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
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.