Title: Love Forgives
Characters: Sylar, Peter
Words: 800
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Setting: The Wall
Summary: Sylar realizes he misunderstood the meaning of a basic word.
"You completely redefine my idea of what love is and should be. That it needn't be possessive, volatile or detrimental to your well-being, but can be selfless, gentle and consistent, and should empower you to pursue your passions. That it should balance and enrich a life, not tear it to pieces."
- Beau Taplin, The Redefining
"Whatcha reading?"
Sylar set aside the book he'd been staring at. "You said you … loved me." He rubbed his fingers restlessly on the cover of the poetry book.
"Yeah?" Peter looked at the cover, then at Sylar's eyes.
Peter's eyes were wide, dark, and fathomless. Sylar stared into them, feeling the ground fall away like when he levitated – a feeling of being transported, deeply moved. He sighed, helpless against that power. "I was just doing research," he said weakly.
Peter sat down next to him, resting a hand on top of Sylar's. He said nothing. His expression was kind and attentive as it often was these days.
Sylar looked down at where they touched. "I wanted this connection so badly. It didn't occur to me I didn't know what it was." He licked the inside of his lips nervously. "I thought … love was jealous, demanding, and required sacrifice." Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away so he could open the book to where he'd been before. "It says here, 'it needn't be possessive, volatile, or detrimental to your well-being, but can be selfless, gentle, and consistent, and should empower you to pursue your-" His voice, already wavering, cut off. Sylar pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Peter's hand, bereft of Sylar's, stroked slowly along the outer side of Sylar's thigh.
Sylar shook his head slowly. "That's … strange. I don't know what it is. Why would someone be like that?"
"Like a friend?" Peter tilted his head slowly. "You were the one who once told me, 'That's what brothers do.' This is the same – people who love each other treat each other well. That's how it is. The rest – that other, demanding, hurting you – that's not love."
"But," Sylar floundered, "Brothers – family – they hurt you. They disappoint you. That's what they do."
Peter blinked slowly at him, head still turned. "That's why you saved me? You took that risk because …?"
Sylar shrugged and flinched. "It was … there may have been some part of it you might call noble. I hoped you'd see it that way. But I thought I was your brother. I thought that's what I was supposed to do – sacrifice. I was trying to prove myself. I wanted to show you I … I could be … really …" He shrugged again, wincing.
Peter swallowed and moved his hand up to Sylar's shoulder. "It was noble. I'm grateful. Family might hurt you and maybe you forgive them, but that doesn't make hurting you okay. That's not love when they do it. It's selfish. It's abuse."
"'Even if your generosity, you're selfish,'" Sylar quoted Peter's words to him from another life. "But he loved you."
"We can be selfish and still love. But you show your love when you put aside your selfishness for someone else."
"That sounds like sacrifice."
"If it's a sacrifice, then it's not an act of love. I don't work as a paramedic because it's a sacrifice. I do it because I want to help people. If it was a burden I wasn't willing to bear, then I'd find another job. It doesn't mean it's always easy or there aren't mornings when I wish I didn't have to go to work, but it's something I want to do. If you love someone, then you want to do things for them. Your selfish desire is to selflessly help them."
Sylar gave a small smile. "That's so contradictory."
Peter shrugged one shoulder. "It's how it is. Nathan spent a lot of time with me. He was there for me when I needed him. He never acted like it was a sacrifice. He joked around about it, but it wasn't serious."
"He … enjoyed being your big brother."
Peter smiled, sad and warm at the same time. "I forgave him, you know."
Sylar nodded a few times. "I killed him."
"You took him away from me." It was a whisper. Peter drew in a deep breath and looked away.
Sylar bit his lips and looked down. "Love should … not tear a life to pieces. But I've done that to you."
"You didn't love me then."
Sylar looked up, apprehension on his face. "I haven't … said those words to you yet."
"I know," Peter said simply. "It's not the words that are important. It's never the words." Peter leaned in, kissing Sylar chastely on the cheek. "Love forgives, Sylar."