sirenspull | 005: Video

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005: Video

[ The NV flickers on for the first time to--what is that?--bubbles and bleak murky water. Green and grey, and a flash of light high above. There's wild splashing, white water, and a bleary shot of the city in the far distance.

The water swallows up the NV, and then over the next minute or so everything is just dark. Bleak and dark and wet.

And then the splashing starts again. The NV goes off in all the activity.

An hour and a half later, it comes back on, and a sand smeared, wet, bedraggled Sylar is leant over the NV, shivering--the water is subzero. There's seaweed in his hair, and his eyes are blazing gold, as though on fire. He's considering exploding just to teach Lucifer a lesson he'll not forget. ]

I have a wonderful idea. [ His voice is harsh, as though he's spent the last few hours choking saltwater, which would be accurate. ] The next time you decide that something is yours, write your goddamned name on it.

[ OOC: Sylar's replies will come a couple of hours later, as in the meantime he'll be stopped from exploding the city. He doesn't appreciate getting dumped in the ocean much, not really. Also shh it's totally Wednesday here. ]

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[ He did at least look a little apologetic, watching Peter quietly, but a moment later he's standing inthe middle of the bathroom floor, wrapped in warm towels, with Peter rubbing another through his hair to dry it out, and all he can do is smile, already feeling better, warmer, cared for.

It was too complicated, but complicated was something they were both used to, now, and free to move again, with time resuming, he was able to wrap his arms around the other man's back, stepping in close against him. ]

You make it look so easy.

[ Peter stopped his ruffling up of Sylar's hair when the other man spoke, lifting the towel a bit so he could see his face. ]

What, time travel? I don't really do it that often. [ He shrugs, resuming his drying of Sylar's hair a second later, entirely unsure if Sylar truly meant time travel instead of something else. Because caring for people -- that was easy, at least to Peter. It came as naturally a breathing and after a few more seconds, he drops the towel to around Sylar's neck, his hands stil on it so he can give Sylar a gentle tug closer. ]

And I have warm blankets for whenever you're dry.

[ Sylar meant time travel, but come to think of it, when Peter ducked his head he caught the other feeling too. That he cared for other people so easily--but even then, it was a fault as much as anything else. What had happened with Adam only proved it, that when the chips were down Peter could make bad choices based on his faith in others.

And come to think of it, that was his problem too.

He leant a little closer, pressing his nose into Peter's still damp hair. He shivered, but most of the chill was gone from him now, and Peter made him feel warm. He'd said it out loud, hadn't he? Delirious, maybe, but with unmistakeable certainty. That he loved him. He closed his eyes. ]

Thank you. [ It was little more than a whisper. ]

[ Peter knew he could make bad choices, knew he'd already made far more than he could count, but this? This wasn't a bad choice, not to him. No matter what anyone said, and he was trying to keep Adam shoved to the far corners of his mind, along with his fears that something would send Sylar far enough away that he'd never came back. Because invulnerability couldn't always save him as today had proved.

Sighing and worrying at his lower lip, Peter nosed up against the other man, just wanting to stay close for fear that Sylar would slip through his fingers all over again. ]

Nothing to thank me for. [ Sliding his hands down and rubbing at Sylar's shoulders, before they dropped to the other man's hips, Peter only lasted a few more seconds before he dropped his face down against Sylar's chest and just held on, trying to exhale his worries before they did him in. ]

[ He could feel the other man's adrenaline beginning to wear off--could practically see it, and as it did the crushing feelings would start coming back in to fill the empty space. Because Peter knew as well as he did that he'd almost lost him; that he could have floated out there for far too long, or worse. He'd cried himself out, but Peter was different, and Sylar already knew there would be more tears before this was over--just not his.

He pressed his face into the other man's hair for a little longer, then stepped back with a whisk of shadows, pleased when this time his ability didn't throw them a million miles off, and they stepped out into the bedroom. He spoke softly, reassuringly, his throat already sounding much better, a little of the colour coming back to him as the steady regeneration worked deeper. ]

You think there's nothing to thank you for? Nothing? I'd have nobody without you, and nothing to fight for.

[ But Peter was holding on to his adrenaline rush for dear life because he didn't want to fall apart. He'd already done that more than enough times in front of Sylar in the past few weeks and it was his turn to hold it together. Granted, that was far easier said than done, but Peter was trying his damnedest to keep it together, even if controlling his emotions was the last thing he was capable of doing.

Staring up at Sylar a little sheepishly, Peter could only swallow, trying for a slight shrug because acknowledging how true Sylar's statement was, meant giving in to what he was saying, and it was just gasoline on a fire that Peter was trying astonishingly hard to put out. ]

But you're okay, you came back. And you do have me. [ Pressing a hand against Sylar's chest, to push himself away, he turned slightly, intending to go grab the warm blankets he'd left outside the door -- his own method of trying to avoid the conversation at the same exact time. ] Hold on.

[ He could see what Peter was doing, and he knew why he was doing it, but there was no reason to leap on him and force it out of him. It'd come. He kissed at the other man's hair, then quietly let him go, moving on his own legs to the very edge of the bed, and sitting down maybe a little quickly. He dropped his head into his hands, pushing his shaking fingers back through the damp strands.

It felt so good to be alive. Hard to believe that only a short week ago what had happened would have been impossible. Claire's power really was incredible, but that didn't change the fact that he - guiltily - spent a little too long wishing that he couldn't regenerate, that he would just damn well drown and stay that way. It wasn't fair on Peter, but at least he knew now that this power - no matter how too good to be true it seemed - wasn't a complete godsend; that it could be a curse as much as a treasure.

He glanced back up as Peter came back. ]

It won't happen again. I'm not... [ I'm not going out there again. ]

[ Peter kept telling himself that he could have his own personal freak out later. Maybe after Sylar had fallen asleep perhaps -- he could just go somewhere else and fall apart, not that he knew where that somewhere else was. But problematically that entailed separating himself from Sylar. Which he didn't truly see happening any time soon.

Returning a few seconds later with his stack of warm, thick blankets, he plopped them down on the bed next to Sylar, staring down at him about as calmly as he could manage, still keeping a tight fist around his concern. ]

I know. You're not going anywhere and neither am I. [ Carefully taking the towel from around his neck and his shoulders, Peter dropped them to the floor at his feet. Shaking out a blanket a moment later, he was quick to wrap it back around Sylar like a cape, holding the sides together tight, about as tightly as he was holding his breath. ]

Want something warm to drink?

[ Because if he just kept moving... ]

[ It was nice to just be cared for, and he was probably likely to just let the other man keep it up, scuttling around the apartment to keep himself busy, but... It wasn't going to help. Not really. Not in the long term. He gave his head the gentlest little shake, then reached up, first snagging the corner of the blaket, then wrapping his hand around the back of the other man's neck.

It was a trap. If Peter pulled away from him then he'd only be cold again, so it was in his best interests to stay close. That was the plan, at least. ]

The drink can wait. I just want... I want to be this close to you.

[ Close to something warm, something real, something that wasn't going to slip away like daylight and air. Something he could just hold onto. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Peter's jaw. ]

Just stay.

[ Swallowing thickly, only for a brief second did Peter contemplate tugging back. He wasn't looking to punish Sylar with cold, not even slightly, and if anything he was far more interested in punishing himself. If Peter wanted to, he could trace the blame entirely back onto himself and that was far easier then pointing the finger at Sylar and saying he shouldn't have done this or that or the next thing. Because Peter was still the one who had started all of this, and Peter was still the one who could hate himself better than anyone.

Adam had already started the work for him, now Peter was just terrified. And guiltier than he quite knew how to deal with. But he stayed put, nose pressed into Sylar's hair from a hold he wasn't truly willing to wiggle himself back away from. ]

Okay.

[ If anything, Peter's voice sounded stubbornly thick, as if his throat was threatening to close, but he nudged at the top of Sylar's head, pressing a hand against Sylar's chest and pushing him backwards ] Get comfy. I won't go anywhere.

[ He could hear the difference in Peter's voice, but he let himself be pushed just a little, pulling himself up the beg and smothering himself in the blanket. He didn't let go of Peter, using a little nudge of telekinesis all his own to urge Peter after him.

He stretched out on the bed, pressing his nose into the crook of Peter's throat, closing his eyes. He was past shaking, but when he ran his hand across Peter's chest, he could feel the hitch in his breath, betraying the emotions that were in turmoil just beneath the surface. ]

I know you won't.

[ Because he'd already asked that Peter not leave, and that hadn't changed yet. He slid his hand the rest of the way across Peter's chest, pressing against him under the blanket, warm and safe, and not smelling like ocean so much any more. ]

[ Following along easily, Peter made himself comfortable on the bed curled slightly next to Sylar, doubting the likelihood that he'll fall asleep anytime soon and completely bypass an emotional outburst. But maybe if he could convince himself that Syar was safe here, that he was alright, that he wasn't going anywhere, then maybe he wouldn't fall apart in the first place.

Yeah. Right.

Using a free hand to drag his fingers through Sylar's hair, trailing down the side of his face to his jaw, Peter wasn't sure he trusted himself to say anything and so he simply stayed silent, let Sylar cuddle as close as he wanted to keep warm. ]

[ He did wonder whether Peter would fall asleep, but truly he was the one most likely to end up suffering from that particular weakness. He was exhausted from fighting for his life for hours, regeneration or not. He inhaled the scent of the other man, even subdued by hot water, and sighed against him again.

Minutes passed with Peter carding his hair, stroking his jaw, and at last he shifted his head up to try and find the other man's eyes. He's less shaken up now, at least enough to offer an explanation. ]

I wanted his power. Transforming into an animal--it would have solved everything. Then Lucifer appears from nowhere... It was almost as though my powers meant nothing.

[ The last thing Peter was looking for was an explanation -- or was it the first? He wasn't sure, he was trying so hard not to feel for some reason that he wasn't even sure he understood, that he didn't know what he wanted. If anything at all. Apart from this to not happen again, of course.

Brows furrowing as Sylar started to talk, Peter didn't know enough about Lucifer to understand where his interests lied, to understand anything at all about him really, apart from the fact that he and Sylar were working on something. ]

He's an angel, Sylar. I don't know what all they can do, but I'd be willing to bet he's more powerful than both of us combined. [ He didn't even sound upset, but obvious concern was leaking into his voice, because Lucifer was the last person he would think to protect other people. Being Lucifer and all. ]

[ He agreed. It was why he hadn't tried to get on the man's - angel's - bad side. It was suicide. But he'd blundered right into it anyway. ]

I wouldn't have touched him if I knew what I was walking into. I don't have a deathwish, Peter, and what happened... He cut off my hand. Took a knife to my face. And then--

[ How do you tell your lover that you were dismembered? How do you even explain how that single little word transforms into a sensation. It wasn't like it was something people survived to talk about. The feeling of bones being ripped out of sockets, muscles and fibre ripping, veins severed by the pure force of the limb being torn away. 'Dismemberment' did nothing to convey any of it... It was just a word. ]

I didn't say-- [ But he shuts up and lets Sylar continue, and after only another second isn't sure he wants the other man to. For more than a few moments he goes deaf and his mind shuts off, Peter suddenly tapping into his own deathwish with the sudden urge to go after Lucifer himself. Not that it would do any good to knock down doors, to start making his and Sylar's relationship known to an angel who's middle name was probably blackmail. But that didn't mean he didn't want to go after the thing that had torn Sylar apart.

Except top of everything else, Peter couldn't cope with seething. Not combined with guilt and horror and fear. Terror that he'd lose Sylar and have nothing, and just like that, Peter was pushing Sylar onto his back and crawling on top of him, as if the other man couldn't keep warm again, but far more like Peter couldn't get close enough.

He wasn't looking for anything except to cling for dear life, not entirely sure who he was trying to comfort as nuzzled his way into Sylar's throat to muffle the tight tone of his voice. ]

You don't have to tell me if you... can't.

[ He let Peter push him right onto his back, making a little 'oof' noise, but relieved when he did none the less. A moment later the man was clinging to him, and it was infinitely more comforting than anything else that he could be doing because it was actually normal. He'd learned to like Peter relying on him like this, because it made him feel stronger, as though he was more in control, and had some kind of power left, rather than it all slipping out of his hands.

And lately power slipping out of his hands was the most apt description of what was happening to him. His abilities were manifesting in new ways, and maybe that didn't frighten other people, but for him it was a big deal--and then on top of that he gets torn to pieces, drowned, all in a place where he should have felt the most safe, in his kill zone with the hunger screaming in his ears.

Everything was falling apart except for this. Even if Peter had changed, his trip home had done one thing right for him; made Peter need the comfort, the contact, like he needed to breathe. ]

He tore me into pieces. It was... It was quick, but not quick enough. The next thing I knew I was in the sea.

[ Peter could deny it all he wanted to, could try to tear himself to pieces in the process, but he had learned one thing that held true both in the Port and back home: that trying to ignore his emotions left him broken every single time.

Though he never thought about how it gave Sylar back the control, because he didn't care about who had the control right now as long as it was them. He could convince himself that by clinging to Sylar like a life raft, that nothing would happen to him. That they could keep control of this, that they could make this world work for them exactly the way they wanted it to. That Sylar wouldn't leave him, couldn't die, and Peter wouldn't go anywhere either.

But he knew that wasn't anywhere near true either, and he couldn't keep from being terrified, shaking hard against Sylar from the terror of the possibility of loss. ]

And it took you hours to get back -- Sylar i'm so sorry. [ If Peter had known, he would have tried to help, tried to do something, and he felt a little like a failure to the other man, as if he didn't already. Trying to squirm his hands underneath Sylar's back, Peter was dropkicked back into sounding miserable, words forced out tightly. ]

[ He could feel it when Peter began to shake against him, his body trembling so violently that Sylar had to tighten his hands around his back for fear that Peter would vibrate right through him. He shifted up onto his shoulders enough to let Peter return the embrace, wrapping his own arms around his back, and shuddered as he relaxed down against him again. Now they couldn't be closer, but that was fine with him, and it let him nose into Peter's hair again to reassure him. ]

You don't have to apologise for that. I didn't tell you I was going out, or what I had planned. I had selfish reasons for that, because of who I was going after, and how much I want to make sure you're safe. How could you have saved me when you didn't even know that there was anything wrong?

[ He sighed, closed his eyes, but all that was behind them was a flash of water, and light too far away to reach, and he forced them back open despite his drowsiness. Sleep was going to be difficult to wrap himself around. ]

Even I didn't know what would happen.

[ That was the rationale way to look at it, but as far as Peter was concerned, near everything had become either terrifying or entirely his fault. He traced everything back to himself, and wasn't everyone looking to him to control Sylar in the first place? Granted, they meant in an entirely different sort of way, but he still felt like it all fell on his shoulders.

Just like back home -- the weight of the world was his to bear when he was supposed to be saving it. And when he was supposed to be saving Sylar too, it just made things difficult. But this was the spot he'd put himself in, and it was the spot he wanted to stay in, but he had to learn to suffer the consequences and he didn't know how to stop being so goddamn scared. ]

You should've told me. [ He tries to make the words sound frustrated, maybe even just a little colding, but all he comes up with is desperately worried, nose pressed to Sylar's pulse. He's not sure he'd let Sylar leave even if he wanted to, too terrified that he might slip through his fingers again while he wasn't watching. ]

I can't do anything to help if I don't even know where you are, I could've done something.

[ Just like he should've done something for Caitlin, done something to stop Adam; he felt like he was being strung up by his own guilt and he had no idea what to do about it besides repress it, holding his breath with heated frustration. ]

[ He was about to say 'I'm not your responsibility' when he realised that was exactly what it was that was bothering Peter the most. He thought it was his fault. His responsibility--to protect him and to protect the world from him. And hadn't that been what he'd said when he'd come into Peter's home uninvited? When he'd asked him to take the collar off?

He hadn't given Peter a choice. ]

I know.

[ Which was what he said instead, because there was a touch of guilt now. This new pain wasn't all caused by their circumstances, but in part by him. He'd been selfish, and while that was okay before, it wasn't any longer. He had as much of a responsibility to Peter. He nosed into his hair again, kissed it. ]

From now on, we're in this together. In everything.

[ It didn't matter that Sylar wasn't truly supposed to be his responsibility -- they were both grown men, and Sylar was Sylar, and therefore nobody's responsibility. But he was Peter's, or at least he thought Sylar was. And they'd talked about this, and he'd talked about this with other people, because he'd been the only one to kill Sylar before. He was the only one that stopped him, so shouldn't that still hold true?

And shouldn't it hold equally true that Peter was the only person who could keep him safe? Because nobody else was on his side and it make Peter hurt, viciously so, that he couldn't stand up for the other man when he wanted to. It didn't matter that Sylar could take it, it didn't stop Peter from raging internally that he wasn't allowed to do anything because the Peter that everyone expected him to be, wouldn't do something like that.

But he would, he just couldn't. It made everything harder to stand, and if Peter could sink in closer against Sylar he would have, taking tight breaths against his warming skin. ]

You promise? [ Because he couldn't help if he didn't know, and if he had to sacrifice people knowing about them to save Sylar... then so be it. He'd do what it took. ]

[ He, on the other hand, could raise one higher from where it clutched Peter's back and stroke the other man's hair steadily, soothingly, his fingers winding in the strands. It was still short, but if anything that only made him more fiercely protective. They'd wound themselves about each other and bathed in imaginary blood, shared things deeper than abilities--was it so much to ask that that extended to this, too? He wanted it to more than anything, now more than ever.

It sounded trite in his head, really. Now more than ever sounded like something ridiculous from a romance novel. But after dying, after learning that his abilities didn't make him untouchable, the thought of relinquishing a little of himself to Peter's protection didn't just seem so hard, it was also what he wanted. He was afraid, anxious, on his back foot in just the way that Peter was, and the only way to find their balance and carry on was to do it together.

And people would hate them both, he knew. But let them try to separate them. He brushed his hand down, circled Peter's ear with his thumb. ]

I promise.

[ Taking a slow breath as Sylar's fingers worked through his hair, Peter didn't know whether or not Sylar would let him help. Even if he could think of a number of things that he could have at least tried to do, such as just teleporting Sylar out mid-mutilation, he knew that Sylar found the hunt to be highly personal. A private thing, not to be shared. And he understood that, he did, and he didn't want Sylar to feel like he needed to be coddled, either.

But if private things turned into him nearly being lost forever, Peter wasn't sure he couldn't promise to insist on at least knowing where he was. They weren't the biggest dogs on the block, and if Sylar got in over his head, Peter wanted to be there. To try. Wanted to help protect just as much as he himself wanted to be protected.

Twitching from the other man's touch, and along with his words, Peter just can't even out his breathing anymore, still can't relax, nosing against Sylar's own ear. ]

I just don't want to lose you. Lucifer's not the only one who's stronger than us and if something else happens, I can't-- [ His voice cracks, finally splitting him open in the way Sylar had anticipated and making Peter wish he wasn't so starved for consolation. ] There isn't anyone else who'll come save you and I can't do this by myself.

[ Sylar kept his fingers close, still stroking gently, still soothing despite the things that flashed behind his own eyes--he wasn't sure that was going to go away, not now. But Peter was struggling to cope with his own demons, and there was something in that, in not having to be alone.

And then Peter's voice cracked, and he knew he'd reached the limit of that enviable control. Last time he'd done that, he'd found the edges and ripped them clean apart, spilling everything out, but this time he was reassuring, and that was almost as bad, encouraging Peter to feel safe enough to let it all go. ]

You're not going to lose me. I took Claire's power to make sure of it, and I know it's not infallible, but--but it lets me fight. I didn't give up, and I won't, not when I have something to come back to.

005: Video

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