If it was one question in the world that Peter really wanted answered, it was why Sylar insisted on some kind of strange, semi-meaningful words of wisdom right before something happened. Unfortunately, it just seemed to make him that much creepier, that more more unhinged, and Peter couldn't stop himself from backing up a little.

At least this time he was actually paying attention. The last words Sylar spoke - fixing it for good - set off an eternal alarm, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, Sylar was still, the tip of the IV pole was lightly pressed against the back of Peter's head, its momentum frozen.

But he didn't move. It was an odd sensation, stopping time. The feeling of seconds ticking by was something a person never noticed until it wasn't happening anymore. Peter took a breath, and closed his eyes. If he moved, the fight would continue, and he wasn't deluding himself that he'd actually win this one, no matter how long he strung it out. He could move, and run, but Peter never could back down from a challenge.

The people here couldn't die; they were safe. They didn't need him right now.

Peter shifted his head slightly, angling so that pole would directly through the back of his brain, where it needed to go. He wasn't suicidal, he just wanted a break for a few days. And this was just one way to get it. One corner of his lips turning up in a satisfied smile, Peter let time resume ticking.