Title- Behind The Wall
Author- Laura
Summary- Sylar is curious about just what it is that would induce Peter to willingly climb inside the head of his brother's murderer. Missing scene from The Wall. Pemma. Oneshot.
A/N- Written because I just can't get enough Pemma, haven't written any lately, and have come up with several hundred more reasons why they couldn't have created a better match for Peter if they'd tried (which, I'm assuming, they did). Takes place at some point after Sylar picks up the hammer.
Behind The Wall
The ring of the hammer against masonry was the only sound besides the whining of the wind across the high pinnacles of the surrounding buildings. Peter swung for what felt like (probably was) the billionth time. A cursory glance to his left told him that Sylar was once again done with his clock work for the day, and had joined him at the wall.
Distracted for a moment, Peter swung wrong and the hammer broke, the handle and head parting ways with a loud crack. He swore loudly, dropping the handle. Then he kicked the wall in frustration, succeeding only in probably breaking his toe, which caused him to swear again.
As his irritation was replaced with an overpowering sense of futility, Peter slid down to sit at the base of the wall. A few minutes passed in silence.
Then Sylar spoke. "So, tell me about her."
"What?"
"The girl that you've come to the ends of the earth to save," Sylar clarified. "Tell me about her.
Peter gave him a hard look. They might have spent three 'years' alone together in this virtual hell, but that didn't mean he was in a sharing mood. "Why would I tell you?" he asked peevishly.
Sylar shrugged. "You said I'm supposed to save her, right? Shouldn't I at least know a little bit about her?"
In no mood to argue about it, Peter gave in. Thinking about Emma stirred up conflicting emotions (a kind of inner calm that he doesn't recall feeling before; regret over being the cause of the tears she shed the last time he saw her), but somehow she's a comforting subject nonetheless.
"She's blonde, about average height. She works at Mercy Heights with me," he said
Sylar scoffed. "That's helpful," he said. "Now I can narrow my search down to about ten million women who fit that description. Well, maybe not the hospital part, but there are a lot of blonde women out there, Peter. I don't want you to tell me what she looks like. Try and give me an idea of who she is. I want to understand what it is about her that made you trap yourself in here with me."
At his words, Peter was forced to stop and think about that. What was it about Emma that made him so willing to go to any lengths necessary to keep her safe? Frankly, he wanted to just tell Sylar that it wasn't her, per se, as much as the thousands of people she might help to kill. Unfortunately, they had discovered in the past few years that lying was difficult behind the wall. Perhaps it was because their minds were linked at the moment, but it was extremely hard to completely cover up the truth. Honesty was his best policy.
"She's probably the only friend I have," he confessed. "She works in the file room, but she's actually a doctor who never finished her residency. She plays the cello like an angel, and she has the most incredible power I've ever experienced. She drinks tea, never coffee, and she has this off-the-wall sense of humor..." He smiled, remembering a few of the conversations they'd had.
Sylar gave him a knowing smirk, which Peter couldn't understand. "Go on," he prompted.
Now that he'd started, Peter found that he didn't want to stop talking about Emma, and was all too happy to oblige. "She can say more with a look than most people say in a whole week. Blue is her favorite color. She carries a copy of The Age of Innocence around in her purse so she'll always have something to read. She has a cat named Button. She's the strongest person I know; life's put her through a lot but she just bounces right back. And... and she has the most beautiful eyes of anyone I've ever met."
The final statement was said in a whisper, as Peter finally realized what it was that had made Sylar smirk like that. He stared intently ahead of him, not seeing anything as he thought back on what he must have sounded like for the last couple minutes. That was, completely love-struck. As he mulled it over, he realized that the assumption wouldn't be that far off. Emma captivated him, and the longer he pondered it, the more he realized that he was already in far deeper than he'd meant to get. She was someone he could all too easily fall in love with. She was someone he wanted to fall in love with.
At least, if they ever got out of here.
As if reading his mind, Sylar said, "Don't worry. We'll save her."
It was all Peter could ask for- a chance to get out, to get back to her, to set things right between them. And right now, with the revelation fresh in his mind, he would take anything he could get.
Again: Pemma = perfect. I know there are a lot of you out there who think otherwise. I'll be all too happy to give you my reasons, if you care to ask them.