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It's a proven scientific fact: jetpacks with windshields look dumb. So in the interests of not actually being crushed by the air resistance, or choking on any unsuspecting bugs, Steve programmed a top speed into his fairly early on in its trial runs. Thus it is that he does not enter the airspace of the Cooper household at a thousand miles an hour; nor does he leave a smoking man-shaped crater on impact. He does, however, speed in at a fair old clip, and land with a thud and an ungainly skid through the soil.

He didn't feel safe, you see, until he was actually standing on the solid earth of the farm.

...He still doesn't, if we're honest. Witness the hunted look and the way he's staring into the sky, though of course if he's been followed this far then there's absolutely nothing he can do.

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"...Stephen?"

Gabriel hurries over from the entryway of the earth bunker, radiating concern.

"What's wrong?"

TELL HIM SO HE CAN FIX IT WITH CUDDLES.

Did no-one ever warn Gabriel not to surprise a guy who's paranoid about seeing someone who's basically your clone?

...That sentence was ugly and ungainly, but it explains the momentary flash of horror that's quickly overtaken by quite indescribable quantities of relief.

"Gabriel!"

You haven't been killed by a freaky other-you! This is wonderful. HAVE A STEVE.

"Steve, what-- oof!"

Sudden glompings! Unexpected but welcome. He wraps his arms around the shorter man and snuggles for all he's worth, then releases him, pulling back a little to look him in the eye.

"C'mon." Hands on Stephen's shoulders. "What happened?"

If he had to admit it, one specific scary event failed to really happen, but it's a rare veteran who won't tell you that a buildup of unreleased dread isn't just as bad. Only violin strings should feel this tense.

No point making a song and dance out of it. "Your double," he says, with a remarkable attempt at calmness. "I think it's the one you were warned about." ('Mistaken for' would be more accurate, but no need to bring that up now.)

.....grk

"God, are you okay?"

IMMEDIATE DAMAGE CHECK REQUIRED.

...okay, you LOOK alive, Steve. ARE YOU A ZOMBIE? No. Zombies aren't this cuddly.

--this is a somewhat obscure way of saying that Gabriel has just indulged in a great deal of staring and hugs.

"Did he-- do anything? Say anything?"

DID HE HURT YOU?

(The idea that he hit on Steve hasn't actually come up. After teenGabe, Gabriel subconsciously assumes all his alternates like the ladies.)

(Steve has NO INTENTION OF BRINGING THIS UP.)

"I'm fine! --fine!" Just a little shellshocked and tactile. "He didn't actually... but he looked like he'd..." ...like he'd like to make Steve a little more than shellshocked and a little less tactile, okay, moving on. "I think he's in Metropolis by now."

...on an errand which, now he thinks about it, prompts a very out-of-place snort of chuckles.

"...He's looking for a comb."

It's the kind of nervous laughter that you hope not to get at funerals.

"..."

No, actually, there are no words.

None.

Wait...

"--okay, he's definitely me." Your nervous smile is met with a nervous laugh, Steve! "I'm so glad you're all right. God, Steve, I--" Couldn't stand to lose you. Would probably get myself killed going after my older self if something happened to you.

Closing his eyes and swallowing and hugging Stephen so hard he lifts him off the ground is the best Gabriel can manage at expressing all this.

Stephen might warn Gabriel to mind the jetpack, if he wasn't so busy hugging the crap out of him right back.

"You too, I -- he wanted to meet you."

After Steve so cleverly let slip the fact of Gabriel's existence. FOR SHAME, Steve. FOR SHAME.

Eh, the jetpack will survive.

"...he wanted to what? Why?"

CONFUSION.

AND CAPSLOCK.

And--

--so, Steve. You still checking the sky every thirty seconds?

Not when he has a hisGabe to focus on, unfortunately.

"--I don't know!" He just got the very strong impression that bad shit would go down! "But if it is that version, then, I mean, obviously he mustn't come here."

He might even get around to mentioning the powers any day now.

That won't be necessary.

"Good afternoon," Sylar says smoothly as his feet touch the ground.

The smile he directs at Steve is cold, amused, and slightly superior.

The smile he directs at his younger self--

--is genuinely fond.

Gabriel knows that one from the inside.

Blink. Swallow.

"...afternoon?"

...Oh, hell no.

Fond or not, that smile's going to have to get through a solid wall of Steve. As, indeed, will Sylar should he choose to try anything.

(The narration hesitantly submits that he would not have a great deal of difficulty, but that's not the point.)

"Get out of here!"

He raises a hand casually, fingers spread...

...and lowers it. Not the way to make a good impression on the little one.

"Don't be rude," he says, calm and unruffled.

Hiding behind Steve doesn't work very well, considering the height differences.

Doesn't mean Gabe's not trying.

"um," he mumbles.

...

...yeah, he's got nothin'.

Steve's attempting to make himself as tall as possible, so at least there's that to consider when using him as cover.

The fingers gain a dreadful kind of transfixion, as he wonders what Sylar was about to do, and whether he really wants to know.

"I told you we weren't having this meeting."

Isn't it cute when he tries to sound all in-charge?

"And as adorable as it is when mice stand up to lions, perhaps you should be asking Gabriel what he thinks, hmm? Because I'm certainly more interested in his opinion than I am in yours."

"...I at least don't think he's here to kill us," Gabriel offers, small-voiced.

Or he would've done it already.

He doesn't add that part.

There is a tiny burble from the kraken pond and a pair of big eyes.

Nope, actually, there isn't. Spots has spotted the atmosphere and is now at the furthest possible reach of the pool, and will be staying there until his daddies come to tell him it's safe.

D: CONFUSION

Oh, hang on, now there are three Gabriels. This latest one is the youngest so far, arriving at a run, and even more freaked out than Steve (though rather better at concealing it).

Intuition made sure he picked up on what was happening. There wasn't any stunned disbelief, because with Inty you don't do disbelief, but there was quite a lot of stunned and a fair degree of horrified. And then there was charging into the fray, somewhat. There wasn't even a decision to make, there. (The narration demands to know: is there any way that you could just sit tight and pretend it wasn't happening?)

A little way behind Sylar, though, he dwindles to a halt. It's kind of hard to come close to someone when you've just been given, all at once, a very good idea of what he's capable of.

Eep.

The unspoken last part hangs in the air like an unpleasant smog.

Steve fumbles for an answer. In the interim, he spots the most recent arrival.

There is subtle yet emphatic eyes-meeting and head-shaking.

"More of me," says Sylar, raising his considerable eyebrows. "Goodness."

"I always..."

"...wanted a brother," Gabriel finishes softly, because it's true. When he was young.

"Not him, I don't," comes the shrill protest of Gabriel, who is (a) young and (b) undesirous of a brother who does not distinguish between skulls and soup cans ~~ingenious as his method must be~~.