Fic: Primatech 815 - Ch. 10
Fandom: Heroes (Crossover with Lost)
Characters: Ando, Bennet, Claire, Claude, Hiro, Isaac, Peter, Matt, Micah, Mohinder, Niki, Simone, Sylar (more to come)
Summary: A plane crash unites a group of strangers.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Lost.
Warnings: AU, Violence, Action/Adventure, Drug use, Het, Slash, Crossover/Fusion
Peter frowned as he nudged the tipped over chair with his foot. The hotel room had once been a luxury suit, with top of the line amenities and designer décor, but the guest who had been staying here had turned it into a slum in no time flat. The bed wasn't just unmade, the sheets were torn off and thrown on the floor. Empty bottles, once containing a wide variety of alcoholic beverages, and prescription drug containers were spread across the floor and furniture. Peter had always known his brother had had is demons, but he wouldn't have guessed it was this serious.
"The maid says he hadn't used the bed in the past three days," the hotel manager informed him. The young nurse watched as the Australian pressed a button to open the blinds, flooding the room with light and making the shabby condition that much clearer.
"Did he rent a car from the concierge?"
"No sir," he informed him politely. "To be honest, Mr. Petrelli, I doubt your brother rented a car at all."
Peter turned to study the other man's expression. The manager shuffled awkwardly, trying his best to maintain his formal attitude, but Peter could see the concern lurking behind his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I'm sorry sir," he whispered regretfully, "I shouldn't-"
"What does renting a car have to do with anything?" the nurse cut in.
"There was an incident in the hotel bar a few nights ago," the Australian explained. "Your brother got into a fight... I had to have security escort him back to his room."
"What does that have to do with renting a car?" he repeated, not seeing where the man was going with this.
"Mr. Petrelli," he began. "I don't think any rental agent in Sydney would lease your father a car in his condition."
"My brother is a Senator," he told him, although the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. The title didn't really mean anything anymore, not after the incident.
"Of course, sir," the manager whispered regretfully. "I apologize."
A knot of worry began to form in the pit of the young nurse's stomach as he continued to study the room carefully, his eyes suddenly falling on the bedside table. His breath caught in his throat as he pulled the drawer open, revealing even more empty pill containers and an expensive leather wallet.
"He left his wallet." His eyes widened as his flipped the wallet open. Bills, credit cards, identification... all still in place. He hadn't taken anything with him. "Who leaves their wallet?"
"I think you need to speak with the police, sir."
Judging from his elevation and the jagged rocks waiting just a few feet below to greet him, Peter knew right away that the fall wouldn't be enough to kill him. He'd break his bones and suffer a concussion, but he wouldn't die right away. He would probably starve to death first, spending a few days in agony, waiting in vain for someone to find him.
The young man grunted, tightening his grip on the vines as he struggled to lift himself. He couldn't get a foot hold and his arms and legs were worn out from wandering around in the jungle. It wouldn't be much longer before he slipped and fell.
As soon as that thought came to him, a hand suddenly appeared less than a foot above him. His brown eyes widen as he watches as Bennet appeared in front of him, reaching out as far as he could without risking falling himself.
"Take my hand," he ordered.
Peter smiled, more than happy to do as he was instructed.
"Do you have any lip balm?"
Simone frowned as she gazed up at Gabriel quizzically. It was the first time the tall man had said a word to her and she was startled to say the least that this was the first question he'd ask her. "Uh, sorry no," she shrugged.
He cursed under his breath. She could tell from the slight shag in his shoulders and the way his brows continued to knit together that the man's patience was quickly wearing thin. Simone had seen him running up and down the beach, pulling people aside in search of something, and the tanned woman couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him. "Well do you at least have a brush?"
"Don't give him anything," Isaac grumbled, tapping his fingers impatiently against the sketchbook he had managed to find in their luggage. Her boyfriend hadn't drawn so much as a stick figure since they'd landed. Not that she could blame him. In spite of the lovely ocean view and the way time seemed to stretch on endlessly at their finger tips, there wasn't really much worth drawing. "Ignore him and maybe he'll go away."
"I'm right here," Gabriel snapped. "I can hear everything you're saying."
"Yet you're still here," the artist muttered and Simone had to suppress a soft laugh.
"Look, if you have a comb, it’d be great if you could let me borrow it."
"Why do you even need a comb?" Isaac snapped, studying the other man's short black hair. "You don't really have much need for it."
Gabriel scowled, gritting his teeth and crossing his arms dangerously. "I need that comb," he began slowly, "to get some lip balm, to get a fish, to get some tea to give to Mohinder."
The young woman felt her eyes soften at the man's words. "For your boyfriend?" she whispered. "You're going through all this trouble just for him? That's so sweet." Her look quickly hardened as she turned her attention towards Isaac. "You could learn something from him, Isaac," she snapped, causing her artist lover to blush and bow his head sheepishly. "I have a comb you can borrow, Gabriel."
Peter smiled weakly as Claire handed him a bottle of water. He remembered their conversation this morning, how their supply was quickly running out, and the young nurse couldn't help but feel guilty as he took light sips from the plastic bottle.
"You okay?" Claire asked as he handed the bottle back to her.
"Yeah," he lied. "I'm okay. How are the others?"
"Thirsty," Bennet answered. "Hungry. Waiting to be rescued. And they need somebody to tell them what to do." He watched as Bennet focused all of his attention on trying to collect a few drops of water that had gathered on a rather large leaf. From the looks of it, he and Claire hadn't managed to collect much if anything. They were all in big trouble.
The young nurse bowed his head shamefully, studying the ground as if it held the answers to all his problems. "Well I hope they find someone," he mumbled, picking at a blade of grass idly.
"What about you?" Claire asked, sitting down next to him. "You're a great leader."
"I'm a terrible leader," he scoffed. "I don't have what it takes."
The trio fell silent and Peter focused on calming his still rapid heart beat and mutilating the defenseless grass. Claire sat quietly beside him, her bright green eyes shining with tender sympathy.
"Why are you out here, Peter?" Bennet asked, breaking the silence.
Peter laughed bitterly as he raised his head to meet the taller man's gaze. "I think I'm going crazy," he admitted.
The teenager stiffened as Bennet calmly sat down across from him, not at all fazed by his admission. "No," the older man assured him. "You're not going crazy. Crazy people don't know they're going crazy. They think they're getting sane. So why are you really out here?"
He sighed, sitting up straighter and brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I'm chasing something," he explained. "Someone."
Bennet laughed his thin smile fond and a bit condescending in Peter's eyes. "Ah, the white rabbit," he mused. "Alice in Wonderland."
Peter chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "Yeah, wonderland. Cause who I'm chasing isn't there."
"But... you see him?" Claire asked carefully.
"Yeah, but he's not there."
"Well what if I came to you and said the same thing, Peter?" Bennet pushed. "As a nurse, what would you say to that?"
"I'd say it was a hallucination," he told him. "A result of dehydration, post traumatic stress, and not getting more than two hours of sleep a night for the past week."
Claire raised a worried eyebrow at him, shocked by his sudden admission. Clearly the teenager hadn't been aware of the fact that he wasn't exactly taking good care of himself. Tending to others had always come naturally to Peter. Looking after himself was the hard part.
"Well what if you're not hallucinating?" Bennet asked. "What if this person you're seeing is real?"
The nurse laughed, not at all following where Bennet's line of questioning was supposed to be leading him. "Well then I guess I'm in pretty big trouble," he joked, although he could faintly feel the tears well up in his eyes even as he spoke the words.
"I'm an ordinary man, Peter," Bennet began shifting himself so that he was a few inches closer to the young nurse, "I live in the real world. I'm not a big believer in magic. But this place is different. It's special. The others don't want to talk about it because it scares them, but we all know it. We all feel it. Is your white rabbit a hallucination? Probably. But what if everything that happened here, happened for a reason? What if this person that you're chasing is really here? "
"That's impossible," he whispered. He didn't want to believe that any of this could be real. He wouldn't allow himself to entertain such a possibility for even a second.
"Even if it is, let's say it's not?"
Peter had to marvel at the fact that there wasn't a trace of frustration in Bennet's tone. He frowned, shaking his head slowly. "What happens when I catch him?"
The man smiled kindly, leaning forward as if it were just the two of them in the entire world and for a moment, Peter felt scared. "I don't know," he said honestly, his voice never wavering, "but I have looked into the eye of this island... and what I saw was beautiful."
The nurse felt his breath coming out in quivering huffs as he continued to gaze up at Bennet. The ground beneath him suddenly felt loose and unstable as his vision blurred and the whole world started to tip on its side. Either Bennet had gone completely insane or what he was saying was actually true. Either option left Peter with a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.
"Let's go Claire," Bennet said casually as he lifted himself to his feet.
The blonde teen gapped at him curiously, still trying to process his words herself as she stood on unsteady legs. "Wh-what about Peter?"
The young nurse started to rise to his feet, but Bennet waved him off with a casual shrug. "No, you need to stay," he told him. "You need to finish what you started."
"Whu... why?" he babbled.
"Because a leader can't lead until he knows what he's looking for." With that said, the tall man with the horn-rimmed glasses disappeared into the jungle. Claire stayed behind for a few seconds longer, her eyes wide with worry before she finally followed the other man to continue their search for water.
Peter felt sick. His legs trembled with every step he took down the long white hall way. He could barely hear the other man's words over the sound of his own heart beating in his ears. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be anywhere else, anywhere in the world, instead of in this building at this moment.
"The police found him in an alley in Queens Cross," the medical examiner informed him. Peter nodded along, but his throat was so tight that the gesture felt awkward. He wished the other man wasn't being so cold. He recited his diagnosis with such an unfeeling air that even Peter felt his insides go numb as he listened. "Now, a tox screen showed a blood alcohol content, which for a man of his size, probably brought on myocardial infarction - a sizable, and fatal heart-attack."
"I... I understand," Peter whispered pathetically. "I'm a nurse."
The examiner nodded quickly, glancing over at Peter with pity in his eyes as they turned towards a large white door. The man opened it quickly and Peter suddenly felt reluctant to follow him inside. He knew that once he stepped through, everything would change. He swallowed against the growing dismay building up inside of him, but the lump in his throat made it nearly possible.
"Mr. Petrelli?" the man began a worried look on his face.
Peter didn't reply as he silently stepped into the morgue and held his breath as the medical examiner approached the gurney lying in the center of the room. Tears instantly sprang into the young man's wide brown eyes as the blanket that had once been covering the corpse was quickly pulled away in one swift movement. His stomach lurched as he gazed into his brother's now lifeless eyes.
"Is this him?" the man asked gently.
"Yes," Peter gasped, his knees finally giving out as he collapsed to the floor in tears. "Yes! That's him."
The nurse sniffled as he rubbed away the tears streaming down his cheeks. He hadn't moved from the spot where he'd conversed with Bennet and Claire, too lost and afraid to go on. Night had fallen quickly, and he'd gathered what he could to build a small fire, yet he still did not know what to do next. As insane as his words had been, he knew that Bennet was right; he couldn't go back to the beach until he finished chasing the mysterious figure, but he was still reluctant to do so.
What would happen if he caught the white rabbit? What would it prove? No matter what the answer, his brother would still be gone. Dead is dead.
But this vision, this sighting, it meant something. He knew it in his heart that something important was waiting for him in the jungle.
Peter stiffened as he rubbed at his bare arms furiously. He hadn't seen the suited figure since he'd almost fallen off the cliff, and he was starting to think he'd never see it again. Sleep was pulling at his mind and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to the beach and try to get some rest.
He was just about to get up to leave when suddenly a crash came from deep in the jungle. He flinched, turning around to inspect the sound, only to find nothing. Another crash soon came, followed by chimes and the sound of branches snapping. His eyes widened as he grabbed a torch from the fire.
The young man wandered through the woods, stumbling blindly over rocks and broken branches in the darkness. His mind told him to stop, but his legs continued to carry him forward. Something was out there, waiting for him in the heart of the jungle. His breath caught in his throat as the sound of rushing water suddenly greeted his ears. Pushing back a few low branches, he was shocked to see a small section of the plane, resting tangled between some trees and right next to a small spring. Water. Fresh water.
This must have been what he was meant to find. It was a bit disappointing to say the least, but now he could go back to the camp and tell everyone the good news. Fortune had smiled on them once more.
The nurse was about to turn back when he noticed something in the corner of his eyes. The section of the plane that had fallen here must have been where the majority of the luggage had been. There were suit cases, clothes, toys, and other goods scattered all over the jungle floor. Yet that wasn't what intrigued him.
Peter scowled as the young brunette typed away at her small keyboard. His flight would be boarding soon. He had to be in Los Angeles in sixteen hours. Yet he was stuck here in Sydney because the airline would not allow him to check his brother's casket.
"I'm sorry Mr. Petrelli," the young woman began, sympathy shining in her wide eyes, "but our policy is that the body must have the proper documentation. There's just no latitude."
"'No latitude?'" he repeated, too weary to even contemplate the concept of sympathy.
"Without the proper documents," she began, but he quickly cut her off.
"You can't do this to me," he urged. His hands were practically shaking. He hadn't had a bite to eat or a full night’s sleep in days. "I'm ready to go now."
The woman frowned, quickly losing her patience with the young man. "Perhaps another carrier," she suggested.
"No! " Peter cringed as his words echoed throughout the airport. He could practically feel the eyes of everyone within hearing distance glaring at him as he leaned over the desk to get a better look at the woman's name tag. "I'm asking you a favor, Rachel." He took a deep breath, running an unsteady hand through his dark brown hair. "I'm standing in front of you in the same suit that I'm wearing to my brother's funeral and I'm asking you a favor. In sixteen hours I need to land at LAX so I can board another plane to JFX and I need that coffin to clear customs because there's going to be a hearse waiting there. And I need that hearse to take me and that coffin to a cemetery. And I know what you're wondering. You're wondering why can't I just bring him to a funeral home and make all the arrangements. Why can't I really take my time with it? Because..." He paused, his throat tightening up once more as he wiped furiously at the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "Because I need it to be done. I need it to be over. I just... I need to bury my brother."
His heart was beating to rapidly that he could practically feel it in his feet. His mouth was dry as a bone and his hands trembled as he gazed down at the dark brown coffin that he had purchased for Nathan. The memory of his fight with the young woman at the airport was still fresh in his mind and it pained him just to look at the box that now carried his brother's dead body.
Yet in spite of the remorseful feelings welling up inside of him, Peter could still feel some invisible force urging him towards the casket, willing him to open it and take a look at the grim contents that rested inside. The young man swallowed past the emotions growing in his throat as he bent down and placed his thin hands on the surprisingly cool wooden surface.
He held his breath, wrapping his fingers around the lid and lifting it on one quick jerk.
His heart stopped, his breath left his body in one long gust, and his legs turned into rubbed as he collapsed to the ground in a fit of tears.
The casket was empty.
It must have been at least twelve o'clock in the morning when Peter finally returned to the beach. Claire breathed a deep sigh of relief as she rushed over to the young man and wrapped her arms tightly around him.
"You're alive!" she gasped. "I was so worried about you. I thought you were dead!"
Peter quietly laughed at her words, but there was no real feeling behind it. Something about the young nurse seemed so empty, hollow, as if he had lost something out there.
"Peter!" Matt called, approaching them from the beach. Apparently Claire wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep that night. "Where have you been? You were gone all day."
A small smile crept onto Peter's features, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. He placed a tired hand on Claire's shoulders and she suddenly wished she hadn't listened to Bennet and had stayed with Peter instead. "I was looking for something," he began quietly, "in the jungle. I wander around... I could have been killed. And I realized something; if I had died, everyone would have been screwed. There'd be no one left with medical training. Then what? I can't go around chasing white rabbits anymore. This whole 'every man for himself attitude'... it has to stop. If we don't all start living together, we're going to die alone."
Claire smiled, tightening her hold on Peter's middle. It was the first reasonable thing she'd heard all day.
'Here. I got this for you.'
Hiro squinted up at his friend as he continued to rub the sleep from his eye. He had spent the last few days reading his manga and listening to music while Ando fished. He never would have guessed that being stranded on a deserted island could be so mundane. It was nothing like in the movies.
'What's this?' he asked skeptically as he inspected the small plastic tube his friend was handing him.
'It's chap stick,' Ando told him. He rolled his eyes in irritation and tossed the lip balm at his friend. 'Your lips look terrible. You need to drink more water.'
Hiro blushed sheepishly as he clutched the chap stick in his hand. Only Ando could do something thoughtful and belittle him at the same time. 'There isn't much water left,' he pointed out, uncapping the lip balm and getting ready to apply it.
'The nurse found some fresh water in the jungle,' Ando told him. 'There will be more water soon. I'll go get you a bottle.'
With that said Ando turned around and left. It was only after his friend had disappeared that Hiro began to wonder how exactly Ando could have known that the nurse had found water.
Mohinder frowned and rolled onto his side when he heard the approaching footsteps. He instantly knew who it was. There was only one person on the island who was constantly bothering him and trying to get his attention. Ever since Mohinder had declared that he would not share the tent with Sylar the serial killer has been trying to butter him up. Mohinder didn't really see any point in the other man doing "nice things" for him. No gesture would be enough to make Mohinder forget about their deal and not turn Sylar in once they were off the island.
"Wake up," Sylar ordered. "I brought you some tea."
The geneticist scowled at his words. "Tea?" he repeated. "From where?"
"The scruffy looking British guy."
Mohinder's frown deepened as he turned on his back to look up at Sylar, shielding his eyes from the rising sun. The taller man was standing above him, holding two small cups in his hands. "This is really sad," the Indian man scoffed, shifting himself into a sitting position.
"What's sad?" he asked innocently as he sat down carefully on the sand, mindful not to spill even a drop of tea. "Trying to do something nice for someone who doesn't even have the decency to say 'thank you'?"
"You're not being nice, you're being manipulative," Mohinder pointed out. "You can't get on my good side just by bringing me food, making me shelters, and beating people up for me."
Sylar's face remained neutral as he placed one of the cups in Mohinder's hands. "I'm not going to jail," he told him flatly. "We're not getting off this island. I'm just trying to make our lives here a bit more pleasant. So just drink your tea and be grateful you have someone to take care of you. Sorry it's not hot."
"What a shame," Mohinder snapped. As soon as the words left his lips he dumped the tea on Sylar's head. "I'm getting us off of this island!" the geneticist growled as he lifted himself off of the ground, making sure to kick up as much sand as he could. "And I can take care of my own damn self!"