Title: Reporting Requirements
Characters: Sylar, Peter Petrelli
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Words: 2,800
Setting: The Wall
Summary: Sylar wants to understand what sort of a partner Peter would make.

Notes: This is another experiment in writing style, using heavy dialogue and minimal narration other than what's necessary to convey facial expressions, tone of voice, or body position.

"Tell me about the times you cheated on people." Sylar took a small sip of his beer as he watched Peter across the table of the bar. "You've said it happened."

Peter frowned. "Yeah, sort of. As I said then, it was more a case of people thinking we were going steady, exclusive, whatever, when I didn't think that was the deal."

"How many times?"

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed, then looked off in the distance. "Twice. The first time, we'd hooked up and exchanged numbers afterwards, but the next weekend I went out with someone else. I mean, I'd talked to her in the week between, but she was doing something else that weekend and I thought it was a brush-off, you know? I mean, we were talking on the phone. It's hard to tell. So I went out like I always did and had a great weekend, saw, like, a couple people. Then she called me Sunday night and was," Peter raised his brows in emphasis and shrugged, "really upset. She'd heard. She thought I was super-rude and that we were done. I went over to her place. We made up."

"Did you have make-up sex?"

Peter blinked at him. He was silent for several beats. "Yes. We did," he said in a clipped voice. "Then we broke up two weeks later because she got back together with her ex." Peter made a perplexed face, like after all these years, he still didn't get that one.

"You said there were two incidents?"

"Why are you interrogating me about this?"

"I have my reasons. Why are you evading?"

"Sylar …" Peter ate a pretzel out of the bowl between them and said nothing for a while. Sylar took a longer, slow sip of beer and waited Petrelli out. Peter finally said, "The other, we went out. Saw a movie. Talked. She wasn't in the mood for anything else, or else she was at least firm the night was over."

"You mean, you didn't get to fuck her."

Peter frowned at him heavily enough to be a confirmation, then went on as though no interruption had occurred. "So a few days later I went out with someone else to a theatre production … I don't recall which one, but there was a guy in it I'd met who was named Tony. We'd hooked up before – me and Tony, not the woman I was with, but we did afterwards in the prop room – me and the her, not me and Tony. Anyway, when the woman I went to the movie with the weekend before called me the next day asking if I was free for another movie, I told her I already had plans and she got really jealous when she found out I was going out with someone else. She broke up with me, not that I'd even thought we were going out to start with."

"Did you have make-up sex?" Sylar asked a second time.

Peter frowned at him again. "No."

"Did you try to go over to her place?"

Peter looked at the ceiling and sighed. "Yes."

"So you could have make-up sex?"

"Because she was upset, she thought I'd … done something wrong. I wanted to explain things. She wouldn't let me. She told me to leave. So I left."

"Without the sex."

"Kind of hard to do that through a closed door, so yes, Sylar. I didn't get any."

"The 'plans' you had, were they with Tony or someone else?"

"Probably Tony. We're talking about things that happened ten years ago. I remember people fine, but I'm not always good on remembering what happened when."

"When did you stop being promiscuous?"

"This really is an interrogation, isn't it?" Sylar didn't answer. Peter went on in a complaining tone, "Why are you worried about what I'd do with other people? There's no one else here. I can't cheat on you with anyone! Assuming we even got together."

Sylar gave a small, bitter smile. "You've considered it?"

"No! We're not in a relationship." Peter picked up a pretzel and broke it in half. "Not that kind of relationship."

"Of course not," Sylar said softly. In a more normal tone, he said, "I have to know if I can trust you. How you've conducted yourself in the past matters."

"My past?" Peter asked disbelievingly.

"My trust," Sylar rejoined. "Now when did you stop fucking everything that would hold still long enough and start seeing people as potential long-term partners?"

"They were always potential long-term partners," Peter said defensively.

"Prove it."

"I brought one home to Ma and Dad. Thought she was the one. I thought the world of her. I was so in love. I told them that. Then she dumped me the next week."

Sylar frowned. "When was that again?"

"Freshman year of college. First semester. I don't remember exact dates, but I pretty much fell in love right off the bat. I know we'd had plans about the holidays – doing them together, how much time we'd spend with each other's families and stuff. I took her home to dinner, my parent's house, so they could meet and Dad didn't like her family. Next thing I knew from her, we were done. In retrospect, I think he used an ability on her. At the time, I was devastated. It was senseless and ran counter to everything I thought I knew about how people felt, about how she felt. She loved me, but she dumped me anyway. So yeah, I started hitting the scene hard, just to prove people wanted me. And it didn't matter anyway, because anyone I was with for any length of time dropped me regardless, which just started the cycle all over again. I didn't take any of them home after her. I know it sounds like the height of paranoia to think my dad was involved with all of them, but I've looked at the kind of crap I know he pulled and then there was what he did to Mom …" Peter shook his head. "But yeah, fine, I fucked everything that would consent and I kept that up throughout college."

"Then you stopped. Nursing school, was it?"

Peter shrugged. "Before nursing school. It was that summer between graduating college and going to nursing school. I graduated (something I think my Dad had to pull strings to get arranged because my grades sucked; I'm still not sure I had the right credits) and was expecting to go into law school that fall or whenever I passed the exams, which Dad …" Peter shook his head again. "Anyway, that was the summer they were renovating the beach house. Him and Tim were doing it and I was volunteered to help. Everyone I'd known at college was going somewhere else in their life. I felt left behind. The lowerclassmen were staying in college and I was leaving for law school. All the people in my class had moved on to master's degrees or jobs. There were a couple people going on to the same law school that Dad had picked out, but they hated me. I think they knew I didn't qualify and was only getting in on my family and connections."

Peter huffed and went on, "I was cut off from everyone but family. I quit doing drugs. I mean, it would have been tough to do them with Dad and Tim there all the time, but I didn't want to anyway. And the break was good. I'd started getting into a habit with some stuff and I didn't want to get addicted. Any more than I was. So that stopped. First month was rough, but Tim was a big help and honestly Dad wasn't that bad. For Dad. The orders were simple and it was stuff I was okay with doing – building things, fixing stuff, physical labor. I didn't know how to do anything to start with, but I enjoyed learning. It was … good. I started talking to Tim about how much I didn't want to be a lawyer. He was the first person in the family, the first person I respected that way, who told me it was okay not to follow in my father's, and Nathan's, footsteps. That I could do my own thing. I thought about that a lot, but it wasn't until Linderman said he'd fund nursing school that I figured out how I could actually make it happen. I know, or at least I assume, Linderman was doing it as a big 'fuck you' to Dad, but I didn't care. At the time, that's all I wanted to say to him, too."

"Your sexual relationships after that were … faithful?"

Peter shrugged. "I didn't have many. I'm not saying I was celibate or anything. I blew a few guys I had arrangements with and I dated a few women, but it wasn't the several-times-a-week, every-weekend-a-couple-parties thing it had been in college. I had friends, but it was mostly sort of professional. We were all busy studying. Around the time I was graduating, I was started a job with Charles Deveaux as one of my patients, and I saw Simone." Peter pursed his lips and picked up his beer. "It was like the start of freshman year all over again. I loved her at first sight."

"How did that end?" Sylar waved a hand dismissively, "I'm fairly sure you've told me, but you mention so many people it's difficult to keep track of all of them."

"It ended badly. I faced off with Isaac. I was invisible. He started shooting wildly. She walked in. She was hit. She didn't make it."

"He was shooting? Not you? I thought you said it was your fault when you told me about it before."

"I didn't have a weapon, but I was egging him on. It was my fault."

"Did you stand in front of her or otherwise lure him into shooting her?"

"I lured him into shooting wildly."

"Without knowing she was there or going to be there?" Sylar pressed.

Peter huffed. "No, I didn't know she was going to be there. It just happened!"

"Then it wasn't your fault."

Peter frowned. "She died. I shouldn't have …" He shook his head.

Sylar shrugged it off. "I was wondering what you held yourself responsible for. That's a subject for another conversation, though. For now, let's say she hadn't died, was never shot, whatever. Were the two of you an item?"

"We were dating," Peter said with more reservation than he'd used for most of his other answers.

"Did you see a future with her?"

"Maybe. We were still working that out." And still with the guarded tone.

"Why? You said you said you loved her. Did that change?"

Peter pursed his lips and looked away. "She dumped me, too, okay? For the most part. She was … getting back with Isaac. I don't think she really knew what she wanted yet."

Sylar's brows rose. "Isaac, the one who shot her?" Peter nodded. "Ah. That explains why she was there." Sylar smiled. "What a soap opera that must have been. That's the artist I killed, right? Isaac Mendez?" Peter exhaled heavily, then nodded. Sylar said, "You're welcome." Peter grimaced at him. Sylar probed, "Why didn't you kill him yourself if he was stealing the woman you loved?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "He wasn't- That's not how I do things, Sylar. She chose him. Or was kind of choosing him, or maybe she'd chosen him, I don't know. I never had a chance to ask her for sure."

"But you fucked her, right?"

Peter made an inarticulate noise of frustration. "Yes, Sylar. I had sex with her. We made love. It was hot. Then she dumped me. Are you happy now?"

Sylar smiled thinly. "Somewhat. So Simone didn't return your feelings. Who was next?"

"You want my whole history here?"

"Obviously."

Peter snorted. "Caitlin. I've mentioned her before."

"Yes. Tell me again."

Peter fell silent for more than a minute, looking around the room distantly. Sylar ate a few pretzels and waited. Finally, Peter said, "I met her in Ireland when I didn't have my memories. She helped me. She was kind, but practical. I showed her my abilities and she didn't freak out. She accepted them." He swallowed and sighed.

"Why aren't you still with her?"

"I took her to the future with me. We were …" Peter blinked and shrugged, falling silent.

"You were in the future?"

"Yeah." Peter stood up. "We're done."

"What? Why?" Sylar got to his feet, looking genuinely disappointed.

"Because I said so." Peter pulled his coat off the back of the chair and swung it on. "I love- loved Caitlin, I- Listen, I'm not talking about it. Not right now. She wasn't … a bookmark or a milestone on my way here. She was a human being that I miss and I lost." His voice broke on the last word.

Sylar shut his mouth on whatever he'd been about to say. Instead, after a moment of thinking, he said quietly, "I know what it's like to do something that causes you to lose someone you … felt like … might have been the one you were going to be with forever." He swallowed. "I know that feeling."

Peter regarded him steadily, then nodded. It was a long, quiet walk back to the apartments. When they reached there and were safe in the lobby, protected from the elements, Peter took a seat instead of saying his goodbyes and going straight up to his place. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them to warm them. "Who was she – the one you loved?"

Sylar blinked, but his face didn't change expression. After a long pause, he said, "Elle." Peter nodded. "You already knew that," Sylar added.

Peter nodded again. "I don't know how you felt about her, or how you feel about her now." He blew on his hands again as Sylar stood, watching him stiffly. Peter said, "Were there others?"

"Other women I fucked? Yes."

Peter looked up at him. "Did you love them?"

"No."

"Who were they?"

Sylar released a controlled sigh, his face grim. "In order: Maya, Elle, Lydia, and Janice." Peter looked at the floor and said nothing. Sylar amended, "Janice probably doesn't count."

"You only dated?"

Sylar snorted. "No. I was disguised as her husband at the time of the fucking. She never knew it was me."

Peter's brows rose and he mouthed a silent 'oh'. "Yeah, that's not a relationship. But were the other two just … casual?"

"Yes."

"But Elle wasn't. How did you … lose her?"

"She died."

Peter looked up at him for a long beat with no more or less than his usual perceptive gaze, then said plainly, "You killed her."

Sylar swallowed and shifted his weight in a tiny fidget before he caught himself. He breathed in through clenched teeth, then smirked viciously. "Yes, Peter. I killed her. And it wasn't an accident like yours with Simone. It was premeditated. I didn't even end her for her ability. I did it because we were over. I kissed her and I killed her. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Peter looked shocked. "You killed her for breaking up with you?"

"I killed her because she betrayed me! She knew I wasn't a Petrelli and she'd been lying to me all along! It wasn't going to stop. I died for her and I still had to hear the truth from Noah Bennet of all people, instead of HER!"

Peter's shocked expression faded. He raised his brows briefly and tilted his head in a sort of shrug.

Sylar took a step closer, eyes narrowing as he studied Peter's reaction. "Don't tell me that's acceptable to you as a reason for murder!"

"Well, I can't say it doesn't make sense. It fits with what you've said was important to you – honesty, freedom from manipulation, loyalty." Peter rubbed his hands together slowly. "I couldn't be with someone like that either. Even with people like Ma and … Nathan - the secrets they kept, keep, destroyed my relationship with them."

"You didn't kill them over it."

"No, I didn't. If what you're asking is – do I think you did the right thing, the answer is no. But you already know that. You don't think you did right either. You feel remorse."

"How do you know how I feel?" Sylar sneered.

"You're angry about it – shouting, confessing, refusing to agree when I showed some empathy for your motivations, calling it murder instead of a killing when you thought I was excusing it. You're acting guilty. I can feel it coming off you. You still hurt-"

"Shut up!"

Peter stood up and walked to stand in front of Sylar. He lifted his chin and said, "You interviewed me to see if I'd be the kind of partner you wanted. Guess what? I did the same." Peter reached out slowly and put his hand on Sylar's shoulder, rubbing once. "You're human, Sylar. It's okay. I can deal with that." Peter turned and went to the door to the stairs, letting it bang shut behind him as he went up.