![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Character: Sylar and Peter
Genre: Violence - Gen (for now)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1700ish
Rating: R
Prompts:
John Adams: At a stage in life when other men prosper, I'm reduced to living in Philadelphia. for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses vol4.7.2011
079. Echo answers. 68/100100_fairytales
19. "Duality" Slipknot 8/3030_ballads
Previous Chapters:
I'm the Hero.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Peter and I were getting along. His mother’s small admission had been enough to make the Boy Scout decide that I was a hard luck case who needed his attention. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. We all know that I enjoy being the center of attention. Being on the receiving end of kindness and someone being friendly with me was a nice change from the stick or the muzzle of a gun. He seemed to actually like me more than he felt sorry for me. I’ll take affection. I despise pity, and although there is a fine line between sympathy and pity, I can tell the difference.
I still left him beaten, sore and bloody after our practice sessions, but Peter was improving. He lost his temper and whined a lot less. The lack of whining was probably why I hated him less too. I hate spoiled little rich brats who whine.
“Peter, I need to get out of here. Not that having a window isn’t nice, but,” I said when he came knocking on my door for another day of training. I was dressed for the real world in black jeans and a button down shirt. It was black too, but it’s not as if they had given me much in the way of clothing that I’d be caught dead in, in public. Somehow they’d been able to save or copy the clothes I’d been wearing at Kirby Plaza right down to my coat. I was glad. I loved that coat. “It’s been weeks since I’ve been outside, and if I’m not a prisoner, I should be able to go, right?”
“I dunno. They said you can go, but we haven’t tested that.” He scratched at the back of his neck, which was one of his habits up there with raking his hair out of his eyes when he was trying to kill time while he thought. “No time like the present though, right? If you wanted to escape, I mean leave; you’d have done it already.”
“Very true, Peter.” I’d expected more of an argument, but I was fine with there being none. But getting Peter to agree to walk out the front door with me was one thing. Getting the guards to let me go was another. “Let me get my coat.”
He was jumpier than I was as we walked through the building to the elevator. Unlike when I’d been in a cell, we hit the button to go down to the main floor to leave. I heard the calls go through the building from the station near my room and on through the system to the lobby. Before the elevator doors parted, I heard the sound of guns being readied. Fuckers. If one person shot at me, the deal was off. I had all I needed from these people except the answers about my father, and if I had to torture Angela to get them I would.
“Sylar,” Peter said, as he put his hand on my arm. “It’ll be OK. Don’t be nervous.”
“I hate your empathy sometimes, Peter.” I hated it as much as I did being afraid. I might be able to live forever now, but that didn’t mean I was fond of being shot. “If they get nasty with me, I’ll lose it.” Yes, the man who’s been teaching you control of your abilities will lose his shit.
“I wouldn’t blame you either. If they get nasty, I might lose it too. I mean you’re no angel, but you’ve been helping me when you didn’t need to.”
“Peter,” I said under my breath as the doors opened. “If you keep being so nice to me, I will have to punch you in the face.” Of course that made him smile too. As a matter of fact he was laughing as we stepped out into the hallway between the elevator banks. The floor was polished like a mirror, and I could see every single guard’s reflection is it as we walked toward the door. But as soon as he saw how they were looking at us, Peter’s demeanor changed. The puppy vanished, and the entitled Petrelli filled his skin. It was a surprise. I’d never seen this side of him. The guards and the rest of the staff gave him a curt nod, and one of them even held the door open for us.
The sun streaming between the buildings made me wince. I’d been inside for so long that my eyes watered. I was shocked that we were still in New York. I expected us to be in the outskirts at least, not in the middle of Manhattan. Peter reached into his jacket and handed me some sunglasses.
“Here, you need these more than I do.” He gave me a big smile and nudged me with his elbow to get me walking. “If you want to enjoy outside, it’d help to step away from the building, Sylar. Come on, let’s get some coffee, and then we can go to Central Park. It’s the perfect day.”
“I haven’t been to the park in a long time. I was always too busy with my shop.” And then hunting people down to let my fingers walk through their brains. No need to mention that though. I’m sure that Peter thought of it, because underneath all of his friendliness, he never forgot what I was capable of. He’d lived through me killing him three times. He knew what a bastard I could be.
“I saw your shop a few weeks ago,” he said as he stopped outside of a Starbucks. The aroma of the coffee made my mouth water. I might be a tea drinker when I was home, but on the road it was easier to get coffee, and Starbucks was good coffee not diner swill. “It was pretty. I loved the windows.”
“Really?” I wasn’t expecting him to go there. “I loved those windows too. Why did you go to my shop?”
“The more I learned about you, Sylar, the more I needed to fill in the blanks. I didn’t want to judge you by reports Noah Bennet wrote about you. I wanted to find out who Gabriel Gray was.”
“’Was’ is the operative word, Peter,” I cautioned him as we stepped inside and joined the line to order. “I’m not Gabriel Gray anymore. I haven’t been in a long time.”
“That sounds like a conversation that should wait until we’re on a park bench feeding the squirrels,” he said with yet another grin. But his eyes weren’t smiling. Peter was contemplating me and my life. He was trying to figure out what made me tick.
“Alright,” I told him before placing my order for a caramel mocha and some chocolate chip cookies. “We can talk about that if you like, but you’ll have to tell me more about the Petrellis too.”
“That seems fair,” he said as he paid for our drinks and snacks.
We walked the short distance to the park while sipping our coffee. It was a bit warm in the sunlight, so we settle on a bench in the shade. A flurry of pigeons and squirrels came to see if we were giving out handouts, so I set up a minor bubble of telekinesis around us to keep the vermin away.
On the way I did solve one problem. I knew why Peter wanted to get me outside, and why he was being so nice. He didn’t know that I heard his visit with his mother, and he hadn’t told me what he found out about my father and the Company. It would be a test of my acting skills to pretend that I didn’t already know all he was about to share. I knew I could fool his ears and his eyes. It was his empathy that would be a problem. He might be able to read me well enough to know if I’m lying. Of course growing up Petrelli, he might be numb to that. I can’t imagine constantly knowing you were being lied to would be good for your mental health.
Peter was gearing up for the big reveal. He kept running his fingers through his hair. It made me want to a take a scissors to it. I should ask about getting a hair cut on our way back, and maybe suggest he get one too. I was looking pretty raggedy, and if it kept up, I’d start looking like Gabriel or worse yet Peter.
“Just say it, Peter. You talked to your mother about me.” I turned and brought one leg up, so I could look him in the eyes. “Did she answer my questions? Do you know who my father is?”
“His name was Samson Gray.” He reached over and put his hand on my knee to offer me comfort. “My mother doesn’t know where he is.”
“But they were watching me,” I said, deciding not to pretend I didn’t know. It was too nice of a day for me to lie to Peter, and if he’d been learning his lessons, he’d know anyway. “Waiting for me to kill. My father, Martin, had a brother named Samson. That would explain the last name being the same.”
“I didn’t ask about that.” He drew his hand back and glared at me. “You were listening, weren’t you?”
“Of course I was.” I shrugged and smiled. “I had to know. She might have told you, and then had Rene make you forget. I couldn’t take that chance.”
“It’s been over a week since I talked to her, and you didn’t say anything.”
“Neither did you,” I pointed out. “We had to wait until we were away from the Company. I know you’re listening for someone watching us the same as I am. Go ahead deny it, Peter. You don’t trust them anymore than I do.”
“No, Sylar.” He slumped down in the bench, folding his arms across his chest and nearly spilling his coffee. “I don’t trust them at all. They let this happen to you. They nearly let me explode. I probably trust you more than I do them.”
“Especially your mother,” I added when I probably shouldn’t have.
“Especially, my mother,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.
Thanks for reading and commenting.
Genre: Violence - Gen (for now)
Author:
thewatchmakerFandom: Heroes
Word count: 1700ish
Rating: R
Prompts:
John Adams: At a stage in life when other men prosper, I'm reduced to living in Philadelphia. for
scifi_muses vol4.7.2011079. Echo answers. 68/100
100_fairytales19. "Duality" Slipknot 8/30
30_balladsPrevious Chapters:
I'm the Hero.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Peter and I were getting along. His mother’s small admission had been enough to make the Boy Scout decide that I was a hard luck case who needed his attention. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. We all know that I enjoy being the center of attention. Being on the receiving end of kindness and someone being friendly with me was a nice change from the stick or the muzzle of a gun. He seemed to actually like me more than he felt sorry for me. I’ll take affection. I despise pity, and although there is a fine line between sympathy and pity, I can tell the difference.
I still left him beaten, sore and bloody after our practice sessions, but Peter was improving. He lost his temper and whined a lot less. The lack of whining was probably why I hated him less too. I hate spoiled little rich brats who whine.
“Peter, I need to get out of here. Not that having a window isn’t nice, but,” I said when he came knocking on my door for another day of training. I was dressed for the real world in black jeans and a button down shirt. It was black too, but it’s not as if they had given me much in the way of clothing that I’d be caught dead in, in public. Somehow they’d been able to save or copy the clothes I’d been wearing at Kirby Plaza right down to my coat. I was glad. I loved that coat. “It’s been weeks since I’ve been outside, and if I’m not a prisoner, I should be able to go, right?”
“I dunno. They said you can go, but we haven’t tested that.” He scratched at the back of his neck, which was one of his habits up there with raking his hair out of his eyes when he was trying to kill time while he thought. “No time like the present though, right? If you wanted to escape, I mean leave; you’d have done it already.”
“Very true, Peter.” I’d expected more of an argument, but I was fine with there being none. But getting Peter to agree to walk out the front door with me was one thing. Getting the guards to let me go was another. “Let me get my coat.”
He was jumpier than I was as we walked through the building to the elevator. Unlike when I’d been in a cell, we hit the button to go down to the main floor to leave. I heard the calls go through the building from the station near my room and on through the system to the lobby. Before the elevator doors parted, I heard the sound of guns being readied. Fuckers. If one person shot at me, the deal was off. I had all I needed from these people except the answers about my father, and if I had to torture Angela to get them I would.
“Sylar,” Peter said, as he put his hand on my arm. “It’ll be OK. Don’t be nervous.”
“I hate your empathy sometimes, Peter.” I hated it as much as I did being afraid. I might be able to live forever now, but that didn’t mean I was fond of being shot. “If they get nasty with me, I’ll lose it.” Yes, the man who’s been teaching you control of your abilities will lose his shit.
“I wouldn’t blame you either. If they get nasty, I might lose it too. I mean you’re no angel, but you’ve been helping me when you didn’t need to.”
“Peter,” I said under my breath as the doors opened. “If you keep being so nice to me, I will have to punch you in the face.” Of course that made him smile too. As a matter of fact he was laughing as we stepped out into the hallway between the elevator banks. The floor was polished like a mirror, and I could see every single guard’s reflection is it as we walked toward the door. But as soon as he saw how they were looking at us, Peter’s demeanor changed. The puppy vanished, and the entitled Petrelli filled his skin. It was a surprise. I’d never seen this side of him. The guards and the rest of the staff gave him a curt nod, and one of them even held the door open for us.
The sun streaming between the buildings made me wince. I’d been inside for so long that my eyes watered. I was shocked that we were still in New York. I expected us to be in the outskirts at least, not in the middle of Manhattan. Peter reached into his jacket and handed me some sunglasses.
“Here, you need these more than I do.” He gave me a big smile and nudged me with his elbow to get me walking. “If you want to enjoy outside, it’d help to step away from the building, Sylar. Come on, let’s get some coffee, and then we can go to Central Park. It’s the perfect day.”
“I haven’t been to the park in a long time. I was always too busy with my shop.” And then hunting people down to let my fingers walk through their brains. No need to mention that though. I’m sure that Peter thought of it, because underneath all of his friendliness, he never forgot what I was capable of. He’d lived through me killing him three times. He knew what a bastard I could be.
“I saw your shop a few weeks ago,” he said as he stopped outside of a Starbucks. The aroma of the coffee made my mouth water. I might be a tea drinker when I was home, but on the road it was easier to get coffee, and Starbucks was good coffee not diner swill. “It was pretty. I loved the windows.”
“Really?” I wasn’t expecting him to go there. “I loved those windows too. Why did you go to my shop?”
“The more I learned about you, Sylar, the more I needed to fill in the blanks. I didn’t want to judge you by reports Noah Bennet wrote about you. I wanted to find out who Gabriel Gray was.”
“’Was’ is the operative word, Peter,” I cautioned him as we stepped inside and joined the line to order. “I’m not Gabriel Gray anymore. I haven’t been in a long time.”
“That sounds like a conversation that should wait until we’re on a park bench feeding the squirrels,” he said with yet another grin. But his eyes weren’t smiling. Peter was contemplating me and my life. He was trying to figure out what made me tick.
“Alright,” I told him before placing my order for a caramel mocha and some chocolate chip cookies. “We can talk about that if you like, but you’ll have to tell me more about the Petrellis too.”
“That seems fair,” he said as he paid for our drinks and snacks.
We walked the short distance to the park while sipping our coffee. It was a bit warm in the sunlight, so we settle on a bench in the shade. A flurry of pigeons and squirrels came to see if we were giving out handouts, so I set up a minor bubble of telekinesis around us to keep the vermin away.
On the way I did solve one problem. I knew why Peter wanted to get me outside, and why he was being so nice. He didn’t know that I heard his visit with his mother, and he hadn’t told me what he found out about my father and the Company. It would be a test of my acting skills to pretend that I didn’t already know all he was about to share. I knew I could fool his ears and his eyes. It was his empathy that would be a problem. He might be able to read me well enough to know if I’m lying. Of course growing up Petrelli, he might be numb to that. I can’t imagine constantly knowing you were being lied to would be good for your mental health.
Peter was gearing up for the big reveal. He kept running his fingers through his hair. It made me want to a take a scissors to it. I should ask about getting a hair cut on our way back, and maybe suggest he get one too. I was looking pretty raggedy, and if it kept up, I’d start looking like Gabriel or worse yet Peter.
“Just say it, Peter. You talked to your mother about me.” I turned and brought one leg up, so I could look him in the eyes. “Did she answer my questions? Do you know who my father is?”
“His name was Samson Gray.” He reached over and put his hand on my knee to offer me comfort. “My mother doesn’t know where he is.”
“But they were watching me,” I said, deciding not to pretend I didn’t know. It was too nice of a day for me to lie to Peter, and if he’d been learning his lessons, he’d know anyway. “Waiting for me to kill. My father, Martin, had a brother named Samson. That would explain the last name being the same.”
“I didn’t ask about that.” He drew his hand back and glared at me. “You were listening, weren’t you?”
“Of course I was.” I shrugged and smiled. “I had to know. She might have told you, and then had Rene make you forget. I couldn’t take that chance.”
“It’s been over a week since I talked to her, and you didn’t say anything.”
“Neither did you,” I pointed out. “We had to wait until we were away from the Company. I know you’re listening for someone watching us the same as I am. Go ahead deny it, Peter. You don’t trust them anymore than I do.”
“No, Sylar.” He slumped down in the bench, folding his arms across his chest and nearly spilling his coffee. “I don’t trust them at all. They let this happen to you. They nearly let me explode. I probably trust you more than I do them.”
“Especially your mother,” I added when I probably shouldn’t have.
“Especially, my mother,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.
Thanks for reading and commenting.
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