Disclaimer: Own nothing except for Nate and Lesley

A/N: Sorry if Sylar's out of character, but remember this is an AU that Peter's in.

The rain pelted them, soaking them to the bone. Neither one seemed to notice as they stared hard at each other. One had full intention to kill, the other only wanted to have some fun and maybe teach his opponent a little lesson.

"What did you do with her?" Peter snarled at the man known as Mark Dresden.

"Oh, she's alright, she'll be back soon I'm sure."

"Did you kill her?" Mark laughed.

"No, no, dear Peter. She's just seeing thins a little…. different. Just like you." Peter gave him a look, not sure what he was talking about, but sure it wasn't good. Before he could say anything a spark of lightening hit him.

"Peter. Pete, come on, wake up." he heard a voice saying. The voice was familiar and he knew he should be hating the voice, but there was concern in the tone. Slowly he opened his eyes, only to have them assaulted with harsh rain.

"Good, was afraid I'd have to call an ambulance or something." Peter looked in the direction of the voice and saw Sylar leaning over him. On instinct he bolted up and away from the man.

"Don't. Touch. Me." He said through clenched teeth and he looked hard at him. Sylar approached him and Peter backed away.

"Pete, what's wrong?"

"You have no right to call me Pete, I don't care if you're my brother." By this point they had backed up near the road and Sylar stopped approaching.

"Ok, I won't call you Pete. But, please come in, I won't touch you, I promise. It's cold though and raining. Please come in." there was a note of pleading as well as a note of concern in his voice and eyes. Peter wasn't quite sure what he was getting at. For a couple seconds he didn't answer, just looked at him and at the house behind him. Without a word he walked past Sylar and into the house. Sylar followed.

"Lesley's out shopping and Nate's at day care, so it's just you and I." Sylar told him as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed two beers out of the refrigerator. He walked back over to Peter who was standing in the living room, looking at pictures. Peter looked at the beer held out to him, but didn't take it. With a sigh Sylar placed it on a table.

"Want some dry clothes, I'm sure I could find something…."

"What are you doing, Sylar?" Peter asked harshly as he turned to look at him.

"Sylar? You haven't called me that since we were kids and dad gave me that watch."

"Since we were kids?" Peter gave him a confused look.

"Sit down, Pete, I wanna check, make sure you didn't hit your head too hard." He said softly and with concern.

"Don't touch my head." The confusion was gone from his voice and the harshness was back.

"Ok, I won't, but let me call Les, see if she can come home. You'll let her check you out, right?" Peter had no idea who Lesley was and wasn't sure he could trust Sylar long enough to not get killed.

"Just sit down though. I'll go get you something dry to wear, you're soaked." He left before Peter could say anything else. Why was Sylar being so nice? Was Mr. Bennett watching or something? Slowly, he sat down and waited until Sylar came back. He knew he had to be ready for anything though. Opening his hand he expected to see a ball of blue light, but he saw nothing, no light, no glow, just his empty hand. Looking at the beer on the table he attempted to move it with his mind, nothing. He was starting to panic, if he had no power, he had no defense. Taking a deep breath he stood up and walked to the kitchen. Taking a knife from the knife rack, he touched the metal to his skin. With another breath he pressed down and slowly little drops of crimson showed themselves on his pale skin. Ignoring the pain, he pulled up, making a cut on his arm. Being so entranced with what he was doing he didn't notice Sylar make his way down stairs nor did he notice him walk into the kitchen.

"Peter, what are you doing?!" he shouted, startling Peter enough to drop the knife. Eyes partly filled with anger, he looked up from his arm.

"What did you do to me?" he demanded.

"Me, I'm not the one cutting your arm. What's going on? I thought you were done with that."

"My powers are gone, that's what's going on and I'm thinking you're responsible."

"Powers? You have no powers, you never have, you never will, you just have to trust me, Pete." He said it as though he'd heard Peter talk of powers before, there was a sadness in his voice as if he wanted to say or do something, but couldn't. Peter didn't answer. He looked back at his arm, expecting to see healed flesh, but only saw a bleeding wound in need of repair.

"Peter, we can't keep doing this. Nathan's gone and there's nothing that can be done about it. I miss him too." Peter looked up.

"Nathan's gone? What do you mean, Nathan's gone?"

"I'm calling the hospital, you're getting yourself checked out. I think you really hit your head when you slipped out there." Sylar said after a minute reaching for the phone. Peter didn't stop him, didn't say anything, just watched as he called, as he talked to the person on the other line like he knew them. He took the clothes that Sylar had brought down and found the bathroom. With Sylar standing outside the closed door, saying he was worried to leave him completely alone in the bathroom, Peter carefully stripped off his wet clothes, careful to not disturb his cut too much. He put on the dry t-shirt and jeans, both of which fit him perfectly.

"Come on, I'm driving." Sylar said grabbing a set of keys. He grabbed two jackets and handed one to Peter. Peter gave him a wary look as he took it and stepped outside behind Sylar.

"Why did you do that back there?" Sylar asked as he drove toward the hospital, Peter's arm wrapped in a towel.

"Uh, do what?" he asked, looking from the window to him.

"Your arm, Pete. Why'd you cut? I thought you stopped that six months ago."

"I had to know." He said quietly before turning to look back out the window.

"Know what, that someone cared? That you're alive?" his tone was reaching angry.

"What? No. And you wouldn't understand." Peter was starting to wonder if this here with Sylar was real, if Sylar really did care for him.

"Help me to."

"You'd think I was nuts."

"You're not nuts." Sylar was gripping the steering wheel hard now.

"I know I'm not, but you'd think I was." Peter said as they pulled into the hospital. He was glad too, because the pressure he was putting on the cut was really hurting.

"Ah, the Petrelli brothers, was hoping I wouldn't see you again." A man with white hair and a white coat said as he approached them. He looked familiar to Peter, but he couldn't place the face.

"Same here, Dr. Linderman." Linderman? No, Peter was not going with anyone with the last name Linderman, not if he didn't want to die.

"Ya know, Sylar, we can just stitch this up on our own, I've done it enough times." Linderman laughed.

"You have a medical degree, son?" he asked slowly.

"Uh, nursing."

"It's been awhile since you've practiced though, Pete." Sylar told him. Peter looked at him.

"Stop calling me Pete." He said, trying hard to keep the harshness towards the man he'd learned to hate intact.

"Come on, let's get you in the back and see how bad that cut is." With a deep sigh and a bit of reluctance, Peter followed him to the back while Sylar stayed out front.

"So how have things been, Peter?" Linderman asked as he filled a needle.

"Uh, ok. What is that?" Linderman smiled.

"Just a simple local anesthesia to numb the pain while I sew you up." Peter only nodded.

"So, what was it this time?" he asked as he injected the needle.

"Hmmm?"

"The cut, why did you do it?" Peter had to think of an answer that wouldn't make him sound completely insane at the same time it sounded like he knew nothing of his own life. Was that what Mark did? He sent people to alternate realities? A reality where Linderman was alive and Sylar was nice, was it possible?

"Peter, you ok?" Linderman asked knocking him from his thoughts.

"Yeah, fine, just thinking. I cut myself because, I don't know." He didn't know, great answer. He'd heard it before though, from dying patients, they would just say they didn't know why, they didn't want to admit the real reason, they were sick of fighting a losing battle, because if he was there, they were losing.

"Ok. I'll let it go for now, but I don't want to see you again."

"You won't, I don't want to see you again." Linderman laughed, not catching the serious note to Peter's voice.

Soon his arm was stitched up and he was walking out the waiting room where Sylar sat.

"Gabriel, you can take him home now, just watch out." Peter sighed at the knowledge that they didn't care they were talking about him like he was invisible.

"Will do. Thanks for being able to take him right away."

"No problem."

"What happened to Nathan?" Peter asked as Sylar started the car. Sylar looked at him.

"You really don't remember?" Peter shook his head.

"Did they check your head in there?"

"Linderman asked, I said it was fine."

"One of these days Peter you're going to get yourself killed and I won't be there to bail you out."

"I don't need you, Sylar." Peter said looking out the window at the pouring rain. Sylar sighed.

"Still calling me Sylar huh, what happened to my real name?"

"Sorry, wasn't thinking." It was barely an apology really.

"Fine. So you ok over there?"

"Still wanting to know what happened to Nathan." Sylar swallowed.

"He was shot, a year and a half ago. He was accepting the seat in Senate and someone shot him."

"I still shoot him." Peter said to himself, quietly.

"What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Ok, just remember I'm here to listen if you need to talk." He said as he pulled into the drive.

"Looks like Lesley's home. She's gonna kill you ya know."

"Why?"

"For the arm."

"Oh. Was I a cutter before?"

"Pete, do you not remember anything?"
"I do but I guess I blocked some things out." It was possible; he just wasn't sure how well Sylar would buy it.

"Huh, right. But, yeah, you cut, after Nathan's death. One day I came to your apartment. You didn't answer after I knocked several times. It was then that I found you in your bathroom, barely alive from loss of blood." He'd tried to kill himself. Was it a universal thing, either he was thought to be trying to attempt or he was attempting.

"I need time to think." He said.

"Room's upstairs. Don't be surprised if Lesley comes up to see how you're doin'." Sylar said as they entered the house. It wasn't long after he said this though that Lesley instantly came to the door.

"What happened, why's there blood on the floor and the knife?" her brown eyes were focused mostly on Peter.

"We can talk about it later, Peter's gonna go upstairs." Sylar told her in a tone that said she shouldn't argue.

"Ok, but I'll be up there, mister." Peter gave her a small smile before making his way upstairs. He found what he supposed was his room as it was very plain and simple. He sat down on the bed, his elbows on his knees as he looked out the window. What had he gotten into and how could he get out of it? Was killing himself a way or attempting to use Mark's power? His powers were gone though, he didn't heal, he couldn't move things, he was useless.

"I need you, Nathan." He said into the air as he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.

To be continued(let me know what you think)