2007-12-15: A Gift, or a Curse?


Peter_icon.gif Sylar_icon.gif

Summary: Peter arrives at Bat country Labs with food and more Haitian pills, after which he and Sylar talk over a variety of things.

Date It Happened: December 15th, 2007

A Gift, or a Curse?

Bat Country Labs

Book on his chest, glasses askew on his face, the serial killer trying to reform himself naps lightly, as between eating, reading, and sleeping, there isn't much for him to do in his makeshift prison. For once in a very long time, Sylar— Gabriel might just be happy with himself. He did a good thing today.

Unaware of the man's good deed, Peter teleports directly into the room where the man happens to be napping. He has lunch packed into tupperware that he's holding in his hands, and a bottle of pills on top of that. Teleporting, at the very least, insures that he won't get followed. No calls of emergency, and the sight of the man sleeping with his book— and glasses— gives him a breath of relief if nothing else. Setting the lunch down, he walkes over and touches the man's shoulder. "Hey— I brought you something to eat— and the pills."

The moment Peter's hand touches Gabriel's shoulder, the man springs into action. His hand moves up, fast, gripping Peter by the wrist, and he wrenches his arm to the side, calling out at the same time. "No, stay-" Only then does he realize that it's Peter, and Gabriel immediately lets go of the other man. "Peter— I'm sorry, I didn't realize…" He trails off, blinking away the cobwebs of his nap, and straightens his glasses.

Luckily Peter set their lunches down, as well as the pills. The arm grabbing startles him, makes him jump a bit. If he'd been carrying it still, the pills would have at least dropped. "No— it's fine," he says, once the other man settles down. He keeps his hand to himself for the moment. "I brought you something to eat," he repeats again, since he's not sure the other man heard. "And I got the Haitian pills. Maybe a months worth of them. I haven't counted yet."

"Oh" Gabriel says, eyes moving over to the pills, before they move down to the lunch. Turning back to Peter, he looks at the man for a few moments, before straightening his shirt and turning his eyes back to the pills. He stretches a hand out, and with a soft whoosh noise, the pills fly across the room, landing in the man's hands. Then it happens. There's a brief flash in his eyes, a look that would be all too familiar to Peter as the bottle lands in his hands. He stares at it for a few moments, before urgently popping the top off and throwing two into his mouth, swallowing them quickly. "Did you get them from Elle?" he says after a short pause, before looking back up at Peter. The pills do their work fast— the Company knew what they were doing when they made them. The tension leaving Gabriel's body is visible as he sits back down on the cot, running a hand through his hair. "They're out there," he says, looking up at Peter. "I can… feel it. With the pills it's not as bad, the hunger, but it's still there."

"I still don't understand this hunger…" Peter says softly, frowning at him. There's a pause. He doesn't have to understand it— that isn't his ability, after all. "The way I get abilities is so different from yours…" Without fine control and understanding, but without the hunger. A year ago he might have thought he got the worst deal. A year ago. "There has to be ways to manage it. If it's anything like an addiction… you'll have the compulsion, but you can fight it. You've had your powers back for a while now and you didn't escape. You didn't attack me."

"It's… like an indescribable addiction," Gabriel says, moving his hands in front of him, clasping his hands tightly together in between his knees, elbows resting on his thighs. His eyes move to the floor, peering at it through the clean lens of his glasses. "An addiction… to want more, to have more power, to take their power and make it my own." He looks up at Peter, standing from his cot once more, and he makes his way towards the table where Peter set down lunch. "I didn't ask for this," he says, speaking to the wall in front of him, rather than turning to face Peter, "I didn't ask for Elle to… I didn't ask for this ability. I didn't want to be special. I just wanted to be normal, a nobody, someone who lives their dull life day in and day out, just a simple watchmaker. Someone who restored time pieces." He finally turns to look at Peter, the lens of his glasses reflecting the lights so that his eyes are just barely visible through the glass. "I didn't ask to be a monster."

"You don't have to be a monster," Peter says quietly, watching him. "You've tried to stop yourself. You've told me to stop you, help you. A… a monster wouldn't normally do that." While he sits down, he opens up the tupperware and pushes it closer. Sandwiches, as well as some other cold foods, celery sticks and carrots. One step up from prison food, at least. After a moment, a bottle of water appears in hand and is placed in front of the other man.

"It's not that easy, Peter. Even if I don't want to be, it's still there. You don't know what it's like. I pray that you //never/ know what it's like," Gabriel says to Peter, eyes glancing over to the man. They then fall to the tupperware, the bare hint of a smile crossing Gabriel's lips. "My mother always loved to make me tuna sandwiches," he says, setting himself down on a stool. Or at least the woman he thought was his mother.

"They're not tunafish," Peter says, glancing down at the sandwiches. He'd used lunchmeat he keeps for his girlfriend in one, potato salad in another, and peanutbutter and jelly in the third. But he does have to quietly nod. The closest he can think of… would only happen when he loses control of his emotions and strikes out. Even then it probably couldn't be anywhere close to the same. "Your mother?" That's one thing he's never really wanted to ask clarification on— maybe he's afraid of the answer for that… Until he gets the bloodtests back. If they come back. Those can get lost, especially when they're trying to be secretive.

"My mother," Gabriel echoes, reaching out and taking one of the sandwiches. "Thank you," he says, before taking a bite, and after chewing, he continues to speak. "My… mother," he says again, almost as if he doesn't want to talk about it. Even still, he explains. As much as he's able to. "The mother that raised me. She always wanted me to be special, always thought I could be something so much more… she just couldn't accept me being normal. Just a watchmaker." He takes another bite of sandwich, before setting it down and place both hands on the table, his eyes staring intently at the sandwich. It isn't an interested sandwich. He just doesn't want to look at Peter right now. "It was an accident," he says mysteriously, but all is explained with his next words. ".. but I killed her."

The story makes Peter quiet, leaving the sandwiches to the man to eat on his own. He's got less chances to go out and eat anything, so he should get all of the food, or as much as possible. The story sounds rather similar, with some exceptions. "I'm sorry," he says softly, sounding as if he means it. Accidental death— it wouldn't be the first time he's forgiven someone for a murder they didn't mean to do. He's been helping Niki for months now, despite her other half killing him… "What happened? If you want to talk about it."

"It was an accident. I was just showing her— I thought I was the bomb," he says, looking up at Peter. "I wanted to stop. It was before I got Ted's power, and I called her… thought maybe I could convince her.. that I didn't need to be special. She… just couldn't see it. So I told her. About my powers. I made it snow. Then.. things got out of hand, one thing led to… she's dead now," Gabriel says, and the finality of his tone with those last three words suggest that he's finished talking about it. He lapses into silence, reaching out and grabbing the bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink.

"When I first thought I was the bomb… I wanted to run away and go to Nevada or something. You know where they had the nuclear bomb tests," Peter says softly, watching the table for a moment. This isn't a conversation he ever thoght he would share with this man, but… here they are. They both had worries, regrets. "I wanted to be special. I wanted to be… more than I was. I felt like I was supposed to be there. My family agreed too. They didn't exactly approve of my career choice. Son of a famous lawyer becoming a nurse? Dad— couldn't even admit what I was outloud to his friends." He shakes his head a bit. "But then I found out I could do things— fly. Regenerate. Paint the future. All of it. And all of a sudden I thought I found what I was supposed to do. Supposed to… be. And then I found out I could be the bomb. That these… powers could end up destroying everything I care about." Similarities and differences.

Peter's dad. Gabriel's dad. Are they the same person? He saw who he thought was Arthur Petrelli… and he had no reason to believe the man was lying. It was what he always wanted… but even though Arthur knew he was special, he still wanted him to kill. "I sometimes… always, really.. wonder how a gift like this can be such a curse," Gabriel says, taking another drink of the water. He pauses for a moment before setting the bottle down, as if considering something, and speaks to Peter as he picks up the sandwich. "What happened to your father, Peter?"

"I thought it was a curse for a long time— until someone told me that they believed in me," Peter says, glancing up, not mentioning that this affirmation came first from Elle, and later from people like Elena, Nathan, Jack… they supported him and made him stronger. But Elle saying it helped him gain the nerve to go off the pills and try. "He died. Over a year ago." His expression lowers, eyes dropping again. "The offical story is he had a heart attack, but…" It's not doubt over his father's death that has him hesitating, but over all the lies and deception. "When I tried to prove I could fly— I jumped off a building. A fifteen story building." He can't help but smile faintly. "Didn't work out too well. I woke up in the hospital. It looked like I tried to kill myself. Mom told me that's what happened to my dad. That he killed himself. And the heart attack was a coverup. That he'd had emotional problems, that could be genetic. And now I'm not sure if it was said just to make me think I was going crazy…"

"Believed in you," Gabriel says, taking a bite of the sandwich. He sets it down, taking a napkin and wiping the sides of his mouth before standing from the stool. He turns to the room, taking a few steps and coming to rest in the center of it. "Why are you trying to help me?" he says, turning so that he's once again facing Peter, his hands at his sides. "Do you really think I can… change?"

"Because… I want to. Because…" Peter looks down, frowning a moment. There's tension along his forehead again, along his jaw. He's not sure if he's doing it for the right reasons at all. He wanted to explain it to Elle. He tried to explain it to Nathan and Niki and Hiro… he's not sure any of them will understand. "I was stopped— saved from becoming a killer. I would have killed you too, wouldn't I have?" The man had been laying on the ground not too far away, stabbed too badly to be moved fast. There's no way he could have survived, right? "You had the power— you knew how to control it, Ted's power. You could have blown up the city at any time. But you didn't. I couldn't control it and I nearly did. People losing control of their abilities… hurting people with them… killing people… I want to help people like that, because… I know what it's like."

Gabriel listens to what Peter has to say, his eyes falling to the floor as a dark expression passes over his face. "You couldn't control your power. I may not have been the bomb… but I /could/ control my powers— and I used them to kill. To take other's powers.. willingly. But I couldn't stop— not even when someone wanted to save me. I thought— maybe… Elle. It was.. just all a lie. But the hunger… the thrill… the.. satisfaction of doing it." Gabriel looks up at Peter, face torn, a frown on his lips as a smile tries to fight it's way through because of the hunger.

"You're either a psychopath— no different from any of the others who kill because it's fun…" Peter says in his whispered voice, remaining seated in his chair, and even leaning back in it. "Or it comes from your abilities. There's only really one way to know for sure… the pills take it down, settle it." There's another theory he intends to test, one that… he's not going to tell the man about until he does it. But he looks back down for a moment, takes a breath, and makes eye contact again. "I'm giving you a chance. You asked for it. It doesn't even matter if what you said is true— if we're related or not." That might have caused him to hesitate the most, take him prisoner, but he'd been hesitating already— killing someone wanting help… killing someone at all… isn't exactly him.

A psychopath. It's a description that fits Gabriel… or at least Sylar, very well. But psychopaths don't.. crazy people aren't supposed to know they're crazy. Perhaps that what makes him a psychopath. He does want forgiveness for his sins, though— to change, to kill no more, to stop being a monster. He looks down at the floor as Peter speaks, finally looking up at the man who might be his brother. He doesn't say anthing, but rather walks to his cot, sitting down on the edge and looking at the floor.

"Enjoy your sandwiches," Peter says, the silence growing between them. "I'll be back in a bit." Standing up, his eyes close— and a moment later he's just gone. He so rarely uses the door, even after the time he decided to walk right through

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