Title: Patient Zero
Chapter: Oneshot
Rating: R

Pairing: Gabriel Gray/Sylar
Warnings: Violence, some gore, minor language, season one and three spoilers
Summary: The making of a sociopath.
Word Count: 5070

Author Notes: After reading several Gabriel/Sylar fics I was inspired to make my own. :'D Because, let's face it, Geek x Badass? Hawt. Also, thank God for the "Six Months Ago" transcript! xD The rest is from memory. And btw, the change of style is on purpose.
Disclaimer: Just my imagination running away with me.
_

"You're so very special, Gabriel."

"I am?"

"Yes, very special. You can be anything you want to be!"

"I don't have to be a watchmaker like Dad?"

"No, of course not! Especially not a watchmaker like your father. You can take control of your life; do whatever you want, dear."

Kind hands gently pet perfectly parted dark hair as a grin slowly curved the small boy's face, thick-wired glasses slipping down his nose. Those same frail hands smoothed down the blue cardigan vest and straightened his plaid tie before tucking it under the V-collar. Virginia Gray stood up, smiling, as she patted her son's back. He still had that grin on his face that revealed a couple of missing teeth.

"Have a great day at school, Gabriel. Make lots of friends."

"I will!" the boy called as he darted out the house toward the bus, waving. "I'll show everybody how special I am!"

And sure enough when Virginia was called to the principal's office that very day she was pleased beyond belief. "You're son if very special, Mrs. Gray," the elderly woman announced. "It's only his first day, yet he has proved to have extraordinary intellectual abilities. There's nothing kindergarten can offer him that he doesn't already know. I think it's for the best if we place him in first grade now rather than later."

Both were beaming as negotiations and arrangements were made. When his mother finally shook the principal's hand to seal the deal, Gabriel couldn't help thinking this was the beginning of a life with meaning, a life of significance.

Tongue curling out into the corner of his mouth, sable irises focused on the broken timepiece while careful fingers used tweezers to pick up a thin spare coil. Sweat drizzled from his temple, down his round nose, and pooled in the dip above his lips. His spectacles scooted down as a momentary distraction that he succeeded in ignoring. There was a vague tremble when he lowered the balance wheel atop the hairspring. A relieved sigh escaped as he took the time to wipe his forehead with his arm, then pushed up his glasses. Lastly, the escapement was inserted into the movement and given a slight nudge, a click breaking the silence.

Gabriel smiled upon hearing the satisfying ticking of the wristwatch. Tools were then slid into their appropriate slots before the kit was snapped shut and stowed away in a drawer. Sighing, the middle-aged man leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired face with wide palms.

Another difficult task completed. As fulfilling as it was it wasn't anywhere near gratifying. This wasn't supposed to be his purpose in life. He wasn't supposed to be underappreciated watchmaker like his father. That wasn't what he told his mother he was going to be. What was so special about repairing clocks? Nothing. It didn't even pay well. His income barely reached past one hundred, and he was lucky if it even reached that. When things got broken in Brooklyn, it was thrown away. A watch was no different.

You're so much better than this, Gabriel.

Gabriel sat up, paranoid eyes darting around for the owner of that voice.

You won't find me. I don't exist in the outside realm.

"Who are you?" he asked with more courage than he felt.

I am… you, Gabriel.

His eyes widened. "Me?"

Yes. I'm the side of you that's hidden from the world. That you're afraid to show and deny its existence of.

Was he going insane? His fucking mind was talking to him. Surely that was a sign of lack of sleep. Shoving his glasses up, Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed away from his desk, chair rolling over the carpet. He decided that drinking coffee afterhours was against the rules. The thirty-year-old shook his head as he stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and folding it over his arm. The keys were plucked from the hook near the door as he exited, set the locks in place, and walked to his car.

Gabriel stared at the man whose watch he just fixed and took off his work glasses. "You didn't come here for the watch."

"I came to find you, Gabriel." the man admitted.

He's slowly raised to his feet, looking weary and confused.

"My name is Chandra Suresh," the man explained, "I'm a geneticist. I have a theory on human evolution, and I believe you are a part of it," He handed the self-written book he was carrying to the watchmaker, who studied it closely. "Read it. If you'd like to talk more, I've written my phone number and address in it." The man smiled before turning and leaving the shop.

Surprised, Gabriel glanced at the title, running his fingers over it. "Activating Evolution…" he murmured aloud.

And were a part of it, Gabriel. that voice announced eagerly.

Instead of rejecting it or blaming coffee the brunette grunted. "I'm part of it. You're just a voice inside my head." he refuted as he reseated himself. But the tools and broken watch were ignored in favor of opening the book.

The next morning Gabriel called the scientist. Now he was at Dr. Suresh's, both sitting at the kitchen table as the host served them tea. "So… what? You gonna cut me open?" he asked, looking around.

Suresh chuckled. "I'd like to run some tests—EEG, EKG. Nothing invasive," he assured as his guest sipped his tea timidly. "A friend at Columbia has access to an MRI." he added as he stood and gestured from the younger to come with him to the desk.

"Mapping the brain." Gabriel acknowledged as he followed.

"Measuring alpha waves, resting rates, neuron clusters," the elder man elaborated. "The brain controls every human action, voluntary or involuntary. Every breath, every heartbeat, every emotion. If the... soul exists, scientifically speaking, it exists in the brain."

It was Gabriel's turn to chuckle as he took a seat. His gaze rested on the warm liquid in his cup. "When I was a kid... I used to wish some stranger would come and tell me my family wasn't really my family. They weren't bad people, they were just... insignificant. And I wanted to be different—special," He remembered the promise he made to his mother when he was a little boy and smiled a bit. "I wanted to change: a new name, a new life. The watchmaker's son... became a watchmaker. It is so futile. And I wanted to be... important." Sepia eyes raised to the doctor, needing to know he understood.

"You are important, Gabriel." Suresh assured him.

Satisfied, the watchmaker leaned forward, fingers tightening on the mug. "What do you think my abilities might be?"

"We can't be sure until tests are made. Shall we begin?" After receiving a nod, the two headed into a room where medical equipment was set up. Gabriel sat down once again as his arm was hooked to a certain machine. "Why do you repair watches?" Suresh asked conversationally.

He just sighed, disappointed. "My father didn't really give me a choice."

"Yes, but why not do what you want to do? Why not change?"

"You use a phrase in your book… evolutionary imperative."

"That which we are destined to do." he said, fiddling with the machine.

Gabriel watched as he continued, "Sea turtles die on the same exact beach where they were born, lions slaughter gazelles, spiders eat their young. They don't want to, they have to."

Sighing, the doctor flicked off the machine. "Well, the good news is you're healthy." he reported while removing the wires from the younger man's arm.

"You mean normal? What, there's still no signs?" he inquired, voice hinting with panic.

"No."

It was a cold proof he didn't want to accept. "Well, maybe tomorrow," he said hopefully. "We're still doing the CT, right?"

Suresh had a frown on his lips that didn't settle well with the watchmaker. "I think we should prepare for the possibility that I may have been wrong," he declined. "You may not have a special ability." The scientist startled when his guest surged to his feet, becoming quite aware of his towering height.

"I am so close I can feel it! You came to me—I'm on your list!" Gabriel refused to believe this was all for not. The opportunity to prove he was special wouldn't slip away this easily.

"These tests aren't a hundred percent." Suresh replied, forcing himself to calm.

"Don't give up on me." Gabriel begged.

The doctor just sighed. "There are other opportunities I need to focus on."

Anger boiled in him, compelling him to grab the folders on the table and sift through them. "What—what, these people? They're important? This guy?" The Post-It that read of Brian Davis' information was ripped off. "Brian Davis," he said aloud, "you think he's telekinetic? Moves things with his mind. Or are you just going to toss him aside too?" His obvious frustration unsettled the scientist.

"You better leave now, Mr. Gray."

That was all he needed to yank up his jacket and storm out of the apartment. He didn't need Chandra Suresh anyway. Gabriel knew he was special. He just had to prove it to himself. Starting with this Brian Davis fellow.

Another man entered his shop and it made his pulse quicken. "Can I help you?" he asked as calmly as possible.

The man looked at the watchmaker nervously. "Yeah, um, somebody called me? My name is Brian Davis."

Gabriel wanted to grin, but he refrained. That just might freak the poor guy out. Instead he stood up respectfully. "Yes, I called you. My name is…" A pause as he twisted a bit to gaze down at his desk. His eyes land on the watch he was previously repairing. "My name is Sylar, Gabriel Sylar." He turned back to Davis, whom appeared to have believed him. "So you have an ability?" he continued gently.

The man nodded, twiddling his thumbs anxiously.

"May I see it?"

Davis moved closer until he was in front of the desk. He visually rummaged through possible items before settling on a harmless one. The man mentally forced the ceramic cup to slide across the surface. Interest danced in Gabriel's eyes at witnessing the impressive display. He diverted his attention to the other. "It's incredible."

"Can you make it go away?" Davis pleaded.

Gabriel looked affronted. "Whywould you wanna do that?" he asked incredulously.

"I don't know what this is, or who I might hurt. I-I don't want it…"

He studied the man closely and suddenly realization dawned on him. "You're broken." Not so much an observation as it is a fact. At the "What?" he received from the other, Gabriel walked behind Davis and handed Activating Evolution to him. "Suresh was right," he said, more to himself than his current company. "It's so clear now. How it all works, pieces fitting together. It is in the brain."

"So you can help." Davis remarked as if a heavy weight was lifted from him.

His gaze drifted to the crystal rock on the counter; it had several pentagonal pillars jutting out. Pupils dilated as he silently picked it up the exact moment the clock ticked 11:53 PM. "Don't worry, Brian. I'll fix it. It's an evolutionary imperative."

The last words were growled out as he cracked the crystal against the back of Davis's head. His body fell noisily to the ground, a pool of blood already staining the flooring. Gabriel put on his watchmaker's glasses and gaped at the macabre scene before him. A smirk stretched his lips as he kneeled beside the corpse. The operation was going to get messy, but he could care less at this point. He was going to prove to himself that he's special.

Gabriel grabbed the case knife in his tool kit and tested the blade on pad on his finger. It was dull, which would take an effort to cut through skin. But that didn't discourage the patient man. He angled Brian's head to the side and felt around for the spot where blood was leaking. After placing the tip into the almost imperceptible slit he jerked it in and wiggled it gently, making sure it was secure. The incision was time-consuming and too slow even for him. Hair was always getting in the way and more blood continued to gush out, paling the carcass and dropping its temperature. When he'd only made three inches after near twenty minutes, the watchmaker threw caution to the wind.

He held the skull down with one hand and dragged the knife across hazardously with the other, having to constantly pump it up and down. Blood squirted out at him, staining his face, shirt, and hands but was thoroughly ignored as he sawed away. Eventually the cap stopped resisting and cutting became much smoother. Panting, Gabriel discarded the knife to retrieve the watch hammer and pin puncher. He flipped the body on its before jabbing the puncher underneath the slash. The hammer softly beat the blunt end of the tool until Brian Davis's cranium popped off.

As it rolled away, the brunette stared at the soft tissue revealed to him in lost awe. His fingers trailed over the brain, quickly becoming slick with gray matter. He heaved dead weight to sit up straight so that the corpse's back rested against his front. Gabriel ignored the uncomfortable mass as he prodded at labyrinth before him, brow furrowed in concentration. His hands stopped when coming across the posterior region.

"That's it!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

Congratulations. Our first ability.

Gabriel rolled his eyes as he cradled the organ and balanced it vertically for better inspection. "You didn't do anything."

It was me that killed him, you ingrate.

"You did not!" the watchmaker fumed, running his index and middle finger down the parietal lobe.

You're starting to get a little arrogant, Gabriel. The only reason you're not vomiting your guts outs is because of me. In fact, I'm keeping you completely stable right now. If it weren't for me you'd be freaking about just killing a man.

Of course, Gabriel ignored this voice. He was too busy focusing on how much sense it made that this portion of the brain controlled Brian's special powers. Parietal was associated with movement, orientation, cognition, stimuli perception, and sensory information amongst other things. All necessities if one was to use an ability, specifically telekinesis.

Oh look, you've figured it out. Now that was your doing.

"Shut up." Gabriel hissed as he went to his feet.

Eyeing the bloody crystal rock, he concentrated all his focus on it. The antique vibrated, making his pulse quicken. More concentration was poured into getting it to move. The gem wiggled and then within a matter of seconds it levitated upward, zooming at his head. Gabriel ducked just in time to avoid being hit.

I think you've got it down. the voice snorted.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" the watchmaker snapped, glaring at the air.

I can't. I'm part of you.

"Then be quiet."

Do you like being alone, Gabriel? When he didn't answer, the inflection spoke on. With me around you won't have to be. You'll finally have a friend.

"An imaginary friend." Gabriel huffed, bending over to wipe his hands on Davis's shirt.

We all have to start somewhere.

"I guess you want a name then?" he mused as he began to clean up.

Hm… Yeah, that'd be nice.

"What do you want your name to be?"

There was beloved silence for a moment. Gabriel had actually finished washing his tools and returning them to his kit before his "friend" spoke again.

Just call me Sylar.

Sylar is, unfortunately, right. Gabriel can't handle the evil of what he's done. His Catholic beliefs refuse to let him go unpunished. Repenting won't redeem him. He's forced to settle upon suicide, much to Sylar's (angry) dismay. With the guilt eating away at him, Gabriel stands on the chair and maneuvers the noose around his neck. He takes a deep breath before kicking the furniture away.

He thrashes limply, choking as his air supply was cut off. But before Death could claim him he's falling to the floor after hearing electricity above his head. It was an odd sound that he eventually settles on being his imagination.

Someone is huddling him close and asking if he's all right.

"Forgive me…" Gabriel murmured, slipping into subconscious.

You're so weak...

When he comes to, there's a woman beside him; blonde, blue eyes, petite, beautiful. He must be dreaming except his mind isn't creative enough to form the sweet lilt of her voice. "Everything's going to be okay. It's a good thing the rope broke in time." she told him, smiling in assurance.

"No," He shakes his head as he sits up. "No, it's not. I've done unforgivable things."

"Like what?"

He merely shakes his head again. It's too painful to admit even to himself. "I took something someone had at a terrible price." he summarizes dully.

"That doesn't make you a bad person," She smiles again when he looks at her. "You just deserve a second chance."

"You don't even know me and I don't know you…"

"I'm Elle. And you are?"

"Gabriel."

"Now we know each other."

He stars at her as if she weren't real. Which is probably true because she's too good to be real. His lips upturn slightly. "You're like an angel, you know, coming out of nowhere like that."

"No, you're the angel. An angel with a broken watch." Elle corrects.

She mentions how she'll be late for work and doesn't have time to get her watch repaired. He walks her out and is surprised at how upset he is that she left. Everything's quiet for a moment before it's ruined by an unwanted pest.

Well, wasn't that nice? I doubt little Elle would be so kind if she knew what you did, Gabriel.

It's useless to tell Sylar to shut up because then he just keeps talking. Therefore, Gabriel ignors him in favor of ridding the evidence of his suicide. He is raveling the rope back up when the voice snarls at him, Don't ignore me, Gabriel. Naturally he doesn't listen, only rights the chair and sets the cord on the cushion. However, his eyes bug out when an invisible pressure is placed to his throat. He paws at his neck, trying to remove whatever is there, but only finds skin.

"Sy-Sylar?" Gabriel gasps.

I said not to ignore me. Some of the pressure is released. Apologize.

"I-I'm… sorry!" the watchmaker stutters as his nails dig into his jugular.

Then the telekinetic hold relinquishes and has him gasping. Gabriel stumbles as he realizes Sylar does have some sort of power over him. It's unbelievable, but doesn't make it any less true. He has to be careful not to disappoint his "friend".

They are sitting on the family room floor of his apartment with peach pie between them. Gabriel still doesn't know he's being monitored or that the girl he believes is an angel works for the Company, let alone has an ability of her own. She likes asking him questions about himself, harmlessly interested despite his reluctance, such as why he has a list of peoples' names. He does tell her they're special like him too after displaying his stolen telekinesis. Elle's curiosity seeks more information that he doesn't give.

The pie is really good, though. As expected from his favorite flavoring.

"My power… is addictive," Gabriel admits after a short silence. "It's something I can't control and it scares me. But when I'm around you…" He looks up from his plate to stare at crystalline hues, "Ever since I met you I feel like a can be normal."

Elle gives him a smile he's beginning to love. The one that makes the clouds disappear and sun shine on the shadows of his life. He feels safe whenever he sees that smile. The smile that says he isn't a monster for what he's done. "You're special the way you are, Gabriel."

He wants to kiss her now. Wants to, but doesn't. It will spoil the moment. Plus, he's only known her for two days—it'd be unorthodox. Too pushy. They weren't even dating, therefore he had no right. Elle probably has a boyfriend, one that's better looking than him, works out, has a good job, and can satisfy her. A watchmaker can't give an angel what she needs and desires.

The next time Elle comes over she helps him with cooking ziti for dinner. There's an unexpected knock on the door. Elle explains she invited someone over and leaves a confused Gabriel in the kitchen. He doesn't walk far to be greeted by another man, probably in his early twenties, with long dark hair and an apathetic expression on his face.

"Gabriel, this is Trevor. He's like you," Elle introduces, setting her hand on Trevor's shoulder. He just nods and tries to hold back distaste. "It's good for you to meet others like you," She turns to Trevor with that smile he thinks is just for him. "Why don't you show us what you can do?"

Smirking, the punk makes a gun with his index and thumb and points at one of Gabriel's cups. His thumb curls as if he's pressed a button. Energy shoots out his pointer right to the cup, which explodes on contact. Elle squeals in excitement and asks for more. His kitchen becomes target practice as more dishes shatter, each display angering him further.

"Gabriel, isn't that special?" Elle coos.

"Special?" he spits out, pupils dilating. "That's nothing." He sneers as he turns a glare to Trevor, who immediately gets slammed against the wall. A blue bolt of electricity comes hurtling at him out of nowhere. He's too surprised to vocalize any pain because he notices Elle's hands are sparking.

"Don't hurt him, Gabriel!"

His eyes darken. "I think you should leave." he growls before flinging her out of the kitchen with a flick of the wrist.

He's thankful there's a door separating the rooms because it's automatically shut in her face. Gabriel returns his attention to the scared shitless Trevor and his smirk widens a tad. When he raises his finger his victim lets out a sickly satisfying scream as a precise line is cut through his forehead.

I think it's time I took over now, Gabriel. Sylar interludes during the lobotomy.

"No," Gabriel whispers, voice nearly cracking from what he's done. He stands, shaking his head and beats bloody palms against his temples. "No! I-I didn't mean to! I didn't want this!"

No, of course not. I did.

Unable to handle this feat, Gabriel runs. Pushes his door open, leaving a bloody hand print, to run from his sin, run from his life, run from the monster he's becoming.

The only form of sanctuary he can find is their old apartment, his old bedroom from when he was a teenager. He feels relaxed when surrounded by the variety of posters and bookshelves and science projects because now he's not afraid of the shadows they cast in the dark. Funny how the bed isn't as lumpy as he remembers. Then again, he's not lying on the mattress; he's huddled against the headboard, hugging his knees to his chest with his face buried.

It hurts doesn't it, Gabriel?

He nods.

It doesn't have to, you know.

"How?" his voice is weak and hoarse. "How do I make it stop?"

Just give me control.

"No. I don't trust you."

I'm the only one you can trust, Sylar's tone is steelier than it was seconds ago. Elle betrayed your trust by keeping her secret from you, by bringing over that shithead and flaunting him in your face. Gabriel shakes his head, but Sylar keeps going. Mom betrayed you when she lied. She said you didn't have to be a watchmaker and what are you now?

"I'm a monster."

No, Gabriel, no. You're still the angel. It's me who's the monster. Angels don't feel guilt for what they've done. And you feel guilty, don't you?

"Yes…"

Let me help you, Gabriel. I can make you feel better.

He gets up, heads to the bathroom, and turns on the tap full blast to drown out the static in his head. Cupping his hands, the water pools in his palms and he splashes it on his face. The chill wakes him up somewhat, makes him more aware. Sepia eyes stare through lens into the replicated irises of his distraught reflection. Hair has fallen from its combed perfection to frame his face. Faint stubble dusts along his jaw. There are bruises under his eyes that weren't there two days ago. He can't remember the last time he's had a good night sleep since his first murder.

Sighing, Gabriel caresses the new roughness of his chin and is surprised to find he likes it. He also kind of likes the unkempt state of his hair. And maybe—the glasses are off before he realizes it and he's leaning closer so he doesn't have to squint. Fingertips dab across the bottom of a single eye, but the second one flickers. Rich brown darkens to bistre as the pupil enlarges.

"Is that you, Sylar?" Gabriel asks quietly, slipping his glasses back on.

Yes.

He glares. "Get out. This is my body. I want you out."

A chuckle that sounds like it came from beside him startles the watchmaker. Your body? Oh no, it's our body. You created me.

"That's a lie."

Is it? Remember Ethan Dowell, your elementary school bully? One day you got tired of coming home with black eyes. At recess when he tried to hit you again, you finally fought back and received your first detention. All that anger you felt built me.

That day is perfectly clear to him. Everyone considered him a hero for standing up to the villain. His mom was proud and his father, a pacifist, disappointed. He curls a hand into a fist and punches the glass, scowling at his twin. "This doesn't change my decision."

You're hurting, Gabriel; you don't know what you want right now. If you just gave me control—

"No!" he shouts, slamming his palm flat against the mirror.

I only asked out of courtesy. I don't need your permission to get what I want. Sylar threatens.

He's only allowed a moment of confusion before he's thrown against the wall. His skull smacks into it, making him wince, and his limbs are pinned. He struggles anyway, afraid of what he—no, what Sylar might do to him. Gabriel looks in the mirror and blinks a few times to make sure he's not seeing things. But even so, the image doesn't change: that's not his reflection. Black clothes have replaced the vest and tie; his hair is longer and slicked back; he isn't clean shaven, the stubble has increased; glasses aren't there to hide the cruel lumps of coal from staring at him.

So, Sylar says casually, we finally get to meet face to face. Well, as close to it as we're gonna get. He grins.

"A-are you doing this?" Gabriel questions, trying to hide the panic in his voice. He doesn't do very well because Sylar smirks.

Trapping you there or creating images? he clarifies, but waves a hand dismissively. Both. The mind is a powerful thing. I can make you see whatever I want you to. He cocks his head and crosses his arms. I take it I'm not what you prefer. Well, how 'bout this? He turns, arm extended as if presenting someone on stage. Virginia Gray walks in front of him with a kind, fragile smile on her lips. Say hello to Mommy dearest. he says as he sets his hands on her shoulders.

"Get your hands off her! Don't touch her!" Gabriel screams, thrashing futilely.

Sylar rolls his eyes. Calm down, Gabriel, she's not real. He proves this by shooing at her chest as if clearing smoke. The form of his mother becomes distorted and breaks apart, then finally disappears. So maybe Mom wasn't who you wanted to see.

"She's not your mother!" he growls.

How about her? Sylar asks as if never interrupted. The mirror cuts off whatever his hand reaches for, but then someone comes twirling into view in a blur of scarlet and blonde. Elle, in a red halter dress, is molded to his alterego's side as if it's her place in life to be there. Anger swells deep within the watchmaker as he watches the two waltz.

"Stop it." he hisses—begs.

Sylar sniggers, clearly enjoying this torment, but he does stop. He lets go of Elle and she disappears. I don't prefer them much either. The one I want is riiight there. He mimics Trevor's finger-gun and aims at Gabriel, one eye closed. His thumb clicks. Pow.

"What do you want with me?"

I'm tired of being left in the dark, unnoticed.

"What do you want with me?" Gabriel repeats, demanding this time.

It's what I want from you, Gabriel. I can do anything I want with you. But you've got something only you can give me.

"And that is?"

A body.

Gabriel shakes his head, eyes impossibly wide. "No, you can't have it. This is my body!"

Sylar scoffs, then sighs. You are incredibly stingy, Gabriel. And dumb. I told you I don't need your permission. The smirk that curls Sylar's lips puts fear in the watchmaker's heart.

FOUR MONTHS LATER

The café wasn't very full during this late afternoon. Four distinct people stick out from the rest, three only because they're talking very loudly. The two Japanese men are conversing with the redhead waitress and the man sitting in by the door wearing the cap and jacket is very quiet and very still. It isn't until the waitress enters the back that he moves, following. No one paid him any attention, simply thinking he was going to the restroom. Nor do they notice he went in the same area the waitress did.

She was picking up two orders when he saw her, back facing toward him. A hunger claimed him when he realized no one was around. His lips formed a smirk as his finger lifted…

You know what happens next.