SquidgeWorld Archive

Five Things that Happened in Four Months
by Perpetual Motion
iwannabedonna@gmail.com

1. Betrayal

He drops Peter as soon as they clear the atmosphere, watches him explode, and then screams down to catch him before he breaks through without Nathan to protect him. It doesn't matter that it's Peter who can regenerate. It matters that Nathan is his big brother and someone has to watch out for him. Nathan floats them around for awhile, watching the burns on Peter's body slowly heal. He finally sets them down in some no-name town in pretty much nowhere and props Peter against a wall in the shadows while he goes inside a tiny hotel office to see about a room.

"You look plain awful," the woman behind the desk has a kind voice and unsuspicious eyes, and Nathan doesn't know which area of Podunk he's in, but he's grateful it's one of those places where people just smile and look the other way.

"Car broke down a few miles back. I had to walk in. My brother's stone drunk outside."

"Cell reception's bad around here, and there's no one to tow the car this time of night anyway." The woman takes a room key down from the wall behind her and holds it out. "Number 11 has clean sheets and plenty of cold water. If you need any aspirin, just call up here."

"Thank you," Nathan pockets the key, gives the lady a bit of his best smile, and walks back out the front door. Peter's where he's left him, and Nathan carries him into Number 11, which is cleaner and neater than Nathan expected and comes with a full tub. He cleans Peter first, peeling off the tattered remains of his clothes and scrubbing gently to get the soot out of his skin. Peter never moves, barely breathes, and Nathan wonders if Peter's finally reached his limits. He shakes off the idea and bundles Peter into bed, considers calling his mother but falls asleep before he finds the energy.

The next morning, bright and sharp, Nathan's up, and Peter's still down, still barely breathing. There's a knock on the door, and Nathan's almost not surprised that it's his mother, done up in her full glory of heavy coat and designer shoes. She looks at Nathan, looks around him to Peter, and twists her mouth at the both of them.

"They're waiting for you in New York."

"I'm not going back."

"Nathan," that soft, almost patronizing tone that makes Nathan's skin crawl, the one that tells him he's done something inappropriate even when he hasn't. "Please don't make this hard."

"What's hard? He's hurt, Ma, and I'm not leaving him in anyone's care but mine. If I'd listened to him, if I'd trusted him, we could have stopped this a long time ago. But I listened to you," and the last words are all hiss. Nathan's a bit disappointed when his mother doesn't even flinch.

"Hard it is, then." And she steps aside so that The Haitian can loom into the doorway.

Nathan tries to fight, but he's on the wrong side of the door. He can't run, there's no place to fly, and even if there were, he wouldn't dare leave without Peter. The Haitian's fingers press against his head, and everything goes black.

Angela watches Nathan's eyes roll up into his head and looks away, stares at the drapes on the large picture window and speaks to the tiny sliver of light she sees peeking around the edges. "Tell him his brother is dead. And make Peter forget himself." She steps outside, closes the door, and slides into the backseat of the car. Three tears fall onto her coat, and she dabs them with a tissue.

"I had to," she says to no one. "If only they'd listened."

2. Loss

Matt wakes up and Janice is at his bedside, her hair a mess and her face blotchy and red. She's beautiful, Matt thinks, and he gives her a smile. " Hey."

"Hi," she hiccups and wipes her nose. The hand she places over his is cold. "You're awake."

"Yeah." Matt tries to move, but he's drugged and exhausted, and so the movement is more of a slight shift. "I thought you'd gone back to the hotel. You should rest."

"I-" there's the high note of a sob, and then Janice reels it back. "I'm fine."

"You may be, but that kid of ours-" The thoughts hit Matt in a tumble, a quick-shot collection of Oh, god, oh, no how do I, he can't hear, and it fills his head to aching. For a few seconds he whites out, all he hears is static and indescribable babble. When he comes back, Janice is crying in earnest, tears streaming down her face, shoulders shaking, the fingers on his hand are digging into the small bones. Matt tires to think of something, of anything, and all that comes out is her name, strangled and painful. "Janice."

"It was from stress. The doctor says it was stress. And he asked me why I'd been so stressed, and I didn't know what to tell him." She looks Matt straight in the eyes, and all he can see are the tears running down her cheeks. "Because there was no good way to tell him that my husband was out with a bunch of weirdoes all the way across the country trying to save the world."

"They're not weirdoes." It's exactly wrong, and he knows it, and tries to keep hold of her hand when she pulls away. "Janice-" Desperation in his voice this time as she backs towards the door. "Honey-"

"No." She waves her hand at him, like she's shooing away a fly. "No. I won't do this. You can't-" She stops, breathes, and wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands. "You can't do this, Matt. You can't. What's there to save?"

Everything, Matt thinks. Janice's thoughts are a list of losses. The baby is somewhere between happy marriage and dependability. Matt breathes in and breathes out, feels the pull of his bandages, and says the one thing he has that is exactly right for him. "The whole world."

"You're not Superman," she says, all disgust and impatience. "You're not even a very good cop." And it's one step above as low as she can go, and Matt can feel that she knows it.

"I saved the world, Janice," he says evenly, the voice he's used when keeping his patience with nosy neighbors making noise complaints about copulating couples. "I saved the whole goddamned world."

"Over me. You saved the world over me. Over our baby."

"It wasn't mine," he says in that same tone. He's known it as long as he's known she was pregnant, but he was willing to pretend like he hadn't heard her think it one day when he'd slipped his hand under her shirt. Willing to be a dad to whatever kid came into their house, willing to make a family and be happy because that's what he wanted more than anything. More than detective. "It wasn't mine, and I was okay with that," he says, just to watch the pull of her face. She turns and leaves, and he watches her walk, lets her thoughts bounce around his head. She thinks vile things of him, of the hospital, of life in general, but nothing of the baby.

Matt closes his eyes and tries to sleep, wonders where he'll stay once they release him from the hospital.

Subterfuge

"And what would I be doing?" Mohinder asks as he stirs his tea. He's at the back of a restaurant in rumpled khakis and a slightly worn sweater, the circles under his eyes making his face look ashy.

"You'd be bringing them down," Bennet says as he cuts into his steak, tie straight and shirt pressed. "We'll lay some traps, place some bait, and see who pops out for a look."

"If that's your plan, we're in trouble."

"That's step one of the plan. I have other steps."

"Which are?"

"No one's business until they need to be." Bennet doesn't have to look up to know he's getting a glare. "The less I tell you, the more you can be trusted. You've got a good poker face, but sometimes your eyes go shifty."

"I haven't had nearly as many years to practice."

"No, I suppose not."

They go silent, Bennet chewing his steak, Mohinder sipping his tea. Around the restaurant people eat and chat and laugh. There's a couple two tables over who look to be in a fight. Mohinder watches them for a few moments before contemplating Bennet again. "What's in it for me?"

"The knowledge that you're saving people."

Mohinder scoffs, leans forward, puts his forearms on the table and watches Bennet taste his potato. "I'm not as wide-eyed and gullible as I once was, Mr. Bennet. It's been a long, hard road since that day in the cab."

Bennet breaks a grin. "I was wondering if you'd put that together."

"Like I said, I'm not wide-eyed or gullible. What's in it for me?"

"This." It's a plain manila folder shaped to half an inch by all the papers inside. Bennet watches Mohinder open it, watches his eyes go just slightly wide. "Do we have a deal?"

"Is this real?" Mohinder shifts through the papers, squints at the fine print, finds a school picture attached to the back leaf and looks at a smile he hasn't seen in two weeks. "Will this hold up?"

"Under everything. I've had some practice."

"When?"

"As soon as we're done here."

"And they'll be no questions?"

"Not from the government. The neighbors and their raised eyebrows aren't really my concern."

"Nor mine." Mohinder closes the file, looks at Bennet, and gives him a curt nod. "Where do we start?"

"With a really good story."

Depression

He goes back to Yamagato because he doesn't know what else to do. He'd stayed in New York two weeks, walking around all the areas of the city where they'd been together, always ending up at the plaza, looking at the statue, and trying to remind himself that he helped save the world. It doesn't do anything but make him sad, but he doesn't know what else to do.

Fifteen days after Hiro's disappearance, Ando flies back to Japan. He makes a few calls and is guaranteed a cubicle, and when he shows up for work, no one asks where he's been or about Hiro or about anything at all. They all move between their cubes like they don't know anything else, and even when they leave the building at the end of the day, they don't do anything interesting at all. Ando misses going to the bar, having a drink, and listening to Hiro tell stories. It's not the same with the people from around his cube. They talk about work and wives and children and husbands. They talk about bills and insurance. No one says anything interesting. No one tries to be different. It makes Ando itch all over, and he stops going out with them after a few days.

And then, Hiro's father arrives at his door. Regal and important, telling Ando that Ando will work for him now, and that together they will find Hiro. They go back to New York, and Ando wears expensive suits and picks up coffees and papers for Mr. Nakamura. They sit in the Plaza and rarely talk, and every time Ando tries to tally the days since Hiro's disappearance, Mr. Nakamura looks sad and determined and worried all at the same time. Ando stops trying to mention it every day and only brings it up when Mr. Nakamura looks particularly determined .

He doesn't want to play devil's advocate, he doesn't want to lose hope, but he's spent so many years being reasonable against all of Hiro's wild ideas and comic book plans, that stopping now isn't something he can handle. He sees in Mr. Nakamura's determination a little bit of Hiro, and Ando blames that for the way he keeps trying to convince him of the time gone by and what it means.

A watched pot never boils, he tells Mr. Nakamura in Japanese as they sit and look around the plaza after so many days Ando's almost lost count.

A pot with a fire under it always boils, Mr. Nakamura returns.

Ando squints up at the sun to have an excuse for his watering eyes.

Hope

Molly runs into the room, hair flying behind her, and jumps up on Matt's bed. "Hi!"

"Hey, there!" He says, honestly happy to see her. "Where's Mohinder?"

"Behind her, as always," Mohinder says as he walks in the room. "She insists on running the last twenty feet."

"Exercise is good for you," Molly intones in such a way that Matt knows she learned it from a teacher.

"You shouldn't run in a hospital. People could be hurt."

"If people are in a hospital, they're already hurt."

Matt laughs and shrugs at the look Mohinder throws him. "She's using logic. I can't fight that."

Mohinder sighs and shakes his head. "No, I suppose not. Are you ready?"

"Just waiting for the doctor."

They sit and talk until the doctor comes in, a slightly frazzled man who looks glad to be getting rid of Matt and all the people that demand to visit him. "Mr. Parkman, I have to say I'm impressed with your recovery."

Matt picks up Molly, sets her on his lap, and tickles her until she squeals. "Lots of encouragement."

"Yes, I know. I saw your visitor chart." The doctor smiles kindly and hands over the clipboard. "If you'll just sign at the bottom."

Matt does so, then lifts Molly off his lap. "Anything else?"

"I've given the rest of the instructions to your partner," the doctor throws a glance at Mohinder, "he says he'll walk you through them."

Matt cocks his head, concentrates, and thinks at Mohnider, Partner?

It's the easiest explanation. The other one includes nuclear men, a shady government organization, and Sylar.

Matt grins and shakes the doctor's hand. "I appreciate your help."

"Glad to see you going out on your own steam," the doctor returns before nodding at everyone, producing a piece of candy for Molly and leaving the room.

"Can we go?" Molly asks as she unwraps her candy.

"You bet," Matt takes her hand while Mohinder grabs his bag. They're halfway down the block and right near the subway when Matt looks at Mohinder and raises his eyebrows. And?

It's set. I leave to start the tour in a week.

Do you think it'll work?

I only know phase one.

Do you think phase one will work?

Mohinder looks at Molly, practically skipping while her hair flies free. He thinks of Peter Petrelli and the flash in the sky, and he looks around the street, at the people who have no idea. I'll make it work. He shares a smile with Matt and they head down the stairs.

end