A/N: Due to my recent Sylar obsession (at least when he's written well), I decided to do what I intended to be a oneshot fic for fun. It got to a point where I realised that my plans for it will probably last at least three chapters, and I figured I'd show what I'd been up to. It's a bit sketchy in places and I'm not really used to writing "quips" so it may get a bit cheesy. But hey, that's what you'd expect with me putting Jack in something yet again. Hopefully Sylar's in character enough to be accepted :) Annoyingly poor Jack doesn't get to do much of the talking. But yes, shut up, silly author. Get on with the story.

Red droplets trickled thickly down the canvas. The brush sliced through their delicate threads, smearing them into a submissive stain of the artist's choosing. He worked fast, far beyond the speeds of which a normal living entity was capable. It was a wonder the paint had a chance to move at all. More colours were forced into the mix, the brush darting and jabbing under the gaze of blank, white eyes. The picture began to take form. It became apparent that the artist was painting himself within it. A seemingly average, modern man; slim; dark-haired, dark-eyed, jaw faintly traced with stubble, and brow lined with a disconcertingly thick set of eyebrows. The man in the painting was given the same tight-fitting jacket and jeans as his maker. A glimmer of orange light outlined the self-portrayal's hand. Amusement dabbed as an expression onto the face. His created self was fixated upon the image of a familiar, yet surely fabricated person.

He came to an abrupt close and staggered back. The blind white faded, uncovering eyes to match his portrait, deep brown and as unnerving as a space odyssey block. Not a patch of empty canvas remained. Gabriel frowned at the 'prophecy'. He gave the brush a distrustful glance before he focused upon his completed work.

"Interesting," he said. "Doubtful, but interesting. Although, it leads me to wonder what caused me to paint this. I can't remember the last time I saw a movie. Perhaps the gift of foresight has a sense of humour after all."

He held out the brush at arm's length and left it suspended. He stared at it, turning the tool over in the air. Playfully, Gabriel tilted his head and concentrated upon the paintbrush's intricate pieces. One by one the miniscule bristles drifted from their nest, the ferrule slowly unwound from the handle, until all of the components hovered alone. His attention was drawn once again to the canvas. He squinted at something barely noticeable in the bottom right corner, below the unlikely visitor that stood against the backdrop of his apartment – a smudge of smoky blue, in a frame all of its own.

The watchmaker's adopted son gritted his teeth. "I know what that is, and it's gonna ruin the furniture…"

In the few seconds it took for the rift to explode into the centre of Gabriel Gray's home, he spun to divert the assassination attempt made by his airborne sofa. He waved a hand and sent it aside to slam into a bookshelf. The easel and canvas shot backwards into the wall where they rattled in the wind. His eyes darted as he used all of his will to stave off the various household items that launched in the wake of torn reality. A coffee table took a lucky pot shot and cracked him across the temple. Gabriel grimaced slightly, and slumped to the carpet.

When he came to, the apartment had settled. The reverse-whirlpool of blue energy had vanished, leaving the last traces of its din to die in his advanced senses. He sat up, the pieces of a broken lamp sliding off his chest.

"Who are you?" he said to the owner of the beating heart that had been standing behind him. Gray turned to the startled visitor. His eyebrows raised and he gave a snort of laughter. "Impressive likeness. Shame I don't buy it."

The intruder smiled warily. "An impressive likeness to whom? Have we met before?"

Gray got to his feet and clicked his neck, much to the discomfort of the oddly dressed watcher. "No. The last person I knew that could do what you can died in a tragic accident. I have a similar ability, only I need DNA to do it. Somehow I find it unlikely that you've come into contact with Johnny Depp."

The Jack Sparrow doppelganger raised his index fingers to call for a pause in Gray's speech. "I don't 'ave any idea what you are talking about. I don't even know where I am. If you 'ave a quarrel to make, might I suggest you take it elsewhere. I am guiltless in this matter."

Gray stepped closer to the piratically-attired man, a curious frown furrowing his brow. A wave of a tingling sensation had only hit him at the last few moments. "You're not a shapeshifter?"

The pirate gave him a forced grin that shouted 'I'm talking to a madman'. "No."

It had become clear that whoever this man may be, he had not come here intentionally. He knew nothing of Sylar. Powerful serial killers with identity complexes didn't like people treating them as though they were crazy. At least, not if they didn't look afraid whilst they were doing so. Gray snarled and raised his hand. He curled his fingers in the air and yanked down. An invisible force gripped the pirate's dreadlocks and mirrored Gray's action.

"Ow!"

Gabriel smirked. "You're not Depp either. Tell me who you are."

The pirate began to pick his way about the littered apartment, keeping his eyes averted from the owner, as if trying to deny the cause of the pain in his scalp. "I am Captain Jack Sparrow. Apologies for the intrusion. When I find me way out, I'll gladly leave you to whatever it is you entertain yourself with."

No tingle.

"You're not lying…which means either someone has erased your memory and given you an unnecessary fabrication for a life, or…" Gray looked to the centre of the room. "The rift. It's only ever been theory, but every construct built by belief may be found on different planes of existence. Every possibility of thought…" He gave a close-lipped laugh. "You could've been anything from Daffy Duck to God."

Jack pushed a button on a surviving stereo and jumped as the disc tray slid out. His fingers danced close to his chest before he pivoted about to face Gabriel. "And by 'rift', do you mean that big blue wobbly fing what snatched me off me feet? You've seen one before?"

"Yeah, but the last one sucked," Gray replied, relishing the bad pun.

"What's your name?"

"Sylar."

"Profession?"

Gray smiled. "Did your mom ever make you soft-boiled eggs and give you bread soldiers to dip with?"

"Er, can't say I remember."

"I do that with brains."

"A surgeon?"

"Something like that."

"Well, mister Sylar," said Jack, edging to the nearest window. "Would you be so kind as to tell me where I am?" He twitched worriedly at the small glimpse of the world past the blinds.

Gabriel picked up the coffee table and wiped his blood from its corner. He set it back into place. "That's a little complicated."

"Enlighten me."

"You're in Queens, New York."

"New York? This looks nothing akin. New York's barely been born and bothering the natives. Not even the cleanest streets of London compare to what's down there. Or even what's in 'ere." Jack glanced about the apartment. "I don't even know what to call 'alf the knickknacks lying around, nor 'ow you managed to plug a ball of light on a stick into the ceiling, and I don't normally go around telling people how little I know about some'ing unless I think it'll get me somewhere. You're a magician, aren't you?"

Gray smiled darkly. "I always liked parties."

"What self-respecting gentleman doesn't?" Sparrow said idly. He turned away from the window and pressed his palms together hopefully. "Look, mate, I never meant to offend you, if that is in fact what I did. Just tell me how to make amends, I'll buy you a drink to square it, and you can just pop me back 'ome, savvy?"

"If you had offended me, Jack, you probably wouldn't be alive to contemplate it. I didn't bring you here. You did that on your own. I haven't yet harvested the ability to cross time and space, and by the looks of things I'd rather let it wait." He rolled his eyes when the pirate looked confused. "You're in the future. Well, a future. You don't exist here. You're just a story. Too bad for you."

Jack narrowed his kohl-circled eyes. Then he nodded decisively and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside." The pirate turned the handle and marched through.

"That's the bathroom."

"'S got no bath in it," Jack's grumble echoed off the tiles before he re-emerged.

"It's an expression. I wouldn't go outside if I were you."

"Why not?"

"Jack Sparrow goes walking through the streets of New York alone? You'll get mobbed by thousands of screaming women, which sounds a lot less fatal and a lot more appealing than it actually is."

Jack paused, halfway to the front door. "Three of 'em's painful enough," he muttered. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take." He moved to let himself out. There was a loud click as the door locked itself. The security chain drew across merely for show.

"I love that silence."

Sparrow turned slowly. "Silence?"

"The one people's hearts make when something startles them."

Jack grimaced in fear and tried the door handle to be certain. It gave the hollow clunk of futility.

Gray inhaled smugly. "If you truly are made up out of belief, then perhaps you aren't flesh and blood. Imagine being able to break apart a construct of projected energies and using them to make anything you wanted…out of thought. You could be the key, Jack. I'd like to see how that works…"

With one hand, Gabriel paralysed the pirate on the spot and began to draw him back into the main body of the room. His other hand gestured to the discarded sofa, tilting it upright once more and sliding it violently back into position, the coffee table only just escaping via a quick upward leap. Jack was whisked through the air and deposited onto the couch. His eyes flicked nervously as the apartment began to tidy itself around them.

Gray's lips turned up at the corners in a satisfied manner. "Stay."

Jack felt his muscles relax from the unseen grip that had held them. He sat up carefully but did not move otherwise. "What are you?"

"Unique."

Sparrow winced, his eyeline glancing briefly below Gabriel's waist. "Well 's not any business o' mine. If you 'ave a complaint, per'aps you should take it up with the doctor and 'is knife?"

Pressure squeezed suddenly at the pirate's windpipe.

"I said unique, Jack, not eunuch. Now hold still while I maim you…" Gray lifted his right index finger and pointed it at Sparrow's forehead. He hesitated. "No. That would spoil the fun. A shallow cut first…" His poised finger drifted lower, and then drew swiftly across the air. A thin line of red slit across Jack's cheek, making him hiss.

"How disappointing. You do bleed." Gray raised an eyebrow. "Which is quite a thing for me to be disappointed about. Let's try going deeper." He gestured and puppeteered Jack's arm into stretching outward. "I hope you're not too attached to your hand. It's about to part ways."

Jack watched, horrified, as Gabriel's finger sliced vertically, and…nothing happened. He blinked and looked toward his outstretched arm. He waggled his fingers to confirm that they were still responding. Gray's expression was contorted into frustration. The finger cut down again. Jack flinched. Again, not a scratch marked his wrist.

"Hah…" said Gray. "Clever." He slashed his finger at Jack's face. A matching line of blood seared the pirate's other cheek. "Still works. But only shallow cuts. I can work around that." Gray sliced horizontally, in line with Jack's throat. His jaw dropped. Jack's neck was unblemished. "How are you doing that?"

"I don't know, and if I find out, I'm not bloody well telling you."

Teeth bared, Gray leapt forward and grasped the pirate's throat. "You won't need to find out," he growled and tapped Jack's forehead with his other hand. "There's always manually. First, I'll put on some new clothes." Starting at his aimed finger, Gray's entire form warped, twisted and rearranged until, crouching before Jack, was an identical copy of Captain Sparrow. Gray shook himself at the transformation's discomfort then opened his eyes and smirked. "Now this is a skin I could get used to. Bit dirtier than I expected, but not bad." He drew Sparrow's cutlass from its sheath.

"I'm rather fond of it meself," Jack responded with a feeble smile. "So I'll thank you to feel the pain for both of us." Gray's disorientation on his side, Jack brought his boot up and slammed it into the mimic of his own face. He scrambled off the sofa and ran for the door, hoping to break through.

The dazed Gray twisted his pirate hand and telekinetically knocked Jack's feet out from under him. He got up, stalked toward the floored Sparrow and grinned down with gold and silver capped teeth. The cutlass rose high.

Jack rolled onto his back and winced. "Parlay?"

Sylar-Jack laughed and brought the sword down towards Jack's skull. A lightning-fast movement: the pistol was drawn and a shot blasted between Gabriel's eyes. Jack's eyes. Sparrow breathed a sigh of relief as his impersonator hit the ground, his weapon thudding alongside.

And gradually, the body began to morph back into the form of Gabriel 'Sylar' Gray...