Restart My Life

Chapter Two

A week, give or take a few days. That's how long before Peter forgot something. It was something easy to find out, thank God. His name. That's what he forgot. He remembered Nathan and the journals they made together, which allowed him to find out the missing piece of information quickly.

He guessed that his random bouts of amnesia wasn't one of the things that Sylar remembered of Nathan's life.

He forgot everything after about a month. He found the journals, with the paper that said 'In case you forget' on top of them. They didn't explain why there were no people in the city. Besides himself and the man he hated. He didn't remember until the next day. It took him hours to figure out that he didn't have the other journals because Nathan never read them. He only read what he and Peter wrote those three days. Peter debated with himself whether or not he should ask Sylar to read the rest that Peter wrote. He decided against it. He still didn't want to talk to the man who murdered his brother.

***

Sylar didn't find out until after a year they spent together. He's been trying to befriend Peter over the last few months. He was tired of fighting. They were going to be trapped here, all alone, for who knows how long. Sylar didn't want the two of them to hate each other all that time. At least, that's what he told Peter. He didn't know whether he believed the killer or not.

It was another day that Peter forgot everything. He read all the journals that were on the dining table, yet he didn't know why there were no people on the streets. It was too quiet for the city that never sleeps.

A knock at the door startled Peter out of his panicked state. He rushed to the door, but froze when he heard whoever was on the other side speak.

"Come on, Peter. You can't ignore me forever," came the muffled words.

Peter filled with rage. He unlocked and opened the door. "What did you do, Sylar?" he yelled, voice shaking. He didn't know whether it was from fear, rage, or both.

Sylar stepped back, a shocked expression on his face. "What do you mean?" he asked, with seemingly genuine confusion.

Peter scoffed. "Like you don't know! Why aren't there any people? What did you do?!"

Sylar's shocked expression changed to one of utter confusion. "Peter, there hasn't been anyone else for a year." Sylar paused, eyebrows furrowing. "Are... Are you okay?"

Peter froze. "A... year?" he asked, voice breaking. He stepped back, shaking his head. A year?! How much happened since the journals stopped? He watched as Sylar slowly stepped into the apartment, looking around. "If there hasn't been anyone else," he said, mostly to himself, "then where's Nathan?"

Sylar's head snapped over to face Peter, a somewhat pained expression on his face. "You mean you don't remember?" he whispered.

"No, Sylar! No! I don't remember! I don't know why we're the only ones here! I don't know why you aren't trying to kill me! None of that information is in these stupid journals!" Peter yelled, sweeping the journals off the table. Sylar looked down at the paper that landed near his feet.

"In case you forget," Sylar read, his voice quiet. He looked up. "That's what this is, isn't it? You forgot again. I thought you didn't forget things anymore?"

Peter stiffened. "And what would you know about that?" he asked, hesitant.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Sylar asked, ignoring the question that was asked.

"Spending three days writing the journals." That was the last thing he read. How much has happened since then?

"Oh, Peter," Sylar said, features softening. "I can fill you in on Nathan and what happened during the last year, but I'm sorry that I can't tell you what happened with you after that point. You might want to sit down."