A/N: An exercise in understanding our favorite serial killer (who, by the way, I doubt will be gone for long). Written for Kia Shinigami, who has been having a crappy day.

Enough

In the beginning, it was about being special.

Maybe that was what it had always been about, but in the beginning it was different.

In retrospect, he supposed that it could have been attributed to the Hunger as much as anything else, but it hadn't felt like it at the time.

He had grown up wanting to be so much more than Gabriel Gray, the watchmaker's son—his mother's doing, he supposed. His mother had always pushed him toward greatness, whether he wanted it or not, never realizing that her pushing only made him feel more than ever that he was never enough for her. And his friends…what friends? He wasn't interesting enough to have attracted any friends. The only person it seemed he had ever made happy was his dullard of a father by taking up the unremarkable family business.

Nothing about his life was enough: not for his mother, not for his peers, not for him.

Suresh (the first Suresh) had given him a hope of being more, of being something extraordinary in a way that he would never have dreamed of. Didn't it make sense that he would simply be a disappointment again? That disappointment hurt so much more than the monotony of his past life simply because for once he had had a real hope.

That disappointment made him more desperate than ever.

The first time had been nearly an accident. Brian Davis—that had been the man's name. He couldn't believe that the man didn't want such a magnificent gift, couldn't stand the thought of it being wasted when he would give nearly anything to have something like that. So he took it, and hated himself for it.

Then there was Elle. She was beautiful and sweet and made him feel as though he was finally special enough. He sometimes wondered whether he would ever have killed again if he had been able to stay like that with her.

But it had been a lie. And because of that lie he realized that as he was, he would never be special enough for anyone; he needed so much more. So he set out to make himself special enough.

Most of the people he took powers from didn't appreciate them or what they meant—didn't deserve them—so he didn't really feel guilt over their deaths. After all, if they considered themselves cursed anyway he was doing them a favor…it just happened to be a favor that he benefited from as well.

When it came to blowing up New York City, he resigned himself to fate. He only knew that he was destined to face down Peter Petrelli in Kirby Plaza, and if he was the one to explode—which he doubted, since he had a far better understanding of Sprague's power than either Peter or Sprague himself ever did—then at least it would finally prove that he was not someone to be ignored.

Losing his powers had been a blow more devastating than any other he had ever experienced. Even the pain of being run through with a sword could not compare to the pain of having tasted greatness…and losing it.

He refused to believe that it was gone forever, would not resign himself to be insignificant again. It was his birthright, and he would not let anything stand in the way of getting it back. He did some terrible things on that journey back to America, but no price was too high to pay—in the end, he knew that there was no other possible outcome than that of his success.

Of course he resumed his mission to attain greatness once he had his power back. He took the cheerleader's ability at long last—the one that got away. It was strange to talk to her while he searched for understanding of it; in a way, it was the most intimate thing he had ever experienced.

Then he got captured, and gained a mother that valued him. Suddenly the world changed directions. No longer did he need to prove that he was special enough to anyone; he only had to make sure that he proved that she was right to value him. Bennet despised him, of course, but having just one person that cared about him was enough to make him try.

Enough to make him care about what happened to Peter, even in light of the father that was now a part of his life without warning. The hope of having a real family that could accept him for everything he was was more important than anything else now. Wasn't it why he had done everything he had, fought to be more special? So that finally someone would acknowledge him, care for him, believe that he was enough? So he strove to live up to their expectations.

Then came Elle, again. He found that not everything about her had been a lie. He learned that he didn't have to strive for anyone, that they all wanted something from him. She made him feel, again, that he was finally enough—without changing at all. She taught him that he only had to be who he was and not who they approved of. He might have loved her, but death was a part of who he was—and she wanted something from him, too.

At least this time that feeling, of being enough, stuck.

Since he didn't need their approval anymore, he set out to prove his "parents'" lies. They had used him, exploited his vulnerability, and for that they had to pay. It was no longer about being special; it was about revenge.

And now?

Angela had told him that his real parents were out there somewhere, and she hadn't lied. There had been the slight inconvenience of being killed, but nowadays that was less of an obstacle than it might have been.

So now…now, he supposed, it was about the truth.

After all, it had to be out there…somewhere. All he had to do was find it.