heroslayer | for writers_muses: sacrifice

"So, uh, mind if I ask what was up with you the last few days?"

It was more than few days, but it seems that for all Peter's curiosity, he can't tackle the subject head on. You're not surprised -- the way you dragged yourself around for the last two weeks looking like death warmed over must have been unsettling for him, even with the animosity that lingers between the two of you. You're the protector, the only one of your merry little band with enough power to keep him and Claire from getting killed, and more than that, you're not supposed to get sick. You're untouchable, immortal, and for two weeks you let them drag you from place to place with barely enough energy to stand. You wonder if he's more worried about the same thing happening to Claire than he is about you, and you smile a bit, thinly.

"It's been six years, Peter. Running for six years." The smile turns sick in spite of the fact that your answer is largely an act for his benefit, disgusted with the situation -- you don't like running, but you won't be caged again -- and you put a bit of power into your tone. "Guess that sort of thing takes a toll on people like me, too."

His face goes slack, eyes glassy, and he nods slowly, rapt. A flicker of a smirk dances over your mouth in that instant before he comes back to himself; you may never have managed to take Eden's ability from her, but this is almost as good.

"Yeah, guess so," he answers. He shifts a bit on the bed, almost uncomfortable, and presses his mouth into a hard, crooked line. "So ... what's up?"

You lean back against the door, folding your arms over you chest. Peter's not going to like this, and there's no way you can lie your way around it, but he's going to have to live with it. "Claire never told you why we went to New Orleans, did she? Why we really went." Peter shakes his head, his frown growing; you pop one shoulder in a shrug as if that will deflect it. "There was a woman there -- someone like us. She could give people abilities. Now I can, instead."

"You killed her?"

You figured that was a given; you roll your eyes and ignore the question. "I can give you your empathy back. Everything you lost, everything Arthur took from you ... "

That seems to at least partially derail his rising anger. Peter's never been a greedy man, not like you, but he's spent the last six years missing a piece of himself, the last six years praying he can evade his brother just one more day on the limits that got placed on him, and the last six months -- longer than that, but you're going for consistency, even in your head -- leaving Claire in your hands. It's no surprise that the chance to change all that is tempting at the very least.

Unfortunately, Peter's better nature seems to get the better of him, and he rises to his feet, all but scowling now. "You couldn't have just asked her to give me my powers back?"

"Maybe, but it's a little late for that now, isn't it?" His fingers curl into fists at his side, and it takes every ounce of will power you have not to provoke him into hitting you just so you can hit back. You're in that kind of mood, but then again, you're usually in that kind of mood around Peter. "Yes or no, Pete. We don't have all day."

"Fine," Peter spits after a moment of silence. "Fine. But when I get my powers back? I'm gonna kick your ass. Just once, just on principle, but you've had it coming for a long time."

You hum amusement, pushing away from the door, and move over to him. You reach up slowly, fingers touching to his cheek, and he flinches but he doesn't pull away. You smile, regardless. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Just shut up and do it."

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, the same pull you experienced with Claire hooking under the pads of your fingers and tugging sharply. You follow along with it, letting it pull something out of you and funnel it into Peter, the sensation almost pleasant for a moment. It doesn't take long for the feeling to become unpleasant, gentle tug at your hands becoming vicious hooks that threaten to rip the power out of you if you don't hurry it up. It's worse this time than it was with Claire -- bigger ability, you rationalize wildy -- but just like before, there's no time for second thoughts. You can't pull your hand away.

Peter whimpers, swaying into you, and you barely manage to support him as he sags against your chest. His hand finds your shoulder, his fingers digging in tightly, and something seems to snap. Not your shoulder, though -- though you're not sure you'd have the awareness to really tell, even if he'd broken something -- rather this is the end to whatever spell you cast, and he pushes away abruptly, breathing hard. He falls back onto the bed; you stumble blindly back into the wall, sinking down it.

If giving Claire your ability was hell on you, this is worse.

Shadows creep in at the edges of your closed eyes, the fact that you're barely breathing not helping. An eternity of minutes pass, then dimly you're aware of Peter standing over you. He calls your name, but the sound is odd, distorted, like being yelled at underwater. You manage to open your eyes and what little you can make out of the world through the haze shudders around you.

You've been knocked unconscious enough times by now to recognize the feeling, and when you lurch forward, the room a blur around you, you have less than an instant for gratitude.

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1005
Note: Peter is