then what am I supposed to do."
"Stop Nathan telling the world about abilities. Stop Pinehearst synthesising them. Stop the virus getting out."
"That's the world." And Peter's sort of surprised, in a dull way, to find that he doesn't care that much about saving the world. Not anymore. "What about the cheerleader?"
Gabriel sighs. "You have to heal this thing with Claire. Help her learn to take care of herself. Trust her to do it. Don't drive her to Nathan and me – don't let us be the only people who'll accept her as an agent."
"An agent?"
Now he's bitingly sarcastic. "No, Peter, what Claire needs now is to go back to high school and try out for cheerleading. What did you think she wanted to do now?"
Peter just shakes his head. "What else."
"I thought this… obsession with her would stop when I took her ability. It didn't. I understand Claire, better than she does herself, and I – still wanted her. Not just for her mind." Gabriel says, with a bitter smile. "Let her trap me, so Angela can tell me who I am. But after that – I'd say don't let me near her, but I doubt you could stop me. So get there first."
Peter stares. Gabriel just shrugs. "If it's got to be one of us… for everyone's sake, it should be you."
"No. You don't know what you're asking. It's wrong."
Sylar raises an eyebrow. Funny how Peter's bringing out the worst in him. "And how's doing the right thing working out for you?"
No. No, he wants this too much, and Sylar of all people giving him permission is hardly convincing Peter. "I'll think about it." He lies.
To save her from this, all Peter has to do is the one thing he wants most in the world. She hurts people… that's what everything is about for her, now… Nathan swears he didn't… I should put you down for good…
No. He can't.
"Daddy!"
Small hands fumble with the doorknob, and Gabriel's son bursts into the room like a tiny whirlwind. Future Peter's right behind him. "She's here," he says urgently. "With Knox and Flint."
Gabriel picks up his son and holds him tight. But Peter suddenly has a terrible feeling. "Take the kid," he tells his future self.
"What? You have to go, now."
Peter turns on Gabriel. "I can't explain it, but something bad is going to happen if the kid's still here when she gets in. I just know."
How? His only ability is healing. But that image of the other Claire with her dead son in her arms is all Peter can see.
"Gabriel?"
Her voice. Singsong. Like she's mocking little Noah. Gabriel looks uncertain for a moment, then thrusts his son into Future Peter's arms.
"Daddy!"
"It's okay, buddy. Uncle Peter's going to keep you safe."
Future Peter meets Gabriel's gaze. He nods. Grabs Peter's shoulder with his free hand.
"Daddy!" Noah screams.
But Gabriel's gone. They're at home. Nathan's home. Claire's bedroom. She wakes, jerking upright in bed with a gasp. The covers fall away from her. Her hair is messy and her eyes are sleepy and unfocused.
Future Peter is staring at her like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
Noah cuddles closer to his uncle. "Where's Daddy?" he whimpers.
Get moving.
But Future Peter is frozen.
"Peter?" Claire says hesitantly. She looks from one to the other. And then she looks at the boy. And she gets out of bed. Comes to him. In her t-shirt and shorts, blonde hair like an untidy halo, she doesn't look anything like the broken girl she'll become. "It's him, isn't it?" Then she looks up at Future Peter. "And – you."
"You need to get out of here." Peter says urgently. But they're not listening.
"It's your mom." Future Peter says hoarsely. Shyly, little Noah reaches out to her, entranced the way kids can be with beautiful girls, with storybook princesses. Claire touches his small hand. Then she caresses his dark head, drinking in his face, his eyes, memorising him. The son Gabriel made Peter promise she would never have.
Then her eyes lift to Future Peter. And there's so much in her face, in his, that Peter almost breaks down and resolves to save her like that anyway, whatever it might cost them. "I'm so sorry." Future Peter says.
She doesn't scream at him. She raises her other hand to his face, and very gently, her fingertips trace his scar. His eyes close. And Claire goes on her tiptoes, one arm wrapped around her son, the other around Future Peter's neck, and kisses him. It's a perfect moment. That sadness, when she pulls away. "I'll always love you, Peter."
I'm sorry, Peter. I always loved you.
She's saying it to both of them. And Future Peter tries to smile. He strokes her messy hair. "I know."
Then he steps back. And with one last, hungry look, he's gone.
They're gone.
And Peter and Claire are the only ones left in a room that is suddenly large and empty. Peter doesn't know what to do now. He feels like he shouldn't have seen that. Claire sits down on her bed. And after a moment, she pats the space next to her. Cautiously, Peter joins her.
"Tell me about my son."
"His name is Noah."
Claire smiles. And Peter dregs up every detail he can remember, and some he's surprised to be able to recall, from the implied incident of Daddy forgetting the syrup to the airplanes in Noah's crayon drawings. He didn't think about it at the time, but looking back he realises that every drawing had at least one airplane at the top. Noah likes planes, he guesses. And waffles. And Mr Muggles. And his daddy loves him with a single-minded intensity Peter's only seen before in Noah Bennet.
When Peter runs out of things to say they sit in silence for a while. But it's not the strained, awkward silence of before. It's a tentative truce. And when Claire finally thanks him and says she thinks she'll go back to sleep now, Peter pretends not to notice the tears in her eyes or the tremor in her voice.
I'm sorry, Gabriel. But you were wrong. It's wrong.
I can't fix it like this.