The Corruption of Peter Petrelli - 4/? - Petlar
Character: Sylar, Peter, and Noah
Genre: Slash
Author: thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 2100
Rating: R
Notes: Post series Petlar.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
“You’re walking death with me apparently,” Peter said as he pushed off the bed, grabbing some jeans from a pile on the floor. I hated that he left his clothes on the floor, but I’d given up trying to break him of the habit. As if I had a foot to stand on when it came to bad habits that I couldn’t let go. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Peter, don’t.” I got up and followed him to the bathroom, but he slammed the door in my face so hard that a gust of air moved my hair. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you, Sylar,” he said through the closed door. I could hear the toilet flush and then the water running. There was a clatter when something fell off the sink, and then more as he put the mouthwash bottle back where it belonged. Great he’s so pissed at me that he doesn’t want my taste in his mouth.
“Please, Peter. Please don’t leave me.” The words barely made it out of my mouth. I was choking on tears. They were tears brought on my fear and tears of anger. Part of me wanted to demand where he got off judging me like this, but I knew that I deserved it. I was a monster. I pressed my palms against the door and fought back the panic that was churning in my guts. He was going to leave me. If he walked out the door, I’d never see him again. He’d go back to Angela. The world wasn’t like it was when we were behind the Wall. It was full of people. I could hear them on the street below us. I could feel them through the walls if I wanted to, but I didn’t care about any of them. Peter’s the only one I want in my life.
I nearly fell into the bathroom when he opened the door as violently as he’d closed it. His hair and the collar of his t-shirt were damp from washing his face, and he glared at me with eyes that were nearly black. He was seething, and he pushed me back again with more telekinesis to keep me from getting close.
“I am going for a walk, so I can figure out what to do. Unlike you, I don’t have all the fucking answers to life, the universe and everything, Sylar.” He snatched his coat from the back of the door and shoved his arms through the sleeves. He let me go while he reached for the doorknob, and glared daggers at me. “Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Oh and if it’s not too much trouble, try not to fucking kill anyone while I’m gone.”
The door slammed shut, rattling the pictures on the walls, and I slumped back against the wall and slid onto the floor. I wanted to follow him. I wanted to make him listen to me, but I knew I’d never get through to him. Nathan’s memories and my own experiences with the little shit taught me that when he was in a snit like this I’d be wasting my time. Peter would lash out to me. Going after him would only make it worse. He’d dig in his heels, and then I might as well forget ever getting him to listen to me.
A crystal clear vision of Nathan bribing him with some toy to make him come out from under Arthur’s desk flicked across my eyes. Peter looking up at him with enormous brown eyes filled with tears, and he was crying so hard that he had hiccups while Arthur ranted in the background, telling Peter to grow up and listen.
I wasn’t Nathan. I wasn’t Arthur. I knew better. I knew Peter better than they did just like he’s the only one to figure me out. I was afraid, but he said while he was gone. He didn’t say he wasn’t coming back. He didn’t pack a bag. A glance at the kitchen counter showed me that he didn’t have his wallet or his keys either. He wouldn’t be gone for long. He’d come back to me.
But was he coming back because he loved me, or because he felt responsible? I didn’t want him to come back if it was to keep me from hurting anyone. I wanted him to be with me because he loves me, not because he’s my conscience. He has to believe me that I’m trying to do the right thing. He just has to. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.
Bullshit.
I knew exactly what I’d do. I’d stop trying. I’d go on a fucking killing spree. It’d be yet another of my famous temper tantrums like the one that cost Nathan his life. God, I rubbed my face with my hands and wiped tears on my arm before hitting the back of my head against the wall. Angela was right. I hadn’t changed at all. I was Sylar. I was a killer, and Peter’s love and support hadn’t changed me at all.
My temper was brewing as I got up. It was better than feeling sorry for myself and sobbing like some pathetic loser. I wanted to show him. I almost threw a lamp against the wall. It was tempting to destroy quite a bit in our home, but it was our home. That’s what I had to remember. Yes, I was angry. Yes, it made me want to strike out, but I wasn’t that person anymore even if it was easier to be the monster.
“You’ll never get him to take the power if you act like the old you,” I told my reflection in the dresser mirror. “He needs to see that you’re in control. He needs to understand that while you’re hunting you’re not murdering. It’s a difference, and Peter has to see that. Now suck it the fuck up. Do something positive.” Christ I sounded like fucking Dr. Phil.
I got dressed after a quick shower and shave, and then I took my keys and went out. I needed to talk to someone. Peter could let himself in with telekinesis when he got back. Peter was my only friend. Gabriel would have gone to church. He’d ask some priest for guidance. Well I hadn’t had much luck with that. I was still waiting for God to smite me for what I was doing, but he hasn’t yet.
Mohinder was an idiot. The thought of talking to Parkman made me laugh out loud. There was one person who understood that sometimes you had to kill to make the world a safer place. Of course I was his usual target, but Noah might be willing to listen to me. If that wasn’t proof that I was still out of my fucking mind, nothing was. I went up to the roof and flew for Noah’s apartment in Virginia. Hopefully he wouldn’t shoot me too many times.
***
I ran my fingertips over the painted sign on the window of the sushi restaurant, I remembered Nathan’s - no my - lunch with Angela. The taste of the slimy raw fish was clinging to my tongue as I went around to the side to mount the steps up to Noah’s apartment. The old me would mock him about living above a fish market, letting him have it for how far the mighty have fallen, but I’m not the old me. I’d have to keep my snarky remarks to myself. Unless Noah did something to draw my ire, which would be a shame since I was here to talk to the only person who might understand my dilemma.
With my hand on the railing I shifted my appearance a few times, assuming shapes of people that Noah wouldn’t try to kill on sight before settling back into my own skin. Pretending to be someone else wouldn’t exactly show that I’d changed. I’d cost Noah so much over the years, but then it had always been a game of tit for tat with the two of us. I wanted him to suffer for what he and Elle had done by stopping me from killing myself, and he wanted me to suffer for Eden and what I’d done to Claire. The ancient Egyptians would weigh the heart of the dead against the weight of a feather to decide if you were worthy of the next life. I had to wonder where Noah and my hearts would balance against that feather or against each other.
“I haven’t come to cause any trouble. I just need someone to talk to.” I rapped on the door with my knuckles, and then I called out, letting him hear my voice. If I still had Dale’s hearing, I’m sure that I’d have heard him cocking his gun before opening the door. Or hell knowing Noah, he’d probably just shoot me through the door.
“Sylar,” he looked at me and shook his head through the space the chain allowed when he popped the door open. He let out a heavy sigh, shutting the door for a few moments while he unhooked the chain and then held it open for me. “I have to invite you in, right? That’s how it works with your kind.”
“Very funny, Noah, I don’t need an invitation, but it is nice of you. In case you’ve wondering I don’t sparkle in sunlight either.” So much for keeping my snark to a minimum, I did manage not to mock the Salvation Army décor. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes? I need someone to talk to.”
“So you came to me?” He blinked behind his signature horn rimmed glasses and shut the door behind me. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because when it comes down to it, Noah while you were walking along your path of moral ambiguity, you were a good man. You killed people who needed to be killed, and you weren’t labeled a monster.”
“I can think of at least one exception to that rule,” he said with a snort as he leaned against the wall glaring at me, folding his arms across his chest. Neither one of us would be sitting for this chat.
“The exception realizes that he is an exception. That is until you figure out a way to permanently kill me, but until then, Noah. Can you listen to me for a little while? I don’t have anyone else.”
“What about Peter?” Noah didn’t much care for my relationship with Peter, but at least he wasn’t spouting off threats and nastiness the way that Angela had in the past to Peter and I both.
“I offered to give him my ability, so he could get more than one power at a time.” Fuck it. I wasn’t going to stand up for the entire history lesson. I dropped onto the sofa and sat with my hands on my knees while I explained my logic to the man who wanted me dead. “Peter doesn’t understand that sometimes you have to kill. You do.”
“And you want me to tell Peter that it’s OK for him to stop being Peter?” Noah was sitting on one of his kitchen chairs. The story was too long for him to stand there listening to it as well.
“No, I don’t want you to talk to Peter. I just need to hear that what I’m doing isn’t wrong, Noah. Is it wrong for me to kill people like Samuel? Is it wrong for me to stop someone else from becoming the new Sylar?”
Noah took off his glasses and set them on the table. He glanced at his refrigerator, and I bet he wished he had a beer or something stronger. “No, it’s not wrong. If you’re telling me the truth, Sylar and you’re only hunting bad guys, then I can’t tell you that it’s wrong. I’d be doing the same thing.”
“So I’m OK then?” I have always needed the approval of a parental figure. First I wanted Virginia’s. Then I wanted Chandra’s. When they were gone, I clung to Angela when she said she was my mother. Right now I needed Noah’s.
“No, you’re not OK, Sylar. You’re never going to be OK. But as long as you don’t cross the line and hurt anyone innocent, I think you’re on the path to being OK.” He slapped his knees with both hands and got up, and I knew it was time for me to go. “If Peter shares your power, you’ll have to be careful. I don’t know if he can handle it, and you didn’t take Arthur’s. What happens if Peter loses it, and you have to put him down?”
“I won’t let that happen.” It was very possible that Peter could lose himself to the monster like I had. “I will never let that happen.”
“But if it does? What will you do then? Will you kill Peter?”
“I’d have to,” I told him. My mouth tasted like bile when I said it. “He’d want me to.”
Comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading.
Genre: Slash
Author: thewatchmaker
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 2100
Rating: R
Notes: Post series Petlar.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
“You’re walking death with me apparently,” Peter said as he pushed off the bed, grabbing some jeans from a pile on the floor. I hated that he left his clothes on the floor, but I’d given up trying to break him of the habit. As if I had a foot to stand on when it came to bad habits that I couldn’t let go. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Peter, don’t.” I got up and followed him to the bathroom, but he slammed the door in my face so hard that a gust of air moved my hair. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you, Sylar,” he said through the closed door. I could hear the toilet flush and then the water running. There was a clatter when something fell off the sink, and then more as he put the mouthwash bottle back where it belonged. Great he’s so pissed at me that he doesn’t want my taste in his mouth.
“Please, Peter. Please don’t leave me.” The words barely made it out of my mouth. I was choking on tears. They were tears brought on my fear and tears of anger. Part of me wanted to demand where he got off judging me like this, but I knew that I deserved it. I was a monster. I pressed my palms against the door and fought back the panic that was churning in my guts. He was going to leave me. If he walked out the door, I’d never see him again. He’d go back to Angela. The world wasn’t like it was when we were behind the Wall. It was full of people. I could hear them on the street below us. I could feel them through the walls if I wanted to, but I didn’t care about any of them. Peter’s the only one I want in my life.
I nearly fell into the bathroom when he opened the door as violently as he’d closed it. His hair and the collar of his t-shirt were damp from washing his face, and he glared at me with eyes that were nearly black. He was seething, and he pushed me back again with more telekinesis to keep me from getting close.
“I am going for a walk, so I can figure out what to do. Unlike you, I don’t have all the fucking answers to life, the universe and everything, Sylar.” He snatched his coat from the back of the door and shoved his arms through the sleeves. He let me go while he reached for the doorknob, and glared daggers at me. “Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Oh and if it’s not too much trouble, try not to fucking kill anyone while I’m gone.”
The door slammed shut, rattling the pictures on the walls, and I slumped back against the wall and slid onto the floor. I wanted to follow him. I wanted to make him listen to me, but I knew I’d never get through to him. Nathan’s memories and my own experiences with the little shit taught me that when he was in a snit like this I’d be wasting my time. Peter would lash out to me. Going after him would only make it worse. He’d dig in his heels, and then I might as well forget ever getting him to listen to me.
A crystal clear vision of Nathan bribing him with some toy to make him come out from under Arthur’s desk flicked across my eyes. Peter looking up at him with enormous brown eyes filled with tears, and he was crying so hard that he had hiccups while Arthur ranted in the background, telling Peter to grow up and listen.
I wasn’t Nathan. I wasn’t Arthur. I knew better. I knew Peter better than they did just like he’s the only one to figure me out. I was afraid, but he said while he was gone. He didn’t say he wasn’t coming back. He didn’t pack a bag. A glance at the kitchen counter showed me that he didn’t have his wallet or his keys either. He wouldn’t be gone for long. He’d come back to me.
But was he coming back because he loved me, or because he felt responsible? I didn’t want him to come back if it was to keep me from hurting anyone. I wanted him to be with me because he loves me, not because he’s my conscience. He has to believe me that I’m trying to do the right thing. He just has to. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.
Bullshit.
I knew exactly what I’d do. I’d stop trying. I’d go on a fucking killing spree. It’d be yet another of my famous temper tantrums like the one that cost Nathan his life. God, I rubbed my face with my hands and wiped tears on my arm before hitting the back of my head against the wall. Angela was right. I hadn’t changed at all. I was Sylar. I was a killer, and Peter’s love and support hadn’t changed me at all.
My temper was brewing as I got up. It was better than feeling sorry for myself and sobbing like some pathetic loser. I wanted to show him. I almost threw a lamp against the wall. It was tempting to destroy quite a bit in our home, but it was our home. That’s what I had to remember. Yes, I was angry. Yes, it made me want to strike out, but I wasn’t that person anymore even if it was easier to be the monster.
“You’ll never get him to take the power if you act like the old you,” I told my reflection in the dresser mirror. “He needs to see that you’re in control. He needs to understand that while you’re hunting you’re not murdering. It’s a difference, and Peter has to see that. Now suck it the fuck up. Do something positive.” Christ I sounded like fucking Dr. Phil.
I got dressed after a quick shower and shave, and then I took my keys and went out. I needed to talk to someone. Peter could let himself in with telekinesis when he got back. Peter was my only friend. Gabriel would have gone to church. He’d ask some priest for guidance. Well I hadn’t had much luck with that. I was still waiting for God to smite me for what I was doing, but he hasn’t yet.
Mohinder was an idiot. The thought of talking to Parkman made me laugh out loud. There was one person who understood that sometimes you had to kill to make the world a safer place. Of course I was his usual target, but Noah might be willing to listen to me. If that wasn’t proof that I was still out of my fucking mind, nothing was. I went up to the roof and flew for Noah’s apartment in Virginia. Hopefully he wouldn’t shoot me too many times.
***
I ran my fingertips over the painted sign on the window of the sushi restaurant, I remembered Nathan’s - no my - lunch with Angela. The taste of the slimy raw fish was clinging to my tongue as I went around to the side to mount the steps up to Noah’s apartment. The old me would mock him about living above a fish market, letting him have it for how far the mighty have fallen, but I’m not the old me. I’d have to keep my snarky remarks to myself. Unless Noah did something to draw my ire, which would be a shame since I was here to talk to the only person who might understand my dilemma.
With my hand on the railing I shifted my appearance a few times, assuming shapes of people that Noah wouldn’t try to kill on sight before settling back into my own skin. Pretending to be someone else wouldn’t exactly show that I’d changed. I’d cost Noah so much over the years, but then it had always been a game of tit for tat with the two of us. I wanted him to suffer for what he and Elle had done by stopping me from killing myself, and he wanted me to suffer for Eden and what I’d done to Claire. The ancient Egyptians would weigh the heart of the dead against the weight of a feather to decide if you were worthy of the next life. I had to wonder where Noah and my hearts would balance against that feather or against each other.
“I haven’t come to cause any trouble. I just need someone to talk to.” I rapped on the door with my knuckles, and then I called out, letting him hear my voice. If I still had Dale’s hearing, I’m sure that I’d have heard him cocking his gun before opening the door. Or hell knowing Noah, he’d probably just shoot me through the door.
“Sylar,” he looked at me and shook his head through the space the chain allowed when he popped the door open. He let out a heavy sigh, shutting the door for a few moments while he unhooked the chain and then held it open for me. “I have to invite you in, right? That’s how it works with your kind.”
“Very funny, Noah, I don’t need an invitation, but it is nice of you. In case you’ve wondering I don’t sparkle in sunlight either.” So much for keeping my snark to a minimum, I did manage not to mock the Salvation Army décor. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes? I need someone to talk to.”
“So you came to me?” He blinked behind his signature horn rimmed glasses and shut the door behind me. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because when it comes down to it, Noah while you were walking along your path of moral ambiguity, you were a good man. You killed people who needed to be killed, and you weren’t labeled a monster.”
“I can think of at least one exception to that rule,” he said with a snort as he leaned against the wall glaring at me, folding his arms across his chest. Neither one of us would be sitting for this chat.
“The exception realizes that he is an exception. That is until you figure out a way to permanently kill me, but until then, Noah. Can you listen to me for a little while? I don’t have anyone else.”
“What about Peter?” Noah didn’t much care for my relationship with Peter, but at least he wasn’t spouting off threats and nastiness the way that Angela had in the past to Peter and I both.
“I offered to give him my ability, so he could get more than one power at a time.” Fuck it. I wasn’t going to stand up for the entire history lesson. I dropped onto the sofa and sat with my hands on my knees while I explained my logic to the man who wanted me dead. “Peter doesn’t understand that sometimes you have to kill. You do.”
“And you want me to tell Peter that it’s OK for him to stop being Peter?” Noah was sitting on one of his kitchen chairs. The story was too long for him to stand there listening to it as well.
“No, I don’t want you to talk to Peter. I just need to hear that what I’m doing isn’t wrong, Noah. Is it wrong for me to kill people like Samuel? Is it wrong for me to stop someone else from becoming the new Sylar?”
Noah took off his glasses and set them on the table. He glanced at his refrigerator, and I bet he wished he had a beer or something stronger. “No, it’s not wrong. If you’re telling me the truth, Sylar and you’re only hunting bad guys, then I can’t tell you that it’s wrong. I’d be doing the same thing.”
“So I’m OK then?” I have always needed the approval of a parental figure. First I wanted Virginia’s. Then I wanted Chandra’s. When they were gone, I clung to Angela when she said she was my mother. Right now I needed Noah’s.
“No, you’re not OK, Sylar. You’re never going to be OK. But as long as you don’t cross the line and hurt anyone innocent, I think you’re on the path to being OK.” He slapped his knees with both hands and got up, and I knew it was time for me to go. “If Peter shares your power, you’ll have to be careful. I don’t know if he can handle it, and you didn’t take Arthur’s. What happens if Peter loses it, and you have to put him down?”
“I won’t let that happen.” It was very possible that Peter could lose himself to the monster like I had. “I will never let that happen.”
“But if it does? What will you do then? Will you kill Peter?”
“I’d have to,” I told him. My mouth tasted like bile when I said it. “He’d want me to.”
Comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading.