Date: June 8, 2010
The month long vacation comes to a violent end.
Scenery, food, culture… no 'partial clouds' are going to change that's it gorgeous to be in Paris, spread out on one of those fancy chairs that's really just a recliner but has a snooty name. What in the world could possibly make a girl — even a speedster — budge. The truth? It's boredom. One bared leg crossing luxuriously over the other, her thighs just touched with the silken fabric of her skirt, Daphne adjusts for a third time while batting big bored eyes up at the blue sky occasionally dotted with white cloud. Her shoulders wrapped in the slimming V of her shirt, showing a neck lined with some sparkling new accessories, she's where thousands of people would rather be. And just not reasonably caring for it. Well. Not quite.
Arm trailing to her side, she makes a blind reach for the end-table she knows is right next to her seat. On it, her champagne colored phone. It wasn't always champagne — wasn't even this phone for very long — but now it is, and that's all that seems to matter as she gets a finger underneath the top and flips it open. Who needs address books; she's got memorized the only number she'll ever want.
The free hand goes out in front of her as she squints at her nails, trying to pretend like she's one of those ladies who cares about that. She's certainly been pampered enough these days. Pampered and… mysteriously wigged out all the time. Her little test earlier left her with a chill note she's been trying to sunbathe out for the better part of the last couple of days. It's time, she thinks as she punches out Peter's number, to get back to the basics.
Unlike Daphne, there are dozens of numbers in Peter's cellphone phone book. Many dozens, in fact. Some of great importance, some contacts, some long disconnected and never used. He has a hard time letting go of anything. Even his dead-notdead brother. Some of the numbers have ring-tones attached to them, denoting importance.
o/~ Let me be the one you call, if you jump I'll break your fall, lift you up and fly away with—
Before it gets much further, he grabs the phone and pulls it up to his ear. There's a surprised sound in his voice. "Daphne!?"
It's been so long since he's heard from her he almost didn't believe the ringtone when it sounded off from his bedside table.
Her hand falling to her side, Daphne pushes herself into a slightly more upright position at the sound of Peter's emotional voice as reply over the phone. "It's not an emergency," she immediately jumps ahead of the assumption, even waving a hand in front of her that he can't see. "And I'm not nagging or anything… but/," a bit of a sly note threads into her tone as she continues, "Drop whatever you're doing and come back to the hotel. I'm thinking mooovie, room service… you know. Just us."
The Hotel. That almost sounds like a place he should know about. Peter doesn't do quite as well hiding his confusion. "What— how— Daphne…" There's so many questions, and they aren't coming out how he wants them to, or in the order he wants them to. It's not an emergency and she's okay. She wants to meet at the Hotel. Pick up a movie and room service— It's like she hasn't been gone for over a month…
Did she jump through time like he sometimes did?
"What hotel? Where have you— where are you?"
That chill that had been haunting her spine runs along it now at the first sign of confusion in Peter's voice, but she sucks it up, trying to brush off the immediate bad reaction. "Don't be— don't be silly," Daphne scoffs, her free arm wrapping subconsciously around her body as she draws her legs closer to her stomach. "Is this because you weren't feeling — " Hesitation clamps off her sentence as a new train of thought sears almost angry lines into her forehead. "… Tell me you're the clone one right now and I will believe you." Only chance.
A glance is cast across the room toward a sectioned mirror over the dresser against the wall. Each of the squares has a reflective surface, some with slight tilting, so that it shows his reflection broken slightly. Peter meets his own eyes, as if asking his reflection if he is the real one— he knows he is. But what this means…
Maybe she didn't just leave.
"I'm not a clone," he says, voice calming down a little. It could be she was with one of his clones, they sometimes seem to have a mind of their own— the first time he didn't even know he made one… "Where are you?"
She's grilled him on clones before, but her mind races unhappily through the possibilities of one going rogue or something without quite settling. Something still feels off. Swallowing loudly as her first response, Daphne briefly considers not answering. This could be a trap — but a trap by who? Doing what? Her voice, when she speaks, is unintentionally tiny: "… you know who I am…" It's not like it would be his first time forgetting things, so she's kind of justified.
She pulls the phone away from her ear momentarily, eyeing the number on the screen. It's his. When she presses the phone to her again, she sends the whole hotel courtyard a suspicious look, like maybe she's being watched. "No, no. I'm in Paris— we're in Paris. This was your idea!"
They are unhappy possibilities. That she'd been with a clone this whole time. For Peter it might be a relief, cause it means she didn't just leave him without saying anything. Or leave him at all, like Elena. Like… For her… it's very different. "I remember you," he says quietly, the sound of something getting moved around heard through the phone. He pulls an Atlas off his bookshelf and starts to flip through it, finding France, then the major cities of France. He tried many times, but his abilities are odd sometimes…
And he's been weaker than normal. Maybe he does have a stray clone out there.
"I'm sorry. Just— what hotel? What room? I'll get there as fast as I can." The Atlas falls open and he seeks out a push pin, something to act as the pointer. In the past it never seemed to work when he needed it, but he can hear her voice, picture her face in his mind. He can hear the sounds around her.
And she didn't leave him.
There's an odd sound through the phone, as he uses one of his abilities, it's like unsteady breaths, gasping. She won't see his eyes roll up in the back of his head, or his hands shake to where he nearly drops the cellphone, but he can see her. With her little red phone, and the pin goes down on a specific street in Paris.
Perhaps he can see the way she pushes, distressed, from the lounge chair, the back of her hand pressing to her forehead as she staves off more dramatic reactions to try and reformulate an air of reason. Daphne repeatedly tells herself that this was all just a silly misunderstanding, but the words don't sink in with any kind of gravity. Stepping in slow, aimless circles near the chair, she begins to feel rather stupid. All this time… some faulty clone… not even connected to the real one and here she was — convinced — she was having a nice, yet somewhat uncharacteristic, vacation with her boyfriend.
Moments flood back, images from the month it's been — she has trouble orienting herself in the moments he's asking for a location, her hand drifting into her hair as her mouth opens, speechless. "Nnnnn…" is the indecisive noise that finally escapes before she pauses her whirling, both physically and mentally, to listen in on his side. "Peter…?" Suspicion leaks in at the tail-end; hey, he could be some creepy shapeshifter trying to hold onto Peter's form right now. It's not like she'd know! She's either been with or is now talking to an imposter. Or… something.
Head jerking right and left as though something in the scenery will form an answer, she ultimately gives him the hotel name — unaware that he might not need it, and, "Room 23," she lies.
"Okay," Peter says, peering down at the pin-prick on the Atlas and getting the location in his head, the sight he'd seen around her. Rather than teleport into public, though, he makes plans to go a little off that, so he can find room 23 and get to her. "I'm sorry. I'll be there soon," he repeats again, before he shuts down the phone and drops it into his pocket, then teleports across the planet. Running isn't his mode of transportation— teleportation works better for him.
On foot, he walks through the hotel, going in the front lobby and walking with purpose, looking for the room number she mentioned, until he gets outside it in the hall.
He completely forgets he's wearing a New York Paramedic uniform.
Be there soon… it's haunting, almost ominous to hear for Daphne. She takes a long — to her — second to cradle the now closed phone in her hand in front of her, pondering perhaps if it's playing tricks on her. Then it's business. The business of figuring out what's going on here. Without a glance to who might be witness, the speedster earns her name with a quick jaunt through the lobby, up the stairs, and to the real room across the hall and several doors down from the one she named.
Tucked in the doorway, she holds open the door just a crack enough to look into the hallway, see where he should be appearing. It's hard to tell what she wants to have happen; her mind still hasn't decided on the outcome of least ridiculousness.
Her legs are getting antsy before there's the sound of footsteps and she shrinks a bit more to make sure the door looks as closed as possible from the outside. Through this pin-prick of viewing space, she sees the body come into the hallway, pause at 23.
Daphne didn't mean to say anything; she wanted to gauge behavior. Be safe, prepared. But at the sight of that uniform, seeing him look like that pillar of workaholic she knows him to be, her body moves unbidden, straightening some so that her movement swings the door partially open. Uncalled for, but unstoppable: "… Peter…"
At the sound of the door, Peter's eyes follow. At the sound of his name, he's taking quick steps to clear the distance. Actually— they're really quick. Her quick. He won't tell her that while he thought she left him he couldn't move as fast as her anymore, that his emotions were out of it so much he couldn't access her ability. She's one of the few who could react fast enough to stop him, if she wanted to, as his arms move to wrap around her and pull her close.
"I though— it doesn't matter. These stupid abilities, they keep ruining everything…"
It must be his own fault. Some part of him that wanted to be with her all the time, even if he didn't know it was happening. "Are you okay?"
She doesn't escape his approach, not exactly. Daphne watches him come hurrying over, revels in the embrace of arms that feel… just right. Uneasily, she attempts to piece that one together with the one she's been snuggling into all May, but her head is still muddled. Instead, as he begins to talk, she forces both arms to come sliding in-between their chests, her palms planted against his, and she gives a kind but firm shove to separate their bodies. "I'm sorry," she blurts out immediately, "I just— I can't focus like— I'm okay. Of course I'm okay. I've been with… you, haven't I…"
A guilty glance over her shoulder is for the room whose doorway she stands in. The decadence — this being on the higher side of upscale — the presents, the stolen sunglasses… At the same time that a kind of relief flutters by that she wasn't wrong about Peter's modes of behavior, a heavy rain-cloud buries her eyebrows into the top of her nose.
She'd sort of enjoyed it. The lack of restrictions. Hate for the returning guilt, the onrush of familiar inferiority, she turns on him with the conviction of her own self-doubt. "What. What did you think?" Because speedsters catch every word.
Unfortunately, they both have a lot of self-doubt. "I tried to call. I didn't know why you left, or where you went. You took a few things, so I thought…" Peter glances away, pulling back and stepping a few steps away. Decadence. This is what she probably deserved, and what he couldn't give her with his abundant work schedule and constant need to save everyone. She knew what she was getting into, but he still couldn't blame her if she decided that…
Elena didn't stay either, because her education, because he made decisions she didn't agree with. Many reasons.
"I'm sorry. I can go… get a movie or something." For her to watch with someone who is him, but isn't him? Maybe he can fix it, when the clone comes back, stay the night and make it up to her.
A month long vacation… one day isn't going to fix that…
He thought she'd left. And Daphne can't even call foul when she knows she's thought about doing it before — gotten to the door. It's still a rock settling in her already twice uneasy stomach, though. "Well, of course you did," she says, shaking her head a little. It's not what she wanted to say — that's what I am, a leaver. Even he knows it. — or how she wanted to say it — she's dismissive, light-hearted — but the last thing that needs to happen right now is some kind of deep spiral downwards when they've just reconnected. So, for the sake of it all, she shoves on a smile and uses the hand she'd pushed him away with to lay gently, although a mite hesitantly, on his arm.
"Don't — don't go. You just got here, please don't leave. Honestly… I'm not quite feeling the movie anymore." No, one day won't fix much of anything, but keeping everything Peter-shaped in her sight will at least make a semblance of order.
Leaning behind her, she makes to open the door only to remember that it's already open. So, instead, she strolls a couple of steps into the entryway, her arms moving reflexively around her chest as she tries to avoid staring too long at anything. Her pose is almost a teenager's, waiting for the parent's judgment to come down.
"I won't leave," Peter says quietly, as he follows behind her into the posh hotel room, where they'd been staying for a long time. It's more than he can afford, normally, and he doesn't dare ask how they're paying for it. If he really wanted to pay for this room, he knows he could, in many ways… It's not so much he knows she's a leaver, but he's been left so much the last few years. Left and leaving. They're two very similar things.
Sometimes he's been the one who left, and sometimes the one who was left.
"I'll make this up to you." Somehow. Once he absorbs the stray clone, he'll at least remember everything that happened. Or that's what he'd think would happen, as he pushes the door closed behind him.
While the very real Peter, and Daphne, are in the elaborate hotel room up above on one of the higher floors, the impostor Peter (or as far as they think, anyway) is making his way through the hotel lobby. A bag full of groceries from the nearby street market is held in his left arm as he dodges a waiter here, a bellhop there, and a customer near the elevator, finally making his way to the steel box that will lift him up to the correct floor. Pushing the button, he smiles slightly as the door closes, cutting the lobby off from view.
The ride is longer than most, but still shorter than he expected. Somehow, it gets him everytime.
The doors slide open, and the man steps off of the elevator onto the carpet, sounds muffled by the thick, lush, expensive wool that makes up the material— this hotel has spared no expense. He nears the room, a jingle of keys perhaps announcing his arrival to those that are listening hard enough, but the sound of the key inserting into the door will confirm it. There aren't any electronic keys in this hotel— only good old fashioned brass to avoid any mishaps with the electronics such as dead locks. He turns the key— a satisfying click telling him the door is unlocked and now open— and pushes it open, stepping into the room.
"Daphne?" he calls out, pushing the door closed behind him with a foot as he pulls the stolen sunglasses off of his face— only to spot… well, himself, standing across the room with Daphne. The bag of groceries is dropped, something audilby cracking near the bottom of the bag, and a few things spill out of the top and fall onto the floor. "/You,/" he says, eyes immediately locking on Peter.
First indication of the key sliding into place freezes Daphne in her own right after she turns to address the soon to be opened door, leaving her defensively arms-crossed and staring when the inevitable copy of Peter strolls in. With the other one, the one she is currently assuming is the real one, somewhere in her periphery, she can almost ignore that — see only this other vision of her boyfriend coming in, so domestic with a bunch of groceries. So familiar of the last several days.
It could be nice… it's almost sad…
But the groceries fall. The crack causes her to wince and she guiltily glances away, to the Peter further into the room. Cautiously, she takes a decisive step towards that one, a slow determining choice, though she can't fight needing to turn and stare, wordlessly emotional, at who has been keeping her company the past month.
"You had to know it would end eventually," the Peter further in the room says, glancing over at Daphne and trying to smile encouragingly. It had to end eventually… "This isn't the first time this has happened. But I have to take you back now, and…" And then he'll stay in this room a few more days, call into work. The job he's wearing a uniform for right now, even. Paramedic blues.
As he moves closer to the mirror image of himself, he holds his hand out in offer, as if wanting to shake his hand. The intent is to reabsorb the clone back into himself, but…
… but this isn't a clone. The ghost of Peter standing across from him extends his hand as well, almost with perfect timing like he were a mirror. "All good things must come to an end," he says, hand only inches away from the real Peter's… but at the last moment he pulls his hand, and he raises his eyebrows as he tilts his head at Peter.
"Or, they say, that's how the story goes." It happens in a flash, but it does happen— a sudden movement of the "clone's" hand, followed by a powerful, short telekinetic burst that slams Peter into the wall and holds him there. He begins to step forward toward the other man, the other occupant of the room completely forgotten— whoever this is, or whatever it is, he clearly has words to be spoken.
"Not such a nice feeling when the person you care for is stolen, is it?"
The fake Peter's face begins to distort and bubble, flesh and bones rearranging themselves. Thick eyebrows appear over the eyes, which begin to narrow as the transformation completes itself. Gabriel stands in front of Peter, hand held out in front of him to keep him pinned to that wall, and he leans in close. "Not too shabby, though, Pete… feisty one, that Daphne."
It isn't crystal clear which one she's calling for in the moment Daphne senses the change, a moment that goes by even too overwhelmingly suddenly for the original speedster to do much but watch as one boyfriend tosses the other aside. Her short shout is as wordless at first until she manages, " — no, stop!" About as rogue as clones can get, playing, what, jealousy? Anger? But the next thing to happen engulfs the confusion, letting all of it drop away like the pit of Daphne's stomach as she can only stare while her boyfriend turns into another man.
Before there can be familiarity, there's only denial that pegs her to the floor even as the two face off right in front of her. The realization isn't even full — not until he makes his little comment. Images that had been plaguing her before veritably flood back now; maybe he wasn't her boyfriend this whole time… but he has been her— Her breath escapes in a distorted, nauseous nnnnngg.
"Nnnnno… I… this isn't— " She can almost see Gabriel's face from before, as he orders her to get more medical supplies. Helps. Saves lives. "I know… you…"
There's a groan of pain from Peter, slammed up against the wall, held in thin air by nothing. This isn't the first time such a thing has happened, or his eyes has locked with the face of the man who they lock with now. Gabriel Gray. Sylar. The last time they saw each other, there was a fight. Even if it seemed Gabriel helped Micah escape afterwards, even protect him, the fight remains fresh in his memory.
And now he can shapeshift.
"Gabriel— you son of a bitch. You…" Stole his girlfriend. Spent a month with her. Pretended to be…
It's the future he thought he'd prevented all over again. Only the woman's different, and he didn't even kill him first.
A ripple of energy flies through the air, pushing back against the bonds and impacting the man holding him in place. Once he'd accused Gabriel of wanting to be him, and this…
Disrupting the telekinesis holding him in place is all that he needs, and he hopes neither of them payed with a credit card as it flips the table over, and even tears up the carpet, rattling windows and the door.
"That's right," Gabriel says, turning his head slightly so he can watch Daphne even as he keeps one hand aimed at Peter, pinning him to the wall, a smirk growing across his lips. "It's me. That gentleman who saved your friend from the… some sort of brain tumor, I think it was? Imagine my surprise when it was you that walked into Peter's apartment. Believe me, it wasn't my intent to trick you. But after you spend so much time with someone, you tend to get… attached."
Snapping his head back to Peter, Gabriel frowns. "Bitch? You shouldn't speak ill of the dea— " Whatever quip he was going to try and get out is interrupted by the ripple of energy throwing him across the room. He slams into the table and bounces off of it, landing on the floor somewhere behind it. He wastes no time in hopping up off of the floor, waving a hand in front of him and sending the table flying across the room— it bounces off of the wall near the door, splintering nearly in two, and leaving a good sized hole in the wall to boot. "What are you gonna do, Peter?" he says as various items around the hotel begin to float mid-air before launching themselves at him as he speaks, each question punctuated with a new airborne weapon, "be the hero and save your girlfriend from me? Defend her honor? How long before you stopped calling, Peter, and gave up? A week? A week and a half? What do you deserve that I don't?"
"Attached…" is Daphne's bewildered, disgusted — overwhelmed — echo right before the room begins to be torn apart. All that fancy architecture, the cute things Gabriel and Daphne collected over time, the clothes, the expensive furniture. This whole symbol of their lie of a relationship coming up into the air by the power of that ability. Even as she recognizes the pressure of wanting to do something, even just to duck and cover as projectiles fly, her knees are still shaking and only her arms come up towards her mouth. There's just too much more for her to process as her mind zips straight back to the beginning, to the day he claims she surprised him in Peter's own apartment. "I — " The day she decided she'd held onto her feelings long enough. "said…" Oh, she's feeling sick again. And it's enough for her to stay caught in her own world around the boys' drag-down fight.
Whatever snaps her out of her pitiful reverie could be Gabriel's own taunting, because, arms dropping to fists at her side, her "Don't! Leave him alone!" is directed more at his side of the room. Tossing her head side to side, she is forced to catch up to what these two clearly intend to do more than fast, shoving her own self-pity aside.
Finally, she lunges full-speed into the deceiving man's path — or, anything he'll decide to throw at her. "If it wasn't your intent, then stop this! If the time — meant anything!"
The items are flying through the air. Some impact Peter, some are flicked away reflexively to smash into the wall. "You were pretending to be me! Whatever intention you may have had— you were tricking her." And continuing to do so until caught. If that time meant anything… She thought it was him. It means she didn't leave him, but it also means that he…
There's a low growl of anger, and one of the items, a glass bottle, stops in midair in front of him. In fact, everything stops. All the floating items, everything that had been gathered up into the air.
It gives him time to drop to a knee, allow the wounds to heal, before he pushes himself back up. Outside of time, he expects Daphne to catch up with him soon. Maybe he can talk to her, explain to her— make something better. Even just get her out of here before she's hurt by a stray item or ability… But he walks over to Gabriel first, to glare at him, eyes narrowed. Maybe he isn't even Gabriel anymore…
Peter's plan works, Gabriel frozen in an odd position— mouth half open in taunt, eyes narrowed, one arm held out at his side guiding the direction of one of the objects currently in a trajectory for Peter's face. Time is frozen, and now his archnemesis has alllll the time in the world…. at least until Gabriel catches up.
It turns out if you spend enough time with someone, maybe even develop feelings for them, figure them out…
Eyes move first— they lock onto Peter's kneeled form, and shortly after that Gabriel is moving. "There's one thing I never did tell you," he says, electricity already arcing over his hand as he prepares to strike Peter, "if you hadn't taken Zelda, all those emotions, feelings, …love… it would have never hit me the way that it did. I would have never realized that I had the same potential as you, Peter. I would have never learned my new trick— " He unleashes, electrical energy flying from his hand and slamming into Peter, and he has no intention of stopping the stream of lightning anytime soon. "I don't need to kill anymore!" He increases the force of the electricity, pouring more and more of it into Peter's chest, until he finally pulls his hand away, the torture coming to an end. "Seems like stopping time doesn't affect me anymore. Superspeed— " The man looks at Daphne, head tilted slightly. "Nice ability."
Arm raised in a motion she'd been planning just as time stopped, it takes a relatively short time for Daphne's blur to connect with her whole, removing her from frozen time and into the slowness Peter has created. Even as she tosses a glance over her shoulder at him, opens mouth to say anything — Gabriel's voice comes first. The electricity streaking past causes her to jump, startled, and then cry out. Her first aborted movement is towards Peter, but she can't handle the damage like he can; she has to believe he'll pull out.
So when Gabriel looks her way, she snaps her head to look back. All of it right now is on her face: how she feels useless but used, ignored but betrayed — angry. There's even a trace left of bitter gratefulness… but not if you asked. And it isn't the reigning emotion when she responds boldly, "Let me tell you about it." Followed by her charge forward, arm arcing to get him in the jaw. More pointed anger than what will likely be damage, but speed packs its own punch — and even with all his abilities, she's always managed to be a step faster than Peter — she can only hope the same applies here.
The electricity does a lot of things in the flash of a second. Lightning moves at the speed of light, even with the speedster's ability, he can only move at the speed of sound. Tossed back, Peter lands on the floor, twitching, as the little woman that he fell in love with not too long ago throws a fist at the man who hurt him. "Daphne!" he yells, worried about what he might do to her, and trying to get back up onto his feet. The damage is already healing over again, but it's slowing him down a little.
"If you hurt her any more I swear I'm going to kill you." Even with regen— he's seen it happen. Took a lot to do it, but it's a threat he'd given many times before. If he ever became Sylar again, he would kill him. This is a little… different.
Perhaps a step faster than Peter, but a step faster than Gabriel? He brings his hand up quick, inhumanly quick, almost as if it were there the whole time, but even then he isn't quick enough for the true speedster. He takes the hit square across the jaw, and for someone her stature she packs a mean punch. It knocks him back a step, and for a moment he just stands there, stunned that what just happened /did/ just happen… before he finally straightens himself out, turning his eyes to glare at her. "Play nice," he says, tilting his head in that '…if you don't /listen/ to me then by god!' sort of fashion, "or you're going to get hurt."
As if to punctuate his point, there's another burst of speed and he's left Daphne's side, the discarded groceries at their feet flying up in a whirlwind of speed and sound as he moves by them. In a flash he's kneeling next to Peter, hauling him up off of the ground with both hands and slamming him into the wall. He brings a fist back, a weird glow emanating from his, and he slams his fist into Peter's side with a radioactive burst of power along with it.
"You first!" Daphne retorts unhappily, not even pleased that she got in a hit by only that he'll look at her. The distraction's brief, though— too brief. Her head follows his dash across the room. It's probably true for her; getting tangled up with two guys with more power than most of the world combined… she can't match them. Couldn't dream of it. But things are already a mess, and this is one that she feels compelled not to run away from for reasons she couldn't sort out while someone's taking a radioactive swing at her boyfriend.
Against all common nature of herself, her ability, she finds herself going towards the action once again, her arm moving up and around a second time. But instead of take a swing at Gabriel like before, she goes to wrap her arms both around the one of his doing the punching, away from that glow as best she can but ultimately choosing to latch no matter what. With all her might, her speed, she hauls, trying to spirit them across the room and off of Peter. But her decision is so split-second, she's not even registered what she might be interrupting.
The radiation fist impacts his body, burning skin and causing blood to trinkle from the wounds in thick amounts. It all happens so fast, as the healing doesn, but it seems slow in some ways, too.
The burst of radiation has another after effect, it makes Peter see white. Bright white along the edges, where he's not sure what's going on. It will heal in a moment, but the amount of time it takes to heal and regain his vision may be too much. A hand reaches out, crackling with energy, electricity. But that's not the dangerous part.
The fist is blindly headed toward Daphne, instead of the target that he might have intended, due to her speedy dash to try to get between them.
With the upperhand, Gabriel would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this just a little bit. Bringing his fist back to slam another punch into Peter's side, he does so, adding as much radioactivity and force that he can muster to the blow. Bringing his shoulder back for yet another, he spots Daphne out of the corner of his eye moving towards them, a blurry movement against the static background.
In the split second it takes to realize what's going to happen, Gabriel turns his eyes to Peter's arms and quickly moves a hand up to seize it before he can hit Daphne. At the same time he manages to shift his body just slightly so he can wave his other hand backwards at Daphne, but his attention is diverted on Peter at the same time, so his aim is wild— for all he knows he's going to knock the couch over.
A few loose items right behind Daphne's shoulder that somehow managed to escape the first round of flinging do go flying dramatically across the room, but what still catches the speedster also manages to loosen her from the spot. It's a mish-mash of bad timings: his distraction, her thwarted attempt to move him. While his telekinesis catches her to force her to stumble backwards, it does so in combination with the speed she'd just been employing. Her small stumble becomes superpowered, launching her with the strength of her own, usually so well-controlled, ability into the hard island counter of the hotel's kitchenette. With the speed, she just seems to suddenly appear on the floor.
"Daphne!" Peter yells as soon as he recovers, surprised that the man both stopped his fist from hitting her inadvertedly, and then threw her across the room until she suddenly appeared on the floor. "Get off," he yells at Gabriel, sending a burst of energy out around him in an attempt to push him back, throw him, while he speeds across the room at high speed to kneel down beside her.
For a moment, he's completely occupied with looking down at her, worriedly touching her. If only time would stand still again, and allow him to do this, to make sure she's allright. Such things are never so easy, though, and stopping in the middle of a fight rarely ends up winning one.
The burst of energy is enough to push Gabriel back and away from Peter, causing him to stumble over an upturned end table. He trips, but manages to catch himself on the nearby arm of the couch, giving Peter more than enough time to get over to Daphne. Not one to waste a golden opportunity, Gabriel moves forward in a burst of speed, but once he's close enough to the both of them he drops out of superspeed and dives into Peter, tackling him across the floor and putting them a few feet away from Daphne.
As the men crash down against the floor, Peter lets out an angry sound, pushing against him to try and scramble up, to try and look at Daphne where she lays a few feet away. "You son of bitch," he growls again, closing his eyes—
And then suddenly they're gone.
Daphne could get caught in the crossfire, so he took the fight somewhere else— in this case, a rooftop, overlooking the lit city. The lit up tower is visible on one side, with buildings and streets and the river on the other.
"Why, Gabriel? Why? I didn't steal Zelda from you. I let her go once I realized you weren't hurting her. I had amnesia. I didn't remember that you were good. The last time I saw you then was when you tried to turn me into a murderer in Kirby Plaza."
"You're the son of the bitch!" Gabriel yells, bringing a fist up, readying himself to bring it down into the side of Peter's face with crushing force. The next thing he knows, however, is that they're no longer in the hotel room— they appear to be on some rooftop.
Pushing up and away from Peter, scrambling to get away from him, the electricity is already arcing over his hand as he puts a few more feet in between them. "Why?! Why?! You just let her go! How stupid can you be, Peter?! They were hunting us, and I had done so much to stop them from finding either of us, and then you show up, amnesia or not! And then you just let her go?! HOW DO YOU THINK THEY FOUND HER?! You deserve this! You deserve all of this pain!" With a cry of rage and his own pain, Gabriel brings his arm back, a crackle of light announcing what comes next… a massive bolt of pure electrical energy aimed straight for Peter.
The bolt of electricity burns through his paramedic shirt and sends him back onto the concrete roof with a loud sound, scortched. An electrical charge gathers in his own hand, Peter sits up to respond, "Because they made me believe they were the good guys! They captured me and held me and took advantage of the fact I couldn't remember the last three years to convince me that they were doing the right thing. I didn't know they were after her! She was safe. As far as I knew they were only after the really dangerous people." Like him. Like the both of them. Like Sylar.
"I didn't know." With that, the bolt clears his hand, cracking across the air between them.
"I don't care if you didn't know!" Gabriel retorts, not even bothering to move or get out of the way of the bolt. He slams into his upper chest, sending him falling to the ground much like his own did to Peter. Pushing himself up into a sitting position with one hand, he begins to pick himself up even as the burns and electrical scorching across his chest begins to heal. His breath is a little heavy, but the fight definitely isn't out of him yet.
"You always…" he begins, pushing himself all of the way up as the wind begins to pick violently, swirling around them and causing pieces of small debris to whirl around as well, "…no matter what you do, perfect Peter Petrelli, he can do no wrong. Even when he kills." The wind gets even more powerful, dangerously so, threatening to blow the both of them off of the roof, so much so that even Gabriel stumbles slightly from the force, which finally seems to make him realize he's the one doing it. "I was finally happy, and then you lost it all for me. I don't care if you had amnesia!" He bursts forward with super speed, slamming into Peter and driving him into the barrier on the edge of the roof.
The words seem to catch him off-guard, and give more than enough advantage to slam him against the barrier that keeps him from falling off the roof. There's a crack as bones break, and he loses his breath. Peter may even be dying, if it weren't for the fact he's already healing. "I'm sorry. But you— you— " He actually is sorry, even if those words don't mean much right now. He could argue about his supposed perfection, which he doesn't believe exists, but instead he just reaches up and holds onto the taller man's arms—
And squeezes. This isn't electricity, but something more bone crushing. An attempt to inflict enough pain to do what he needs to do next, which is throw the man up over the barrier. Not the first time he tried to win by tossing someone off the roof. But this time he's not trying to go with him.
"I don't care," Gabriel says, pulling back from Peter a tiny amount of space and shaking his head. "There's nothing you can say to change what you did," he continues, bringing a fist back and slamming it into Peter's face as hard as he can. He brings it back for another blow, but Peter then grabs his arms, and Gabriel doesn't have the power to resist the amount of strength he has. That's one ability he doesn't have to match Peter.
With a bone splintering crunch, both of Gabriel's arms literally snap in two from the force, each one bent grotesquely at the spot Peter is grasping his arms. He goes up and over, just about to clear the barrier before a solid curved wall of blue shoots out from the edge of the wall— effectively extending the size of the roof and preventing Gabriel from falling to the street below. Gabriel slams into it as Peter lifts him up and over the barrier, sliding down the incline of it and rolling over Peter back onto the roof. He quickly goes to push himself up, but his arms have only just started to heal, and another sickening crack sounds out as the bones in his left arm snap again from the weight he's putting on them as Gabriel is unable to keep the cry of pain in that escapes him.
Pulling back, Peter stumbles a few steps away on the roof, surprised to see the man roll back on, but not kicking him back over, either. No wave of his hand to toss him off again. "There's nothing you can say that will change what you just did either. You pretended to be me. You used my face, my identity, my body. You— If you ever use me like that again— if you ever hurt her like that again…"
The threat never makes it out. No matter how furious he is…
"I forgave you for a lot of things. And you just had to go— Stay away from her, and me."
Flopping himself over onto his back and looking somewhat like a fish out of water, Gabriel takes in a deep breath as he watches the night sky above. His arms begin to heal, but for the moment he doesn't attack.
"I gave her things you couldn't, Peter," he says. "I'd even wager that she was happier with me than she ever was with you— even if I was you, but reading minds isn't an ability I have.. so I can only guess. Even now, you just left her there, didn't you? I was the one that stopped you from hitting her— and now, wherever we are, she's back at that hotel by herself, and who knows how hurt she might be." A bone cracks, snapping itself back into place as his right arm nearly finishes the healing process, his left one taking slightly longer from the extra crack he put in it moments before. "It wasn't predetermined— I was only in your apartment looking for someway to find you when she came in and I— I seized the moment, seized the opportunity. I can't help that it turned into something more."
His other arm is just about finished healing at this point, and so he pushes himself up off of the ground. "Just like Zelda. She's out there somewhere now, hurt, dead for all I know, without her memory. Without knowing who she is." The ex-killer shakes his head, anger slowly crossing his features as he fully stands. "It seems like every woman who comes across you is worse off than when she began."
"I could have healed her memory," Peter says with a growl, moving back a few steps, and looking up into the sky. "It wouldn't have been the first memory I fixed." Niki's, his brother's, his own… "But now I have to clean up your mess." And with that, his eyes close, and he's gone once again, leaving him there. With that hint that he could have done something.
If he had any desire to help him right now at all.
Even superspeed isn't quick enough to stop Peter from teleporting. The moment the other man's eyes close, Gabriel knows what he's about to do, and he bursts forward with an insane amount of speed… only to still miss Peter. He comes to a stop just in front of the roof's barrier at the spot where Peter was slammed into it, and in a fit of anger Gabriel punches the barrier, his knuckles cracking as he does so. Shaking the pain out of his hand as it heals, he leans up against the edge of the roof and looks out over the city. A moment later, a blur and rush of noise, and he's gone.