Chapter 20- Dashed Hopes
Nathan leaned forward in his seat by Peter's side and peered at his comatose brother anxiously. For the first time he actually started feeling the sting of the various cuts and bruises he had accumulated in his fistfight with the armed men, but that was the furthest thing on his mind at the moment. Some of the staff attempted to offer first aid, but he waved them off and continued his vigil.
"You know he won't wake up any faster if you stare at him harder." McCoy groused looking over his chart. Nathan barely acknowledged the doctor and continued to watch Peter closely for any sign of life. McCoy shook his head and turned to the next patient. "Why is it when you show up, you bring people looking like Hell?" He asked Hiro. "First a guy with a knife in his head, then Peter who was nearly dead and now this guy." He jerked his head in Nathan's direction. "But at least you seem to be improving. What did I tell you about overdoing it?"
Hiro didn't want to disrespect the medical professional, but some things just couldn't be explained. "I had to." Was all he could come up with. Indeed as far as he knew, Peter would have died if he hadn't went back to get him even if it meant also going back for his potential killer. It was hard to believe looking at the way Nathan seemed to long for the chance to switch places with his brother that he would ever do him any harm.
"Of course." McCoy shrugged as if that solved everything. "Look kid, I am telling you that every time you go gallivanting across the universe you are doing damage to the vascular structures in your brain. These headaches and nosebleeds are warning signs that you can't push yourself too hard or you will end up with a stroke…or an aneurysm…or God knows what else. Do you understand any of this?" Hiro nodded slowly, prompting McCoy to grumble. "Then why do I feel like I am talking to a brick wall?"
Across the room, Sylar leaned against the doorframe of Mohinder's lab with his arms crossed, studying the films that displayed the bits and pieces that made him what he was. As he looked over the black and white images of squiggly lines, he thought of his mother. He couldn't remember anything about her; no picnics in the park, no pb&j sandwiches with the crust cut off, no kissing skinned knees, no quietly reassuring him that there were no monsters under the bed at night. Nothing but her pale face and the wisps of dark hair that blew softly in the breeze. Did she really have an ability too? If so, what could it have been?
"Sylar." Claire curtly greeted standing between him and the films. He said nothing, instead choosing to stare blankly at her in the hopes that she would just go away before he had to say something truly awful to make her cry. "I can't believe I am even wasting my time, but…" He raised his thick eyebrows in passive interest. Was she really going to ask something of him? "You are supposed to be this evil genius that can figure things out, right?"
"Claire," he scoffed, "if you are attempting to ingratiate yourself to me that is hardly the way to go about it. I see you didn't inherit your biodaddy's social graces."
"Oh, I'm sorry." She retorted in an offended tone. "Should I have kissed your ass first? I am kind of new to this whole megalomania thing."
"You may, if it would make you feel better." He shrugged pinning her against the far wall as he towered over her. "But don't kid yourself. You think you are the center of the universe, princess, and you want to put me in your service. Let me guess, you want me to go figure out what is wrong with Peter. You want me to fix him like a watch, is that it?"
Claire struggled to keep her composure. Although she knew that Sylar wouldn't kill her, she was still afraid of him on some level- the absorbing darkness in his eyes, the vacant look, the pleasure he took in the suffering of others. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. But she had to remind herself that this was for Peter. He had saved her and it was the least she could do for him. "Yes, something like that." She replied keeping her head high. "You know he would help you if he could even though…" she thought better of finishing her sentence although she didn't really have to.
Sylar raised his eyebrow slightly prompting her to finish, but ended up doing it for her. "Because I don't deserve it? I'm not worth saving? Peter's strength is his biggest weakness- the selfless martyr never knows when to just turn his back and walk away, but I do." He leaned in a little closer and watched her flinch. "I would, but you have nothing I want." He replied coldly. "I've already taken what I needed from you." He pushed himself away and turned to leave.
"But it doesn't make you immortal!" She cried in desperation. "Just look at him out there! He is dying, Sylar, which means you can too." He paused before walking away. He didn't feel sorry for Peter, he was envious. That was exactly what he wished for.
The next morning Chekov, Sulu, Uhura and Scotty gathered on the bridge to resume the search while Matt paced the bridge with a steaming cup of coffee. "Where the hell are Ando and Hiro?" He wondered aloud. The fact that he was the only special present and on time made their kind look bad in his estimation.
The lift doors opened and he readied a smart remark, but fell silent when he saw it was Jim and Noah with Claire in tow. He thought better of insulting the Captain and he knew better than to start a verbal war with Bennet, but the fact that Claire was there meant… He casually strolled over to Uhura and whispered, "Can you find that document again? You know, the one about Peter?" She nodded and set to work retracing her steps.
"Claire, why don't you work with one of these guys to help sort this out?" Jim asked gesturing in Sulu and Chekov's general direction. Chekov immediately sat up straighter and smoothed his shirt while he pleaded with Scotty. "Could you please vork vith Sulu today? Please?! I vould be wery grateful."
Scotty glanced at Claire and back at a slightly blushing Chekov. "Oh, Aye, Ah see." He nodded knowingly. "Dump the old boot for the lass. I get it. Right, but this will cost ya down the way." He grumbled as he got up to take his seat next to a disappointed Sulu.
Sulu frowned across the console at the man who he thought was his friend. "Is this how it's going to be?" He hissed. "Throw your best friend under the bus? I outrank you, you know."
"I outrank the both of ya, now quit your bitchin'." Scotty mumbled as Claire came closer. Chekov smiled grandly and stood to offer her the seat next to him while Scotty and Sulu rolled their eyes.
"Matt," Uhura called softly, "I can't find it."
"What…what does that mean?" Matt stammered trying to make sense of how data could just go missing.
"I don't know." Uhura shrugged. "It isn't like the system to just lose data. Not only is the entry gone, but any traces or references to it. It was like it never existed."
Matt took another hit of his coffee and plucked up the courage to figure this all out although he already had a theory. "Claire," he said quietly as he leaned on the edge of the console in front of her, "where is Peter?"
"He's in the hospital." She replied sadly. "The doctor said he was in a minimally conscious state. Sometimes he seems to know we are there, but other times he just lays there and doesn't respond. They are trying to figure out what was in the darts he was shot with and so far it just looks like neurotoxin, but Mohinder is also looking into it. He seems to think that there was something in the poison that is acting on a genetic level."
It wasn't that the information she provided wasn't useful, it just wasn't what he was getting at. "Ok, who shot him?" He asked redirecting her.
"I don't know." She sighed as though she had been through this story a hundred times. "I guess they work for the government. It wasn't like they were wearing nametags. Hello my name is…"
Matt smirked at the joke and lowered his voice. "But Peter is alive, right? Did you guys… see Nathan… at all?" He asked mysteriously.
Claire thought his tone was strange and also noticed that the young man she was working with suddenly became very interested in his hands as he looked over them nervously. "Yeah…" she drawled watching Chekov with a suspicious squint. "He came to get me and Peter met us in Mexico."
"And he didn't tell you anything about this whole mess I would suppose." Matt prompted. It was a stupid question because he knew that Nathan never showed his cards no matter what. He was the type of guy to side step and obfuscate even if Jesus Christ asked him a direct question.
"Not really, but he is with Peter. Go ask him yourself." She shrugged. "Hiro went back to get him after Peter begged him to. I guess we all should have seen that coming."
If there was one person that was more important to him than Jesus it would be Peter and now may be an ideal time to get him to crack if it was even possible. Her ambivalence to her biological father came as a bit of a surprise to Matt but it shouldn't have considering the complicated circumstances of their relationship. In any case she was not as forgiving as Peter which may not have been a bad thing. He certainly wasn't feeling very charitable toward the senator at the moment.
After Matt headed down the elevator, Chekov quietly commented, "Peter vill be ok. Dr. McCoy is a good man and he vill do all he can to help him. He has managed to bring back our captain many times from terrible situations."
"Really?" Claire asked with a twinkle in her eye as she took in Jim reclining in his command chair chatting with her dad. "Is he that reckless?"
"You have no idea." Chekov chuckled until the dreamy quality in her voice registered and he glanced up to see her still gawking in his direction. His hopes dashed, he concentrated on the task at hand and tried his best to ignore the snickering coming from Scotty and Sulu.
Nathan stood and stretched his cramped muscles. The chair had become too uncomfortable to be an option and if he was honest with himself he was getting too old for marathon vigils. He paced slightly next to Peter and occasionally reached down to lightly touch his arm or the back of his hand and whisper to him even though it seemed like a waste of time.
"Jesus, Pete." He sighed running a hand through his hair. "You sure know how to scare the daylights out me. This really isn't funny anymore." The monitors above the bed beeped slightly faster and Nathan looked down in surprise. "Pete?" He called hopefully. "Can you hear me?" His breath caught in his throat when his brother's eyelids began to flutter. "If all I had to do was admit that I have been an ass for you to wake up, I would have done that hours ago." He chuckled desperately.
"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but he isn't waking up." McCoy sighed. He really hated being the bearer of bad news, but he saw no need in bullshitting the man who refused to budge from his post for the last 17 hours even to get food or sleep. It seemed the least he could do since no clear answer was forthcoming for his predicament and he felt slightly guilty about that.
"But the monitors…" Nathan protested pointing to them as if it were a cruel trick. "And look, he is trying to open his eyes."
McCoy looked at Peter miserably. This kind of thing was always difficult for him, he wasn't the warm and coddling type and it seemed cruel to crush the man's desperate hopes. He reached down and pushed back Peter's eyelids so they were open and slowly waved his hand in front of his patient's face. Peter's hazel eyes tracked the doctor's hand languidly. "It is a biological reflex." McCoy said gently. "That is all it is. He is not aware of my hand at all. Do you see how his pupils are dilated? He is unconscious."
Nathan clenched his jaw tight and placed his hand on his brother's. When he was finally able to quell the hopelessness that he felt, he asked in a business like tone, "What are his chances of recovery, doc? If there is no hope that he will recover, I want him taken off support. Pete wouldn't want to live this way."
McCoy was briefly appalled by the apparent lack of concern and the coldness in Nathan's voice, but he could see how it might be easier to deal with emotionally if it was reduced to simple fact. "Well, that is not something we have to do now." He replied slowly. "I will be honest with you, here. Peter is unlike any other person I have ever treated. I can't say with any certainty what his outcome is because I do not fully understand his physiology. All I can say is I have watched him do things that were absolutely impossible before, so I wouldn't count him out just yet."
Sylar watched with arms folded from Mohinder's lab. It boggled his mind how Nathan could at once sell out his own brother and then have the temerity to act like he didn't anticipate the consequences of his actions. Peter was notoriously indecisive, but it seemed as though Nathan was as well, just in a different way.
"Dr. Mohinder," Spock called from inside the lab where he had been analyzing the poison since he had received an emergency call several hours ago, "I believe I may have located an anomaly."
"What did you find?" Mohinder asked anxiously.
"I cannot be certain, but I believe I have isolated an additive to the neurotoxin that appears to have immunosuppressant attributes. This may explain why Peter's regenerative ability was not able to fully activate." He reported.
"I see," Mohinder sighed, "but Claire said the men came for Nathan and he can't spontaneously heal. Why would they be carrying ammunition targeted more towards Peter's abilities?"
"Maybe," Sylar said in a bored tone, "the additive is not specifically an immunosuppressant. What if it is a general serum that latches onto our very DNA and modifies itself to counteract whatever ability we have? It all makes sense if you consider the fact that Nathan and his merry band of miscreants were looking for mutations. Perhaps they found it as well as a way to disable it."
"Much like a virus vector." Spock commented. "Fascinating."
"And if this serum changes the very code of the DNA," Mohinder theorized "that means every cell in Peter's body is now damaged. In order to reverse the effects we have to find a way to repair the damage, but we first have to identify the gene the serum works on and that has so far proven to be quite a challenge."
"It could be done," Spock said darkly, "however, it would take a great amount of time to find the correct delivery system. I am uncertain if Peter would survive before we could succeed."
"I could fix him." Sylar smirked. "For a price, of course." He had been aching for a real challenge for his aptitude and this little adventure might just fit the bill.