sirenspull | video;

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[ Sylar is just beginning to piece his life back together again, learn about his own abilities again. So even though there's been a murder today that he doesn't want attributed to him, he doesn't know enough about his life - prior to losing his memory, prior to spending several months being someone else - to not choose today to make his debut on the network.

His voice is a little uncertain still, his memories are all for the most part accumulated from objects, and they feel like they belong to someone else. In many ways he's still not sure who he is. But it's been two weeks. Long enough. And perhaps seeing some familiar faces will help. Or at least that was the idea, naive as it is. ]

I'm sorry to keep you all waiting. I'm back.

[ And that's it. ]

----

Private to Peter

[ His expression is much warmer in the video to Peter. There's even the edge of an uncharacteristic smile, although there's uncertainty too. ]

I want waffles, but I can't find where you keep the iron. Peter-- [ Just the briefest pause. ] --What is it that you do all day, when you're not here?

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[ It doesn't really matter how low the dial is. He can hear it as though Peter didn't dial it down at all. When his attention returns to Peter, the sound fades into background noise again. ]

I don't remember.

[ It's become almost a mantra now. He shakes his head as though that might help--it doesn't, and lowers the NV slightly. ]

But I must have been, otherwise I can't imagine why you'd stay.

[ Peter quiets, again, setting his NV on the ledge to his other side before peering downward, mulling over words he's gone over what feels like hundreds of times now in no time at all.

He knows Sylar doesn't remember, but he's starting to wonder if maybe that's a good thing. ]

I've already told you, it's more complicated than that. I've stayed for a lot of reasons.

Reasons that, maybe if I knew them--

[ He stops. Maybe if he knew them, he could remember. Maybe if he knew them, he might be able to get to know Peter better. But it'd be false, like the memories that lay in wait around the apartment, so false that if he reflected them to Peter, it would only bring him pain. ]

He helped you to find out who you were. I only want the same thing.

I know.

[ The second he says it, Peter feels bad, cringing after the ringing of the words in his own mind. He knows that Gabriel... Sylar wants to find out who he is, and he knows that he's the only person who can help, but the complications are enough to unwind him completely. ]

I know that's all you want, I just-- I don't know how to bring you back. I don't even know if you'll want to be if you get your memories back. [ It's not like he hasn't already said this once or twice and he nudges around the police scanner, chattering quietly about a possible home invasion. ]

[ The words do ring in the silence, but only because Sylar doesn't interrupt them, and for a moment he just sits in quiet, even when Peter replies. He doesn't know if he wants to be himself now, even without getting his actual memories back. Most of the ones he finds are bad enough. Knowing that he's a criminal, a murderer--it's difficult. But all he can do otherwise is dwell on those things, resent them, hate himself, and it's driving him mad. He doesn't want to be someone new if it means constantly worrying about who he really is. Besides which, he can see how rough it is on Peter ]

Being me again would be better than not knowing who I am. You can't imagine what it's like to see yourself and yet not be you.

[ Well actually... ]

I'm sorry. What about since I've got nothing better to do I try and find someone to help? Hypnosis, regression therapy; something like that?

Edited 2012-08-20 23:50 (UTC)

You don't have anything to be sorry for, not about this. But going to someone else for hypnosis probably isn't a good idea.

[ Admittedly, Peter wouldn't want Sylar to go to anyone else for help, no matter the type of therapy. Sylar's his, as much as he's Sylar's; that fact hasn't changed, and yet Peter doesn't know if he can manage to fix this himself. He simply doesn't want anyone else involved, if only because he doesn't know how to let anyone else in anymore.

Now that Nathan's gone, his ties to the outside world are dissolving and finally Peter looks back towards his NV, tentative at best. ]

You really want this? Everything back?

[ No, not a good idea. Especially since all the pamphlets and internet ads he's been looking at are funded by SERO. Even if he wasn't a known criminal.

But he's had a long time to think about it, and the emptiness is unbearable. The question doesn't have room for shades of gray; it's yes or no. It doesn't matter if Peter thinks he can be a better man without his own past, because right now being without a past means that he doesn't feel much like a man at all, only a hollow shell, being able to see and touch things without actually feeling them; the only living thing in a still life. ]

I don't have anything, Peter. My names don't feel like they're mine. This life. You. I'd rather take the good with the bad than have nothing at all.

You don't have nothing. [ It's not aggressive or angry or frustrated, all Peter is, is quiet.

Peering back over the edge of the building, Peter has half a mind to push his police scanner over the edge, just to watch it fall, explode on the ground below. He knows what it's like to feel lost without your memories, and he knows what it's like to just feel lost. What he doesn't understand, is why he can't tell Sylar about the man he used to be, and why he's just so terrified that it'll mean he'll lose him all over again. ]

I'll help, okay? [ Still not looking at his NV, Peter runs a hand back through his hair, trying to judge how long he has before sunset. ] I'll try to do what I can.

[ He pauses, just watching the video for a moment as though he can unwind the mystery of Peter even from a distance. He knows he's afraid--it's written all over his face. It's just hard to work out what he's so terrified of. Surely it's not him? ]

You already are helping. But I'm afraid...

[ A pause. He reconsiders what he's about to say. ]

I'm worried about you.

[ It manages to make him furrow his brow, intensity turned to confusion as he stares off at nothing. It's odd to hear coming from Sylar now -- not that it's odd to hear coming from Sylar, but the fact that he has amnesia colors it, making Peter inevitably turn back to look at his NV, unsure of what he's supposed to say. ]

Worried about what?

[ Because even though he's been back for a short while, and been around Peter, how does he know what to be worried for? Peter has no idea. ]

You're barely home. You're not around at night, and during the day you're off working, like if you stop everything might catch up to you. When you do come home you can barely look at me.

[ Even without his mind, he has powers and intensity enough to take people apart. Peter does at least glance at him; a small victory. ]

You miss him - me - but you feel guilty for wanting him back. But what worries me, Peter, isn't any of that--it's that you have nobody to talk to. You don't even talk to me.

[ He always wants to snap back with the question of who is he supposed to talk to? He excommunicated himself - though he didn't truly ask for it - and now this is the outcome. He wanted this, in a roundabout kind of way, and he knows he has no right complain about the fact that there's simply no one else to go to.

And so he shrugs, clicking off the scanner and leaving himself in the dulled sounds of the city. ]

I don't need to talk to anyone else, it's fine.

It's not fine. Anyone can see that.

[ A long, thoughtful pause, where he chooses his words carefully. ]

You used to smile and laugh. You have such a beautiful smile when you don't catch yourself doing it and stop. Even though I know you're glad in a way to have me here, I haven't seen you smile in weeks.

Do you want me to help or not?

[ His only defense mechanism, to ignore the entire topic at hand, Peter's finally back to staring at the NV, already uncomfortable enough that they're having this conversation through the device. But at the same, Peter knows he hasn't given them the opportunity to have this conversation at any other time.

And just like that, it becomes entirely his fault. ]

Whether or not i'm fine doesn't matter, not when it comes to whether or not I can help you get your memories back. So don't worry about it, okay?

[ Sylar backs down from Peter's cold, hard stare, dropping his own gaze away this time. Even if Peter just brushed him off, changed the subject from him back to Sylar--it doesn't matter. He pushed too hard, and now he has Peter on the defensive, which isn't where he wanted him. ]

Is there anything I can do to help?

With what?

[ It's an honest question, toned down this time because Peter doesn't know how to help himself, let alone what he's supposed to be asking for. If that's even what Sylar means; Peter doesn't know. He's too busy trying to help anyone else, that Peter's grasping for strays, trying to shove his own life somewhere else. ]

You've already done everything that you can, i'm the one that's supposed to be helping.

If not with you, then maybe with finding the right power--

[ And then what? Ripping it from someone just so that he can get his memory back? How far would he go to become who he once was? Would he kill for it?

He dares a glance back at Peter. ]

I can't sit here doing nothing.

Want me to come back home?

[ It's the first time he's offered it -- breaking from his routine to try to help even though he's been offering to fix Gabriel since he found him. Peter just doesn't know how to do this, and he looks painfully tentative, broken from the inside out and more than a little unsure of himself.

Peter wants to help, he just doesn't want to get it wrong. ]

Might do more good for me to be there than here.

[ He considers saying yes right off the bat, because he wants Peter back with him, but a more sensible answer is-- ]

No.

I want to get out of the house for a while, but I don't want to go into the city either. Maybe... Maybe we could go somewhere together? Somewhere private?

[ Grabbing for his police scanner and twisting it around in his hands for a few seconds as he thinks, Peter sighs quietly, all thoughts kept to himself for as long as he can get away with. But eventually he snaps it back onto his belt and grabs his NV, chewing at his lower lip and trying to come up with the right answer. ]

Let me get home first. There's a few different places we could go.

[ He tilts his head quizzically, but that's as challenging as he gets, and after a moment he nods. ]

I'll see you soon, Peter.

[ He stays silent, staring at the NV for another fraction of a second as if it's long enough for him to understand Sylar through sight alone. But even that he flicks off as well, at the same moment that he teleports, blinking back into existence in the living room of their apartment.

Glancing up as he pockets his NV, Peter looks around for Sylar, staying somber, silent until the moment he spots him. ]

You really want to go somewhere important? Because there's another way we can leave, without even having to go into the city. [ He shrugs, remaining as vague as he can for the moment. ] Won't be as real as staying here though.

[ He doesn't expect Peter to be long at all, so the only thing he does is find his shoes, sitting on the edge of the couch as he toes them on. He glances up when Peter arrives, hesitating at the somebody-recently-died look on Peter's face for a moment before pulling the laces taught one shoe at a time, his attention dropping away from him as he does just that.

It gives him a few extra seconds to try and piece together what Peter's saying and try and work out what he's suggesting. ]

What do you mean? We can leave? You mean--leave the island?

I mean we can leave without actually going anywhere.

[ Unhooking his police scanner and tossing it onto the other end of the couch, Peter watches it bounce until it settles, his hands once again returning to his pockets as he looks back at Sylar. ]

Using telepathy. Only if you want to. But it'd be easier to find places that mean anything than doing it here. The only places outside of the city around here are... [ Struggling for words, Peter glances off towards a window, quieting for a long moment. ] They mean more than you might want to know about right now.

I didn't know you were telepathic.

[ His eyes scanned again over Peter. A telepath? Did that mean he could read his thoughts? Was he doing it right now? Had he done it before?

He tilted his head, watching Peter look away, wondering what he was thinking of and deciding that maybe if Peter warned about it then he didn't want to know. There was more enough blood here as it was. The bed--the bed he couldn't even go near. Something had happened near it that he didn't want to see, and the slightest flashes chased him off. He didn't sleep in it. ]

I want to. I'd try anything, you know that.

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