Slave Verse 2, Chapter 5: Waking Up
A/N: Huh. No sex in this chapter. How the heck did that happen? Guess the guys just needed a breather here. And I know I skimp a bit on the description of what Nathan has as defenses, but it’s not the point of the story. Anyone who wants my speculations can engage me in the comments.
It had been a stressful day, really. Even for Sylar. He felt like he’d deserved the nap; earned it. He reached out, not even consciously aware of what he was reaching for. The intellectual side of his brain caught up with the instinctual side a moment later and realized he was looking for Peter, who wasn’t in bed with him anymore. It struck him as weird to be reaching for him when he’d slept with him only twice now. Well, three times, if you counted the nap. But had Peter napped at all?
The bed was cold everywhere that Sylar wasn’t lying. He ran his fingers over the sheets using clairsentience, but they were a welter of strong impressions, sweat and passion. If he’d worked at it, he could have dug out the right memory, but he didn’t bother. Peter was probably just out in the kitchen eating again. He started to walk out, then paused next to his clothes. He hesitated, but the apartment was silent. He pulled on his pants and went out.
A few moments later he was standing on the balcony, feeling a sharp breeze across his bare chest, looking across the city. He was alone. He leaned on the rail and tried to sort out how he felt about that. He was pretty sure he felt something really strongly about it, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
He’d been asleep for a little more than an hour. Peter could have left as soon as he fell asleep. He might have even done something to him to make him go to sleep, concealed in the sing-song of his words. It wasn’t like Sylar had exactly had his defenses up. He sighed, his hands tightening around the railing he was leaning on. The iron made a sound of protest, a metallic shriek.
Peter’s voice sounded behind him. “Tense about something?”
“Peter!” He spun to see Peter standing there naked. He felt an urge to go over to him and hug him, but he suppressed it. His tone changed from surprised and pleased to glacial. “Where have you been?”
Peter studied him for a moment, as if gauging what he could get away with. He shrugged and slumped and walked over to sit on the wicker framed seat they’d shared just the night before. “I went to spy on Nathan and see what his current defenses are.”
It wasn’t a lie. Sylar still felt pretty suspicious. Why would he need to sneak off to do that? Peter leaned back and looked up at the sky, giving the other man time to process. After over a minute, Sylar turned and looked out at the city again, leaning on the railing. Peter said, “I didn’t think you’d wake up so fast.”
“Did you put me to sleep?”
Peter cajoled, “Sylar, baby-“
Sylar whipped around, bringing all of his telekinesis to bear at once, locking Peter up as effectively as Peter had done it to him. He waited a beat. Peter blinked at him once. It was the only voluntary movement Sylar had left him. He could have teleported out, Sylar considered. It was a purely mental exercise. All he had to do was pop in a few feet away to break the hold and then before Sylar could shift his attention, he could turn the tables.
But since he hadn’t, maybe he had something worthwhile to say. At least, he had something to say that Peter thought might ameliorate this awkward situation and Sylar wasn’t quite ready to toss things to the wind. He walked forward, grabbed one of the two separate chairs that went with the couch-like seat Peter was on. He pulled the chair over in front of Peter and sat down.
On impulse, he reached out and touched Peter’s knee, then let his hand slide up the inside of his thigh in a familiar fashion. Had Peter not had his abilities, it would have been a threat of what he could do to him once he had him locked up like this. The corner of Sylar’s mouth quirked up. The corners of Peter’s eyes crinkled in response. Somehow, that tiny reaction defused it and the tension drained out of him. Sylar again marveled that Peter could do that with the smallest of gestures. He released the hold, but Peter scarcely moved. He breathed - that was all. Sylar pulled his hand back to the man’s knee and patted it. “You know the drill,” Sylar said. “Yes or no. Sir or master. Did you put me to sleep?”
Peter groaned and tilted his head back to look at the sky again. “Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
Peter’s lips twitched and he tilted back to look at Sylar. He seemed to stumble for a moment. “Master?”
Sylar rolled his eyes. “Fine. Yes, you can use other words to answer my questions. Don’t get mouthy though.”
Peter raised his brows at that additional condition. “I wanted you out of the way while I went to talk to him.”
“You talked to him?” Nathan?” Why did he feel so betrayed? Well, yeah, there were a lot of reasons why he’d feel betrayed, but the feeling seemed to run much more viscerally than he would have expected.
“Yes, sir.”
He caught himself from the desire to pace or flail his arms around or fling Peter off the rooftop or any of a half dozen other stupid impulses. “Why?” His voice was laden with emotion.
If Peter noticed (and how could he not?), he gave no indication of it. “Because there’s only one way we can do this and that’s to get close to him.”
Sylar looked around, flustered, “Well, then why didn’t you kill him then? Just now, since you went and talked to him?”
Peter spoke low and quiet, making Sylar pay attention to him if he wanted to hear, which he did. “Because he doesn’t trust me yet. I couldn’t. Let me tell you what he has as protection and maybe you’ll understand.”
It was a ridiculous assertion - that Peter couldn’t kill a man who could do nothing other than fly - but he respected Peter’s assessment and listened closely as to the reason. He listened for the better part of an hour before he started arguing and trying to pick holes in Nathan’s fortifications.
“I still don’t see why we don’t just teleport in and cut his throat,” Sylar complained, trailing along behind Peter as he went to the kitchen and got out the fruit tray and yogurt for a snack.
“I told you. Power negation. He’s never without it. Overlapping sources.”
“Then just use a gun.”
“Won’t hit. Bullets wouldn’t make it. I addressed that too.”
“Poison gas?”
“Yeah, listen, Sylar, I’ve already explained all this. Even if you do kill him, he’s just coming right back. If you don’t kill him outright, he’ll be healed. If you do, he’ll be resurrected. There are reasons why no one has killed him and had it stick in the last ten years!”
“They just haven’t tried.”
Peter looked at him disbelievingly. “I… what? What the hell? Have you been listening to me at all? He has all these defenses because of all the attempts. I was there for a lot of them, stopping them. He has people whose sole job is to monitor the probability of betrayal or ambush or assassination attempt at any given time and as soon as they twitch, Trevor stops time and checks it out. The only way we’re going to get him is to convince him he doesn’t need his defenses so he lets us past them. That’s it.”
“Why this… change of heart?”
Peter stuck a piece of pineapple into his mouth after dredging it in yogurt. Sylar watched him eat with an uncommon interest. Peter swallowed and said, “What change of heart?”
“When did you turn against Nathan, and why?”
Peter snorted. “The why…” He chuckled darkly. “I don’t even need to get into my personal reasons. But when - when they wiped my memories it wiped all the programming. No memories - no commands. All gone. There’s no reason why I’d restore that when I was restoring my memories.”
Well, that confirmed Sylar’s expectations. “So when you were leading those resistance cells, that was… staged?”
“Sure.”
“Crap.”
“Yeah.” Peter toyed with his next piece of pineapple, swirling it back and forth in the yogurt, but not raising it to his mouth. “Yeah. Lotta people out there hate me. A lot more would if they could even remember who I was.” He shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s not like they do.”
“Do you have anyone?” The question was out of his mouth before he even thought about it and at Peter’s look, he had the impression it was oddly too personal. Oddly, because they’d shared just about everything physical fairly recently. But… that didn’t really matter. The physical was only an expression of the complicated mental and emotional dance they’d gotten involved in.
It had occurred to Sylar on the heels of Peter’s comment about people who might hate him that it was possible there were people out there who might love him. And perhaps that he loved back. And if he were to be in this dance with Peter and feel that wrench when he realized he was alone, or that he’d gone to talk to Nathan, then maybe he needed to know who was waiting for the next dance.
Peter was still standing there, not quite woodenly, but like he was at a loss, his expression blank, which seemed like the best possible reaction, in Sylar’s opinion. Sylar took a step forward and took the piece of pineapple away from him, forgotten in his grip. He lifted it to Peter’s lips and the darker haired man ate it, some life coming back to his eyes. Peter swallowed and let his eyes fall into Sylar’s. He said, “I think so.”
That was also a good answer. Sylar leaned in and kissed him, enjoying the tropical flavor. “That’s nice,” he said when they parted. He meant the taste.
“Yeah, I think so too,” Peter said, obviously meaning something else, something that pleased Sylar.
Sylar’s eyes roamed over his face. “You’re not lying to me?” It was a silly question, since they could both detect those, but he felt a need to ask anyway.
“I haven’t lied to you.” Peter swallowed and looked away, then back, meeting Sylar’s eyes. “But you’re going to have to trust me. Really, really, trust me. I know I haven’t earned that trust. And for that I’m sorry, but we won’t have the time… Like I told you, between the probability readers and the precognitives, we have to move fast. Just… remember that I’ve asked you - asked you to trust me, when it all comes down to it.”
Sylar’s brows drew together. It was a weird, heavy statement and he decided not to address it. Instead, he raised a piece of cantaloupe to his lips and took a small bite. He leaned forward to offer the rest to Peter, who took it, like a kiss. Peter swallowed the rest of the piece whole, so as to clear his mouth for Sylar’s tongue. When they parted, Sylar said, “We’re still going tomorrow, right?”
Peter nodded, but didn’t say anything. Lie detection only worked on words, after all, not gestures.
It had been a stressful day, really. Even for Sylar. He felt like he’d deserved the nap; earned it. He reached out, not even consciously aware of what he was reaching for. The intellectual side of his brain caught up with the instinctual side a moment later and realized he was looking for Peter, who wasn’t in bed with him anymore. It struck him as weird to be reaching for him when he’d slept with him only twice now. Well, three times, if you counted the nap. But had Peter napped at all?
The bed was cold everywhere that Sylar wasn’t lying. He ran his fingers over the sheets using clairsentience, but they were a welter of strong impressions, sweat and passion. If he’d worked at it, he could have dug out the right memory, but he didn’t bother. Peter was probably just out in the kitchen eating again. He started to walk out, then paused next to his clothes. He hesitated, but the apartment was silent. He pulled on his pants and went out.
A few moments later he was standing on the balcony, feeling a sharp breeze across his bare chest, looking across the city. He was alone. He leaned on the rail and tried to sort out how he felt about that. He was pretty sure he felt something really strongly about it, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
He’d been asleep for a little more than an hour. Peter could have left as soon as he fell asleep. He might have even done something to him to make him go to sleep, concealed in the sing-song of his words. It wasn’t like Sylar had exactly had his defenses up. He sighed, his hands tightening around the railing he was leaning on. The iron made a sound of protest, a metallic shriek.
Peter’s voice sounded behind him. “Tense about something?”
“Peter!” He spun to see Peter standing there naked. He felt an urge to go over to him and hug him, but he suppressed it. His tone changed from surprised and pleased to glacial. “Where have you been?”
Peter studied him for a moment, as if gauging what he could get away with. He shrugged and slumped and walked over to sit on the wicker framed seat they’d shared just the night before. “I went to spy on Nathan and see what his current defenses are.”
It wasn’t a lie. Sylar still felt pretty suspicious. Why would he need to sneak off to do that? Peter leaned back and looked up at the sky, giving the other man time to process. After over a minute, Sylar turned and looked out at the city again, leaning on the railing. Peter said, “I didn’t think you’d wake up so fast.”
“Did you put me to sleep?”
Peter cajoled, “Sylar, baby-“
Sylar whipped around, bringing all of his telekinesis to bear at once, locking Peter up as effectively as Peter had done it to him. He waited a beat. Peter blinked at him once. It was the only voluntary movement Sylar had left him. He could have teleported out, Sylar considered. It was a purely mental exercise. All he had to do was pop in a few feet away to break the hold and then before Sylar could shift his attention, he could turn the tables.
But since he hadn’t, maybe he had something worthwhile to say. At least, he had something to say that Peter thought might ameliorate this awkward situation and Sylar wasn’t quite ready to toss things to the wind. He walked forward, grabbed one of the two separate chairs that went with the couch-like seat Peter was on. He pulled the chair over in front of Peter and sat down.
On impulse, he reached out and touched Peter’s knee, then let his hand slide up the inside of his thigh in a familiar fashion. Had Peter not had his abilities, it would have been a threat of what he could do to him once he had him locked up like this. The corner of Sylar’s mouth quirked up. The corners of Peter’s eyes crinkled in response. Somehow, that tiny reaction defused it and the tension drained out of him. Sylar again marveled that Peter could do that with the smallest of gestures. He released the hold, but Peter scarcely moved. He breathed - that was all. Sylar pulled his hand back to the man’s knee and patted it. “You know the drill,” Sylar said. “Yes or no. Sir or master. Did you put me to sleep?”
Peter groaned and tilted his head back to look at the sky again. “Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
Peter’s lips twitched and he tilted back to look at Sylar. He seemed to stumble for a moment. “Master?”
Sylar rolled his eyes. “Fine. Yes, you can use other words to answer my questions. Don’t get mouthy though.”
Peter raised his brows at that additional condition. “I wanted you out of the way while I went to talk to him.”
“You talked to him?” Nathan?” Why did he feel so betrayed? Well, yeah, there were a lot of reasons why he’d feel betrayed, but the feeling seemed to run much more viscerally than he would have expected.
“Yes, sir.”
He caught himself from the desire to pace or flail his arms around or fling Peter off the rooftop or any of a half dozen other stupid impulses. “Why?” His voice was laden with emotion.
If Peter noticed (and how could he not?), he gave no indication of it. “Because there’s only one way we can do this and that’s to get close to him.”
Sylar looked around, flustered, “Well, then why didn’t you kill him then? Just now, since you went and talked to him?”
Peter spoke low and quiet, making Sylar pay attention to him if he wanted to hear, which he did. “Because he doesn’t trust me yet. I couldn’t. Let me tell you what he has as protection and maybe you’ll understand.”
It was a ridiculous assertion - that Peter couldn’t kill a man who could do nothing other than fly - but he respected Peter’s assessment and listened closely as to the reason. He listened for the better part of an hour before he started arguing and trying to pick holes in Nathan’s fortifications.
“I still don’t see why we don’t just teleport in and cut his throat,” Sylar complained, trailing along behind Peter as he went to the kitchen and got out the fruit tray and yogurt for a snack.
“I told you. Power negation. He’s never without it. Overlapping sources.”
“Then just use a gun.”
“Won’t hit. Bullets wouldn’t make it. I addressed that too.”
“Poison gas?”
“Yeah, listen, Sylar, I’ve already explained all this. Even if you do kill him, he’s just coming right back. If you don’t kill him outright, he’ll be healed. If you do, he’ll be resurrected. There are reasons why no one has killed him and had it stick in the last ten years!”
“They just haven’t tried.”
Peter looked at him disbelievingly. “I… what? What the hell? Have you been listening to me at all? He has all these defenses because of all the attempts. I was there for a lot of them, stopping them. He has people whose sole job is to monitor the probability of betrayal or ambush or assassination attempt at any given time and as soon as they twitch, Trevor stops time and checks it out. The only way we’re going to get him is to convince him he doesn’t need his defenses so he lets us past them. That’s it.”
“Why this… change of heart?”
Peter stuck a piece of pineapple into his mouth after dredging it in yogurt. Sylar watched him eat with an uncommon interest. Peter swallowed and said, “What change of heart?”
“When did you turn against Nathan, and why?”
Peter snorted. “The why…” He chuckled darkly. “I don’t even need to get into my personal reasons. But when - when they wiped my memories it wiped all the programming. No memories - no commands. All gone. There’s no reason why I’d restore that when I was restoring my memories.”
Well, that confirmed Sylar’s expectations. “So when you were leading those resistance cells, that was… staged?”
“Sure.”
“Crap.”
“Yeah.” Peter toyed with his next piece of pineapple, swirling it back and forth in the yogurt, but not raising it to his mouth. “Yeah. Lotta people out there hate me. A lot more would if they could even remember who I was.” He shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s not like they do.”
“Do you have anyone?” The question was out of his mouth before he even thought about it and at Peter’s look, he had the impression it was oddly too personal. Oddly, because they’d shared just about everything physical fairly recently. But… that didn’t really matter. The physical was only an expression of the complicated mental and emotional dance they’d gotten involved in.
It had occurred to Sylar on the heels of Peter’s comment about people who might hate him that it was possible there were people out there who might love him. And perhaps that he loved back. And if he were to be in this dance with Peter and feel that wrench when he realized he was alone, or that he’d gone to talk to Nathan, then maybe he needed to know who was waiting for the next dance.
Peter was still standing there, not quite woodenly, but like he was at a loss, his expression blank, which seemed like the best possible reaction, in Sylar’s opinion. Sylar took a step forward and took the piece of pineapple away from him, forgotten in his grip. He lifted it to Peter’s lips and the darker haired man ate it, some life coming back to his eyes. Peter swallowed and let his eyes fall into Sylar’s. He said, “I think so.”
That was also a good answer. Sylar leaned in and kissed him, enjoying the tropical flavor. “That’s nice,” he said when they parted. He meant the taste.
“Yeah, I think so too,” Peter said, obviously meaning something else, something that pleased Sylar.
Sylar’s eyes roamed over his face. “You’re not lying to me?” It was a silly question, since they could both detect those, but he felt a need to ask anyway.
“I haven’t lied to you.” Peter swallowed and looked away, then back, meeting Sylar’s eyes. “But you’re going to have to trust me. Really, really, trust me. I know I haven’t earned that trust. And for that I’m sorry, but we won’t have the time… Like I told you, between the probability readers and the precognitives, we have to move fast. Just… remember that I’ve asked you - asked you to trust me, when it all comes down to it.”
Sylar’s brows drew together. It was a weird, heavy statement and he decided not to address it. Instead, he raised a piece of cantaloupe to his lips and took a small bite. He leaned forward to offer the rest to Peter, who took it, like a kiss. Peter swallowed the rest of the piece whole, so as to clear his mouth for Sylar’s tongue. When they parted, Sylar said, “We’re still going tomorrow, right?”
Peter nodded, but didn’t say anything. Lie detection only worked on words, after all, not gestures.