With a blink, Blair found herself standing on a rooftop. She instinctively hugged herself to keep from the cold, furrowing her brow in bemusement. She had found herself waking up to dream after dream until she could hardly tell if she was awake or not. The chill certainly felt real.
Then she noticed the man leaning by the ledge, and her first thought was, "Chuck!"
She quickly covered her mouth, surprised by the volume of her own voice. In her mind, she went through all her Audrey Hepburn movies, wondering which one this was from.
The alarmed tone had him turning on a dime, the scan of a look stopping halfway to fall on the girl known as Blair Waldorf. Peter remembered her, remembered when he spoke to her on occasion and remembered of more recent days that she returned without memory of anything or the time she had been present, but that wasn't uncommon as far as he knew, as far as he had been told over his own time, of which he couldn't quite tab down in days but maybe that was the dream speaking, a volume higher than reality
( ... )
"It's so quiet up here," Sylar says, walking up behind Peter to look out over the edge. He moves nonchalantly, plenty familiar with this rooftop.
"I'd expected an uproar, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Don't you get tired of all this silence?" He actually seems curious, turning to look at Peter and gauge his reaction.
By the time he shows up, Peter knows he's dreaming, but that does not stop him from tensing to the point of pain. It also doesn't stop him from wanting to ground the other man's head into the concrete to see if death will stick in a false world of sleep and the in-between, but dreams have long since carried a weightier likeness to life for Peter than other people, and he has not been able to shake that reality despite knowing he no longer retains Angela's precognitive tendencies.
Habit keeps him from trying his want out. There is just no way of knowing if he dies in here if he dies out there, and Claire's face is sharp in his mind, softened by her own strength and desire to hold him up. Oh he knows she's been the steadfast one, the backbone and it makes him feel all the more inept but he's done with that. He still hasn't mourned, still hasn't grieved, but he thinks neither has she, and all things come in time if you live long enough
( ... )
Sylar hears it, what it all means, and it stops him cold for a minute. Of course he's right, Sylar's used to being completely alone. It's been his whole life, really- even his 'mother' could never really reach him.
But quiet?
He lets out a long breath, not quite a sigh of exasperation. "It's never been silent for me, not until just recently."
He looks out, over at the buildings. He's always loved to stand above the city, stare out at the movement below. "I've got to say, I'm already tired of it."
"Yeah well," he huffs and walks away, walks fast, walks as fast as a man can without breaking into a run because running would make him even more pathetic than he suspects he already appears to this man who--he knows--once just wanted to be special and became something much worse. He doesn't know that it was Gabriel Gray's fault from the beginning but over time, concerning all he's done, Peter can no longer reconcile what might-have-been with what has been, and what is now. Even in a dream he has to walk away because he doesn't know what happens in this world if someone kills him in his sleeping world.
Thinking of Claire, of the missed calls, of the way she has ended up being the strong one this time, is the only thing that keeps him from taking another stab at the undying man behind him.
Comments 23
Then she noticed the man leaning by the ledge, and her first thought was, "Chuck!"
She quickly covered her mouth, surprised by the volume of her own voice. In her mind, she went through all her Audrey Hepburn movies, wondering which one this was from.
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"I'd expected an uproar, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Don't you get tired of all this silence?" He actually seems curious, turning to look at Peter and gauge his reaction.
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Habit keeps him from trying his want out. There is just no way of knowing if he dies in here if he dies out there, and Claire's face is sharp in his mind, softened by her own strength and desire to hold him up. Oh he knows she's been the steadfast one, the backbone and it makes him feel all the more inept but he's done with that. He still hasn't mourned, still hasn't grieved, but he thinks neither has she, and all things come in time if you live long enough ( ... )
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But quiet?
He lets out a long breath, not quite a sigh of exasperation. "It's never been silent for me, not until just recently."
He looks out, over at the buildings. He's always loved to stand above the city, stare out at the movement below. "I've got to say, I'm already tired of it."
Reply
Thinking of Claire, of the missed calls, of the way she has ended up being the strong one this time, is the only thing that keeps him from taking another stab at the undying man behind him.
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