Sylar (
heroslayer) wrote2009-01-31 02:41 pm
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for philosophy_20: the killers lyrics (rp for
hornrimmed)
In all honesty, Sylar had no idea why he'd been so adamant on meeting with Bennet in the first place.
He had no reason to love the man, after all, no reason to care, when he fell in the same category as Nakamura, both of them people to be hated rather than to try and make amends with. Perhaps Bennet was worse, in a way, even. The man had tortured him, deliberately and to death, despite the fact that it was revenge, which he understood, and he'd survived, his brain having forced his heart to start beating again. He'd also threatened Mohinder, from what his geneticist had told him, hurt the Indian when he had very clear rules about what happened to people who touched the things that were his.
Bennet was worse than Nakamura because the damn Japanese kid hadn't done what he'd done with malicious intent where the man in the hornrimmed glasses had, and yet here he was, getting off a plane from Manhattan to meet the sonovabitch at a coffee shop in Costa Verde. He'd even offered to let him walk away with his life, just this once, and for what? Because he was important to Claire? Because he wanted to rub it in that it had been him that had saved Baileigh, when he'd sat around and been powerless? Because he wanted certain assurances, threatened out of Bennet or given freely, that he'd leave Suresh alone?
He didn't know. And as he had when he'd gone to visit Molly in her dreams, he was immediately regretting his decisions, all too willing to blame it on outside factors.
At least it was a coffee shop they were meeting at. It wasn't his usual, nor was it the one that Claire worked at that he'd taken up frequenting to bother his niece, but he could still make it work in his favor. Coffee shops always did, regardless of whether or not they were on his home turf.
Sighing, unhappy, he thumbed idly at his carry-on--he hadn't bothered with an overnight bag as he was catching the first flight back, once this was over--he moved to the row of pay phones outside, and looked up the number for a cab company. Then, once he'd called for a pick up, he moved to the curb outside, shifting from one foot to the other, restlessly, as he waited for the car to come.
And sooner rather than later, he in the cab and then out, heading into the coffee shop Bennet had specified, every inch of him on edge, ready for a fight, just in case Bennet couldn't keep his word.
He had no reason to love the man, after all, no reason to care, when he fell in the same category as Nakamura, both of them people to be hated rather than to try and make amends with. Perhaps Bennet was worse, in a way, even. The man had tortured him, deliberately and to death, despite the fact that it was revenge, which he understood, and he'd survived, his brain having forced his heart to start beating again. He'd also threatened Mohinder, from what his geneticist had told him, hurt the Indian when he had very clear rules about what happened to people who touched the things that were his.
Bennet was worse than Nakamura because the damn Japanese kid hadn't done what he'd done with malicious intent where the man in the hornrimmed glasses had, and yet here he was, getting off a plane from Manhattan to meet the sonovabitch at a coffee shop in Costa Verde. He'd even offered to let him walk away with his life, just this once, and for what? Because he was important to Claire? Because he wanted to rub it in that it had been him that had saved Baileigh, when he'd sat around and been powerless? Because he wanted certain assurances, threatened out of Bennet or given freely, that he'd leave Suresh alone?
He didn't know. And as he had when he'd gone to visit Molly in her dreams, he was immediately regretting his decisions, all too willing to blame it on outside factors.
At least it was a coffee shop they were meeting at. It wasn't his usual, nor was it the one that Claire worked at that he'd taken up frequenting to bother his niece, but he could still make it work in his favor. Coffee shops always did, regardless of whether or not they were on his home turf.
Sighing, unhappy, he thumbed idly at his carry-on--he hadn't bothered with an overnight bag as he was catching the first flight back, once this was over--he moved to the row of pay phones outside, and looked up the number for a cab company. Then, once he'd called for a pick up, he moved to the curb outside, shifting from one foot to the other, restlessly, as he waited for the car to come.
And sooner rather than later, he in the cab and then out, heading into the coffee shop Bennet had specified, every inch of him on edge, ready for a fight, just in case Bennet couldn't keep his word.
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Again he shook his head, brow knitting thoughtfully for a moment as he tried to hunt down that train of thought and make it stay. He couldn't manage, however, and so he let it go. "I know it doesn't matter to you what I say. Neither of us capable of accepting apologies. It's a character flaw."
It was also why he'd locked Bennet in that cell at the Company, after he escaped them torturing him--apologies didn't work, but an eye for an eye did.
"But the way I see it, we're even, right now." He did his best not to sneer. "So you can shelve your disbelief."
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Maybe he wanted to apologize, but he didn't want Bennet's forgiveness--if he said he was sorry, it would be for Claire, not for the other man. And now that that had occurred to him, he was quick to point it out. "I'm not here for you. I don't need your forgiveness. But you're important to Claire. And she's important to me. So I thought maybe we could learn to be civil, so we could spend ten minutes in the same room together, on days when it's important for her for both of us to be there."
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"She doesn't have to, but she is. Her. Peter." He shrugged, the cup skidding to a halt, and looked up at Bennet. "It's more than anyone else would offer, and it's more than that." How deep his relationship with his niece was none of the other man's concern--not unless Claire felt compelled to mention it, first--but there it was. She was important because she treated him like a human being, like a proper uncle, rather than a monster, and he valued that.
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"I just want her to be safe. Happy." Being around Sylar didn't seem likely to let her fulfill those goals.
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A pause, and he raised his eyes without ever moving his head, studying him heatedly from under his eyebrows, before, "Would you believe me if I promised that I won't let anything happen to her while she's with me?"
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He met Sylar's gaze, his own cold, calculating. "I can try," he said. "That's all I can promise."
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"Maybe," he agreed, finally. "But I need to know something, first."
Something in earnest, without sarcasm or malice.
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If Bennet did, well, he might have to go back on his word. Or, at very least, end his mother as painfully as possible.
"Suresh and Molly are no threat to you or Angela," Sylar continued, holding Bennet's gaze pointedly. "And I haven't killed since New Year's Eve--Knox, for what he did to Claire--so neither am I. Not really."
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A slight pause, considering, then he went on. "I have no interest in Molly. Parkman has her well in hand. Suresh is a traitorous son of a bitch, but he's not worth my time. You... we'll see."
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The smile disappeared a moment later. "You know I can't be killed. You know the only person capable of stopping me, if I went back to my old ways, is Peter. I haven't killed you. I won't hurt Claire. And the few people I might actually do something to, I swore I wouldn't touch. Ever. As long as I live." He shrugged, shooting the briefest glance down at his coffee cup, regretting offering Nakamura his life, as per usual, and then looked back up. "So, why bother with me?"
All this seemed a much better topic of conversation than snapping at Bennet for calling Mohinder a traitor when the other man had started it.
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He would gladly see the man dead, of course. That went without saying.
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"She's been having nightmares." Not that any of the four of them that would live forever really needed that much sleep, but still. It was disruptive, when she did try and get some rest, and the nightmares were clearly upsetting her. "I've been trying to help her."
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