[ There really was something terrible about this situation reversed. Sylar had felt this weak before, yes, but never this beaten, and certainly beaten was as accurate to how he felt as it was possible to be. He'd died, more often than he could count, until ice cold water choking the air out of him had gotten old, waking up spluttering and fighting back to the light with numb limbs, and a heart that slowed as quickly again, and somehow despite the odds ending up washed up on the beach. He felt wretched, even traumatised, and even if the pain and the cold were gone now, he'd still never felt like this before, because it had only been water, and yet it almost shattered his nerve and his will completely.
He knew already how this was going to affect him, knew that when it came to going out again he wouldn't want to, that he'd be terrified of something like this happening again--he hated himself for knowing it, but what could he do? The water had all but washed away his safety net, his previously unshakeable confidence of being stronger and faster and better than anyone else.
And now he could feel himself unwinding, especially because Peter's words were so gentle and caring; loving, when it seemed like the world was against him, and suddenly he was shaking again, but this time it was with tears. ]
action;
He knew already how this was going to affect him, knew that when it came to going out again he wouldn't want to, that he'd be terrified of something like this happening again--he hated himself for knowing it, but what could he do? The water had all but washed away his safety net, his previously unshakeable confidence of being stronger and faster and better than anyone else.
And now he could feel himself unwinding, especially because Peter's words were so gentle and caring; loving, when it seemed like the world was against him, and suddenly he was shaking again, but this time it was with tears. ]