heroslayer | rp for youngerpetrelli: i have measured out my life with coffee s

He tried very hard to keep his expression neutral, tried not to look so shocked, but the virus? It had to be one of the other strains Adam had mentioned, before they had... and he hated to use the word perfected when he was thinking about something so lethal, but...

"The Shanti virus," he murmured. "Did it make you sick, or just take away the abilities?"

"I'm not sure," Sylar answered, making a face. Then, by way of explanation, he added, "Trying to heal through a stab wound makes it hard to tell whether or not your sick."

All he knew about his experience being powerless was that, no matter how well he had played Maya, he'd felt like hell. Sore. Feverish. That sort of thing. But that could have been the virus, or that could have been a result of first ripping his stitches, after killing Candice, and then stumbling through the jungle without food or water.

Either way, however, he had survived, and that was all that mattered.

He nodded, remembering the sight of Sylar with Hiro's sword sticking right through him. "Damage that severe -- they should never have even moved you, but I guess they wanted to keep anyone from knowing what was going on..." Exactly what had the Company been planning, anyway? Experiments on Sylar's DNA? Testing how the virus affected someone with multiple abilities? Not that they could exactly ask and expect a straight answer, anyway...

"So... telepathy?"

"Or to keep Nakamura from finishing the job." Little Japanese idiot.

Either way, however, if Peter had asked what, exactly, the Company had wanted from him, he wouldn't have been able to say. Part of him would have guessed that they wanted to torture him again, if only because they had done so once, but the other part? The other part was convinced that infecting him had been an attempt at control--he showed he could be a loyal Company lapdog, and they cured him before helping him acquire new abilities from those powered that they considered threats. And while Suresh had been the one to put it in his head, long before they'd started seeing each other, he had no reason to doubt that wasn't a possible motive. They had a sicker collective mind than he did, after all.

He wasn't thinking about it, though. Rather, he was considering the question Peter had put before him, regardless of how weak it was.

He shrugged. "Telepathy," he agreed. Silence, and then he added, "It's been ... interesting. There's a woman living somewhere near Mohinder's loft--" he'd never been able to quite pin down where "--who thinks about cats, nonstop. Loudly." And when he'd been new to the whole telepathy thing, she had been annoying as hell.

Quietly he said, "Hiro's a good guy, and you were trying to kill me. He had a pretty good reason for doing that, you know..." He knew there was no way all of his friends and family would get along -- and he still didn't know how he felt about Sylar being part of his family anyway. But he wanted them to at least be able to be civil to one another.

"Yeah. It gets hard to block things out sometimes... I don't really have a lot of advice there. I try to concentrate on something else, or do things that keep me from thinking or keep my focus elsewhere..." Yeah, no need to elaborate on that.

Sylar made a small noise at the back of his throat, not particularly accepting but not entirely annoyed or dismissive, either. This was simply the sound of a man who wanted the subject dropped for both their sakes, since he knew it was something they would never agree on.

And, that in mind, he focused on the other half of their conversation. "It's easier, now that I have it under control. Though, it helps that Suresh doesn't mind me poking around in his thoughts."

He failed to mention that it worked both ways, that he'd established a sort of telepathic connection between the two of them, so that Mohinder could know his mind just as well.

He nodded, understanding the unspoken message instinctively. As long as Sylar didn't try to kill Hiro, he'd do his part to make sure Hiro didn't try to kill his brother.

"Yeah. And... it has its advantages at certain times, too." He was certain Sylar could read between the lines enough to not ask for further elaboration.

"It does." And it took all of his willpower not to smirk when it came to that particular fact. His brother might not have been referring to mind-reading in bed--he could have been talking about any number of things--but that was where his mind had gone with that.

He cleared his throat, more an attempt to banish the thoughts before he embarrassed himself or Mohinder, or disturbed his brother further, and then he was changing the subject. "The other thing I wanted to tell you ... you might find you have a new ability, because of me."

Bridget's, and might because if Peter hadn't managed to mimic his aptitude now, but had stolen his telekinesis before, then who the hell knew how his power worked. He didn't, and it was a sudden, brief effort to stop himself from throwing him against the wall and trying to find out. At least one of them was getting a handle on the hunger.

It was just a minor twitch of muscles -- probably not even something the other patrons of the coffee shop noticed -- but suddenly he was primed for fight or flight. He'd felt the struggle in his brother, all of his senses going on high alert until he forced himself to relax when Sylar brought himself back under control.

"Oh?" he asked, curiosity warring with concern. He was sure, after what he'd discovered in Ireland, that he had a lot more abilities than he was actually aware of. If he could absorb them from people who weren't using them at the time, as was the case with DL's phasing ability, then who knew what he'd picked up...

"The woman who was spying on Suresh was clairsentient," he said calmly, noting Peter's reaction before filing it away and dismissing it. Then, in case his brother didn't understand the terminology, he clarified, though not condescendingly so. "She could touch something, and know things about it. Where it had been. Who'd owned it."

That sort of thing. Of course, there was also another interesting use for the power. "It works on other people, too. Though, then it's more ... "

Practiced neutrality faded into brief frustration, the latter of which was quick to evaporate, and when it did, he shrugged. There wasn't really a way to explain how it felt to use it on another living thing--Peter would just have to figure that one out on his own.

"That's... I've never heard of that before... Wow."

He looked down at his hands, then back up at Sylar. "Sounds like the kind of thing you'd want to find the off switch for really fast..."

It wasn't so bad, really--more distracting, when he used it, than anything else. With things, it was like living in a memory. The rest of the world just fell away and it was like he was part of the history of whatever he was touching--like walking in a dream, except what he was experiencing was real It had happened. And in that instant, because an instant was all it took, no matter how long the whole thing felt like it spanned, he was somewhere else. A man lost in a daydream.

With other people, well, that was just about as complicated as it was to explain. With other people--like Mohinder, since he was the only living thing he'd used it on--it was more impressions of feeling, and very basic ones at that. Pain. Frustration. Fear. Joy. Love. All of it as vivid as if he was experiencing it himself, despite the fact that it was only an idea, without reason or cause attached.

If he wasn't telepathic already, he would have said it was useful as hell.

"I'd distracting," he answered finally, popping in shoulder in another shrug. "But since you have my ability now, it might be easier for you to turn it on and off."

He was always better at using other's powers than the original owner themselves had been, after all. And, through his aptitude, he'd been able to suppress his powers, when he wanted to--most notably his ability to heal, so that Mohinder could mark his territory, when he wanted to. Of course, when he suffered mortal wounds, his regeneration kicked back in on its own, but his other powers? They stayed off--for the most part; his hearing was rare exception--until he willed them back into use. He simply had that much control.

"I'm not all that worried about objects, but..." Close contact with someone who had nearly 400 years of experience could be a lot more than distracting.

Then he cocked his head and studied Sylar for a long moment. "Do you think that now I have your ability, I'd be able to figure out how other abilities I got before I had it work? I haven't really tried yet, but... I think I'd like to have a bit more conscious control over some abilities..." Part of him hoped Sylar didn't ask which ones -- he didn't need his brother knowing about all of his kinks, after all.

"You should, yes." Despite the straight answer, however, that didn't stop him from raising an eyebrow, curious. At least he had the decency not to ask.

"Good -- I should... definitely work on that, then," he said with a nod, a small smile curving his lips.

The smile faded and he asked, "So... can I ask you a somewhat personal question?"

If Sylar had been watching his brother with interest just a moment before, it doubled now. What could Peter possibly ask him that wasn't already public knowledge? He knew about his compulsion to kill, the hunger, Mohinder. What else was there?

"Alright."

He met Sylar's gaze and, after studying him for a moment, asked, "How do you feel about being a Petrelli?"

"I'm not sure," he answered, his mouth twisting into a thoughtful frown. "It's ... not something I would have expected. I mean ... "

He paused, eyes darkening briefly, before disappearing as soon as it had come, like a shadow over the sun. "I always knew we were connected. There was too much--you were too much like me. How I could have been, if things had gone differently, somehow. But, I never though that we were brothers."

Sylar shook his head, ever so slightly. He hadn't answered the question, he knew, but it wasn't something he'd done on purpose. Rather, it was more a case of, "I guess I'm still in sort of a state of shock. I haven't had time to process it."

He nodded. "Completely understandable. I think... I think I'd be a little freaked out if you were able to come to a decision that quickly. It makes me... more comfortable that you're unsettled by it." He smiled and shook his head. "Does that make any sense?"

Then he sighed and said, "I knew we were connected, too. I tried to deny it with everything in me, but... that dream..."

Sylar laughed, albeit quietly, and offered his brother a wan smile.

"I guess it would be a little strange if I suddenly decided I wanted to invite you over for dinner." Or breakfast, since the only two things he could manage to cook without destroying the kitchen happened to be waffles and ziti. "So, it does make sense, yes."

He paused, smile fading as Petrelli side, and listened as he went on, head tilted to one side. "It was that vivid?"

"And I'd have to worry a little if you told me you were glad to be part of one of the most fucked-up families around..." he said with a soft, self-deprecating laugh.

"It... scared me. A lot. I barely saw you when we tangled, and yet there you were, being more Nathan than Nathan was when he finally showed up. It..." He shook his head, trying to find the words. "I didn't even realize until after I dreamed about Claude that there was a precognitive element to the dreams."

Now there was a name he didn't recognize, and so, he repeated it. "Claude?" Hopefully, Peter would fill him in, as he found himself suddenly interested.

"He was my mentor, sort of. I started out thinking I could only use an ability when I was near the person I got it from -- heal when I was near Claire, fly when I was near Nathan -- Claude taught me how to use abilities without the people I got them from being around."

"That's why you didn't fight back," he murmured, eyes somewhere else in that instant.

When Peter had used his own telekinesis against him later, he'd always wondered why he hadn't done the same at Union Wells. Why he'd run and then lured him up to the roof and pulled him off. If he'd had his powers, it would have been so much easier just to lash out telekinetically. He never would have seen it coming, after all, unaware at the time of what Peter was capable of.

"I always wondered."

He laughed softly and shook his head. "I didn't even know I could regenerate when we fell. I'd seen a painting by Isaac and was pretty much convinced I was going to die."

A wry smile, then, "I think, judging by the amount of blood, that I probably did."

rp for youngerpetrelli: i have measured out my life with coffee s

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