This was written for the Sylar/Elle ficfest. The prompt was Sylar finds out years later that Elle is alive, and has son with powers like the Hatian
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It was years later when Sylar heard about the miraculous story in the news. A young mother protected her son from burglars, leaving them with mysterious burns. Electrical burns. Lamps were broken and used as an excuse, but as soon as he heard the story on the radio, he had a feeling he knew who it was. And then he looked up the story online, and sure enough, there was Elle, smiling in a picture. She was as pretty as always, her body unscarred or unburned. How that was possible, he wasn't sure. Someone or something must have helped her.
But what seemed most striking to him wasn't her as much as the little boy in her arms. He clung to her, blue eyes just like hers. But his face…there was something about it. He had read about people having a sixth sense about these things, but even he was surprised by the resolution he felt about this boy. It was his son. It had to be. He couldn't explain the conviction he felt over this, but it was there.
He wasn't sure what to think. Part of him was angry. Elle should have found him, told him, let him have a chance to be part of his child's life. Didn't he deserve that right? But even as he thought those thoughts, he knew the answer. No. He had given them up the night on the beach when he tried to kill her.
Still, now that he knew he existed, he had to meet his son. At least this once. After that…well, he didn't know. For the first time he felt nervous and unsure. Almost like he was Gabriel again. He didn't like it, but he couldn't stop it either. All he had ever wanted was a family, and his own one, his own father had been so disappointing. He didn't want to be that to his son. Someone he looked up years later, only to be disappointed and disillusioned with.
It took him about a week to find their house in Costa Verde. The old Bennet home. What they were doing there, he didn't know. He didn't care, really. The Bennets had left years ago, and Elle and her son were there now. That's what mattered. The rest of it was irrelevant. Extra information that didn't matter to him. It wasn't part of his story. He could get it from Elle later, if he wanted.
After another week of watching them, he finally got the courage to knock on the door. He felt like an intruder, and he supposed he was. Even if he was the child's father, he was also the mother's murderer. He didn't have a right to be here by any means, but Sylar had never been one to care for things like that much. What mattered was what he wanted.
The door opened, and the little boy's eyes widened. "Mommy, there's a strange guy at the door! He's got really silly slicked back hair and the biggest eyebrows I've ever seen." The kid was small; he couldn't have been older than five. Which made sense; it had been about that long since that day in the Canfield House. The only brief period where Sylar could remember being happy. And then he had screwed it all up.
Even with Elle alive, he couldn't allow his heart to stir up any hope. He wasn't foolish enough to think she'd forgive him. Not after she did it the first time. Fool her once, shame on him, fool her twice, shame on her. Or something to that extent.
Elle came out, her hands hidden behind her back. "I was wondering when you'd find us. So I'm guessing you figured it out then?" She asked with a tilt of her head, a smile tugging at her lips like this was all some sort of game to her.
"You mean that he's my son?" He asked, his voice coming out a little more snappish than he had originally intended it to. "Yeah, I did sort of put two and two together once I heard about your news story."
"You're wrong. He's not your son."
Sylar frowned in confusion, there was no twinge. Was she not lying? She had to be lying. He paused for a moment, cupping his hand as he tried to make it form with lightening. Nothing.
Elle smirked, taking a step closer to him now. She pulled out her hands from behind her to reveal a gun. "You see, he's my son. And he's special. Very special. Special enough that I was considered worthy enough to save in order to ensure his birth. But he's not yours. You gave up any right to him a long time ago. Besides," She looked down at her son with a grin. "You don't need a father, do you, Noah?"
Sylar raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't ask any questions. It was strange that she had named their son after Noah, but like her living in the Bennet house, irrelevant information.
"No, cause I have the best Momma ever!" He cheered with a grin.
"Good, then can you do Momma a favor?"
"Of course, of course!"
"Keep your power focused on the bad man, okay? Can you do that for Momma?"
"Of course!"
Sylar paled a little. His power…? That must have been the reason why his own powers weren't working. Their son could suppress powers. But before he could make a move to leave, Elle had sidestepped and slipped under his arm, suddenly standing behind him, the muzzle of the gun pressed against the back of his head.
"I've been waiting a long time for this," She hissed into his ears. And before he could reply, she pulled the trigger, sending the bullet straight into the back of his skull.
And as his body fell to the floor, the last image he saw was Elle taking her son's hand with one of her own bloody ones, leading him back into the house. He had been wrong in ever coming here, he realized. This wasn't his story.
That night there was a follow up story about how the mother saved her son once more, this time from a kidnapper. She was considered a national hero.
And Sylar. He died as he lived.
He died a villan.