A/N: This is the phone conversation that Peter had while Sylar was sleeping between chapters Getting Over the Fear and Waking Up Alone. Peter did a number of other things during this time, teleporting around invisibly and spying, as he said, but this was the only time he spoke with his brother. I know I marked this story as Complete and said it was done with, but I had this written and thought people might want to read it. It's from Peter's POV and I hope it shows how calculating he was at manipulating Nathan. By this point he'd already settled on his plan. He knew his time was very limited, because the daily precognition efforts aimed at keeping Nathan safe would detect his assassination attempt if he let too much time pass between formulating a plan and carrying it out.

Peter dialed Nathan's personal number. He knew it by heart. Eidetic memory didn't hurt either. Even though it was Nathan's personal number, he didn't answer it himself. He had people for that and today that person was Terry. After Terry's standard greeting, Peter said, "Hey. It's me, Peter. Let me talk to Nathan."

Peter was known, and his voice was recognized immediately. There was a moment of silence and then Terry came back on, saying, "He'll be right with you. Just a moment."

A little more silence, and Nathan's cool, crisp voice came on the line. He sounded like his little brother had just called him up out of the blue, but despite that, he was still glad to hear from him. There was no trace of the hysteria that had been going through the White House following Peter's disappearance. "Hey Pete! Good to hear from you. How are you doing?"

Peter matched him for tone. "I'm okay, Nate. You doing okay?"

"I'm fine, sure. What's up?"

Nathan was being cagey. Peter decided to cut the bullshit. "You know that guy named Sylar?"

Nathan took a moment before responding. "Yeah."

His voice hardened. "He bought me as a sex slave. I restored my memories just a little while ago."

"Is he dead?"

Ah. He's interested in the bait. "No." And now Peter introduced strain to his voice and let it bleed in stronger as he spoke. "He fucked me, Nathan. I… I didn't have any memories. I didn't know. I thought… I thought he was you, as much as I could remember you. It felt so familiar… like someone who should…"

Nathan's voice was pure velvet, but all he said was, "Pete."

Silence hung between them on the line. Finally Peter said, "I was going to give him to you."

"You let a man fuck you, Pete." Nathan could have been telling him it was likely to rain soon, for all the emotion that was in his voice.

"I didn't know." He sped up his breathing, sounding anxious. "I tried to stop him, but I couldn't. He hurt me. He tortured me with that implant. He beat the crap out of me-"

It sounded like Nathan's lip curled in disgust. "Stop sniveling. Petrellis don't whine like little bitches, Pete. You know that."

He sucked in his breath and held it for a moment. "I know." He paused and then forged on, "There's a doctor. Mark. I don't know his last name, but you can check with him. He had to put stitches in my ass."

"What?" Nathan sounded faintly surprised, which for him meant he was completely thrown.

"I told you I tried to stop him. He… he broke me. I… I begged."

He could hear Nathan's breathing on the other end. He was getting somewhere all right. He gave it a few more seconds to let Nathan contemplate how rough the sex had to be to warrant stitches. It hadn't been the actual penetration that had hurt him, but Sylar putting his hands to each cheek and literally pulling him apart with enhanced strength while he did it. When he thought enough time had passed, Peter added, "He fucked me over and over. He knew who I was. He kept talking about you."

"What did he say?" Now Nathan's voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried.

"He said that once he'd broken me completely and I was irrevocably his, that he'd kill you, and he'd use me to rule the world."

"And are you… broken completely?"

Peter's voice was small and timid. "I want him." He said nothing else.

"Where is he now?" There was an edge to Nathan's voice. The dual barbs of protectiveness and possessiveness fueled his jealousy, which was what Peter was aiming at – getting him so worked up he didn't think things through. It was tough to get through Nathan's armor, but Peter knew how to do it.

"Asleep. He said he was going to come after you tomorrow." It didn't hurt to toss in a little self-interest to motivate Nathan.

"Why didn't you kill him for me once you had your memories back?"

Peter was silent for a long moment, but it wasn't because he didn't know what to say. Here was where he sealed Sylar's death warrant. If things went bad and he couldn't pull it off, Peter knew he'd survive, but Sylar would not. He made his voice soft. "Because I liked the way he fucked me." He let his voice deepen and express his happiness. This part wasn't hard to do. "It felt great. It felt real. He really thought I was his. It was nice… just to pretend." He smiled because he knew his expression would be heard in his voice. "And so after I had my memories back, I let him fuck me again."

"Pete." This time Nathan's voice wasn't soft. It was sharp like a blade, sharp as Sylar's shaving razor. Peter would have smirked, but he didn't want to risk it flavoring his voice. Now it was time to set the hook.

"I'm going to go back, Nathan. To him. And I'm going to let him fuck me again and again, because now I know. And I could stop him, but I won't, because I know I won't get the chance to do this again. You can send a team to come get me tonight. I'll have him for you. Then you can take your turn." He grinned at the last.

There was a long silence. He could hear Nathan's breathing, slightly accelerated, tightly controlled. He even heard him swallow, probably salivating in anticipation. Finally Nathan said a single word: "Where?"

Hook, line and sinker! Peter gave him the address of Gabriel Grey's apartment and made promises of when he'd have Sylar in bed and as defenseless as he was likely to be. He hung up after that and huddled behind the low wall of the roof of the Deveaux Building. He liked coming here. Charles had been a nice guy. Sometimes, when he came here, it almost seemed like he felt the old man's presence. He rocked back and forth, hugging his knees, staring off into nothingness.