Inspired by the fact that Sylar only sees one memory when he touches the sweater.
Sylar's hands trembled. He wasn't just opening a box. He opening a part of his old life that he never wanted to see again. He almost reverently drew apart the cardboard flaps to unmask... A creme-pink, bloodstained cardigan sweater. he slid his hands under it, pulling it lightly past the box's opening to crush it up to his face, burying himself in the memories. The faint feeling of wonder at seeing her son again. The tinges of anger and agony and fear creeping in from the edges, the horrifying realization of what he was becoming. Then just despair, emptiness, the feeling of light pain near the heart, and... nothing. He wiated, hoping desperately for something else to appear, but nothing did. No memories of happier times, nothing but that one moment at the end of her life. He wondered, absently, for a second, thoughts playing lightly on this small puzzle, why it was there were no memories, no history with her before that. And then he realized.
She must have just bought it when he killed her.
~~~~~ Review please.