Chapter 43- Poker Face

When Nathan woke up, his addled brain exploded into a million shards of razor sharp pain that originated from the back of his skull as near as he could tell. He struggled to reach for any memory of what might of happened, but it was elusive and it was all he could do to simply open his eyes to take in his surroundings. When he did, he was thankful it was relatively dark and he was equally thankful that he was not alone. Spock sat awkwardly against a wall obviously in a world of hurt all his own and although he couldn't pinpoint exactly what tipped him off, Nathan got the distinct impression that they were far from safe. Perhaps it was the chaos of people running in front of the cell they were being held in or maybe it was the vague uneasiness in Spock's eyes as if he knew more than he was letting on, but that was at least something he understood- he and Spock were very much alike in that respect. Both men were careful to keep a poker face in even the most extreme circumstances because it was better than giving away your position. It was a very effective means of keeping one's options open unlike Peter who…Peter! "Spock!" Nathan groaned as he sat up way too fast given his condition. When the nausea passed and he was reasonably sure he wasn't going to pass out, he continued, "What happened to Peter? I…what the hell happened?"

Spock regarded him in silence for a moment before quietly observing, "It appears you have sustained an injury to your brain matter. Perhaps you should lie back down until medical attention is possible."

Nathan had to think about it for a second, but as he went over the words Spock had said it dawned on him that none of them had anything to do with Peter and it pissed him off a little. He was struggling as it was and he didn't appreciate having his limited cognitive resources wasted on irrelevant words and concepts. "You didn't answer my question." He flatly charged.

"I am uncertain what has become of Peter." Spock replied dispassionately. "Or the Captain, Noah, Mr. Chekov, or Sylar. The last memory I have retained was of incoming ordinance. It would be logical to assume that we were rendered unconscious by the detonation. I regained consciousness only minutes before you and likewise found myself captive."

Nathan's head throbbed and he wished Spock could just speak plain old English instead of sounding like Stephen Hawking giving a lecture on membrane theory, but at least he had answers- even if it only amounted to the fact that Spock was just as clueless as he was. In some ways it actually made him feel better to think that the alien wasn't infallible after all. "So we survived and were taken prisoner, is that it?" He asked wearily.

"I believe that is correct." Spock confirmed shifting slowly. If Nathan was peeved at his cryptic speech, Spock was just as irritated by being asked bloody obvious questions. Head injury or not, it was mildly grating. "At least until the time that the Romulans decide to execute us or the crew intervenes- whichever scenario occurs first."

Nathan couldn't help but laugh at the absolute lack of concern in Spock's voice as though the outcome didn't matter in the least. He made it sound like one was just as good as the other, which was of course patently absurd, but there was no better time for gallows humor. He never would have guessed that Spock was a comedian with impeccable timing. It seemed the dire circumstances made both their poker faces slip just a little to reveal the men underneath.

Outside, the remaining crew crouched by the ill fated rock trying to get a game plan together while Sylar acted as sentry- creating a protective shield by casually flicking away intruding Romulans as though he were swatting flies. He wanted to destroy them- and he knew he could- but Jim and McCoy all but begged him not to and he understood. It was bad enough they were there and piles of casualties would be a hard thing to justify from their standpoint. It just felt so good to be back that restraining himself was difficult and he may or may not have been a little too rough on occasion which McCoy noted with a glare.

"Is there any way we can know if they are still alive?" Jim asked. He hated to even give voice to the possibility that they weren't, but it had to be said and he was determined to make full use of the powers at his disposal if they were going to rush in after them.

Peter tried to focus Matt's power to listen for the familiar tone of his brother, but there were just too many beings all screaming thoughts to create such a din it make his head hurt. "No, but Nathan is alive." He declared, hazel eyes blazing, "I just know it."

"Great." McCoy grumbled still keeping an eye on Sylar as he sent more Romulans flying. "Now we are going on your intestinal say so." He was used to it with Jim, but he didn't know how reliable Peter's was.

"You are making this all much harder than it has to be." Sylar almost yawned. "Peter and I can go in while you stay here. We can't get killed and there is no way now that they can capture us. We simply walk in, get them, and walk out."

"And leave you to slaughter them?" McCoy howled. "No way. Besides, I at least have to go. What if they aren't stable enough to move right away? God only knows what they have done to them by now."

"I am going." Jim stated with final authority without offering a rationale. As captain, he didn't have to explain himself, but it should have been obvious to at least McCoy what his motivation was. Although they had a rough start, over time he and Spock had worked out an understanding and there was no way he was going to leave his first officer's fate in the hands of others. He was going in even if he wasn't bullet proof like Sylar and Peter because even if Spock wouldn't have used the term himself, Jim had come to consider him something of a friend and he wasn't one to let his friends down when they needed him.

"Alright then." Peter nodded in full understanding. "Then let Sylar and me take the front and you two follow. We can keep you safe and find them."

"How are we going to find them?" McCoy asked a little exasperated. "Just stop and ask someone?"

"Yeah," Peter answered with a dead serious expression on his face, "something like that."

Remembering being pushed out of the way by Dr. McCoy when she was too close to Peter when he was trying to work, Claire tried to stay out of the way when the medical staff finally made their way to Chekov. She stood by the door to Mohinder's lab so as to still be in sight and therefore keep her promise to the young Russian while he received treatment, but far enough away to talk to her father about some unpleasant things that had been stirring in her mind since she left.

Noah knew something was bothering his daughter for quite some time, but he also knew that pushing her to talk would do no good. She could be just as infuriatingly stubborn as he was but still it broke his heart to see her trying to be so strong and act like she had it all together when she didn't. He supposed she learned it from him and he couldn't decide if that was necessarily a good thing or not. There were times when it served him well and other times- when his marriage was crumbling to bits- when he might have done better to try another approach but no matter the misery his job had inflicted on his personal life he remained convinced that both Sandra and Claire were better off not knowing the whole truth. And if that meant Sandra leaving him for another man to have a happier life, then it was mission accomplished because in the end she still wouldn't know about the truly horrible things that lurked in the world- people like Sylar and the things he was capable of. Thankfully the Haitian had erased the memory of that encounter from her mind because that was one meeting she would never forget and it would no doubt have ruined her for life. He glanced into the lab at Mohinder who busied himself with the PADD and some equipment in order to pretend he wasn't listening. "Everything ok?" He casually asked his daughter as she watched the medical staff work on her new friend. He sincerely hoped this wasn't going to be about unrequited love or a potential relationship with the young crewman. He had nothing against the man, in fact Chekov seemed like a fine young gentleman with promising prospects, but he was no good at mushy love things- Sandra would have handled this type of thing- or Peter.

"Is it ever?" She asked wrapping her arms around herself in a resigned manner.

"Well, sometimes are more ok than others." Noah admitted wrapping his arm around her shoulders in an effort to comfort her. "But how about now? Something on your mind?"

"I just…" she sighed shaking her head, "how do you even begin to process this?" She gestured around the room and added, "Any of this? How is this in any way normal? What am I going to tell people when I go back?"

Noah nodded and replied, "Whatever you have to. This isn't normal Claire. I don't think any of us have ever seen anything quite like this outside of maybe Hiro. Maybe it would help to ask him how he made sense of his experience in feudal Japan but whatever you do you can't draw attention to yourself when you go back. You know how it is, Claire."

"I know." She whispered. "Always hiding."

"It's the safest way and I hope that this whole experience has shown you why. Some people just can't handle the truth- they just aren't ready to know about you and the others. But what we know now is that at some point people will be able to accept it and the truth will come out. The people on this ship at least knew about people with abilities and it has been easy for them to accept us as though we were just individuals who spoke with an accent or dressed differently. There will be time to be who you are, Claire, but in the meantime you have to do what is necessary to stay safe." He reminded her. That had always been his goal above all else and he had to convince her of it since he wouldn't always be around to protect her.

"How will this all end?" She asked looking almost desperately into his eyes.

"I don't know." He admitted giving her a weak smile, "But it always does somehow."

Sulu sat with Ando and Hiro at his station while he worked. He wasn't really doing anything per se, but he remained at the ready should the need for action arise. The stabilizers were doing a fine job of keeping the ship steady at hover and the Romulans had yet to take a pot shot at the ship, although the shields were up and at full strength last time he checked.

"Can't we just shoot them?" Ando asked watching the action like he had front row seats at the movies. If only he had a bag of popcorn…and the lovely Uhura sitting at his side…

"We could," Sulu shrugged, "but that would be an act of open aggression and a violation of Starfleet code. We can return fire, but not initiate a skirmish." He lectured as he once again looked over his readouts. "Besides, that would put the Captain and your friends in danger."

"It would not harm Peter or Sylar." Hiro corrected. "Peter went 'boom' over New York." He made a small explosion sound and made a vague gesture of an expanding mushroom cloud to illustrate his point.

"But Nathan stopped him." Ando countered keeping his eyes glued to the screen.

Sulu looked from one man to the other trying to figure out what exactly they meant. "How do you stop an exploding man?" He laughed incredulously.

"Exactly." Hiro smiled mischievously as he pushed his glasses up on his nose.

"Ok…" Sulu sighed returning to his work. He had witnessed many strange things since joining Starfleet and he considered himself a fairly open minded individual who could at least tolerate extreme differences among people but the more he hung around the evolved humans the more he found his ability being stretched to the limits. How does a person- even one with special abilities- explode? And survive? How physically does one become a bomb and detonate? He decided to chalk up the strange conversation to mistranslation and move on. Sometimes it was just easier to bury your head in the sand and pretend it never happened than to spend eternity trying to explain the unfathomable.