"How dare you!"
I'm glad this came crumpling down before we started playing house, before I handed him back my heart to crush once again but all that's left is for him to leave and never darken our lives ever again.
"I needed to tell him what I did, who I am and ask for his forgiveness. I already have yours."
Expect my 'forgiveness' was given freely (or should I say stupidly?) and even if my brain didn't know it I knew what I was giving and who I was giving it to while a six year old little boy who has barely started to learn what is right and wrong.
('it's wrong to eat paste' 'it's right to say thank you and please' those kind of things not 'hey, son I almost killed your mother with you inside of her, forgive me?')
"He's a little boy, how would have liked it if your father (who thankfully I never have to meet) came and told you about all his killings and the fact that he killed your mother? Would you forgive him, would even know what the hell he was talking about?"
With every word I screamed (with Noah safe in his Uncle's hands and away from all of this) came with a blast of blue that only scraped the top of his skin never going all the way in, it was nothing like before, the moment where I feel for all of his lies that spilled from him like all the blood on his hands.
"Go home, Sylar, just go. Noah's not ready to see you, not yet. (not ever and ever)."
-
"Mommy, is daddy ever coming back again?"
(the no that I want to say, which I know is a lie because he surprised the world and himself by loving his son, would sting both of our hearts)
The man he easily now calls 'daddy' (and once called Peter the same thing as he flew him and me both to heaven and back) hasn't been around for days and days and to him that's millions of years.
"I don't know, baby, it's up to him (should I say me instead?)."
(because if it was ever up to me he wouldn't even have a father, let alone one named Sylar the all famous serial killer. I would have settled for Peter)
-
Speaking of Peter ('Uncle' Noah always reminds me of this) who has went from my scorned lover to my rock over the years, my rock that also crashes into my arms every once and a while (most of it having to do with big brother and mommy dearest), has happily found every reason to be with me and Noah each hour of the days that have still been 'daddy-less'.
(and the only one that really cares is the little boy who is losing his whole world after having him only for three months)
"Do you still love him?"
The way he said it (spitting out 'love' as if it was even lower then hate), instead of asking as a friend it was more as is he was accusing me of something and on his face wasn't a look of a caring person but more of a jealous lover, when he wasn't even one or the other.
Before I could an answer that consisted of a lot of sarcasm (sadly without a sign to help him along) and snark filling up the words my lips were busy being sealed by his, his that I haven't kissed since so very long ago.
(that day filled with too many 'special' eggnogs and Noah's every growing question ' is Peter my new daddy?')
"Noah! What are you doing up?!"
(thankfully because of this little interruption I didn't do something stupid and my eyes caught a eyeful of daddy just around the corner)
"Mommy? I'm I going to be a big brother?"
(*facepalm* Here comes the baby talk, god)
-
I caught a break when Peter (instead of flying away after our lip-lock, like the many times before) stepped in to take Noah back to his rocket shaped bed and explain that Mommy isn't having a sister or brother because of just one small kiss that meant nothing at all, those were my words not his (his I believe would be something overly fluffy and maybe springing some 'I love yous' on me).
(I could tell they were heading back to bed from Noah's squeals of joy thanks to Uncle Peter's flying lessens)
"That was awkward, wasn't it?"
As always he shows up (thankfully no blood steins lining his finger nails, not like before but I still can't say he's changed) at the very moment when I'd forgotten him and the cool scar above my left eye, and when I had begun to think 'Peter' the name surrounded my clouds instead of 'Sylar' the one covered in blood, my father''s blood and mine.
"Hmm...maybe next time you could knock? If you keep on popping up like this I might on accident char-boil you. Anyway, he misses you when Peter's done tucking him in you can say goodnight."
Letting him in my babies life isn't the same as letting him in mine because if I gave in to him I know it would only lead to the same outcome as last time, but not only my life would be at risk.
(and yes you just head me say I care if Peter lives or dies, even if he can't be killed, and while I'm doing that I might just go and emit he's a really good kisser. Way better then Adam.)
"Thanks, I plan on making it up to the little fellow with tons of ice-cream (even though it stings his favorite is superman) and the zoo, if you want you could come with us. I know Noah would love that."
And knowing my little bundle of joy, the one good thing I got out of all the evil that was his father and mother (the once-upon-a-time Bonnie and Claude), he would love that more then anything and maybe if I said yes, the one yes that would lead me right into the mouth of hell and back even more broken, he would stop asking if 'Mommy and Daddy' were ever going to be married.
(and but of course I would say 'I don't know, baby' instead of the no burning on my tongue with memories of Uncle Peter's lips on mine and daddy cutting me to bits)
"Sure. For Noah."
Hell here I came, because it's clear with my will-power I'll be dead by his hands once again in no time. I give it a week.