~*~Fear. An emotion that has been forgotten in the centuries I have been alive. Similar to love and hate, fear is a strong motivator to push one into action. It was fear that drove me to do what I had sworn hours before I would never do. Whatever it took to save my family~*~

"It's ok, Spock," I repeat to my grandson, over and over. "I'm here. All will be ok."

I hold onto Spock's hand, and he continues to grasp my hands tightly, more out pain than using actual strength. As Vulcans are touch-telepaths, I try to use our contact to send my strength and calm to negate the fear in his mind.

"Do…do you know…what seems to be wrong with me?" Spock chokes out. I can sense pain wracking his body with each syllable.

"Hey, it's best if you don't talk, especially if it brings you more pain," I gently scold. "From what I've gathered from the doctors is that it's a toxin called Angillian Sporadium, comes from pollen off a flower."

Spock's eyes widen, and I take it as a sign that he knows of the toxin and what it can do. Angillian Sporadium is a toxin that comes from a plant that grows on a moon orbiting a Class L planet near the Neutral Zone. While the planet itself is marginally habitable, the moon shows potential Class M characteristics but remains inhabitable due solely to the pollen. By itself, the pollen is harmless, until it comes in contact with water, and a chemical reaction releases poisonous toxins into the air. A toxin that is vital for the moon to survive but would kill most carbon-based life form that breathes in or ingest it. The blood crystalizes in the body, making movement and breathing painful, until the blood crystalizes altogether and the victim dies a painful death.

"Spock, there is no sure-fire way to know when you were exposed to the toxin," I tell him. "Symptoms can manifest instantly in some, sometimes it can take weeks or even months for the blood to start to crystalize. We just don't know when, or why."

I see a single tear well up in Spock's right eye, as he struggles against the urge to take deeper breaths. I reach over and wipe away the tear. I'm scared. The thought pops into my mind, Spock's thought. Tell me how to not be.

"Just know that we will find a way," I tell him. "I will find a way."

I see Spock's ear perk a bit and marginally turns his head towards the entrance to his room. His own sensitive hearing picks up what I have failed to hear with my own enhanced hearing as his doctor escorts Annabelle, Nyota, Kirk, and McCoy into the room. "Don't worry, they won't be able to see me," I tell Spock.

"SPOCK!" They all cry out. I try to step away as Spock's friends surround his biobed, but his grip on my hand tightens. Dr. McCoy takes his place right next to me, bumping into my shoulder. His attention snaps to me, though he cannot see me as I created an illusion that Spock is alone. Fortunately, Dr. McCoy seems to realize that I am here.

"Spock," Dr. McCoy says, turning his attention back to his friend, "From what Dr. Patil has told us, it's Angillian Sporadium….." He continues to describe the toxin to Spock, with various interruptions from Annabelle and Kirk. Nyota does not pay attention, only sitting on the other side of the bed, holding Spock's hand to cup her face and gently caresses the back of his hand with her thumb.

"Though regardless of how long it takes for symptoms to show, once it does," Dr. McCoy says, "the victim has about two weeks before succumbing…."

"Dr. McCoy!" Annabelle scolds, fighting back tears. "Please refrain from speaking about my only grandson as a victim. He's just sick, and we have to find a way to make him better."

"Yes ma'am," Dr. McCoy says, looking down.

"It is okay, Grandmother," Spock's voice scratches out. "Grandfather came to see me. He says it will be okay; he'd find a way." At this slip, I my mind races as Annabelle just breaks out in tears, hurrying out of the room to compose herself. Spock! Have you lost your Vulcan mind?! I screamed my thoughts to him. She thinks I've been dead for the last thirty-two years! Now she thinks she's closer to losing you if you're hallucinating about your supposedly dead grandpa that you've never met!

"Gabriel?" I hear Kirk say. "I take it you're here with us? How about you show yourself?" He shakes his head and mutters, "I feel like I'm speaking at a séance."

"Just a little bit," I say, making myself visible and startling the three Starfleet officers. I turn my attention to Dr. McCoy. "I'm not familiar with this toxin other than what it can do and where it comes from. Is there a cure?"

Dr. McCoy shakes his head, "None. The only beings we know that can safely breathe or ingest the pollen are the Xindi, we don't know how, though. Other than through trade, we haven't had much contact with them since Admiral Archer was captain, way before the Federation was founded."

"What I'm thinking is that this is part of an assassination plot," Kirk says. He spares Spock and Nyota a regretful glance. "It makes it unpredictable because no one knows when it will strike when taken, and is extremely effective. The only lead we have is that since it takes big money to be able to get even an ounce. We need to look at people with money or people in big corporations with access to money…"

Nyota snaps, "Are you so ready to give up? You talk as if you've given up trying to find a way to save him, and just plow on to find the one who put him here in the first place."

Kirk's face flushes, "Sorry, I didn't realize I was coming off that way. It's just…what is there to do? No one has ever survived the Angillian Sporadium toxin."

We are all silent. I close my eyes and search out Annabelle, and find that she is praying in the chapel connected to the hospital. Then a thought came to me.

"Dr. McCoy, my immortality stems from rapid cellular regeneration," I say. "The girl I got the ability from, she had been able to use her blood itself to heal others…."

"A blood transfusion?" Kirk asks. "Could that work, Bones?"

"Now hold on," I interrupt. I think hard on this theory, brows furrowing. "Years ago, I had tried injecting my blood to heal someone. At first, it worked, but then within minutes the wounds reappeared and he died. Back then, I hadn't thought about why it didn't work."

"But now?" Dr. McCoy prods.

"Gaining that ability didn't change my blood type. The body still had a way to protect itself. Even though Spock's blood is copper based, it would still have some human elements that could react poorly to my blood type, B+."

"Then how does that help us?" Nyota snaps.

"Beloved," Spock wheezes out, "calm your mind. I think…..what he is trying to say…is that the girl he spoke of, she could save me."

I nod. "Doctor, would that work?"

The doctor could only shrug, "In theory maybe. I would have to test her blood and see how it would react to Spock's blood, and/or possibly creating a useable serum from it. And that is if we can find her and get her to help us. That all takes time that we don't have, especially since I don't have any authority to use the labs here to test it all without having to explain why, that part would have to happen back at San Francisco."

"Gabe," Kirk implores, "are there any abilities you know of that could help him? Any alternative medicine we haven't thought of?"

I am silent for a moment. "I know of an ability to literally control the flow of life, to be able to heal any living organism and, in turn, remove life from that organism…."

"I can feel a 'but…' coming," Dr. McCoy says.

"It has been nearly a century since I have come across someone with an ability, and I have no way of knowing right away if it is one we need. People with any sort of abilities are severely outnumbered by those without," I say, defeated.

While we stand there, looking defeated, Dr. McCoy still looks determined.

"What's the girl's name? Where can you locate her?"

"Her name is Claire Bennet," I close my eyes and concentrate on Claire's thought patterns. It has been over a century since I have tracked or seen her, but her thoughts are as familiar to me as my own. However, "She's off planet, and I can't track that far from where I am now," I say. "But I know now who can help us," I say, grimly.

"Who?" Kirk asks.

"Where can we find them?" Dr. McCoy wonders.

"Noah Bennet and Angela Petrelli, and it's not 'where', but 'when'," I say.

"Wait, you want to go back in time?" Nyota asks. "I thought you were against that, what happened to not wanting to play God?"

"It's only one person, and would you rather let Spock die when there is a chance he could still be saved?" I give Nyota a steely look, but before she could say anything, Kirk jumps in,

"Whatever the case may be, we have a possible solution and I think we should take it." Kirk looks to Dr. McCoy.

"Bones, do you have your tricorder and portable medical equipment?"

"Well, of course I do, Jim," he scoffs, looking insulted. "I'm a doctor!"

"Ok, listen carefully," I say, "these are very important people who work for a company that specializes in finding and cataloging, and-if necessary-containing people with abilities. The year I am taking us will have the Company running at its peak with all the data they had collected. Also, remember these people know me and to them, back then, I am very much still a bad guy. They're not going to be able to differentiate me from Sylar, and will shoot first and ask questions later. We must tread carefully with them."

"But how can we get them to help us if they believe we're in league with you?" Kirk wants to know.

"I can use my telekinesis to hold them off long enough to explain our presence," I explain. "Despite what they thought of me, they were good people."

I then have Dr. McCoy disconnect Spock from the monitors and both he and Nyota gently pull Spock to a sitting position. After making sure the doctor has his equipment, I give further instructions,

"The moment we touch down, get Spock to the nearest furniture and lay him down and make sure he's comfortable. Dr. McCoy, be sure that you're the only one monitoring his progress. Do not let the others try and talk you into letting one of their doctors to check him out, simply for their own curiosity. Finally, for however long it takes that we're there, I must beg you not to seek Sylar out. He is very much a bad guy, and will not hesitate to kill you if you get in his way."

They all nod in understanding and I think back to the year and place of our destination: the Petrelli Mansion, 2013. The trip is instantaneous, and we appear in a darken study of the mansion. From a window, the setting sun is giving the study enough light to make our way to the couch. As the others are tending to Spock, I stand to execute the next step.

But just as I stand to my full height, I hear a distinct click-

As Nyota and Bones comfort Spock, I just crouch there, looking at my commanding officer, my friend. This toxin in his system, it is ripping a part all the Vulcan stoicism and dignity he worked so hard to maintain; pain and fear visibly shown on his face.

I vaguely hear Gabriel say something about searching for a man named Peter, in hopes of getting him to act as mediator. But as Gabriel stands, I hear a quiet but distinct pyew and a grunt, followed by a dull, heavy thud.

Suddenly, lights turn on and I leap up to face a tall, older man with black, horn rimmed glasses and an old fashioned hand gun pointing at me. Behind the man, I see a woman, standing with a regal air and stoicism that could give Spock's great-aunt T'Pau a run for her money. Next to her stood a short, but well-muscled guy about my age with enough features to show that he is the woman's son. Two more men stood beside him, one taller, with a husky, corn-fed build and what looked like a badge of some sort hanging around his neck; the other man is the only one with a visible ethnicity to make him stand out from the others, Indian origin. But this one has an intelligent glint in his eyes that I saw often in Bones and others in the Science field back at the Academy. This is the scientist we had to look out for.

But at the moment, they were all looking at me, and they all look pissed. Slowly, I raise my hands, and carefully shifting my stance so that I am blocking their view of my friends. Then, I look down, and I see Gabriel. He's spread-eagle on the floor, eyes blank and staring right at me. Blood is pooling around his head and some dribble from a corner of his mouth.

"Dude, you killed our ride!" I blurt.

"You will be joining him if you don't explain why you're here," the man with the gun says, calmly as ever.

"How did you know?" I dare myself to ask. "That we would be here, I mean?"

The regal woman answers, "I had dreamt you would be here."

"You got your answer," says the gunned man. "Tell us why you are here; what is your association with Sylar?"

"We came to this year in good faith," I say. Taking page from Spock, I try to appear calm and collected. I am a captain, spreading an olive branch of peace. I am Captain James Freaking Kirk. "We need your help."

"Nothing associated with Sylar is ever good," the man growls. "Do you even know what he has done? What he can do? Why would Sylar do anything remotely good?"

"Because," Spock's voice wheezes from behind me. He tries to stand despite Nyota and Bones trying to say otherwise. With great effort, he manages to stand tall, "Because he is my grandfather, and I will die without your help."

The man is dumfounded with this announcement, and the others stand conflicted. The young man steps away from his mother.

"When you say you came to this year," he starts, "what did you mean by that?"

"We're from the year 2258."

The man's eyes widen, "Hiro?! Sylar got to Hiro Nakamura?"

I just shook my head, "Look, I don't know who this Hero person is but we need to know now if you are willing to help us. We have a unique situation where a superhuman blood transfusion wouldn't work on his grandson!"

"Why wouldn't his blood work?" a soft, feminine voice asks. A young teenage girl stood in a corner, away from the main group.

Before I could say anything, Spock erupts in to a coughing fit, spraying thick green blood across the ivory colored carpet, mixing with Gabriel's red blood. When the fit was done, Spock answered for me.

"We come from time where humans are not the only ones in the universe, and my copper-based blood would most likely reject Gabriel's blood," Spock says.

For the first time, they all notice Spock's ears and greenish pallor-greener now since he has gotten sick.

"You're half human," the Indian scientist says in wonder.

Spock nods.

The girl hesitantly walks closer to us, closer to Spock. She reaches up to Spock's taller frame, like she is about to touch his ears. She pulls her hand away at the last minute and gives him a sweet, shy smile.

Spock raises his hand and splits his fingers to form the 'V' and thumb out, "The proper….Vulcan greeting is…'live long, and prosper', which something tells me that you will."

She returns the salute. "My name is Claire. Claire Bennet." She looks over to the gunned man, "Dad, please?"

He puts away his gun. "Noah Bennet."

I shake the proffered hand, "Jim Kirk. This is Dr. Leonard McCoy and Nyota Uhura, and this here is Spock."

I spare a glance at Gabriel, barely acknowledging the introductions of the other group, as they still hadn't bothered to remember the dead man on the floor.

"What will happen to him? Despite what he has done in the past, you killed a man who was trying to do the right thing."

The girl, Claire, gives me a hard look, but the look is tainted with pity in her eyes. "You have good intentions, but you are being misled by Sylar. Someone like him can't change. He can try all he wants but he could never change."

"Miss Claire," Spock says, "you cannot understand how two hundred-fifty years can affect a person. It is not logical to ignore how those years can affect someone like him, like you."

"Like me?"

"Like someone who can't die," I say. "Gabriel-and he is Gabriel to us-from what we learned from Spock, is that he lost his motivation to do the things he had done as this Sylar person. He found a new purpose in life, something to be proud of. He had put all his faith, his hopes, in you guys. To save his grandson, the only family he has left. Please, help us," I plead.

Bennet looks over to the man named Matt Parkman, "What were you able to get from their minds?"

"It's the truth," he says. "At least, they believe it to be." Matt gives Gabriel a hard look before sitting down.

A sudden cough startles everyone in the room, and Gabriel stands to his feet, groaning as he moved. He spits something into his hand and it is the bullet that was shot into his head, he lets it drop to the floor and glares hard at Bennet.

"Really?" Gabriel spats. "A bullet to the back of the head? You should have remembered that I was able to shapeshift the little sweet spot to a different area. You can't kill me that way anymore. I had figured you'd shoot first, but couldn't you have given me five minutes to explain?"

"I wanted you out of the way long enough so that I could interrogate your friends," Bennet replies. "You posed the bigger threat, so we had to take you out first. Angela dreamt that you would be here, but it wasn't clear enough to distinguish you from being from a different time."

Bennet steps up to Gabriel and stood nose to nose, "I will do what I can to help you, and try to give you the benefit of the doubt," Bennet's voice cracks, as if he struggled to say this. "But, so help me God, if you give me any reason to doubt you, I will end you."

Gabriel gives a sincere nod, "Understood."

I breathe a sigh of relief, but then notice something behind Gabriel, "BONES! Put the tricorder away! Now is not a good time!"

"But Jim, theses readings are amazing!"

A/N: how about them apples? also, i'll keep this as alternating between chapters primarily between Spock's and Sylar/Gabriel's POV with maybe another person POV. i'll make it easy in the first opening narrative on distinguishing POV, as i hate interjecting Who's POV in the beginning. don't know why, just think it gets in the way.

feel free to tell me if you like it, what you would like to happen.