2008-03-26: The Dark Time

contains Season 3 material


FutureGabriel_icon.gif FuturePeter_icon.gif

Summary: Trying to fix everything means something must be broken first.

Dark Future Date: March, 2012

The Dark Time

Gray and Sons Watchshop

The sound of bells rings throughout the Gray & Sons watchshop, several different clocks all chiming in with their hourly announcement at the same time. Gabriel Gray looks up from his workdesk, pulling the multilens he wears off of his face as he glances up to an old, ornamental cuckoo clock. Ten o'clock at night. He didn't realize he had been working for so long. He stands from the table, moving over to a small table with has a kettle resting on it. Taking the kettle and refilling his mug of tea, he sips at it as he looks around the shop.

A new ringing chime sounds. This time from the front door as it opens and closes. Whether the shop should be closed or not, it doesn't matter. The door opens. A dark form steps into the store. A long black coat hangs down his body, shadows cast on his face. There's a deeper shadow above and below the ridge of his forehead, a deep slash healed into the skin. "Gabriel," Peter says in a raspy voice, deep and serious. He moves further into the shop, so he can look at the man who might have once almost been a brother. "I need to buy some parts from you."

Eyes shifting from the various clocks around the shop, Gabriel finds himself looking at one of the restored walls, a frown on his face. He knows the wall all too well; after all, it's the spot where he died hanging from a burst water pipe. Still frowning, the chime of the door snaps him out of his thoughts, his response automatic as he turns towards the door. "I'm sorry, we're close— … Peter?" Gabriel says, eyes widening a bit. "I haven't seen you in… what happened to your face?" The ex-killer takes a few steps forward, eyes locked on the scar.

"Long story," Peter says, touching the visible scar on his face as he gets further closer, looking down at the various pieces on the table. "I need some extra gears, some clock faces. I'm working on something— something important. And I need more parts." There's a moment where he hesitates before he looks at the man, the watchmaker, the time piece restorer. They've had a past, dark and gray. A future, dark and dark. And this is the present… "Things went wrong, and I'm going to fix them. But I need something from you to do it." The tension in his jaw makes his voice deeper.

"I'm sure I've got what you need, but…" Gabriel pauses, eyes still riveted to the scar, but he ultimately is able to pull them away, turning his back to Peter as he moves to his workdesk. "What are you working on?" the man says, turning to face Peter once he's at his desk. "What things need fixing? If you're talking about…" He pauses, shaking his head. "The world is always going to need saving, Peter. It isn't always up to you."

"Everything. Everything that started to go wrong a couple years ago— the injections, the powers, all of it." Peter watches the other man quietly, understanding the words, but seeming to stubbornly dismiss them for the moment. "Just because it always needs saving doesn't mean I shouldn't save it. I can do this, and I need your ability to do it. Your ability helps me understand things— it's going to help me build a watch. A watch that can keep track of all the events I need to fix. One change and everything on the watch changes with it." A long time ago, in a dream, he got this man's ability, fixing a watch. Now he wants to use the ability to build a watch. To change everything. To fix everything. "I can use your ability to fix what's broken."

"You're going to mess things up," Gabriel says, shaking his head again. He stays where he is, having no intentions of giving Peter what he needs. "You can't just go and hope everything will change. You can't mess with things, Peter. You have to fix them here. /Now./"

"I'm going to fix things," Peter says, voice growing harsher by the moment. His eyes narrow as he watches the watchmaker cautiously. "I didn't come here to get a lecture on what I should and shouldn't do. There's things that have happened— things that are going to happen. Fixing this place isn't a possibility anymore. I can go back— I can manipulate events— I can change things. And with your ability, I can make sure it's not a mistake." The ability that caused so much death and destruction already. He's wanting to use it for good, for help. For something not destructive. "You've seen what is happening to this world. You can't tell me that there wasn't a time you'd like to go back to. A time when you could change something that you did. Fix it. Make it different. Like with Elle, maybe."

"My ability isn't something that can be used to save the world, Peter!" Gabriel says, setting his mug down on the table a little too hard, the handle to the cup cracking off. "My ability destroys and ruins lives. You're asking for trouble if you keep using it. You can't go back, no matter what you…" Elle. He had to say that name. The look in Gabriel's eyes betrays his anger at Peter for using such a cheap tactic, but they soon gloss over, dropping to the floor as his mind wanders. "Elle deserves…" He shakes his head, eyes turning back up to Peter. "It doesn't matter. You can't go back. You can't risk it. What if you make things worse?"

"You know what's going to happen. You know I don't have a choice. The whole world is falling apart out there, and you're sitting here in a clock shop doing nothing to stop it," Peter yells, pointing out the door. "You can't just ignore the world and wait for it to change. You have to change it." This is something he's emphasizing, a heavy tone to his voice. There's even a shaking of the door as he points at it, an ability that wants to rise up. "Everyone deserves a better world, and I can make one. We made so many mistakes. So many things we should have done differently. So many things that happened that didn't have to happen. If you want to sit here and pretend like that's paying for your crimes, then go ahead. Doing nothing to fix this world that we helped make… that isn't redemption. It doesn't make all the terrible things you've done to me, to my niece, to Elle, to my friends. It doesn't change anything."

"What about the things you've done?!" Gabriel says, advancing on Peter and giving him one solid, forceful push to the chest with his hand. No ability is used. "Killing Kaito Nakamura? Killing me?" Both of the questions are punctuated with another shove, pushing him closer and closer to the door. "We all have skeletons in our closets. We've all done things that we regret. Do you honestly expect that people can ever forgive me for what I've done to them? That I can pay for my crimes? That I can be redeemed? How can you even look at me? How can any of them? There's only two things in this world I want, and I can't have either of them because of who I am. What I am. I don't stay in this shop waiting for the world to change, Peter. I stay in this shop so I don't help make it worse."

The forceful shove earns a glance down to the hand as Peter takes a solid step back in the direction of the door. Another solid step follows, but when his eyes raise, there's something much darker in them. Speaking of skeletons in the closet, and things that they regret… Bringing up Kaito Nakamura may have been a big mistake, cause in some ways it means… the gloves are off. "You letting everything you want disappear, and I'm fighting for what I want. You can stay here, not changing anything for anyone, while I fix things," he says firmly, raising a hand as if to shove back— And he does. Only unlike the other man, he doesn't hold back an ability when he does so. Enhanced strength is behind this shove, capable of sending the other man flying across the room. Through tables. The watch shop that had been repaired all those years ago will need another remodeling by the time this is over. "I don't need your help. I just need your power."

"It's not disappearing! I can't have it! I'm a murderer! A monster! I should have just let you kill me when I had the chance, because— " The shove back from Peter catches Gabriel off guard— it would have worked even if there weren't enhanced strength behind it, but it certainly doesn't help. He does indeed go flying across the room, slamming into a wall near his desk, a clock falling from the wall to the floor and splintering under it's own weight. "Is that how you want it?" he says, eyes narrowing as he stands from the floor. There's a wave of his arm, to the right— if it works, Peter will find himself flying, very fast, towards the walls, and if his aim is good enough, through the window.

"If this is how it has to be," Peter says defiantly as the man stands up, raising his arm and gesturing in a familiar way. There's no return gesture, no pushing against the force, none of his various protections come up to save him. Glass shatters as the man in the long black coat flies outside and into the evening streets of Brooklyn.

He lands on the sidewalk, the street empty except for parked cars, and a few vehicles moving down the street even in this hour. People stare, but the sound of screeching tires can be heard. Someone being ejected violently from a store didn't go unnoticed, and it would seem a majority want nothing to do with the man who starts to pick himself off the sidewalk, looking toward the window he just flew out of.

"I can change that too," he growls out painfully, blood on his lip, the rest hidden mostly by the dark clothes.

As soon as Peter launches through the window, Gabriel is after him, ripping off the vest to his suit and throwing it on the floor. It must look quite the sight, a man in a long black coat sent shattering through a window into the street, followed by someone who very much looks like he belongs in a watchshop jumping through the glass and advancing on the man, coming to a stop a few feet from him. "You can't go back, Peter. Listen to me. I don't want to have to fight you."

"I have to go back," Peter says, moving a hand. One of the many parked cars on the side of the road lifts up a bit and starts to slide in the direction of the other man. Telekinesis, a gift they share. One that he'd acquired from the man in front of him. He doesn't expect the car to hit him, knock him back inside the building, but it's a demonstration that he's not ready to give up. And that it is a fight. "You're right, though. You are a monster. After everything you did to Claire— after what you did to the woman who looked like Elle… There is no forgiveness for you. Maybe there never was. But you're still a coward for not trying to make a difference."

"And every day I hate myself for that! You know what it's like dealing with my ability, to kill and regret it. If there's no forgiveness for me, then there's no forgiveness for you, because you're a murderer just like me!" Eyes snapping towards the car, the man ignores it— Gabriel closes those final steps between them, drawing his arm back— and when his fist flies forward, aimed directly at Peter's chest, there's more than just strength behind it. There's a radioactive force behind it, intending to burn Peter, hit him that much harder, and generally do however much damage he can to knock the man down and out. "You're the coward, running back to the past to try and change things. You need to stay here, try to fix things now, help the people here who need to be helped!"

The fist stops the movement of the car, tossing Peter back into the road with radiation burns on his chest. The burns heal. Even with the scar across his face, he can heal again. Whatever caused it, is not still happening. "You haven't seen what's going to happen!" He yells, emphasizing the words as he moves his arm again. The car comes flinging across, slamming toward the man with quite a force. "There's no other choice. I have to go back."

"Whatever is going to happen you can stop now! You don't have to go back to fix it! I'll even help you, if I have to. Going back into the past… you don't know how much you change by one simple thing, Peter. What if you make it worse? What if you come back and everyone you know is dead?" SLAM. Focused so much on talking Peter out of going back, the car is forgotten, and he doesn't notice the fact that Peter threw the car at him. It sends the man flying down the road, bouncing off of the pavement and coming to a stop about twenty feet from Peter. There's no movement, but after a moment, one of his arms moves, struggling to push himself as his regeneration begins to fix the damage from having a car slammed into you.

"It can't be stopped. It gone too far already," Peter says, shifting his hand to slide the car out of the way so he can stalk over to the shopkeeper. Who just wanted to be left alone. He's not being left alone. While he struggles to push himself back up, he reaches down and grabs his collar and hauls him up to his feet. Super strength, again, but this time a jolt of electricity escapes one man and tries to jolt into the other. "What do you want me to do? Nuke entire cities just to get rid of the threat? I am NOTHING like you. I am NOT a monster. I can fix this." There's something darker in his eyes, a narrowing, a lowering of his eyebrows. "And I need to understand your ability better, in order to do it." It wasn't watch parts he came for. It wasn't gears and hands and dials…

Cars do a lot of damage when they hit you, and because of this, Gabriel's regeneration has a lot of work to do. Broken ribs mend themselves, his shattered shin bone slowly fixes itself, and the bruises begin to fade, but not fast enough. Next thing he knows, being hauled off of the ground by Peter, coming to a rest on his feet in front of the other man. "Peter," he says, letting out a harsh scream as the electricity courses through his body, his breathing rough. "Stop. You can't." He isn't about to give up, however. Gabriel raises a hand, quickly, putting it over Peter's face, basically slapping him in the nose, but he keeps his hand where it is. The next thing Peter will feel is a taste of his own medicine as Gabriel begins to generate electricity in the palm of his hand, letting the entirety of it course directly into Peter's face.

Just like cars, electricity causes some serious damage when generated in large portions to certain areas. To the face, in this case, is no less dangerous. A flash burn happens on some of his features. Peter releases the man's shirt as he flies backwards, shocked by the blast. A majority of it channels out of his foot and into the ground, while the rest of it got absorbed into his body. There's a twitching. His face is a mess. There's blood dripping down from his eye sockets, from his ears, from his nose.

The man has a moment to walk over and cause more damage, stop him, but then his body sinks down into the street, a ripple effect surrounded him as he phases through the street and down below.

Released, Gabriel falls to his knees, breathing heavily as his body continues to heal itself. He slowly stands, the last bruises fading as he watches Peter literally sink beneath the pavement. That's… well, Gabriel can't do that, for one. There's really no other way for him to follow, either, so the most he can do is wait, moving over to the car Peter had thrown so he can climb onto it. This way, at least, Peter can't grab him from beneath the ground. Hopefully.

There's silence. Lack of movement. A car even drives by, the driver just staring the a man standing on top of a car that looks like it's been wrecked a little.

You can't stop me. You're not powerful enough to stop me.

The mental voice echos in the background, in the darkness. The lights on the street flicker and go out, as if someone told the city power grid to shut down. Darkness plunges into the street.

In the shadows, a hand appears up out of the pavement, that ripple effect all around it. The sound of the effect, the movement, can be heard by the sensetive ears. A second hand. Peter pulls himself back out. Blood covers his face, even though it's healing most of the way. There's some things missing, though. The only thing visible around his eye sockets, on either side of the scar, are black, bloody holes.

I don't need to see you to take you, Sylar. Not Gabriel. Not Gray. Sylar.

Without any sight to guide him, he's using other senses, other abilities, a telepathic signature. He knows where the man is. Reaching up, he tries to grasp him, tries to pull him over, so he can slam him down against the pavement.

As the car drives by, Gabriel glances it, but he quickly turns his attention to the situation back at hand. People see all kinds of crazy things these days, so Gabriel doesn't think anything of it. He does think something about Peter, however, especially when his voice creeps up in the back of his mind. The street plunges into darkness slowly after, and for one of the few times in his life, Gabriel Gray is a little spooked.

Especially since he doesn't know where Peter himself is.

He looks all around, his fright and exhaustion from their fight, as short as it's been, really, taking effect on him. He doesn't hear, or see, Peter re-emerging from the ground. It's only at the last moment when he turns that he catches sight of the other man reaching for him like some unclean, eyeless creature from Hell itself coming to take him to his fate.

He's slammed into the pavement, the right side of his head bouncing off of the concrete, sending a burst of white stars shooting across his vision. "My name is… Gabriel…" he says, reaching a hand up to his head, his hair slick and moist with his blood. He turns his eyes to his hand, looking at the blood. He doesn't retaliate against Peter, but he does turn his eyes in his direction. "Peter.. stop. Listen to me."

Heavy steps sound against pavement as the dark figure moves closer. Shadows and light play against a blood soaked face as those dark holes begin to fill in, the eyes healing back into place, the eyelids blinking shut over them as he steps closer to the man. A foot comes down on his chest, somehow much heavier than it should be, pressing the man down against the street. "I won't stop. Not until I fix it." Or until he's dead.

A hand shifts, two fingers pointing down at the man against the pavement, pointing at a forehead, above thick eyebrows, below the hair-line.

"Now you'll know how it felt. For me. For the Elle that you killed. For Claire. For the rest of your victims." The pressure starts on the side of his forehead, a bone saw of telekinesis, cutting through skin and bone.

"Then I'll stop you, even if I have to kill you," Gabriel says, trying to get up— only he can't, because Peter's foot comes down, pinning the man to the ground. He struggles to to throw Peter off, gripping his ankle and shin with both hands, trying to make him move, but he can't. He's too weak. The blow to his head, even though the actual wound itself is healing, has still left him dazed.

Eyes snap up to Peter's fingers. He knows what's coming. When Peter says his words, Gabriel slowly begins to shake his head, rapidly increasing in speed as he talks to Peter. "Don't, Peter! You're not a murderer. I'm sorry for the things I did. I haven't killed anyone for four years— isn't that good enough? Is that not proof enough that I want to change? Please, Peter, don't… don't do this." Then the true pain comes. The sawing of his skull, the telekinesis ripping and cutting into flesh and bone causes Gabriel to scream out in pain. Blood spills out, running down the sides of his face and pouring into his eyes, involuntary actions taking over as his eyes close to shield against the blood as his skull is slowly sawed open.

"I'm sorry, Gabriel," Peter says in a darkened voice. "I need to fully understand your ability… and to do that…" The fingers continue to move, the skull cutting open as he leans in closer, bloody lines trailing down his face like dark tears as his eyes narrow, and he begins to look over him.

Level Five

A sudden yell bursts out of Peter's mouth as he sits up, scrambling as if to get away. He falls off of the slab of a bed, looking around as if he doesn't know where he is, who he is, what's going on. A hand goes to his face, feeling for something, covering his mouth. Sweat drips down from his forehead, soaking his hair, making it slick against his scalp. A sudden sound of scraping concrete fills the room. Jumpy, he puts his back against the wall, eyes wide.

The voice is unfamiliar. They usually are. Impassive. Uncaring. Business like. "Time for your injection, Petrelli."

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