The door flickered open, just enough that Sylar could move inside, and he did immediately, taking stock of the room and of Peter, hiding his face, the laughter cracking breathlessly out of him until he was sure he wouldn't be able to breathe in again. Sylar just stared, wondering what to do, because he had never seen anything like this in his life.

Peter had just been thrown to his death, and now he was dying again, laughing until he suffocated, and he reached forward, pushing Peter's head back, and recoiled in muted fear at the expression that greeted him. He did not frighten easily, that was true, but this was horrific, like nothing he'd ever seen before, and a clear brand painted across Peter's face announcing who had done it.

But he had stopped laughing, and breathing, and Sylar moved down to his knees again and touched Peter's face, stared down into his eyes, and knew there was no way to help him.

The voids had gone. He would come back to life, he knew, but would this start again if he did? He didn't know enough about this invulnerability to know what the problem was, or even begin to wonder how to fix it.