"I'd like to know how that works."
"So would I."
Sylar would never have thought that he would end up here. His hands crackled with electricity. For the first time in his life, he was scared. Genuinely scared. His reply had been nothing but talk. In reality, he was shaking. His legs felt like jelly, and his heart was pounding loudly in his chest. His nerves were stretched to their limit. He swallowed, blinking rapidly. Everything about this was wrong, so very very wrong.
She struck first. He barely saw what was happening until the tree was flying in his direction. He swore as it pinned him to the ground, trying to telekinetically lift it off. For a moment, it seemed as though he would succeed; the tree was hovering above him. But she placed a hand on it, and it crashed on top of him once more.
Sylar was paralyzed. Literally. The impact had shattered his spine. He watched helplessly as she lifted the tree and tossed it to the side.
"This won't hurt a bit." She said. Her voice was saturated with a sickly sweet tone.
Sylar's heart was pounding as his spine began to heal. She walked over to him, standing above his head. She sat down and placed a finger directly on his forehead.
"Any last words?"
Sylar didn't reply. He was still waiting for his spine to heal.
She smiled. "Very well."
Sylar expected to feel some pain, despite how he no longer felt anything. This would be different; he knew that much.
But he never expected it to be like this.
A blazing fire sliced through his head. It burned and screamed, blazing through his mind like a white-hot blade. All he could think was pain, pain so great it had been unimaginable before, though now it seemed impossible to think of anything else.
Sylar tried to open his mouth to scream, but he still couldn't move. He barely noticed this fact; all he could think of was the pain in his forehead, which was increasing steadily as the gash grew larger.
His scream ripped through the darkness at last as his spine healed. The sound banished any silence into oblivion.
Instinct saved him. His fingers twitched, and the woman was thrown back. He scrambled to his feet and started running.
He hated this. He was doing something he hadn't done since he'd discovered his ability. You could call it retreat, you could call it strategy, you could call it whatever you wanted.
He was still running away.
The woman wiped blood from her lip and leapt to her feet. A cruel smile curled her lips upward. Her pale green eyes shone against the white moonlight.
Now the game began.
Sylar took to the skies, but she was right behind him. He swore and flew faster, trying to escape.
Her hand shot out, and red light flowed out of her arm and sped towards him.
Sylar tried to dodge it, but another blast caught him off guard. Fire exploded into life, dancing around him.
He had to get to the ground, if only to put the flames out. He swore again and raced downwards. He stopped himself at exactly the right moment, then stood on the earth once more.
He never had the chance to destroy the fire. He felt himself flying, then crashed into something solid. The air was forced out of his lungs and his bones rattled, his skin breaking open where it had directly hit the brick of the wall.
The woman landed calmly in front of him. She smiled, and water appeared in her hand. It quickly closed the distance between them, soaking Sylar completely, but also demolishing the flames.
Sylar gasped as the water fell away from him. He tried to force her to release him, battling against her telekinesis with his own, but hers was much stronger. He remained fastened to the wall.
"P-Please!" Sylar stammered. The words didn't seem to surprise the killer in front of him. She must have heard countless victims beg for their lives.
But it terrified Sylar. He was pleading, begging her to release him, even though he knew it would do nothing. This monster had no conscience, as he hadn't. If anything, the pleading response would amuse her, like it had with him so many times.
"Don't do this… please…" Sylar couldn't stop the words, no matter how ineffectual it was. He could not help but see the cruel and bitter irony that was in play here. How many times had he destroyed people, how many times had he caused that much pain, how many times had he laughed when he heard them scream…?
The pale green eyes locked on his own. She laughed softly, an airy, soft noise that floated to the moon above. "It will all be over soon."
Sylar closed his eyes. It was all he could do to stop himself from breaking down completely. He took a deep breath.
A slight pressure went to his head as she placed her finger on his forehead once more.
Sylar screamed, but only one person in the world heard his cries. Only one person in the world saw his pain. And she didn't care; she would never care. Just like he didn't care, just like he had refused to.
Everything Sylar had worked for shattered around him. Everything he'd thought was reduced to dust. Everything that had mattered to him now became insignificant.
The pain increased as the night wore on.
Finally, the woman stood, her job complete. Blood covered her hands, her skin stained crimson up to her elbows.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?"
The gash was already healing on Sylar's head. But he didn't move. He stayed there, his own blood pooling around him. The question itself was insane; it was more than hard. Everything that Sylar was had died that night.
The real question was: What was left in its place?
Sylar didn't move for a very long time. An entire day had passed before he felt he could move at all.
He blinked slowly. He didn't know what to do anymore. He wasn't Sylar. Not anymore. But nor was he Gabriel. He was something new. Something that hadn't existed before.
Slowly, he lifted himself off the ground. The blood on his face had long ago dried, but he hadn't bothered to wipe it off. He couldn't see the point. He couldn't see the point of a lot of things.
A strange feeling threatened to overwhelm him. His heart lurched; it was painful. Very painful.
He thought about it for a moment, trying to place a name to the emotion. When the accurate description came to him, he swallowed.
Regret.
As though responding to this, a new wave of it crashed over him. Sylar moaned, dropping to the ground once more. What had he done? What had he done?
All those years. All of those people. So many abilities, so many people, so many lives!
So much pain. Each and every one of them had experienced the pain he had, and not every one of them could heal like he could.
He straightened. The idea hit him like a ton of bricks. He could never change what had happened. He would always be plagued by his crimes, always be haunted by this life, by the person he had been. He could never go back to it, go back to being incapable of caring, but neither could he forget about it, forget about what he had done.
But he could do one thing. Something that could change everything.
He stood once more, his plan complete. There was only one thing he could do.
Claire Bennet sighed as she walked into the house, setting her keys on the stand next to the door.
She threw her hair back as it trailed irritatingly into her eyes. She kept walking, then searched through a few cupboards for a movie she could watch while she waited for her family to return.
She didn't even notice him until she came into the room. Even then, he blended so perfectly into the shadows that she wouldn't have seen him if he hadn't moved.
She jumped and let out a startled cry.
"Who are you?" She demanded. His face remained hidden in the shadows.
He twitched his fingers, and the light switched on. Claire swore, backing away.
"Sylar!"
For a moment, she glared at him. But he said nothing. His eyes were glazed, focused on something that only he could see.
The killer had certainly seen better days. Claire stared in shock at the mark on his forehead. Dried blood coated it, in a pattern that was clearly recognizable to the cheerleader.
It was what he did. What he had done to her had obviously been done to him.
Sylar closed his eyes. "Hello, Claire."
Claire stumbled back, startled. His voice was much older than it had been. Old and exhausted. It was barely a whisper as it reached her ears.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Claire continued to stare at him, but his gaze was locked on the floor.
Finally, he spoke again. "I came here to apologize."
Silence rang out. The world held its breath as it waited for Claire's reply. Neither of them even breathed.
"Please say something." Sylar said at last, unable to handle the silence.
Claire just continued to stare. First, he'd said he came to apologize.
Now he was saying 'please'?
His eyes drifted upwards, landing on hers at last. There was a deep level of pain in those eyes, a darkness that had not existed there before.
"F-For what?" Claire asked at last.
He smiled, very softly and very sadly. "You know what, cheerleader." It wasn't a rebuke. It was a simple statement of fact. "For this."
His hand went to his forehead, where the unforgettable crimson line blazed against his skin.
She watched his movements carefully, waiting for any sign that it was a trick. But Sylar was still just sitting there, his eyes wide and pleading.
"Then apologize." She said bravely.
His eyes locked on hers. They smoldered softly.
"I'm sorry." He said genuinely. "I didn't know… what it did to you… I'm sorry, so very sorry…" He buried his face in his hands, unable to continue. He took a deep breath.
Claire looked at him, dumbstruck.
"Please say something." Sylar repeated. His words were muffled against his hands.
"What do you want me to say? That I forgive you?" She shook her head. "It can't be done."
"I know that." Sylar admitted, looking at her once more. "For the first time in my life, I completely understand what you mean." He closed his eyes, and Claire had no doubt that he meant exactly what he said. "I wouldn't forgive me, either."
He stood, walking to the door. "I'll go now, shall I?"
Claire stared after him. He was out the door before she ran to it and opened it.
"Sylar!"
He turned to face her.
She bit her lip. "You're going to look a little strange with all that on you." She gestured to the blood covering him. "You could... fix it before you go."
He looked at her. Gratitude filled his eyes.
"Thank you, Claire."
She glowered at him. "This means nothing, understood? Absolutely nothing."
He nodded. "Of course."
She looked at him for a moment, still debating with her own thoughts. Finally, she stepped aside and allowed him to come back in.