2007-12-24: Reliving The Day


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Summary: After spending the whole day together in relative silence, Sylar finally strikes up conversation with Peter, trying to convince him that it's okay for him to leave. Little do they know, Peter's got a lot of catching up to do already…

Date It Happened: December 24th, 2007

Reliving the Day

The Warehouse

The warehouse never was the most hospitable, but Peter's made steps in the last few days to make it more so. There's even a small Christmas tree on a table in one of the corners, lit up. The television isn't turned on as the evening winds down, the hours bleeding closer and closer to Christmas. Not quite to the hour of midnight mass, but it's working that way. The box his birthday cookie came in is empty by now, the cookie split between them, as was fair. It's been bent up and placed in a trash bin, along with various tags from the clothes. The door to the office is opened, the one that leads to the bathroom and the shower. There's a landline phone against the wall, still connected to the phonelines.

Peter's been in the warehouse the entire day.

He's sitting on the second bed, with a book in his lap.

"Are you sure that you don't… have other things you need to do?" Gabriel says, suddenly piping up from the silence he's been giving Peter for the past hour or so. It isn't because he wants to talk or is mad at the man, nothing of that sort, he's just had a lot to contemplate these past few days. "I know that you don't fully trust me— or trust me at all. It would be okay to let me alone. I'm not going to try to escape. There… really isn't anywhere else for me to go." He's had plenty of chances to so far, and his track record up to this point is clean.

"There's a lot of places I wish I could be," Peter says softly, sighing a little as he moves a bookmark into place and closes the book. A great deal of the day that's been what's going on in his head, thinking of all the things he'd like to do for his friends, family, himself… "I know you haven't tried to escape," he says, looking at the other man with the same serious expression as normal. And even if he did escape… the man knows that he can find him. The only thing that stopped him from doing it many times before was himself. "I'll talk to Cass soon— see if I can take you back there during the days I can work, at least."

"Then you should be at those places, Peter," Gabriel says to the man, not closing his own book just yet. He does sit up a little bit straight, looking over to peer at Peter through his glasses. "You shouldn't be spending today— Christmas Eve, of all days— with a known serial killer. Not someone who has… done the things I've done to your friends and family. You should be with those friends and family." He shrugs the tiniest bit, noting the page number of his book and closing it as he stands from the bed, moving to the foot of them and coming to rest in front of the TV. "I can handle myself. The pills are doing their job. You don't have to be here."

"You say I don't have to be here— but I don't think anyone else would agree with that," Peter says, following him as he moves around. His friends and family wouldn't understand because they haven't spent days sitting with this man, aware of the times he could have tried to escape and didn't… "Cass might understand. She was with you when you still had your abilities… when you used them to help her instead of escape. But I don't know if anyone else would." So many probably want him dead. It's one of the reasons he's hesitated on asking anyone to help in keeping an eye on him. The one time he asked Nathan… the man got beaten up. Even if he deserved it, it's not why he held him… Shifting, he moves to stand, laying the book down. "I'll probably leave more often soon— you've proven that you're not just going to take off."

"They don't know," Gabriel responds, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "Cass might, but the others… you can explain it to them. Even then, I'm sure they would want you there. I have the pills. I can't go anywhere. Even if I did, where could I go? I'm a hunted man. You yourself could easily find me if I did escape."

The opportunity to spend time with his friends and family is tempting, especially considering how little he's been able to recently. "I'll try to explain to them. I still don't want to leave you alone for too long," Peter admits quietly. "Not that I think you'll run out on me— I just don't want you to spend months by yourself when the only time people stop in is to give you food and pills and a change of clothes…" He knows what that was like. He went through it for four months… With just Elle and another person who brought him his pills and food and clothes when she left. The only person he had to talk to otherwise had been the guy in the next cell.

"That might be what I deserve." Gabriel stands from the bed, eyes on the wall, and he slowly turns to face Peter. "I've killed many people. Ruined lives. I… was a monster. I may regret them now and want to.. stop myself, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't suffer for the sins I've committed. This is no different than if I were in prison. If the FBI caught me. If the police caught me. They'd lock me up and throw away the key… I've already had it happen to me more than once. " He takes a deep breath, shrugging again, and he keeps his eyes on Peter. "You didn't. You're a good person. Someone.. much better than me. You deserve to be with the ones you love."

"You're not the only person who's done terrible things, Sylar," Peter says, giving him a long look, even if he can't explain all the reasons that he might have to be a little more understanding. He's been trying to help Niki, despite the fact her alter ego killed him and others before him. And he watched everyone work to save Nathan from the same thing. In the future. "Maybe I would have deserved it if people hadn't stopped me from blowing up the city. You're the one that said it… I was the villain last year, not you."

The villain who would destroy the world, at the very least. Would he have deserved more than a prison cell for the rest of his life if he had blown up a portion of the city. "I know what you mean, though. Maybe I can— " All of a sudden his voice cuts off, eyes widening. A second later, he stumbles, beginning to fall back. There won't be much time to stop him from hitting the floor— rather ungracefully.

"Other people may have done terrible buts, but I've done many terrible things. I couldn't stop. I've ruined people's lives…" The ex-killer trails off again, looking away from Peter and towards the floor directly in front of him. He remains silent, not having anything else to say at the moment, but when Peter's voice cuts off, he looks up just in time to see Peter stumbling backwards. "Peter?" he says, standing from the bed, and when Peter hits the floor he rushes forward. "Peter!" He kneels down besides him, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him in an attempt to wake him up. "Peter, are you okay?"

No. That much is clear once the other man gets down beside him. Peter's eyes roll up into the back of his head, and he's shaking, almost as if having some kind of a seizure. It doesn't last too long, whatever it is, when blood starts to drip out of his nose, much like it would on overuse from ability. A bruise appears on the side of his face, not where he landed on the floor, either. The weird thing would be that it doesn't fade… It doesn't just heal away like it should. The bleeding from the nose slows, but unconsciousness overtakes him. Even when staying at the serial killer's side for days, he rarely closed his eyes and almost never slept. Now… he really is helpless, and apparently not healing as he should be.

"Peter!" Gabriel calls out again, shaking the man a bit more roughly this time. When the blood starts to drip out of his nose, Gabriel yanks his hand away, almost as if he were burned. "What… ?" he mutters to himself as the bruise appears and doesn't heal, and Peter falls completely unconscious. Gabriel doesn't understand, but he knows enough to know that something isn't right. Standing from the body, he looks around, until his eyes fall on the phone. Looking back down at Peter, he kneels down, digging through the man's pockets. Hopefully he'll find the number for someone he recognizes. He has a phone call to make.

The pockets of his jeans don't have much to go on, but a search of his coat will come across a date book with a few phone numbers, with names attached that the man may recognize. Peter's wallet and phone both are missing, for some reason. Under closed eyelids, his eyes twitch back and forth, like someone dreaming might. He's got a whole days worth of memories to catch up on… a few times over.

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