[ Somehow a step forward is dragged out of him before his mind grinds to a screeching halt once more. ] Why, Adam-

[ Peter retreats back the step he took, thinking for a moment that he's going to fall and end up seated on the sand. But he manages. Somehow. ] No, you- We haven't established anything. [ He can't keep the shake out of his voice and he doesn't know why he's so terrified, so hurt. ]

There isn't anything to believe. I told you, I haven't seen you in months. It's almost been a year.

[ Peter stares at the chair's. And then at Adam. And then back at the chair's. Considering the sort of things he's capable of forgiving these days, he might as well start trying to forgive Adam. ] Yeah. Sure.

[ Well, at least Adam's smiling again. Peter, not so much, but that's not exactly anything unusual. Dropping down into the chair next to Adam's, he picks up his beer, investigating the bottle. He just needs a couple of seconds to get past the fact that he's actually sitting next to Adam, someone he never thought he'd see again. ]

[ Turning the bottle in his hands, he stares out at the ocean, trying to figure out how he's supposed to talk. ] Where do you want me to start.

[ He runs a hand over his face, finding it infinitely problematic to have to dredge up the past year of his life. Give him a second, Adam, he's trying to keep from falling apart, here. ]

[ He doesn't know how he's supposed to talk, not anymore, but for some reason he can't take Adam watching him. And finally he cracks, still staring out at the tide sliding up along the beach. ]

Nathan's dead.

Sylar. [ Peter's trying his hardest to keep up the cold hard stare towards the ocean, and it's really only so effective. ]

[ Now that he's said it, he wants to take it back. He's not sure he can cope with hearing Adam, of all people, say that he's sorry. Not when he already blames himself completely for Nathan's death, for letting himself forgive Sylar for it, for Adam. It takes him a long moment to find the ability to speak through his inability to breathe; he can feel himself starting to slip and the last thing he wants to do is fall apart in front of Adam. ] Me too.

[ As much as he feels like he should, he can't shake off Adam's hand. He shouldn't need to be comforted about this, at least not anymore, especially not by Adam. But it's not as if he can it from Sylar. Pressing his fingertips into his eyes until he gets a grip on himself once more, he finally lets himself look back out at the ocean, ignoring how wrong everything is. ]

Feels like it's been years. But it's been a couple months... it's complicated.

And because of my mom. And Noah. And because I spent upwards of eight years in Sylar's head.