Sylar | Gabriel Gray (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gabriel_gray) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull2012-08-18 12:07 am
gabriel_gray) wrote in sirenspull2012-08-18 12:07 am
video;
[ 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?
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?
action
[ 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.
action
[ Managing to sound absolutely nothing but tired, Peter kicked off his own shoes in a reflection of Gabriel's putting them on, brushing his hair back away from his face. Stuck trying to think of the best way to do this - for he and Sylar, it was always spur of the moment, always affectionate or at the very least, calm - Peter moved towards the couch, hesitantly sitting down so that he was facing the man he thought he once knew. ]
All you have to do is give me one of your hands. [ Peter tipped his head slightly, a curious look that was digging for something more; staring at something that he so badly wanted to touch but couldn't, something that was distant but right there. ] That's it.
action
He watched as Peter settled down beside him, turning to look up at him as he gave the instructions, but he looked beyond the words, tried to read something more out of his expression. It seemed to Sylar that Peter was almost hurting, on the edge of some kind of action but shying away from the edge, afraid to reach across it. ]
Just give you my hand? [ A pause, and then he reaches his hand out. ] I think I can do that.
action
Instead, he stared at the outstretched hand for longer than he should have, simply trying to decide if this was a good idea or not. Finally giving his head a tiny shake, he nodded and took Sylar's hand as if it was the easiest thing he'd done all day. ]
Try to relax. You'll be fine.
[ Telling himself as much as he was telling Sylar, Peter closed his own eyes, leaving the decision to do the same up to the other man. It took a few moments of forced concentration longer than it usually did, but when Peter opened his eyes again it was to his own apartment, back in New York, the deep cool of sunset pulling in through the windows. It was as good of a place to start as any, and he could take Gabriel anywhere he wanted from here. But they needed a foundation, and even Peter felt safe here. Staying quiet, Peter glanced down towards the carpet, giving Sylar as much time as he wanted. ]
action
It looks like our apartment, but it's not. Where are we? No, don't tell me.
[ He refused to let go of Peter's hand now he had it, instead stepping forward and pulling Peter after him, trying to work it out for himself. There was a picture of Peter with a woman and a man - the older woman was his mother, and the older he had seen in his stolen memories; Peter's older brother Nathan. There were books on medicine, old student reading but not much in the way of personal effects. The appartment wasn't decorated to handle a family, or even a couple, just a med student barely scraping by living alone. ]
This is your apartment.
action
Pulled from his thoughts as Sylar tugged him along, Peter swallowed hard, focused in on the feel of his hand in Sylar's, of what it felt like to be here with him. Again. Not that it was truly him, but Peter was trying to cope.
Staring at Sylar, Peter nodded when Sylar finally figured it out, glancing over his shoulder towards the couch and then past it towards his bedroom. Turning back, he found his voice, staring down at their hands instead of looking into Sylar's face. ]
Yeah, it is. I'd lived here for four.. five years. You were the one that found an apartment in the Port that loos like it.
action
And you needed a new apartment because something happened to the old one?
[ When he thought about it, he thought he saw lights behind his eyelids, but they were gone when he looked back up at Peter. ]
I care so much about you. Finding somewhere that feels like home, giving you that police scanner, someone to come home to.
[ He squeezed Peter's hand. ]
Show me more.
action
Peter felt like he'd been holding his breath ever since he'd found Sylar again, waiting for things to fall even futher apart as Nathan had gone with Sylar's return. Exhale too hard, relax just a little, and everything would crumble -- Peter kept saying all of this was so fragile while being unwilling to see that it was him who was close to breaking. And so Peter waited on edge, on baited breath, trying to let Sylar's mind lead the way as if that meant he could keep from getting his hopes up that he'd ever get the man he once knew back. ]
I don't know what else to show you... [ Staring out towards the nearest window, all Peter could hear was Sylar's words ringing in his head - I care so much about you - and yet he didn't know where to go next. Didn't know how to stir up memories rooted in places he knew nothing about.
And so he did the only thing he could. Taking a step back, Peter pulled them both into Kirby Plaza, trying to wiggle his fingers out of Sylar's the second his feet slid onto sidewalk. ]
action
This is where it happened.
[ But what it was Sylar didn't know, and Peter had stepped out of reach. He looked after him, baffled and bright eyed with concern, then looked around again. ]
I can feel it. There's so much energy. I feel...
[ He paused, looking down at the unspectacular asphalt as though in confusion. ]
I feel like someone died here.
action
When Sylar finally spoke, Peter snapped his attention back down, eyes heavy with exhaustion as he once again waited, stayed silent until the moment he thought would actually be useful. ]
They didn't. Not really.
[ Trying to hold his tongue and keep from explaining physically hurt and Peter drew in a breath that squeezed hold of his lungs and tightened through his mind. A few more aching breaths and he could speak again, this time unable to look at Sylar, his gaze skirting into the shadows. ]
But what really happened here was different. Could have been worse.
action
If they'd been here before, together, then it must be strange for him. Actually looking at him would bring back memories--he only wished they brought back his memories. ]
I don't remember.
[ It could have been worse. Cold heat. Radiation-- ]
We don't have to be here if it's difficult for you, Peter.
[ Seeing him hurt stung deeper than Sylar knew. It was deep, cutting into him, even though he didn't really know why it hurt so much. ]
action
Or maybe he just couldn't push himself to the place he'd have to go to show Sylar what he needed to see. And maybe he just didn't want Sylar to have to remember the kind of person he used to be. The things he'd done, the things Peter had done, and all the things they'd been through. If Peter could protect Sylar from all of it, give him another chance, than he'd do it. He'd try.
Snapping his hands out of his hair and looking back to Sylar, Peter gave his head a slight shake, glancing over the other man's shoulder towards the monument in the middle of the Plaza. The blaze of red light that lit up the entire block was the perfection distraction; an unrelentless blur. ]
It doesn't have anything to do with me.
[ Hands back in his pockets, Peter stayed put, carefully looking at Sylar but trying to keep from dissecting him in the moment. But it didn't matter how hard Peter tried, looking at Sylar didn't change the person he saw. ]
What do you want to remember, Sylar?
action
Quietly he considered the other man, but it didn't last for long. He moved back toward him, remembering...
Bright light, and Peter standing helpless in the middle of the plaza, everyone around them standing back in horror, understanding but unable to act against what they saw. There was a blonde girl standing nearby, gun in hand, and he stepped toward her. She looked at him with wet eyes.
Sylar's step faltered, his eyes closed, just for a moment. ]
You saved the cheerleader so that we could save the world.
[ But that wasn't it. They felt like his words, but they weren't spoken in his voice. Someone else had said them, hadn't they? He opened his eyes again, looking up to Peter helplessly, like those ghosts of people who stood around in his memories. Were they even his memories? His head was hurting. ]
I have to understand. I need to know.
action
[ The response was automatic, a cracking of words that seemingly appeared from the dusky thin air, bright as they were miserable; reminiscent. Peter was still just as awash with confusion as Sylar was, but for entirely different reasons. Sylar couldn't remember, and therefore Peter couldn't ask what had happened. There was no way for him to find out either, for him to know which way was up, for him to help bring back the man he loved, but for what? So that he could bring back a killer?
No matter his hesitations, Peter was still the one that held at least one of the keys.
Scuffing his feet on the ground, Peter glanced back out towards the surrounding buildings, staring in exactly the direction Nathan had appeared from. So that they could save the world. ]
Nathan. My brother. He was here before you showed up again, and now he's gone. But back then, right here, I was going to explode. Claire was going to kill me because that was the only way to stop it. And then Nathan showed up, helped us save the world because we were the only ones that could. You couldn't yet, because you--
[ You were a monster. Peter couldn't say it, not only because he couldn't ruin Gabriel, but because he was just as bad. He'd almost become worse. Peter turned around and stared back at the man who so desperately wanted answers to who he was, answers that Peter didn't want to give. Brow furrowing, there were pieces that Peter was starting to see. Things that didn't fit quite right together but should have. That were only helping to further distort his view, make things even harder to understand.
But he still had to explain these pieces first. ]
When I said explode, I meant go nuclear. [ Curling one hand into a fist, he let his fingers pop open, giving off a tiny burst of agitated, nuclear energy. ] It's one of my abilities, and I couldn't control it.
action
It's one of my abilities too, isn't it?
[ He could practically feel it, through Peter, an intense understanding of how it worked, how he'd been able to use just such a power. He raised his hand, mimicked Peter's motion, his sparks so much more under control, even without practice--muscle memory.
He looked back up. ]
Nathan... Nathan stopped you. How?
[ Somehow the moment he'd asked the question Sylar already knew. He raised his eyes toward the black, distant sky, and out in the inky blackness there was a burst of dazzling light, a nuclear explosion high above the city, and as he watched something fell, and a moment later something else rushed down to meet it. ]
I thought it'd be brighter. Hotter.
[ Skin burning, flaking, melting, falling, falling, falling. ]
action
If only the trying stopped hurting quite so much.
He could even feel Sylar's own burst of radioactivity, the spike of warmth against his clothing enough to remind him of far too many things. Of when he'd ruined Sylar's collar, when they'd ruined the apartment, when Peter realized he could destroy just as fundamentally as he could create. It put a vice grip on his heart, making words impossible, and instead he just listened, watched as the plaza seemingly squeezed around him without moving an inch, his own mind as suffocating as anything else.
Glancing back over his shoulder at the other man just as he asked about Nathan, Peter watched Sylar look up, his own gaze following the same path, knowing he'd answered the question for himself but unable to keep from adding his own, quiet, sentiment into the mix. ]
He can fly.
[ It wasn't becoming any easier, not really, but Peter could at least stand this somehow. The space between them felt just as disturbing, ominously wide, but this was their past, and New York was his home, and Peter could be here without feeling as if his life was trying to twist in on itself.
These were inescapable memories, and at the very least, Peter hadn't forgotten.
Finally looking back directly towards Sylar, Peter tilted his head, watching him carefully. It was such an odd thing to hear from the man who had once taught him how to control his own abilities, from the man who knew how he worked from the inside, out - literally - if only because Peter had never known him as anything else. ]
It's different when it's coming from you. When it's your ability, it doesn't feel the same. Like going flying with someone else is different from getting to do it yourself. If it's yours, it-- [ Peter was quick to shut himself up, glancing down at his feet as if looking at Sylar was illegal. Talking about any of this was hard enough, but realizing when he was getting caught up when he was trying so hard to keep control was like punishment. ]
If it's yours, it's always different.
action
It was all so exciting, the powers he had. Terrifying too, but he wouldn't have traded it for the world. Not when Peter clearly felt so much the same as he did.
When he looked back up at Peter at last, he was looking away, all but flushing in shame, and Gabriel thought like he should go over to him, reassure him somehow. He held his ground despite the whim, and thought about the abilities he had, turned to look around the plaza once more where once everything had changed. Lives begun, others ended, a bright light in the sky. He remembered misery and comfort, joy and deep, soul crushing grief, pain in every part of him at once and piercing his chest. There was a scar there, down across his abdomen, where once upon a time a sword had been driven through him, and now, in this environment, he could actually remember it.
He closed his eyes after a moment, letting the recollections all sweep over him, raising his chin slightly into the air as he did so, so that the breath he took could fill his chest. New York.
Everything changed, and they were standing on a rooftop in a heartbeat. The rooftop where Peter had first flown so undeniably that Nathan couldn't pretend otherwise. Where they'd embraced. Gabriel had never been here, but he remembered it, and everything was sharp and clear around them.
Just the thought of flight, and Peter, and it had brought him here. He hadn't even planned it, or tried hard to focus on the feeling, just inhaled and let it sweep over them. Sylar opened his eyes. ]
action
Blinking a few times to try and get his bearings, Peter looked around himself, making sure that they were standing on the rooftop of his building, the one he lived in back in New York. Had he brought them here? Or had Gabriel? Peter had absolutely no idea, but as he glanced towards the ledge, he could almost see himself sitting there, staring off into the darkness, trying to discern the difference between lies and reality. Trying to know what made his brother lie, what gave him his rationale.
But even clearer, he could see himself hovering as he yelled at Nathan, his brother's gaze shifting to emphasize the fact that he wasn't touching ground, something that Peter realized, triggering him to lose his concentration and drop back down. It had been a monumental moment for Peter, a rooftop that signified the fact that he could truly do it - though seemingly only when Nathan was nearby - that he wasn't imagining things.
To anyone else, it'd just be a rooftop. ]
Did you-- Gabriel, do you know where we are?
[ It was a valid question, but if Gabriel didn't know where they were, then this was Peter's doing. And as much as he liked the spot, he hadn't meant to do it. So why bring them here at all when it meant nothing to Gabriel, to Sylar. What was the reason? Peter might as well have taken him to where he went for nursing school for all the significance it had to the other man, which was absolutely none.
Peter couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off, and as he scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the roof, he waited for Gabriel to open his eyes and put the pieces together. ]
action
But Gabriel didn't know. He strained, and frowned, and stared out at the city, thinking he saw a silhouette standing on the low wall in front of him, but no matter what he tried to do he couldn't make the memories come out of thin air, and he couldn't work out how they'd gotten to somewhere he didn't really remember if that was the case.
He dropped his eyes away apologetically, bitterly stung by his own failing, not wanting Peter to be disappointed in him. He'd brought him here, but he didn't know where here was, didn't know how important it was. The memories were on the edge of tangible, and yet when he reached out he couldn't touch them, and if it was unbearable for him, he couldn't imagine how hard it must be for Peter.
Now, Gabriel couldn't look at him. It hurt to even consider looking up and seeing the pain in Peter's eyes all over again. He just wanted it to stop. ]
This isn't fair to you, Peter. Getting your hopes up and still not being able to...to give you anything. I keep trying...
[ He raised his eyes bleakly. ]
Why can't I remember?
action
Despite the urge to yank his hands back, the contact almost painful now that he could feel it consciously again, Peter instead pulled his fingers away slowly, his hands disappearing right back into his pockets, a safety net that he used to try to keep from touching, from making contact, from letting Gabriel see anything Peter didn't want him to.
The other mans words were still ringing in his ears however, and Peter's gaze dropped to the ground before shifting towards the couch, not wanting to make eye contact with Gabriel's bleak gaze. He was coming closer and closer to the realization that he couldn't fix this, he couldn't fix Gabriel, and it was one more thing he could add to the list of what was entirely out of his control. It stung, like a sharp slap to the face, and a chill ran through him, cold facts that there was no escaping from. If he stayed even remotely emotionless, maybe it didn't have to hurt as much. And that was why he kept running away, kept his distance. Because knowing he might lose it all again was just too much, and knowing that what was left meant nothing was the end of the bitter line. ]
I don't know why, Gabriel. But it's not your fault, you don't have to be sorry. About any of it. I know you're trying. And I know it'll happen whenever it chooses to happen and until then you can't push it.
[ Glancing back towards the other man and refusing to let himself take a step in either direction -- to make it look like he was running or looking for more, or nothing at all really, it was easier to stay put than to try and decide. ]
All you're doing is making it harder on yourself. Don't worry about me, you don't need to give me anything.