"He kept me in there and that was it. I saw him for about a half hour every day most days, always in the morning. He didn't ask me any questions and he didn't give me any actionable information. He said he'd taken my ability and he … implied … that he wasn't handling that too well."

Hiro breathed out. "Then he is even more dangerous than we thought, if he has your abilities. It means he has them all."

Peter stared at him levelly from where he was slouched in his seat. He didn't have all of the powers out there - just a lot of them. Sylar's abilities were immaterial though and always had been. Peter just hadn't seen it until now. "Have you ever thought about what it would be like to change everything?"

Hiro frowned. "We have tried going into the past. Both you and I. It did not work."

Peter toyed with his whiskey. He could actually get drunk now, and could until his regeneration came back online, so he was nursing it slowly. He swirled the amber liquid, watching the two ice cubes in it dance around one another - bumping, grinding, melting and refreezing against one another … He pulled his thoughts back to the matter at hand. "I'm talking about something different from time travel. I'm talking about … changing the future."

Hiro studied him and said, "That is what the Resistance is trying to do."

"The Resistance … isn't succeeding. There's a definition of insanity that involves doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result."

"We are not doing the same thing," Hiro said tensely. "We vary our methods."

Peter sighed and sipped at his drink, wondering if and how much he could explain to Hiro. At some point, he had to explain to Hiro, or at least he had to convince Hiro to let him try. Otherwise, as soon as he had the information from Sylar, Hiro would destroy him. "People still die."

"People die anyway."

Peter watched his friend and he let slip the mask he'd been wearing since they'd come into that cell and rescued him that morning. It was afternoon now. "Hiro," he said, and his slightly different tone of voice caught the swordsman's attention immediately. "People don't have to die."

Hiro stared at him, his face immobile and betraying nothing.

Peter swallowed and leaned forward, putting his drink down. "There are other ways. Let me look for them. Let me find them."

"People will still die. When it is their destiny, then it is inescapable." Hiro knew this full well. He and Peter were speaking now not of Sylar, but of Ando. Hiro had tried over and over to save his friend, but it was impossible. Peter had no idea how many attempts Hiro had made, but he'd finally given up, beaten. It was the only time Peter had seen him defeated and he had come out of the process greatly aged.

Peter asked, "How long was I in there?" By Sylar's own admission, the first night Peter had woke in the cell had been most of a week after the fight.

"It has been forty-two days since the federal building. We looked for you for three days after. You were not … there."

Peter leaned back in the seat again. "That's because I was dead. Or dead to the world. Molly's power wouldn't detect me any more than it detects Claire now."

Hiro nodded. "When your powers have returned, you can take that information from Sylar – Claire's location."

"I don't need my powers. He'd give it to me now, if I asked it."

Hiro blinked twice at Peter. A very long silence settled between them. Peter picked up his drink and sipped at it again. Finally Hiro asked, "Why?"

"Because he loves me."

"He is insane!"

Peter let his head loll back. "Hiro … I'm insane too." There it was. Hiro would understand what he was trying to say.

He understood. "That is why … you did not want me to kill him. Why do you tell me this? You know I will act to protect you." By which they both knew he meant to destroy Sylar. But right now they were just talking. Hiro would not act hastily unless Peter did something to make his friend think he needed to rush.

Peter remained firmly slouched in the chair, giving no impression that they needed to hurry this along. "Does someone's death make the person who loved them love them any less, Hiro?" Again, he would not speak Ando's name. That was not allowed between them.

"He has abilities that instill love. And loyalty."

"Then have Sarah heal me. Balance me out, Hiro. We have the resources. I'll submit to anything," he sat up now, staring at the Japanese man intently, "as long as it helps convince you to give me a chance."

"A chance for what?"

"A chance to be with him."

"You were a prisoner, in a cell, Peter."

"The door was open."

"He was there. You could not have left."

"It had been standing open for three days."

"He would have tracked you down. He knew where you were at all times."

"We're not talking about him, Hiro. We're talking about me."

Hiro took a breath to object further, then let it out. After a long pause, he said, "Do you know what was to happen next Sunday?"

Peter thought about the date, but nothing came to mind. He gave a small shake of his head.

"Sylar invited negotiations with us - the Resistance - to put aside the war. He said he was willing to discuss the unilateral disbanding of Homeland Security."

Peter swallowed. So those were the arrangements he'd said he would make. "Why did you move against him now?"

Hiro turned his expressionless eyes to Peter. "We thought it was a trap. He had been reorganizing the higher levels of government, removing the warhawks and replacing them with moderates. We could not see why he would do this. His people are virtually in rebellion against him. There is a measure being rushed through Congress even now to impeach President Petrelli. It seemed to us that if he could lure together our leadership, and capture us, that it would be the measure he needed to re-cement control."

"It wasn't a trap," Peter murmured. The sort of sweeping change Hiro was describing wasn't the work of a few days. Sylar had to have started it well before, perhaps weeks back.

"He has long since eliminated our precognitives. It is difficult to be sure of such a thing before it happens."

"It's already happened," Peter insisted. "This is proof he was trying to change things."

"There is no proof that he would deal fairly with us."

"He'll tell me where Claire is, just for the asking. I promise." It was a reckless assertion and Peter knew he was gambling with Sylar's life the second he said it, but Sylar was dead if he didn't. It was a leap of faith and he was inviting Hiro to make it with him.

Hiro's lips pursed as he considered Peter's promise and all that it implied. "I will make arrangements for you to be balanced. In the meanwhile, I hope you understand - I must move Sylar and conceal him from you."

Peter shut his eyes briefly and sighed. "Hiro - I would not have told you this if I didn't have the utmost trust and faith in you." He stood up and nodded. "Keep him safe."

Hiro rose too, and gave a short bow of his head.

XXX

Peter watched as Sylar came to groggily. He handed the knife back to Hiro. It looked like one of his, and like Sylar with timepieces, one did not disrespect blades in Hiro's presence. There were only four of them in the room – Peter, Hiro, Stephen, and Sylar. Stephen's ability was to generate black holes, small rips in the fabric of reality that utterly consumed anything that fell within them. His inclusion had been Hiro's idea in case things went wrong, and while Peter didn't want an outsider here, he didn't argue it. Sylar was doped up enough on neutralizing drugs that Peter had thought it possible he wouldn't wake at all. As it was, everything would be muffled to the other man – his head full of cotton, thoughts foggy.

Sylar swallowed and looked around the room blearily, finally letting his eyes settle on Peter's. His expression was raw. He pulled only a little at his restraints – not all that surprised. He was buckled to a chair. It was heavy and metal and sadly, had served this purpose before with other people. Peter sighed at what the Resistance had become.

He walked forward to Sylar and bent, putting his hands on the other man's, wrapping his fingers around him. "I'm not giving you a choice right now," Peter said and even though he whispered, his voice carried easily in the small, barren room. He leaned forward and kissed the other man full on the lips, deepening it as soon as Sylar let him, which was only a second later.

Stephen shifted uneasily, glancing between an impassive Hiro – who had expected something like this though he had not known Peter would make it this overt – and the two lovers. His orders and guidance did not cover this sort of thing. It was supposed to be a very short, simple interrogation – one question and they were done. Mentally, he hadn't ruled out the possibility of torture or prisoner abuse – given everything Sylar had done it would be fitting if they charged admission to let people take out their frustrations on him. But he hadn't expected this as an interrogation technique.

Peter parted from Sylar, who leaned forward a little to follow him before settling back. His eyes went past Peter to the other two. Peter said softly, "Hey. Look at me. Nothing has changed – nothing at all. No pretending." He waited until some semblance of understanding crossed Sylar's face. "I need you to tell me something – just one thing. Sylar?" The other man's attention had wandered again as he was clearly trying to pull his thoughts together. "Sylar? I need to know one thing, okay?"

Sylar nodded slowly to him, focusing solely on Peter again. Peter was his lifeline and his only chance. He'd worked that out finally and now he turned his hands to hold Peter's – a hidden plea in that gesture. Peter nodded, smiling a little and breathing a sigh of relief that he'd gotten through.

In the background, Stephen said, "I thought he was just going to use telepathy." Hiro gave him a withering look that made the man embarrassed that he'd said anything at all. He fell silent.

Peter ignored it. Sarah had been able to not only vouch that Peter wasn't under any mental compulsions (which he'd been curious about as well), but also heal him of the lingering effects of the drugs in his system. Instead of a week, it had only been a day, but the continued absence of the president was causing matters political to come to a head very quickly. They had a solution, but Peter had insisted this be settled before implementing it. "Sylar? You need to tell me where Claire is."

Sylar glanced past him again.

"Yeah," Peter said, trying to recapture the heavily drugged man's attention. "They need to know. But I need to know too. Do you know where she is?"

"She was," Sylar began thickly, "in the Pinehearst morgue."

Inside, Peter felt an enormous weight lift from his heart. He and Hiro hadn't discussed it explicitly, because so much with Hiro was contextual, but Sylar's survival hinged on whether Peter could get him to answer this one question, without coercion, threat, negotiation or bribe – one simple question, with one simple answer. Peter had promised that and he had no doubt Hiro would hold him to it. "She 'was' there – when was that?"

"I … I …" Sylar looked around the room, blinking. He looked at the walls. He looked at his wrists and Peter's. He looked at Peter's face. "When … when …" He looked past him at Hiro and the other man.

"Sylar?"

"When we were together," he looked back at Peter sadly.

"We're still together."

"We are?" Sylar looked so hopeful it hurt.

Peter squeezed his hands and smiled. "Yes. We are. Is there any reason why Claire wouldn't still be there?"

Sylar looked down, considering. Finally he looked back up and said, "I can't think. She should be? How long has it been?"

Hiro walked forward. "That is enough." He offered the knife to Peter, who grimaced and took it sullenly.

Peter leaned in and kissed Sylar passionately. "I'm sorry," Peter told him. "It won't be long."

Sylar looked at Hiro blankly, then down at the floor. He tilted his head to the side cooperatively, letting Peter insert the knife and put him out again.

XXX

Peter pulled the knife out for the second time, this time swabbing at the side of Sylar's head with a wet cloth. When the other man stirred, the empath put a gentle hand on his shoulder and said, "Hold still." Hearing a familiar voice, Sylar did as directed. Peter wiped off what little blood there was, then retreated to a chair near the bed.

Sylar sat up, rubbing the damp spot behind his ear. He looked around the room. It was a fairly large room, windowless, but busy. The walls were full of shelves with books. There was a desk with the clock he'd given Peter (repaired now), as well as a worktable. One corner was screened off for privacy and another had a heavy boxing bag suspended in it. There was a television … no, a computer screen, a dresser, the bed he was on, and a two person card table in the middle of the room, with one chair at it. Peter sat in the other, which was drawn over to the side to be closer to him. There was no platform in the middle of the room, and the floor was carpeted, the walls painted, but it was a cell very like the one Peter had been in. Perhaps even the same one.

Peter said, "Now, I'm giving you a choice." He smiled. "It's basically the same one you gave me: we can fight, or we can fuck."

Sylar snorted and laughed a little. "That's not a tough choice, Peter."

"Yes, it is," Peter said, sobering. "It might be the hardest choice you've ever had to make, because I'm giving you something you didn't give me until the end." Peter shook his head. He wasn't sure, at all, how this was going to turn out, but if his own empathy was wrong, if he'd misread the situation, then it was going to be disastrous for everyone - Peter included. "It wasn't until the end that I was ready for it. I would have made … a different choice before - the wrong choice."

Sylar cocked his head slightly, a defensive cast creeping over his features.

Peter held up the wet cloth he'd used earlier, a small bloodstain on it. "You've got all your abilities." He gestured at the door, which was shut. "The door is open, to you, right now. But here in an hour or so, they're going to bring your first meal and it will be drugged." He smirked. "We talked this out for hours, me and the others, but somehow they overlooked that you'd wake up free. I didn't see any reason to point it out. It will take a few days for the drug to build up in your system, but after that, you'll be powerless." Sylar frowned.

Peter gestured at the door again. "You can walk out of here, and have everything that's outside that door." He paused, considering how to say the next part.

Sylar saved him the trouble, understanding what the choice was. "You're not outside that door. That's why it's a choice between fighting or fucking."

"I'll visit you every day," Peter said earnestly and for a moment he fought off the urge to do something dramatic like go to his knees and beg. Then he remembered Sylar had his empathy, and this might be the only chance he got anyway to express this. This was important on so many levels. He knelt before the other man and took his hands in his own. "This is the best I could swing. I don't get to make decisions unilaterally, all by myself, like you did. But this is what they would accept – life imprisonment, or what amounts to it. It's either that, or you walk out of here and we go back to the war.

"I'm hoping that after a few years I can get them to reconsider, or get you out on good behavior, or hell - just that everyone who didn't agree with me that you should be pardoned dies. You said … you said you were a patient man, and … and I'll visit you everyday. I promise. I'll even sleep with you if you'll let me." He was silent for a bit, pawing at him slowly, desperate. Sylar looked him over carefully, then moved his hands to hold Peter's and still their restlessness. Peter asked, "I want to love you. Is it enough?"

Sylar reached up and carded the fingers of one hand gently through Peter's hair. "Peter, ever since I took your ability, I have … hungered … for something that had nothing to do with power, or freedom. Only you have been able to sate that. At first I thought my attentions were what you deserved for inflicting this on me, however unintentionally. But that didn't last." He swallowed. "It couldn't - almost from the first. I started hurting you, and it hurt me." He looked past him at the door. "There's nothing I really want out there - not more than I want what's in here. I'll stay."

Sylar pulled Peter up to kiss him. They embraced passionately, ending up with Sylar flat on the bed and Peter on top of him. Peter leaned up to look down at the other man and said, "I have definitely gone crazy."

Sylar snorted. "Yes, you probably have. So … I have to ask, what's the Resistance going to do about the presidency now, with me out of the picture?"

"Pssh. That's all taken care of," Peter replied breezily. "Oh, and have I told you about my new day job?"