;time marches on

                            she wants him to keep on talking. give her something else to focus on than the fear she can still feel gripping her that he’s hurt. she’s never seen him hurt before. a little worn and stretched too thin but that’s not the same thing. he wears those vulnerabilities too close to his skin as if they’re weaknesses he can’t afford to pay attention to. as if countless lives will be lost if he’s not out there saving them.

                                                   there’s no guilt in her that she doesn’t share his view. admires it but doesn’t share it. losing himself isn’t a price worth paying just to make sure the rest of the world’s okay. he’d only argue with her if she said that and it would turn into one of those discussions that neither of them win. he can’t bear that weight all by himself though he’s so damned determined to try.  

                       maybe it’s selfish of her to resent that about him — she doesn’t want to see what happens when he fails. if it is selfish she doesn’t really care. this world’s done nothing to make her believe it’s worth saving. cutting her mouth on the words she knows better than to say, she keeps it closed as her focus settles on the wound.

 he doesn’t even know fully how any of it works. he doesn’t know why or how it happens. he only knows that it happened once before. and it was strange and uncomfortable. he remembered, too, when his dad had taken his abilities. how weak he had felt. how he had really been normal again. and he had hated it so damned much.

 he snorts a laugh. small. and then a wince. because his face hurts still. he’s got to get used to some pain again. or maybe just be really careful. he’s still a bit on edge though. he doesn’t know for sure if that’s what it is. Mohinder probably had more answers than he could give. but right now he’s on his own.

 well, not entirely. he’s not completely on his own because Ana is here. and he likes the feeling of knowing that’s a certain thing he can rely. she says she always leaves. but she hasn’t left. she’s been there for him when he’s needed her. like she is right now.

                             his silence isn’t very reassuring. he’s said that he’s made mistakes and it seems like this might be one of them — hurting people by trusting the wrong ones. and she wonders for a minute if she’s included in that. if it was part of what their falling out is caused by in the future. 

                                                     ( it’s still a strange feeling and she doesn’t like it. unsettled by it in a way that bothers her to look at him and know that it’s not really him —— he looks like Peter. sounds like him and acts like him. a little older maybe but that makes sense all things considered. the expression he wears is different. she can see his rough edges and they almost match her own. )

                             she wants to believe that helping him will keep him from turning out this way. that if they succeed, the future that he knows will be rewritten. it doesn’t really matter what caused a change in him if they can prevent it from happening. except it does. going into this blind would be reckless and he’s already treading on thin ice by tampering with time. just by being here — literally or physically — and talking to her, it could be setting an alternate chain of events into motion.

 of course she would. but he was different back then. he wasn’t who he was now, sitting there next to her. so much had changed. him, especially. all he had wanted was peace. he hadn’t wanted a war. but the specials were his people, they had come to him and Gabriel to be kept safe. and he had wanted to give them that, safety.

 so much got in the way though. and then the war, the blood on his hands. the making the worst choices. believing Nathan had wanted the same thing. all of it a lie even though he never wanted to believe it. but he had always had the fault of being naive and hopeful. Nathan had even told him so.

 “things changed. you wouldn’t like the way they look.” he says, unsure of he should tell her everything that happened. the betrayal he decided on and what it all led to her. he wonders if she’d look at him different in this timeline. if she’s think of it too much.

                  said too much. strange since it’s usually the opposite that’s the problem—- she never says enough. a few words here and there, some that even form a complete sentence with the appropriate structure. that’s  r a r e  though. the thoughts that filter through were in pieces that it’s a constant effort of assembling them in order to form an adequate response. they don’t always make sense. logic and reason for her is in different parts of the brain, worn away sanity. isolation or the lack of basic social skills were both likely causes—- he should know that already.

                              it’s why they rely on nonverbal gestures to convey what can’t be expressed out loud. there’s a comfort in knowing that he understands her better than she understands herself at times. doesn’t regard the concept with fear or revulsion, seeking a wall to hide behind to keep everyone else out. he’s on the other side of it with her—- a choice of her own making. she let him in. made the decision that if she’s going to trust anyone, it’ll be him. he’s earned it. not by plying her with false platitudes that she could trust him then swearing an oath to it. being there and listening when she doesn’t talk is enough.

                       more than enough actually. but she couldn’t tell him that because it won’t come out right. like what she just said hadn’t. the love and hate she bore him has no clear-cut line between them. how could it when neither phrase quite fits? what she feels for him and in regards to him makes a mockery of both. she’s felt hate before. love too, at a lesser degree than the former and for a shorter amount of time. if this is love then she doesn’t yet know what kind. hasn’t attempted to try at figuring it out. doesn’t really want to if it means he’ll look at her again like he is right now. she doesn’t want to lose him that it’s not worth the effort of analyzing why.

 he’s heard something like that before, too, hasn’t he? it’s something Gabriel might have told him, too. he can draw up all the parallels between Gabriel, his best friend, and Ana, whatever she is to him now. he’s still not sure. only that he’s been through a rough road like this before. there were two differences though.

 one, he knew the things Gabriel had done. he had seen what being Sylar had done to him. their road was what felt like years long. and there was a lot that they had to hash through. he knew Gabriel was trying but he had seen him struggle within himself on more than one occasion. he had witnessed him literally holding himself back from doing what he had done before. he had seen the coldness of that struggle, the harshness of it. he had sat with him and tried to help him through. he had listened to him talk about what he had done with a crack to his voice and a shakiness to his hands. he knew almost everything there was to know about him. what made him what he was now and who he had been.

 he didn’t know the things Ana had done, what happened to make her think that she was not worth any effort. that made her think she deserved to be hated. he didn’t know much of her story. but he knew her. and he wasn’t even sure how that was possible.

 and the second was he had hated and wanted to go on hating Gabriel for some time. he had thought he would forever. but things changed. and he had seen Gabriel’s guilt, his need for forgiveness. and they had had nothing but the other behind that wall. he learned things about him, not what he was convinced was leftovers from his brother. but the man, no the broken in kid that was behind Sylar. and he had found another brother in him. like a younger brother, he was a little needy and messed up but he trusted him now. and he was family. not a mere replacement. he would never be Nathan. but he was forgiven for having taken him from him. he had thought that wasn’t ever going to be possible. Claire was furious with him. his mom wouldn’t speak to him for a while. but it had been possible. it had taken ripping himself apart over and over, ripping Gabriel apart even more but it had happened.

 but he had never hated Ana. maybe he didn’t know enough to hate Ana. but he couldn’t picture hating her. she was a vital part of him. something that lived and thrived in him. and sometimes he felt like he needed her.

                          it’s difficult to see him this way: exposed with his insides hanging out. she’s been gutted before—- she knows what it looks like both literally and figuratively. her hands that are trying to stem the blood flow are shaking when they reach out to him. knowing she shouldn’t because she’s always broken everything she’s tried to be gentle with. wanting to try for him since he’s done it so many times for her is ripping her in two; the insecurity that nothing she’s doing is good enough is daunting.

                                                            he deserves so much better than her clumsy attempts at comfort. words spoken that she’s never really believed in are offered because he does. he needed to hold onto his faith and she needed him. with that thought in mind she can’t help but wonder—- is this being selfish or selfless? 

                           ( not that sure she knows the answer, or even wants to figure it out. thinks that it might be somewhere in between the two—- perhaps it’s one of those lines they’ve drawn. )

                                          seems like they’ve made quite a lot of them, yet she can never manage to find where one started and another ended. they’ve been navigating around them for so long that she doesn’t want to consider what will happen if they stop. if she had to take a step back and try to regain her objectivity. pretty much said goodbye to that when it came to him a long time ago.

                         for some reason she’s still waiting to regret it. for the promises he’s made her to be betrayed since they always are when someone says them. all she’s ever been able to depend upon is a person’s worst nature—- nine times out of ten they don’t have a best. he does and she’s grown to trust it. trust him. a terrifying concept in itself since she doesn’t trust carelessly.

                                  the few she befriends are kept at a distance, given only impartial and insignificant details to satisfy curiosity. not anything that can be used against her but at the same time it prevents anyone from really knowing her. he does and she’s not repulsed by that. when instinct tells her that she should be, it’s easy to ignore it.

            he moves away and she expects him to withdraw from her—- shift away or remove himself from her grasp. a hand on his cheek or a kiss to his brow is far more intimate than she’s been with someone else in a very long while. that she had initiated that contact isn’t something she wants to consider just yet. knows she will later once she retreats back to her own room.

                                   considers whether she shouldn’t do so right then. leave and let him get some much-needed rest. it won’t look as dark tomorrow once the long night’s gone. it feels like abandonment though. that being in here might be helping him and if she goes, all the progress they’ve made will be for naught.

              he draws back but he’s still close. the same as the last time they were in a situation like this—- when she’d asked him to stay and he’d left. lingered near her and said he would return but he still went. he laughed and the knot in her stomach only tightens. it’s nothing more than a sound pushed out through his mouth and it’s strange to think she missed that lightness in his voice.

 sometimes she sounds so devoted and he’s not sure how to respond. loyalty to him has always been necessary and yet not always given to him. he knows the sting of betrayal. he felt it from the hands of his own family more than once. but he had learned that was the way his family worked. they were eager to get ahead. he expected more from his friends.

 and from Ana he got more than that. he got more than his expectations. and he was left unsure of what it was she thought that he could give her. because he didn’t know what it was exactly that she was looking for? someone to care for her? he did that already, without any second thought. of course he did.

 still he’s unsure. still he doesn’t know. but the two of them always reaching and listening. and he thinks that it might be easy for them eventually. it was easy. it was the whole figuring it out and letting out on the table that was the hard part. the part he couldn’t put together. he wanted to though.

 he remembered all the things he sued to want though. to save the world, to be a hero. and he wondered if he ever really did it. he knew that he had helped. it was evident in the lives around him. but had he ever really saved anyone? truly saved lives on the job? outside of it with his abilities?

 did he just want to save Ana? he didn’t know the answer to that question. he never could muster enough courage to dig into what it was he felt for her. but she always looked at him like he was brave. was she wrong? he knows that he’s tried. he’s always trying. and he wants to believe that’s enough. to try.

                          it’s difficult to see him this way: exposed with his insides hanging out. she’s been gutted before—- she knows what it looks like both literally and figuratively. her hands that are trying to stem the blood flow are shaking when they reach out to him. knowing she shouldn’t because she’s always broken everything she’s tried to be gentle with. wanting to try for him since he’s done it so many times for her is ripping her in two; the insecurity that nothing she’s doing is good enough is daunting.

                                                            he deserves so much better than her clumsy attempts at comfort. words spoken that she’s never really believed in are offered because he does. he needed to hold onto his faith and she needed him. with that thought in mind she can’t help but wonder—- is this being selfish or selfless? 

                           ( not that sure she knows the answer, or even wants to figure it out. thinks that it might be somewhere in between the two—- perhaps it’s one of those lines they’ve drawn. )

                                          seems like they’ve made quite a lot of them, yet she can never manage to find where one started and another ended. they’ve been navigating around them for so long that she doesn’t want to consider what will happen if they stop. if she had to take a step back and try to regain her objectivity. pretty much said goodbye to that when it came to him a long time ago.

                         for some reason she’s still waiting to regret it. for the promises he’s made her to be betrayed since they always are when someone says them. all she’s ever been able to depend upon is a person’s worst nature—- nine times out of ten they don’t have a best. he does and she’s grown to trust it. trust him. a terrifying concept in itself since she doesn’t trust carelessly.

                                  the few she befriends are kept at a distance, given only impartial and insignificant details to satisfy curiosity. not anything that can be used against her but at the same time it prevents anyone from really knowing her. he does and she’s not repulsed by that. when instinct tells her that she should be, it’s easy to ignore it.

            he moves away and she expects him to withdraw from her—- shift away or remove himself from her grasp. a hand on his cheek or a kiss to his brow is far more intimate than she’s been with someone else in a very long while. that she had initiated that contact isn’t something she wants to consider just yet. knows she will later once she retreats back to her own room.

                                   considers whether she shouldn’t do so right then. leave and let him get some much-needed rest. it won’t look as dark tomorrow once the long night’s gone. it feels like abandonment though. that being in here might be helping him and if she goes, all the progress they’ve made will be for naught.

              he draws back but he’s still close. the same as the last time they were in a situation like this—- when she’d asked him to stay and he’d left. lingered near her and said he would return but he still went. he laughed and the knot in her stomach only tightens. it’s nothing more than a sound pushed out through his mouth and it’s strange to think she missed that lightness in his voice.

 sometimes she sounds so devoted and he’s not sure how to respond. loyalty to him has always been necessary and yet not always given to him. he knows the sting of betrayal. he felt it from the hands of his own family more than once. but he had learned that was the way his family worked. they were eager to get ahead. he expected more from his friends.

 and from Ana he got more than that. he got more than his expectations. and he was left unsure of what it was she thought that he could give her. because he didn’t know what it was exactly that she was looking for? someone to care for her? he did that already, without any second thought. of course he did.

 still he’s unsure. still he doesn’t know. but the two of them always reaching and listening. and he thinks that it might be easy for them eventually. it was easy. it was the whole figuring it out and letting out on the table that was the hard part. the part he couldn’t put together. he wanted to though.

 he remembered all the things he sued to want though. to save the world, to be a hero. and he wondered if he ever really did it. he knew that he had helped. it was evident in the lives around him. but had he ever really saved anyone? truly saved lives on the job? outside of it with his abilities?

 did he just want to save Ana? he didn’t know the answer to that question. he never could muster enough courage to dig into what it was he felt for her. but she always looked at him like he was brave. was she wrong? he knows that he’s tried. he’s always trying. and he wants to believe that’s enough. to try.

                she should be in her own bed.

                           a short walk down the hall and behind a door that’s rarely closed to him. she should be but she’s not. at some point she’d gone into his and they’d talked —— somehow going from laying next to him to being held.

                                 a small voice in her head tells her she should get up: gently disentangle herself from him and the blankets both to let him rest in peace. yet his soft murmur quiets it, his arms tighten their grip a mere fraction around her. and suddenly she doesn’t want to move anymore.

                     she realizes then that this is the closest she’s been to him in awhile and he’s not pushing her away but doing the opposite. she feels safe like this, despite her claims that safety doesn’t exist. she smiles, shifts, then does as he says and goes back to sleep without further ado.

she’s not sure which one of them had initiated it ——— had he moved or did she? or both at the same time? something to consider later, along with whether or not she regrets it. they’ve drawn lines & been very careful not to cross them for too long that she can’t say she would take it back. not when she knows he’s the closest anyone’s been to her in years. she trusts him, which was a lot more than she can say for most.

what she feels for him defies explanation & not for lack of trying to figure it out. love is mixed up in there somewhere, in what way she doesn’t quite know. stronger than a platonic bond, yet it’s not entirely a romantic one either. the promises he’s made to her she believes he’ll keep, to the best of his ability. the secrets she’s told him no one knows or ever will. he means too much to her to  r i s k  losing, especially if it’s caused by an impulsive decision such as this.

a million times she’s almost kissed him. let her gaze linger on his mouth when it smiles or laughs, savoring it as a condemned man would their last meal before death. a selfish want to cling to something  w a r m  to temper the cold. it’s soft & sweet & tentative & she’s half-expecting it to be a dream. ( because why would someone like him kiss her? he’s never given her the impression he wanted to. she’s asked him to stay with her & he’d left. he’s always leaving & he says it’s not personal. still seems like it is. like she’s asking too much of him & wishing for the impossible. )

there’s a   t r a c e   of a smile on her lips when she draws back ——— not too far though. remains close enough to see him clearly, hoping there won’t be anything in his eyes that might imply the desire to apologize. some sign that he’s not about to take off on her once panicked realization sets in. she tries to think of something to say but there’s no lingering words on the tip of her tongue. no questions or light-hearted comments to divert attention away from the kiss they just shared. talking might ruin it.

              she’s lost count of how many times he’s reached out for her, only noting what the intent is. how brief it is each time. a brush of his fingers against her arm to get her attention when she’s not focusing on him. his hand covering hers to offer comfort. she always reacts the same — ( a sudden stillness coming over her, a tremor that courses down her spine. telling herself over and over that it’s just Peter. he’d never harm her. breaths exhaled slowly ) — both by habit as well as instinct. she can’t control the wariness that follows a sudden breach of space, whether it’s from someone she’s comfortable with or not.

              her skin burns at the contact, the warmth of it lingering for several minutes after his hand falls away again. for those few minutes it’s difficult to breathe, drawing air into her lungs actually hurts. there’s too much there between them that those mouthfuls of air only seem to make it worse. her throat closes on everything she’s trying not to say. words dissolving on her tongue as her gaze settles on his smile. wishing it would stay there longer than he lets it. he doesn’t look as burdened when he smiles — younger. she likes him better that way than how he usually is. always the hero.

                there’s another line there too. between hating that part of him and loving it. it’s not as clear as she would like it to be. if it weren’t for his stubbornness she doubts he would have spent so much time with her, trying to win her trust that he’s possibly the only one to ever succeed. she’s known others for centuries who can’t claim to know her as well as he does. as well as she’s let him, despite initial hesitation. it got easier the more she did it, once she stopped fighting it and chose not to act on impulse. if she doesn’t think about what he makes her feel then it’s not as hard to accept it.

 he’s not expecting the answer that she gives him. he’s not sure how to respond to that. his eyes go over her face. searching for the answer that she needs to hear. but he hasn’t found it yet. he takes in a breath and he lets it out slow. not uneasy, not unnerved. just a little unsure of what she’s going to want to hear. because he knows that the moments when Ana says something that she really does feel are rare. and he doesn’t want to shatter it. he wants to keep it.

 he tries to think of a way of keeping the joking tone. of playing it off like it’s all apart of something to be laughed at. but he can’t do that. and he thinks it might hurt her. the last thing she needs is to be hurt again. he knows that she’s suffered a lot. too much. she wears the scars of all her sufferings. and he doesn’t want to add to that.

 she’s given him some form of her trust. and he knows that’s more than what most can say. he keeps it cherished and treasured within himself. and he wants to hold it there forever. he’s not going to let her go. he wonders if she knows that. he wonders a lot of things. and it’s always about what she feels. what she’s thinking. there are still walls up. but he has to break them down gently. 

 he’s smashed through walls before. his own, Gabriels, in some dream world of Parkman’s creating. it had taken years. but in the end t had been worth it. he counted Gabriel as a brother. even if Sylar had been the one to take him from him. Gabriel mattered. and Gabriel still lived, existed, trying his best. he wanted to be able to do the same with Ana. save her from the nightmare shew as trapped in.