She flinched.

That's all it took to get Sylar's blood boiling, anger coursing through his veins. After everything they'd been through together, after he'd bared his soul to her, after he'd died for her, she flinched. She still flinched.

It was in that moment he knew she'd lied to him. She'd lied to him. She'd lied to him. Suddenly Sylar and Elle's happy-ever-after was nothing more than a cruel, sick joke.

And so it was, as the two lay stranded on some godforsaken beach, Sylar pinning Elle to the ground preparing himself to do what he knew he should have done the first time she walked into his watch shop, the first time she hurt him, the first time she lied to him. There was that word again. Lie. All Elle ever did was lie and now she would die, lying on the beach. Sylar snickered at the pun.

You die alone.

The words rushed through him like the thunderous waves of a tsunami as Sylar remembered the grim prophecy of the Japanese time traveler. The same time traveler that had sent Sylar and Elle to this beach, lit only by the stars cluttering the deep blue sky.

Hiro Nakamura. Even his name left a bitter taste in Sylar's mouth. And yet, his words rang through Sylar's mind and after three years were still able to instill in him a sense of paralyzing terror. Because with those three words, Hiro Nakamura had exposed Sylar's greatest fear.

With this new thought pounding in his skull, Sylar began to examine his victim. Elle, petite in stature, was gasping for air under Sylar's weight, writhing in pain as he applied pressure against the gunshot wound she'd sustained on her leg.

At one point in his life, Sylar had taken great pleasure in the deafening screams of his victims as he extinguished their pitiful lives. But Elle's wounded and exhausted body could only conjure soft whimpers of pain and defeat, and all these did was make Sylar's stomach turn in a manner that was most uncomfortable.

So here Sylar was, about to murder the woman who only a few hours ago he'd made love to. Love. Sylar had loved Elle. Loved her the first time he laid eyes on her, loved her when she betrayed him, loved her when he killed her father, loved her as he took her head in his hands and pressed his lips firmly against hers. Sylar loved Elle. And for some reason, Elle loved him back. Even if he was a broken watch, damaged beyond repair.

Sylar pressed his body harder against Elle, who gasped in pain, and slowly began to raise his right index finger toward her exposed forehead to begin the incision.

You die alone.

There it was again. Hiro's prophecy. Sylar looked at Elle, who had given up struggling and accepted her defeat, and felt a strange sensation that began in his stomach and spread throughout his body. What was this, guilt? All Sylar knew was he didn't like it.

And he didn't want to die alone.

So Sylar stood up. He left Elle on the beach, looking back once to see the starlight reflected in her blond hair. Sylar would be alone for now. But only for now.