Understanding
1/1
"The urge to save humanity is almost always a false front for the urge to rule." - Henry Louis Mencken
---
There had been no transition. There had been no moment where he felt the desire nor the need to change. There had been no instant where the hunger had left him. There had been no gradual, soul-sapping change. Nothing. It was as if he had never been the monster, and he had never deviated from his humanity.
Angela had been wrong; he could never change. The hunger had changed.
Three year old Noah sat in front of the television in his pajamas watching an ancient Disney film. He wouldn't have thought twice about telling someone what a good person his Daddy was. It was almost too much to take.
Every day, he thought about telling Noah exactly what a monster people thought he was - had been. Every day, he pushed the thought out of his head, and returned to being Gabriel Gray, your average single parent. Every day, he fought with himself.
You have to make it up. All those lives you took on your silly little quest to understand, you've got to pay back that debt. You can save the world Gabriel. Help me save the world.
Peter just didn't understand like he did. Peter didn't understand just how much like his parents, like Nathan, like Linderman, he really was. Just as power hungry, just as foolish. He couldn't understand that all the nonsense falling out of his mouth about saving the world was really an inner desire to be important, to be noticed. Peter secretly hated always having Nathan, Angela, even Mohinder standing in front of him. In his way.
God, Gabriel knew how that felt.
I can fix it. I can change it. I can make it better.
A watchmaker knows best of anyone, that sometimes, cuts can't be mended. He glanced at his watch again. It never changes. He must never allow himself to become Sylar again. The scar down the glass face divided it into two almost equal sections, similar to the one down Peter's face.
Sometimes, he didn't want to understand.
---
Peter's hands lit up with flames, flickering and orange.
"You changed Claire."
Yes, she had changed. Everybody needed to change, to adopt what was necessary and move on. Peter was like an autistic child, he couldn't stand change and refused to admit that he had.
"So did you Peter."
She knew it infuriated him. She knew that everything about her infuriated him now. The fact that he'd loved her once, and still did, most of all. Her hands didn't shake like they used to with a gun clasped between them. Her heart didn't pound when she was scared anymore. There was nothing. Absolutely noting. She could pinpoint the exact moment it had happened, like the flip of a switch.
"We could save the world. You and me."
He infuriated her more. She wasn't a little girl anymore, not the pathetic, innocent cheerleader that always needed a hero. Always needed saving. No, those days had been and gone.
"I don't wanna hear this shit."
She fired two shots, both of which Peter dodged unfortunately. They ricocheted off metal trash can lids, sparking orange like his hands. Wisps of dark brown hair floated on the slight breeze in front of her face. She hadn't wanted to be the stupid, defenceless blonde anymore.
"You've seen the paintings. The world's going to split."
"I told you to shut up!"
Two more shots, and Peter was gone. Claire knew much better than to attempt to chase him. He wouldn't learn. He wouldn't be told.
The world didn't need heroes anymore, especially not Peter.
---
"Mr President, we have news that your brother was spotted in down town Manhattan earlier today."
Frankly, Nathan didn't think he was anything more than an ornament. Linderman and his Mother, they'd planted ambitions in his head that weren't his. At the time, he'd thought they were, but ultimately, they weren't.
"Put someone on that."
That was the limit of his job. He told the public how sorry he was when accidents happened, and he made sure that someone was always "on it". He occupied the position of president solely so that no-one else could. A fancy trophy on someone's shelf.
Peter worried him. Peter worried lots of people. His younger brother was out of control and thought he could change the world. No-one could change the world. Anyway, it was his job to worry about everything.
Worst of all, his relationship with Tracy was gradually falling apart. In the public eye, they were the perfect couple. The intelligent, morally right President and the beautiful, flawless first lady. The media couldn't be more wrong.
The spark had gone. Well, to be correct, his spark had gone. Gradually, all of his certainties had been ebbed away at. Everything was wrong, apart from Peter of course. Peter was generally right. However, being right and being able to fix things weren't one in the same.
"I really need a glass of whiskey."
He'd felt so meaningful the day he caught her as she jumped off the bridge. Now... now there was nothingness, a void. More than anything, he had always wanted to be the best for his parents, for his family. When his power had been a secret, he'd felt like he was standing on top of the world. The world was standing on him instead. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks.
He didn't want any of it.
---
“The one who understands does not speak; the one who speaks does not understand” - Chinese Proverb
---
There had been no transition. There had been no moment where he felt the desire nor the need to change. There had been no instant where the hunger had left him. There had been no gradual, soul-sapping change. Nothing. It was as if he had never been the monster, and he had never deviated from his humanity.
Angela had been wrong; he could never change. The hunger had changed.
Three year old Noah sat in front of the television in his pajamas watching an ancient Disney film. He wouldn't have thought twice about telling someone what a good person his Daddy was. It was almost too much to take.
Every day, he thought about telling Noah exactly what a monster people thought he was - had been. Every day, he pushed the thought out of his head, and returned to being Gabriel Gray, your average single parent. Every day, he fought with himself.
You have to make it up. All those lives you took on your silly little quest to understand, you've got to pay back that debt. You can save the world Gabriel. Help me save the world.
Peter just didn't understand like he did. Peter didn't understand just how much like his parents, like Nathan, like Linderman, he really was. Just as power hungry, just as foolish. He couldn't understand that all the nonsense falling out of his mouth about saving the world was really an inner desire to be important, to be noticed. Peter secretly hated always having Nathan, Angela, even Mohinder standing in front of him. In his way.
God, Gabriel knew how that felt.
I can fix it. I can change it. I can make it better.
A watchmaker knows best of anyone, that sometimes, cuts can't be mended. He glanced at his watch again. It never changes. He must never allow himself to become Sylar again. The scar down the glass face divided it into two almost equal sections, similar to the one down Peter's face.
Sometimes, he didn't want to understand.
---
Peter's hands lit up with flames, flickering and orange.
"You changed Claire."
Yes, she had changed. Everybody needed to change, to adopt what was necessary and move on. Peter was like an autistic child, he couldn't stand change and refused to admit that he had.
"So did you Peter."
She knew it infuriated him. She knew that everything about her infuriated him now. The fact that he'd loved her once, and still did, most of all. Her hands didn't shake like they used to with a gun clasped between them. Her heart didn't pound when she was scared anymore. There was nothing. Absolutely noting. She could pinpoint the exact moment it had happened, like the flip of a switch.
"We could save the world. You and me."
He infuriated her more. She wasn't a little girl anymore, not the pathetic, innocent cheerleader that always needed a hero. Always needed saving. No, those days had been and gone.
"I don't wanna hear this shit."
She fired two shots, both of which Peter dodged unfortunately. They ricocheted off metal trash can lids, sparking orange like his hands. Wisps of dark brown hair floated on the slight breeze in front of her face. She hadn't wanted to be the stupid, defenceless blonde anymore.
"You've seen the paintings. The world's going to split."
"I told you to shut up!"
Two more shots, and Peter was gone. Claire knew much better than to attempt to chase him. He wouldn't learn. He wouldn't be told.
The world didn't need heroes anymore, especially not Peter.
---
"Mr President, we have news that your brother was spotted in down town Manhattan earlier today."
Frankly, Nathan didn't think he was anything more than an ornament. Linderman and his Mother, they'd planted ambitions in his head that weren't his. At the time, he'd thought they were, but ultimately, they weren't.
"Put someone on that."
That was the limit of his job. He told the public how sorry he was when accidents happened, and he made sure that someone was always "on it". He occupied the position of president solely so that no-one else could. A fancy trophy on someone's shelf.
Peter worried him. Peter worried lots of people. His younger brother was out of control and thought he could change the world. No-one could change the world. Anyway, it was his job to worry about everything.
Worst of all, his relationship with Tracy was gradually falling apart. In the public eye, they were the perfect couple. The intelligent, morally right President and the beautiful, flawless first lady. The media couldn't be more wrong.
The spark had gone. Well, to be correct, his spark had gone. Gradually, all of his certainties had been ebbed away at. Everything was wrong, apart from Peter of course. Peter was generally right. However, being right and being able to fix things weren't one in the same.
"I really need a glass of whiskey."
He'd felt so meaningful the day he caught her as she jumped off the bridge. Now... now there was nothingness, a void. More than anything, he had always wanted to be the best for his parents, for his family. When his power had been a secret, he'd felt like he was standing on top of the world. The world was standing on him instead. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks.
He didn't want any of it.
---
“The one who understands does not speak; the one who speaks does not understand” - Chinese Proverb