6. Do You Want To Be A Better Man?
Peter rubbed his hands on his pants and finished his bottle of juice. He set it down on the table. Sylar turned unexpectedly and reached out for the empty bottle. Peter jerked back and for a moment Sylar paused, looking at that reaction. His eyes passed over Peter's face in a calculating fashion. He extended his arm slowly and took the plastic container, pulling back equally slowly. Peter looked away under the intense scrutiny. Bennet was still watching through the view port, he saw. He felt awfully watched at that moment.
"Why are you so afraid of me?" Sylar disintegrated the plastic bottle, unintentionally answering his own question.
"I'm not." Peter watched the dust fall. If he didn't have that ability, then he wouldn't be nearly so dangerous. I wish I could steal powers like my father could.
"You're lying."
Peter looked back at Sylar and something about the set of the man's face reminded him of Nathan. That was surprising. He studied the face, trying to figure out what it was that looked familiar. It was the way he held his lips and the slightly raised brows, making his face look more open and receptive, less feral and angry.
"Do you think I'm going to kill you, or your friend in there? I've been having this feeling that I should." Sylar cocked his head at Peter, looking at him so intently that Peter was sure the Hunger was kicking in. Any similarity to Nathan vanished.
Peter got up and paced back and forth restlessly. He didn't have another juice to distract the man and Bennet was right. If Sylar got carried away, there was no stopping him with what they had on hand. Peter had a full syringe in his jacket, but he doubted he'd get the opportunity to use it. Not as long as Sylar was acting like Sylar. He had to find a way to get to Nathan.
A flush of emotion passed through Peter. "You think so?" He glanced back at Sylar, who had freed his feet at some point and was now shifting to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Well," he shrugged with one shoulder. "It's a thought…"
"It's a thought." Peter kept pacing. His eyes were angry. "You like thinking about killing your brother, thinking you've killed your mother, maybe your wife? You like thinking about killing everyone you love?"
Sylar drew his head back and inhaled. Instead of thinking about his mother, the memory of the electric blonde came sharply into his mind, along with the salty sea breeze and the smell of her blood, so similar to the smell of her body, pressed against his. He knew her inside and out and for an instant, the fullness of that knowledge swept through him like a buffeting wind. He blinked at the intensity of the memory and swallowed nervously. He felt a wash of cold prickles cover his skin as he felt regret, remorse. He blinked and looked at his knees.
Peter stopped pacing. It looked like that one had shot straight through whatever defenses Sylar had and pierced him to the heart. Not for the first time, Peter felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Too empathic for my own good. I ought to walk out of here while I still can. Bennet was right. Instead though, he walked over and put his hands on Sylar's knees and bent a little to look into his face.
"Nathan. I love you."
Sylar looked up at him and his face shifted slightly - more sensitive like his brother, less calculating than the serial killer. Sylar opened his mouth to answer, but all he said was "I…" then he tilted his head, thinking hard. An expression of horror passed over his face. "What did you do to me?"
Peter hesitated, torn between getting away from the man and hugging him, because it was almost the same thing Nathan had said to his mother before leaving on Thanksgiving. He put his hands on Sylar's shoulders and rubbed twice, then said to hell with it and pulled the other man to him. Sylar hugged him back briefly and almost automatically, then pushed Peter away. It wasn't forceful or sudden, but it was firm and brooked no argument. Peter pulled the chair back a few feet and sat on the edge of it, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I need to tell you the truth."
"You have my complete attention." Sylar's voice was low, almost guttural. Peter couldn't tell where that level of emotion was coming from. Sylar was still reacting to Peter hugging him and had no idea what to do with the conflicting feelings he was having.
Peter gave a long exhale. "You were born as Gabriel Grey - a watchmaker's son. You developed a special power. You could take the powers of others by cutting off the top of their heads and looking at their brains. You started calling yourself Sylar and you killed a lot of people, including my brother, Nathan." Sylar was looking at him with disconcerting attention. Peter looked away from him and went on, "A few months ago we stopped you, took away your memories and made you think you were Nathan. Things seemed okay for a while, but then the new personality slipped. You were going back to being Sylar. So we stopped you, again. Screwed up your memories, brought you here. We can't let you be a killer." He shook his head slightly.
After a very long pause, Sylar asked, "Can you stop me from it?"
Peter looked at him, eyes hard at first and then softening at Sylar's (Nathan's?) open expression. It was as if he wasn't threatening, but actually asking. Peter looked back and forth between the other man's eyes. "We can try. You can stop yourself from it. You have before. And I know you will. In the future, you become a good man. I know it." His voice was fainter at the end, but it carried. Maybe, instead of getting to Nathan, he needed to get to Gabriel.
Sylar chuckled. "You've seen the future?"
Peter gave a short laugh in reply. "Yeah. Sounds stupid, doesn't it? But you know I'm telling the truth. You can hear it. That's one of your abilities, like turning plastic into dust. Seeing the future is just another ability."
"Do I have that one?"
"No." Peter hesitated. "I don't think so. Not anymore."
"Hm." He looked intently at Peter's forehead, intent clear.
"I don't have it either, if that's what you're thinking. Not anymore."
Sylar frowned.
"And anyway, that's not important," Peter said. "What's important is that you get control of yourself and stop being a serial killer or else bad things are just going to keep happening. You don't have to be that way. Think about Nathan. Be Nathan, if you still can. He was a good man. You can be a good man." He studied Sylar's face. It occurred to Peter that what he was doing didn't miss his mother much for insanity. He felt a wave of sympathy for her situation, with Nathan dead and a way to get him back, even if only a semblance, available to her. Peter had thought he'd never do anything so depraved, but here he was telling Sylar to be his brother. Was it that different to have Matt tell him the same thing? Yes, because Sylar, Nathan, has a choice right now. Matt didn't give him a choice.
The other man looked away and sagged a bit. "I can't even remember my own name. Gabriel, you say? Huh. It seems a little early to be talking about the triumph of morality."
Peter stood up and put his hand on Sylar's shoulder, stepping close to him. He looked directly into his eyes. "You've started to kill me twice while I've been in here. Trust me," he dipped his head a bit closer, "it's not too early to talk about changing your life." Sylar leaned back from him, but he couldn't escape the touch without getting up. Peter stepped back and let his hand drop, giving him the space he clearly wanted. Would Nathan have pulled away from him? He thought not. On the other hand, Sylar wouldn't have tolerated him being that close against his will, either.
Peter went on, "I've had what you have. It's called the Hunger. It drives you to figure things out." No wonder he's putting his head back together so quickly. It's not so much the healing factor, but his power to understand how things work. Those two together... "You can control it. I'll help you. I'll help you fight it. You have to fight it." Peter's eyes blinked and he felt a queasy turn to his stomach. He'd said much the same sort of thing to Nathan, trying to get Nathan to fight against Sylar's mind. Déjà vu.
"You should have killed me."
"No. Don't even go there. You're stronger than that."
Sylar's head came up at the last sentence. Peter went on, playing on that theme, "You're strong. You can control it. You're in control of yourself. Even with everything that's happened to you, you're in control." Peter had a sense that Sylar and Nathan both had insecurity issues and might respond well to flattery. Besides, it was basically true.
Sylar looked at the view port, at Noah Bennet. Peter barked a laugh. "He can't stop you and you know it. He knows it too. Only you can stop you." He took a half step closer and Sylar looked back at him, glancing up and down his body as Nathan was wont to do, assessing his body language. "You have to want to be a better man."
Peter put his hand on Sylar's knee. The other man looked down at the touch. "The question is, do you want to be a better man, Gabriel?"