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After teleporting away from the corpses of his future brother and self, Peter opened his eyes to find himself exactly where he’d hoped - Gabriel’s cell. And more than he"d hoped, Gabriel was alive and awake, standing, turning towards him. Peter didn’t hesitate before launching himself at the taller man, throwing his arms around him in relief and joy.
“You’re alive!” Peter exclaimed gratefully, tears wetting his lashes. “Thank God. Come on, I’ll get you out of here. Let me save you!” he said, grabbing onto his brother"s arms and closing his eyes.
“What? No!” Sylar yelled in alarm, pulling away from his presumptuous brother.
“Gabriel, you don’t understand,” Peter said pleadingly. “I just killed Nathan! It was horrible! We need to leave. Claire and the Haitian will probably be here any minute,” he explained quickly, putting his hand on Gabriel"s arm again.
“Peter, what the hell are you talking about?” Sylar asked, obviously confused, looking at him with wide eyes. But he didn"t shrug off Peter"s hand. Now that it was clearer Peter meant him no harm, he kind of liked the soft, unfamiliar, yet strangely compelling touch. “And why are you calling me "Gabriel"?”
“What year is this?” Peter moved closer, looking up into Sylar"s handsome face. His eyes were as beautiful and bottomless as his future version"s had been.
“Two thousand and eight,” Sylar answered him slowly, as though Peter were brain damaged.
Peter’s eyes widened as the truth hit him. “Oh, thank God! Then Nathan’s still - oh thank God,” he prayed with a sigh of relief, the feeling of which was short-lived. “Oh, but that means you"re still...” Emotions whirling from panic, to joy, to fear, Peter looked back up to Sylar’s face, expecting it be glaring deadly intentions at him, but all he saw was concern.
“Still what? Peter what is going on?" Sylar asked worriedly, boldly placing his hand on Peter"s bare arm, unable to hold back taking a swift glance at all his naked skin on display.
“If you saw the future I just came from you’d understand.”
“Then enlighten me.”
Reluctantly, Peter broke their near embrace, and sat on the cement platform, suddenly drained of energy. He shook his head, not knowing where to start. “Everyone was different. It was all flipped. Good to bad, bad to good. I don’t understand everything; it all happened so fast.”
“But you saw me,” Sylar prodded gently. Eager to reestablish their proximity, he moved to sit very near Peter, their legs brushing against one another. “Knew me by my real name.” His voice was soft, wondering why some future version of himself would trust Peter enough to share that.
Peter nodded, grateful to have his brother so close, showing how comfortable he was with him. His careful actions and soft, melodic voice allowing Peter to further let down his guard.
“Was I - was I still a killer?” Sylar asked hesitantly.
“No. You were...a good man. I was the bad guy, a terrorist. You and me...we were...close, apparently,” Peter admitted, giving Sylar a measuring, hopeful look.
“Were we....brothers?” Sylar asked, leaning closer as he felt the kinship flowing between them.
Peter turned to stare into Sylar"s eyes. “How did you know that?” he breathed in astonishment.
“I didn’t - I didn’t know if she was telling me the truth.” Sylar gazed back at Peter, into his dark, luminous eyes. It was looking at twin stars in the night sky. “I guess she was.”
“Who?” Peter asked, hardly paying attention to the answer, mesmerized as he was by Sylar"s muscular body and hairy chest revealed by the tank shirt he was wearing.
“Angela.”
Just then, the cell door opened and Angela Petrelli walked in.
Peter turned to her, mood flipping to seething in an instant. The last time he"d seen his mother, she"d been trying to make him blow up New York. And all this time, she"d concealed his relationship to Sylar from him, keeping them apart when they might have been helping each other deal with the tragic repercussions of his ability. “You.”
“Peter, what are you doing here?” Angela asked, completely ignoring the anger in her youngest son"s voice. “I’ve been so worried,” she said with an amused air, idly fondling the pearls at her throat.
“Have you? I wonder. Or did you know where I was the whole time?” Peter accused, standing, voice rising with fury. “Like you must have known when I was here before, trapped in a cell for months! Like you’ve known all this time that our family was incomplete?” he demanded, coming around the slab to face her.
“Peter -” she remonstrated, with a tilt of her head like he was overreacting.
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!” Peter slammed her against the glass with telekinesis, one hand outstretched as the other went to his head. The ability Gabriel had given him was ticking away inside of his skull, just like it had before he"d killed Nathan. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn"t help himself. There was so much he needed to know and to understand before he could trust her.
“It’s always nothing but lies from you. All my life!" Peter screamed, starting to froth at the mouth. "Lies and secrets and deceit is all you know,” he said woefully, his soul wounded and bleeding from her betrayal of him.
“Like how I was supposed to grow up to be a bomb that kills millions all for the sake of Nathan’s political career!” he shouted, finally venting some rage that had been kept inside for too long. The things she had done to him were unspeakable and the things she"d inflicted on Sylar were even worse. “Well I’ve seen where that leads to now. The end goal of your master plan. It’s going to destroy the whole world! And I can’t let that happen,” he promised gravely, raising his hand, index finger extended as the ticking sound filled his consciousness. “All I need to know is in your head. I just need to crack it open and see once and for all what you’re really all about.”
“Peter, stop!” Sylar cried out, pulling Peter away and slamming him into the wall, bracing him there with his taller body. “How do you have my ability?” he asked in horror, searching Peter"s face with desperate eyes. Surely it"s not true!
“You gave it to me in the future to figure out how to stop this. Just let me do it and we can be safe,” Peter begged him, hands gripping Sylar"s impressive biceps.
Regretting his action before he even did it, but knowing that he had to stop Peter for his own good and that Peter would survive, Sylar snapped his neck with one decisive wrench. He took the weight of his brother"s dead body in his arms, unable to help noticing how good it felt against him. “Mom, get out of here and leave this to me.”
“Gabriel -”
“Go! I can help him. Let me.” He looked at her beseechingly. “Please, I need to do this. He’ll be okay, I promise,” he swore, hoping that this was his chance to prove he could be good and be a useful member of the Petrelli family.
Eyes dancing appraisingly over Sylar"s face, she finally nodded and scuttled out of the room.
Sylar looked down at Peter, who was wincing and adjusting his neck, hands finding purchase on Sylar"s sturdy chest. Over his shoulder, Sylar called out to Angela, “And don’t send anyone down here! No matter what you see. Trust me!”
“Peter, I know what you’re feeling,” Sylar started in a compassionate tone, stroking Peter"s shoulders soothingly as the distraught man settled back against the wall and gazed up at him helplessly. “I know how strong it is, the desire to know everything. It’s overwhelming, but it’s the real lie. It’s like a drug, and once you get a taste you can’t stop. You have to have more and more until all around you is blood and death. Believe me, you don’t want that,” Sylar said in a heartfelt appeal. If he could save Peter the worst agonies and gut-wrenching guilt of his ability, he would. “It feels good at first, but when you come down, it’s crashing into Hell.”
Peter was watching him with a pained but attentive expression, holding the side of his head. The ticking noise was so loud in Peter"s ears. He knew Sylar was telling him an important truth, but it was all he could do to restrain himself from trying to wrest even more truths from Sylar"s skull instead of his mother"s.
Sylar ducked down and leaned closer to the smaller man until their faces were mere inches apart, knowing his own was wearing a pleading expression. “I killed the woman who raised me. The woman I thought was my mother. And not a day has gone by that I did not regret it. Do you really want to become me?” Sylar asked quietly, sharing things with Peter that he"d never shared with anyone else. This was his brother, his own flesh and blood. Peter, more than anyone else in the world, would understand him.
Peter seemed to struggle with himself. “It hurts,” he said in a small voice, eyes begging and glistening with tears. “I can"t stop it, Sylar. The noise, the pain, the hunger ...” Peter was reaching the end of his ability to hold back, but there was no other target here for his lusts than Sylar, who was so maddeningly close, he could smell his heady scent.
“I know.” Sylar was filled with remorse and empathy, understanding exactly how Peter felt. This man was his little brother and he needed him. He felt compelled to do something, anything that Peter might need or want …whatever it took to ease his pain and earn a place in his heart.
A ragged sob tore from Peter"s throat. “I need...please, I need...” He tried to shut his eyes, blocking out the sight of what he wanted so badly, but he couldn"t do it. Not when Sylar"s sexy mouth was so close and his tanned, long limbed body was surrounding him, tempting him with all the man was.
Peter whimpered and pawed restlessly at Sylar"s chest, evoking feelings of protectiveness the likes of which he had never known. That combined with the desperate look in Peter"s vulnerable eyes was too much for Sylar to resist. He couldn"t stand seeing Peter"s achingly beautiful countenance in such anguish. It was twisting him up inside. He stepped back and held his hands out to the sides, as though he were hanging from the cross he would gladly be nailed to for Peter. “Then know my secrets Peter! Satisfy your hunger with me. I will survive anything you do to me.”
Peter couldn"t believe what Sylar was offering him. He realized in his heart of hearts that the repentant killer truly was his brother, because he was willing to sacrifice himself just as nobly as Nathan was at Kirby Plaza. Hunger raging inside him, he raised his hand but hesitated, knowing how dastardly his desires were. How could he even think of harming the gorgeously selfless man in front of him?! His hand was shaking now, evidence of his inner torment that felt like a ravenous demon was gnawing at his insides. The ticking in his head was overwhelming and he couldn"t take his eyes off Sylar"s handsome, expansive forehead. It was calling to him but still he fought to resist the overpowering lure.
“Do it,” Sylar ordered. “You have to!
“Everything I am, it’s yours,” Sylar promised passionately.
Unable to turn away from temptation any longer, Peter’s eyes glittered and one side of his lip curled. Anticipation unfurled inside him, filling him with hot determination to finally be satisfied. When he raised his hand this time, there were no second thoughts. He cut clean and straight – Sylar deserved nothing less.
Sylar cried out in distress as his forehead was split open. The pain was excruciating and surprisingly exquisite. He fell, barely catching his weight on his arms before laying down fully on the cold cement floor.
“Are you okay?” Peter asked, kneeling down next to him hastily. For a moment, his concern and the depth of Peter"s humanity overrode the relentless drive of the ability.
“Yeah,” Sylar panted. “Finish the cut. Remove the skull and examine the cranium. Let the knowledge flow into you, you don’t have to reach for it,” he whispered, closing his eyes, trying to relax. He knew he would be safe in Peter"s hands. His brother was the most honest, caring, heroic person he knew. The one person he could let down his walls for because Peter would never betray his trust and love like that vengeful, tea poisoning, needle wielding Mohinder had.
Peter sat down cross-legged behind him and did as he was instructed, quickly learning what it was like to dive into another person"s life, swimming down to their core, and drowning in their existence. Afterward, he begged Gabriel to do the same to him in return, because the experience was such a rapturous revelation that he couldn"t deny it to someone so generous and wholesome. He understood now how misunderstood his long lost brother was; that he was actually kind, innocent, and meek. But lost in so many ways to the point of needing a new name, that Peter now knew the significance of. It was all so tragic it made his heart weep! He had to give himself to Gabriel; it was the only thing that made sense.
Then Gabriel was learning him. Peter could feel his presence in his mind, his soul, stroking, tasting his very essence. He sought to reach out to him through their mystical connection, make it stronger and deeper; as deep and thorough as possible until there was no nook of his being untouched by Gabriel"s sensual, ephemeral touch. Peter felt like every inch of his self was just coming to life thanks to the powerful man"s awareness of it; like he had never been real until Gabriel knew him.
Later they sat on the floor leaned back against the central slab, staring at one another as they wound down from the almost sexual climax they"d just shared. Gabriel took Peter’s hand, turning it over in his own, pressing their fingers together, looking down on them in wonder.
Peter’s gaze was tender as he watched the man he loved play with his hand. The empath easily understood how touch starved he was and was so glad of the opportunity to heal that wound inside of Gabriel"s soul. Peter knew his life"s calling now and it was to be at Gabriel"s side, healing him from everything the world had done to the poor man. Peter couldn’t believe how good his touch, his nearness, felt already. In such a short span of time, they were as close as two people could be.
They had absorbed everything from one another - memories, feelings, abilities. He could feel some kind of energy sparking between them, surrounding, encasing them in a bubble of power. They were perfect reflections of each other; halves of a new whole. A lot of it was still filtering and being processed in the back of his mind, but that mind was a lot sharper now. Quicker. Gabriel had been a treasure trove of knowledge and he knew he would be satisfied by it forever. Together, they were more than enough to satisfy each others hunger.
More important than that, Peter knew everything he needed to know about the man sitting next to him. And that man knew him better than anyone else ever had. Better than even Nathan did. It was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he needed. And now it was his turn to be the teacher and the big brother. He was going to teach Gabriel how to be a good man; teach him everything he wanted to know. Just like Nathan had taught him. Then together, they would keep the future he saw from happening and craft a better future where everything worked out right. He sighed in satisfaction, eyes roaming the incredibly sexy and masculine body of his new partner in life, his beloved soulmate. Nothing had ever felt so fated by destiny and blessed by God as this.
“So, what do you wanna do now,” Peter asked, with a knowing smile, dipping his head mischieviously to find Gabriel’s eyes.
The older man looked away coyly, and blushed. “You know exactly what I want to do,” he purred, grinning at Peter sideways.
Peter’s grin widened and he bit his lip adorably. “I have a pretty good idea,” he said smugly as he sat up, turned, and slithered onto Gabriel"s lap, straddling his outstretched legs. Peter scooted closer until their groins were flush together, bracing himself on the broad shoulders in front of him.
“Peter!” Despite Gabriel’s seemingly outraged cry, his hands immediately found his little brother"s ass cheeks, squeezing them enthusiastically. His eyes widened comically as he looked at the naked, perfectly muscled, and bloodied chest up and down, so close, it was within licking distance. A glance back to Peter"s youthful face revealed a naughty expression and the teasing tip of his pink tongue peaking between his luscious lips. Gabriel licked his own lips wanting so badly to press them against Peter"s.
Peter chuckled and turned to the camera in the corner of the ceiling. “Ma! I’ll have him back tomorrow,” he called out with a lecherous grin.
Angela and Noah watched on the video screen as Peter leaned in to kiss Sylar just before they both disappeared, teleporting away.
“Well, I hope you’re satisfied,” Noah said with an exasperated sigh.
Angela’s lips tightened. “Get a team together and go after them,” she ordered. Her gaze was still locked onto the empty cell, images of what had just happened burned into her brain, filling her with horror and something suspiciously like guilt.
“No,” Noah said stubbornly.
“Noah, they could be on their way to start another killing spree!” she said in disbelief, looking up at the man standing next to where she sat.
“You saw the same footage I did. That is not what they are going to go do,” Noah replied with a grimace.
“Peter’s unbalanced. Sylar’s taking advantage of him,” she insisted, voice rising with hysteria.
Noah let out a bark of laughter. “Let me be blunt, Angela. I am not going to get between two multi-powered individuals as they get to know each other even more penetratingly than cutting into one another"s brain matter. I am not that crazy, mean, or suicidal. Now, I am going to get Rene and do what needs to be done - tracking down the Level Five escapees. This,” he said, gesturing at the now empty cell and by implication, the situation with Sylar and Peter, “is your doing. You can deal with your power crazed, incestuous family. Though, I’d advise you leave them alone for the night,” he said, turning to leave. “They might be more relaxed in the morning.”
“They’re not really brothers and you know it!” Angela yelled, grabbing onto the arms of her chair in frustration and stamping her feet on the ground like a petulant child. Argh! Why do all my plans get ruined by that useless, ungrateful son of mine? she thought, hatefully. He can"t do anything right! If only he"d just blown up when I told him to.
“Yeah, but they don’t know that,” Noah reminded her as he walked out the door. “Perverts.”