Bricks in the Wall, Chapter 30: It's Not About Nathan
Title: It's Not About Nathan
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,100
Summary: Peter and Sylar discuss if Sylar should (or can) admit that Peter has a right to be angry at him.
"Nathan mattered to me," Peter said very seriously. "We're not going anywhere until you acknowledge that."
Sylar snorted derisively and rolled his eyes. It was a sign of their progress that they were even having this discussion, although the location was a bit odd. They each sat in the loose pea gravel of a playground, reclining against the two-high railroad ties that lined the play-pit. "Nathan was a dick, Peter. You have to admit that."
Peter shook his head staunchly. "This isn't quid pro quo. That has nothing to do with it. Nothing." He glared at Sylar for a moment, who ignored him. "You act like I ought to be happy you killed him, like it was clearing the way for me to inherit the entire Petrelli fortune instead of just the half or whatever." He paused there, not sure if he was even in the inheritance any more. In one of Peter's arguments with his father about college, Arthur had threatened to disinherit him. Peter had told him to do it - he didn't want the money anyway. His father had replied, 'Fine,' and that was the end of it, never mentioned again by either of them. Peter had his trust fund, but when his father died, nothing else had come to him. He'd assumed everything went to his mother, but what would happen after she passed? Would it all go to Nathan? Or rather, his sons? Well, Peter didn't care much even now.
"It was a service to all specials everywhere."
Peter still wanted to deck Sylar for saying shit like that, but they'd moved past that. Mostly. Instead he growled in anger and looked at the sky. "He was special. How was that a service to him?"
"He was destroying his own life. He's better off dead."
"You don't get to decide that, Sylar!" The heat in Peter's voice was unmistakable.
"Seems like I did," the other man said bluntly.
Snarling, Peter threw a small handful of gravel at him, hard as he could. From an outsider's perspective (and even probably from Sylar's), that was hilarious in how harmless it was, but Sylar knew enough not to ignore stage 2 violence from Peter. Stage 1 was threats and maybe getting in his face. Stage 3 was blows. If he ignored stage 2 pushing, shoving, and throwing things, then stage 3 would swiftly follow until Peter was sure he'd made his point. Sylar recoiled a little, brushing off stray stones from his pants. He kept his eyes down and mouth shut, much as he wanted to say something snarky.
Peter slowly went from poised to get up off his rear end and pummel some sense into his companion to … well, calmer. He took several deep breaths and looked away. It was an emotionally charged topic. "You don't get to decide that," he reiterated through clenched teeth.
Sylar picked at the gravel, selecting an especially round piece. "Peter … I don't mean to be offensive with this," he started, flicking his eyes apologetically up at Peter, who turned at his words to eye him suspiciously. Such a statement was usually followed by something patently insulting. "But of all people, I know better than anyone what kind of person Nathan was."
Peter backed off a little, relieved that Sylar hadn't turned up the tension in the discussion. "That's why we're arguing. You're not getting the point! This isn't about Nathan. It's about me!" Sylar stared at him, blinking slowly a few times. From someone else, Peter would have interpreted that as a 'you're stupid' look of condescension. With Sylar that was certainly still a possible meaning, but more on the money was 'I don't understand that', of which Peter was aware.
Growling with frustration, Peter got to his feet and stomped off, kicking rocks out of his way as he went. He heard the dry rustle of Sylar getting to his feet behind him. Peter stalked over to the swings and sat down in one of them, a band of hot plastic supporting him. Too tall by far, he sprawled his legs out so his knees wouldn't be so comically high. He felt like a kid and wondered if his upset was just an immature tantrum. Where was the line between authentic emotions that deserved recognition and juvenile fit-throwing that was best left ignored?
Sylar came over and leaned on the support beam, looking down at him. "I think I get it. You want … your feelings to matter." Sylar picked at the wood of the beam. "And this isn't about Nathan. Or rather, not just about Nathan. Is it?"
"No," he said sullenly, not sure how relevant it was to open the can of worms that made up Peter's past, where failure to acknowledge his opinion on things was routine.
"Okay," Sylar said softly. "I see that now. It's not just about you, either. Everyone … probably had feelings about the people I killed."
"Yeah?" Peter looked up at him, brows drawn together a bit as he processed why the admission wasn't easy for Sylar.
Sylar nodded slowly and then scratched the back of his neck. "Well, um, okay. Yeah. I agree that people … have feelings."
"Yeah, but do you recognize that they're legitimate? That it's okay for them to feel that way?"
A hopeless half smile lifted part of Sylar's mouth. He gave a hollow laugh. "They want to kill me, Peter." He gave Peter a guarded, haunted look. "So do you."
"You know, Sylar, sometimes what I want to kill you over is that you don't admit I have a right to be upset. That by itself is huge."
Sylar picked nervously at the wood some more, staring off into the distance with a sad, somewhat fearful expression.
Peter knew the other man had to be looking down the barrel of a gun, the horror of having to admit that everyone who was angry at him had a right to be that way. Sylar was right - it was a far bigger admission than just Nathan, and Peter hadn't seen it that way to start with. He stood up. This was too big an issue to demand an answer right away. "Hey. We're not going anywhere anyway, so how about you give me a hand on adjusting the chains on this swing so I can actually use the damn thing."
"Like a kid?" Sylar said with a short, nervous laugh. But regardless, he started appraising the situation with the chains, trying to see how to move it up.
"Yeah, like a little kid," Peter said. "Might as well. You won't tattle on me, will you?"
Sylar gave him a surprised stare, then smiled warmly, letting himself be distracted and appreciating the off-hand trust. "No, of course not."