A/N: Please remember the M rating.

VOLUME TWO

INTRODUCTION

I had been hungry, not the every day stomach turning hunger that warns you when you're about to starve to death, that was a paltry imitation, a shade of what I'd been feeling.

And so I had made my way quickly towards the object of my desire, the gourmet meal if you will. Oh she had been precious, protected... succulent. I'd wanted her. Wanted to feel her again, know her the way I had known her when she'd lain bare before me, the top of her skull in one of my hands even as I traced the contours of her gray matter with the other. It had been delicious. I had never felt more sated.

I'd approached her home quietly, forming the plan as my hand caressed the brass door knob of the front door. If I wanted her, I'd have to work for her. That was one of the things that appealed to me. It would be a long and merry chase, but then I had known that since the day I'd gone to meet the president and she had reacted so... pleasantly to my control. Of course, my plan had been thrown out of the window for a while when that bitch Angela Petrelli had found a way to replace her poor, dead little boy. That hadn't lasted long at all. The truth will out, they say, and it had outed all over the old woman. I'd used her blood to repaint a Monet in the family mansion. It had been fun.

I had killed her surviving son next, he would have just been in the way after I murdered Mommy. Next I'd tracked down Parkman. The bastard had paid dearly, though I hadn't been able to bring myself to kill the toddler he'd been holding. There are some lines even I refuse to cross, though in time, lines can be redrawn.

As the door of the house had flown open, leaving the entrance clear, my shadow had been thrown into the entry way. And then the streetlight behind me had flickered gently out.

I had taken my time that night. First the dog, an annoyingly yappy thing I'd been dieing to kill (please excuse the pun) for years. Then I'd taken out the brother... and the Mother. God but the look on Claire's face had been lovely, all vulnerable agony and a burgeoning desire for vengeance. It had taken most of my control not to take her for my own right then. But lessons must be learned at the pace of the student, not the instructor. Claire had been an especially slow learner, odd considering my own nature.

I had considered it an odd quirk of fate that I should be paired with the most obstinate person on the planet.

But the lesson had begun well, with her father's blood all over her clothing and her family's corpses on the living room floor. And then we'd gotten to enjoy a bit of private time. I have often wondered since then, since all of the panicked screams and grimaces, whether it was I who gave her the gift of appreciating pain, or whether it was something she'd been born with. After all, someone who's been given the gift of eternity must be able to handle all of the sensations that come with it.

Things had moved relatively quickly after that night. We'd moved in together and I had ascended to power within years. It had actually been quite easily achieved. A little blackmail here, some swift and completely false campaigning there, and just a touch of fear in the population.

It never ceased to amaze me, the strong will my little wife had displayed daily, despite all the lessons and the pain. I had tried to crush the rebellion out of her more times than I can remember before I had realized it was one of the things I admired most about her.

And then our child had died before he had a chance to live, and it had ended. My plans for the world had continued, but the life I had built... it had changed.

Claire once asked me whether I regretted anything and I had answered her honestly. Regret is for people who have done something wrong, its for people who are weak, for those who dislike their past actions. I had no actions to regret. What had changed my life had been fate... and it had been cruel. I remember very clearly the look in her eyes though, when she had accused me of being the cause. It had been the awful, one of the only sights I have ever wanted to forget. What can only be called guilt rolled through me in waves. I had felt it before, I was no stranger to the feeling... I am not a complete monster... but this. My son had died. My wife, however reluctant, truly, deeply, held me solely responsible.

I let her leave. The game had changed. It was the most prudent course of action.

And it was the course of action that had led me here.

A/N: Hello! Mel and Chuck here. This is part two of what is, at the moment, a four part series. Part one is entitled "An Interesting Hobby" and can be found under our stories. We would recommend reading it before embarking on this one. As ever, please don't forget to review! We love hearing from you!

-Mel and Chuck