o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Peter and Sylar stood on the sidewalk looking first in one direction then the other. After a few minutes, Peter asked, "You like sports?"

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Yeah, between hunting and being hunted, I have a lot of time to follow the teams."

And they were off to a great start. "Is that a yes or a no?"

Sylar stomped off down the sidewalk without a backwards glance..

Peter sighed and headed off after him. Ten minutes in and it was already ten minutes too long. What the hell did they have in common besides all the bad shit that had been brought to them courtesy of their abilities? Especially, in Sylar's case. The last three years had been a nearly endless parade of horror in one way or another. And while adversity could create strong bonds, in this case, it was just as likely to create a rift of devastating proportion. There were so many wounds. Some that would never heal.

Sylar's long strides kept them moving at a brisk pace for several blocks. He had yet to say another single word. What was there to say? Sorry I tried to kill everyone you know? Peter doubted the man had many regrets, anyway. Then again, he was making assumptions. Just like everyone else did. The truth was, he didn't really know much about Sylar, the real Sylar. Or should he say, Gabriel Gray. He knew what he'd been told but, of course, that truth might be a bit bias. He knew what he'd seen or heard for himself. But then again, the circumstances in which those events occurred were extraordinary and in extraordinary situations people did things that didn't necessarily define them.

"Hey," Peter reached out and grabbed at Sylar's arm, taking two steps to Sylar's one. "Hey, hold up. Do we have a plan here or should I have just worn jogging shoes?"

Sylar rolled his eyes again but he stopped. "I have no idea what we're supposed to be doing, Petrelli. If you have any ideas then let's hear them and get this over with."

"You think I know?" Peter looked around. "Over there," he motioned to a small park. "How about we just sit for a minute and maybe something will come to mind?" He led the way over to a low wall and perched. Sylar followed without comment. This was going to be more of a challenge than he first anticipated.

Peter looked around. Spring was finally in full force. The air was fragrant with flowers and the weather was nearly perfect, not too cool, not too warm. Peter relaxed slightly. How could you not? He glanced over at Sylar who had his eyes closed and his face turned up to the sun. Apparently, even a notorious killer wasn't immune to the beauty of simplicity. It was probably a rare thing for the man. His ability didn't allow for much simplicity.

Well, let's see where it goes, he thought. "Can I ask you something?"

"No."

Peter turned to face Sylar, "No? You don't even know what I was going to ask." Sylar wasn't going to make this easy no matter what his intentions. There was just so much water under the bridge and perhaps too many bodies floating there.

"It doesn't matter what you were going to ask. We aren't friends, Peter. And you and I know that we can never be friends so whatever it is you think you're going to accomplish, you aren't. So instead of creating a potentially dangerous situation, I suggest we just find a place to eat lunch… quietly, buy some time, and then we'll part ways. The women will pat themselves on the back and hopefully we can go back to our lives both healthy and relatively sane."

Peter nodded. It made sense. That's really what they should do. "Yeah, sounds like a plan… but no."

Sylar crossed his arms. "Seriously, Petrelli? You didn't buy into whatever your mother is shoveling, did you? Because I will have to reassess your intelligence."

"I stopped trying to figure out my mother's machinations after she made us brothers. There's just too much therapy involved," he smirked. "Didn't seem to stop you though, did it?" Trading barbs with Sylar was a risk. His temper was unpredictable but he often seemed to enjoy it. It was a fine line but they had to start somewhere.

"I was drugged at the time and now I have a tenacious wife that keeps me in line. What's your excuse?" Sylar fired back with the same smirk.

"I guess, I don't really have one." In for a penny, in for a pound. He chuckled, "Did Claire ever tell you about the time she…" he finished the tale with a shake of his head.

Sylar's eyebrows rose, "What was she thinking?"

Peter shrugged, "I'm not sure *tenacious* does her justice."

"Yeah. She's pretty special, isn't she?" Sylar was no longer looking at him but staring off into the park. He didn't seem to be embarrassed about the admission, more contemplative than anything. It was a rare unguarded moment that Peter found optimistic.

"You know, despite whatever my mother is up to, you and Claire can have something. The connection is already there. I see it. It's real… for both of you, I think. I'm not wrong, am I?"

Sylar's expression closed off. His mouth was set in a hard line. "That's the tragedy. It's real, alright." He turned away, "There's a café, half block west. Let's go."

Peter looked after him a moment before following.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Their meal had been eaten in near total silence, all attempts at casual conversation rebuffed. You had to give Sylar credit for his commitment. Still, this wasn't what he had signed on for. He meant what he said, he would make inroads with the recalcitrant killer or he would (probably) die trying. But where to go from here?

"There's a tech exhibit at the convention center," Peter offered. "You up for it?"

"Not interested." Sylar pushed his plate away.

Peter sighed lightly, "You have to be interested in something. Look, we have to make an afternoon of this or believe me you will never hear the end of it. So we need to make the best of it. Is there any reason it can't be pleasant? I mean, you said you didn't hate me." Something occurred to him, "Do you blame me? Is that it?"

That caught Sylar's attention. "Blame you? For what?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. There's a lot of history. Too much. Some of it… I could have made different choices. I should have." There was a lot of that going around, too bad time travel was so dangerous, Peter considered. If any situation needed changing this would be the one.

"Hindsight is always twenty/twenty. These days, I'm trying not to dwell so much. Isn't good for my mental health," Sylar offered with a smile on his face that was anything but assuring. "Besides, who am I to cast stones?"

That was certainly a departure, if Sylar actually meant it. "You'll forgive me for saying but you've never exactly been the *bygones* type guy."

Sylar fidgeted in his seat. He looked like he'd rather be chewing glass than having this conversation. "I'm still not but I'm trying for Claire's sake. I want this for as long as I can have it."

That didn't exactly sound encouraging. Peter frowned, "You really don't believe you can have this, do you?"

Sylar scoffed, "Look Pollyanna, even you aren't stupid enough to think that someone with abilities can lead a normal life."

"Well, maybe not normal, not in every sense of the word. I misspoke. But you don't need to be normal to have a happy life."

"Has that been your experience? Because I'm pretty sure that mine has been a cluster fuck since day one." Sylar started looking around for the waitress. "Where's the check?"

Sylar was going to bolt on him. Maybe it was time for a little raw truth on his part. It was going to have to be all or nothing with Sylar. "What they did to you was pretty messed up. Sickening and criminal. I know how much Claire loves Noah but honestly, he kind of gives me the creeps. I mean, what he did to you and the others… what does that really say about the man? He tries to dress it up as a necessary evil but I don't trust him."

Sylar's eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair. "Why would you tell me that?"

"Too much honesty?" What was he thinking? He shouldn't be talking to Sylar like this. Like what? Like someone that had been through the shared craziness over the last three years? Like one of the few people on the planet who could understand how gaining abilities had been both amazing and devastating? Like a human being?

"I don't know. But you can't think it's a good idea," Sylar watched him with a speculative expression.

"I went forward in time and acquired your ability so I could destroy my own dad. Some version of me thought that the right answer to a problem was to kill my own brother," Peter responded with no little disgust. "Should I go on? You're not the only one to make mistakes."

"You really have changed, haven't you? You're not the same self righteous do-gooder I remember at all." Sylar looked more than a little awed by that.

"It's amazing what a little intuitive aptitude will do for you, I guess. Don't get me wrong, cynicism still isn't my thing and I will always stand up for what is right. It's just now I've broadened my definition of what right can be, it really isn't one thing to all people."

"Wow. Are you sure you haven't been replaced by a pod?" Sylar's cocky smirk was back. "Wasn't "right is right" your motto?"

"Yeah, don't get any ideas. There are absolutes. Hurting people, killing them, my opinion on that isn't going to change...ever. Whatever your issues, you have to find a way to control the power, not let it control you." He paused, "What did you mean about you and Claire being a tragedy?"

Sylar shook his head, "Subtle segue there, Petrelli."

"Come on. No point in playing games now. I mean it. If there is any way I can help. I will. You just have to be willing to let me." That was as plain as he could make it. If Sylar wasn't willing to meet him half way then this little venture was over before it started.

"You know the score. We both do. There's no way that this can last. Noah has dedicated his life to making sure of that and even if we do manage to survive whatever plans he has, past experience tells me that it won't matter." He paused, then added, "Villains don't get happy endings. So how could you possibly help me?"

"That is a damn bleak outlook." There was something almost resigned in the ex-killer's tone. It reminded him too much of Angela's predictions of a dire future. If Sylar really believed there was no chance for him then it was likely that he would stop fighting. And if he didn't fight then, well, old habits died hard.

"Have you met me?" Sylar scoffed, "I'm a realist. And you can't possibly be that naïve. You gotta know that Claire and I are on borrowed time. I just want to…" Sylar looked away, "I want to hold on as long as I can, you know. I never thought I'd get the chance to have what I've got and…" he shrugged.

Peter leaned forward, his arms on the table and his expression determined. "Listen to me. If you're really committed to your rehabilitation, and to making a life with Claire then you have an ally… in me."

Sylar snorted, "What does that even mean?"

"It means that I will stand with you. I will help you get through whatever you need to do to fight the urges of your ability and I will be there, as family, when you and Claire need me. And if I need to take a stance against Noah, I have no problem with it. Primatech instigated this whole situation and then made one horrific mistake after another in dealing with you. It needs to stop. Right now."

Sylar eyed him with no little suspicion. "You think I want yet another *handler*? I've got enough people dogging me already. It makes my claws itch." The lights above the table grew brighter then flickered back to normal.

"Please. That's one job I wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole," Peter offered him a lop-sided grin. "I'm talking about friendship. I know you don't think that's possible but given what we are, what we can do, you should have realized by now, nothing is impossible."

Sylar slowly tapped his index finger on the tabletop. "I swore to myself that I wouldn't go down this path again."

"Come on!" He had to make the man understand. This was too important. "What choice do you have? Do any of us have? You think I haven't been betrayed? Are you forgetting all the crap that Nathan pulled? Did you forget who my mother is? Dear old dad? We all have to deal. You can't give up. I won't and you can't."

"Aww, there's the Pollyanna I know and love," Sylar smirked but the humor never touched his eyes.

"Cut the crap. I think, I know you well enough from past experience. Someone pushes you, you push back. So why are you so sure you'll be defeated now?"

"I'm tired, Peter. I really am. My ability is all consuming. It takes everything I have to stay human but I'm doing it for Claire. I'm doing it because I want what she offers me. I know she'd be safer without me in her life but I'm selfish. You wanted honesty, it doesn't get much more raw than that."

"You know me too, Sylar. You know I mean what I say. Give me a chance. I understand the gray places now. I won't let your ability consume you." Peter locked eyes with his former foe, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Gentlemen, can I get you anything else?" The waitress pulled the ticket from her pad.

The two men sat with their eyes locked, each assessing the other. "Just the check," Peter finally offered. He held out his hand.

"I'll take the check," Sylar turned to the young woman and extended his hand.

"No, I've got it," Peter stated.

Sylar's eyes narrowed, "Put… your… hand…down."

Peter raised his hands in submission. "Ok, ok, geez. No need to get into a pissing contest. He gets the check, he pointed to his prickly lunch companion. And since you offered," Peter turned to their waitress, "Could you put a piece of that apple pie in a to-go?"

"Sure enough," she replied with a smile. "I'll be right back."

Peter looked back to see Sylar giving him a look, "What?"

"Apple pie? Seriously? All you need now is the red cape."

"I look good in red," Peter grinned.