And you
Can bring me to my knees
All this time
That I could make you breathe
All the times
I felt insecure
All those times
That I tried
My intentions
Full of pride
And I waste
More time then anyone
'Cause I'm on the outside
And I'm looking in

-Outside by Staind

Noah Bennet's knee presses into the girl's back, his hand against her head as he tries to bury it deeper into the sandy ground. Sylar stands towering over the two figures, and that's when something grabs him. He looks down to see that the girl is trying to get him to help her. Her trust in him washes through his whole body, and it fuels his powers past their normal scope.

In less then a second, Sylar has the man floating meter above the ground, freeing the girl.

"This is how you thought you'd get to me?" Sylar laughs deliciously as he looks up at Bennet, the man's horned rim glasses slipping off his nose. "You should have known I'd stop you hurting her."

The girl is wheezing now, trying, and failing to stand up. Sylar flicks his wrist and sends Bennet flying into the oblivion of the shifting dream-scape surrounding them. Sylar then bends over and offers the poor girl his hand, feeling his heart pound in his chest at the simple fact that she takes his offer of help. Her hand grasps him tightly, relying on him to help her to her shaky feet, and Sylar fights back the urge to just pull her to his chest and reassure himself that she still exists.

She steadies herself against him, and Sylar raises his hand to touch her cheek. But suddenly the girl is gone, and there is a burning sensation on his legs that has him wrentched from his dream.

"What the-" Sylar spluttered as his dark eyes shot open.

"Sorry, pal," laughed a nervous man at his side. "But it's all this turbulance! I couldn't help it."

Sylar looked down at his lap and saw the spilt soup darkening his already black jeans. It was hot, and he could feel the burn as it leaked in through his boxers. Sylar turned a sharp eye on the man who seemed to be shrink in the moments that Sylar spent observing the damage.

"Will you excuse me," Sylar seethed.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O

"Goddamn it." Sylar fumesd to himself as he looked down at the wet patch on his black jeans. If he couldn't heal himself that man would truly be regretting his mistake. But as it was, Sylar could, so the man was spared.

With a deep breath Sylar looked into the mirror to assess himself. The hideous white bathroom light brought the whole scene to a garish white that had Sylar, dressed head to toe in black, sticking out like a sore thumb.

His danger vibes were magnified in his anger, and Sylar tired to calm himself down. His newly reacquired powers sometimes went heywire when he had powerful emotions. Going through airport security acting like a man in a rage was probably not great for lying low. And that was the only reason that had Sylar retreating out of New York and into Luoisina – to simply stay below the radar until things calmed down.

Sylar was no fool. Who ever killed Petrelli was connected, most likely to the older generation of special people, or even worse, with the company. Sylar knew that they'd be taking out the more powerful beings who were trying to change the world. Nathan Petrelli had been about to reveal his secret. Eveyone who had some kind of power, and knew the deep desire to tell everyone about it, could have recognised the high timbre his voice had caught right before three bullets had peirced his main organs.

Sylar would hide for how ever long it took until they had given up on him. For the time being, Luoisiana was as far as he was going to go. After all, there were gifted people everywhere. It was just a shame that Peter and Maya, the gifts that Sylar truly wanted, were stuck in the ever protected New York.

"We are about to descend into Louisiana." said the captian over the intercom. "Please take your seats, put your trays in the upright position and remember the seatbelt sign is turned on."

Sylar let out a groan and dragged his feet to the bathroom door. He slid it open with a scowl and stalked down the aisle toward his seat.

The man peered up with a look of a trapped animal, but Sylar effected not to notice him at all. He slid around the man's protruding belly into his own seat, and strapped in for landing.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O

It was too hot to be bared as Sylar made his way out of the pleasantly cooled airport. He reluctnatly slipped off his overcoat and his hoody, before stuffing them into his duffle bag.

He strecthed out his body and looked around at the vast carpark. All he had to do was break into a car, and then put his skills to use prgramming it. Thanks to Charlene Andrews, he could absorb any information he wanted to, and he had started at robbery.

Sylar stalked down the long lines, observing the more expensive cars the power hungry side of himself wanted to jack. But the laying low, quiet side of Sylar that had him surviving this long, took him past them to the more low key cars.

It's like some illegal car showing, Sylar thought to himself as he scratched at his five o'clock shadow.

Finally, Sylar spotted a black BMW that looked a few years old. The black wasn't glossy, but the windows were tainted – which suited Sylar's purposes just fine.He slipped in, got it hot wired, and located a map of outer Luoisiana, all under two minutes.

A smile played at the corners of his lips as he leant back in the car and folded his arms behind his head. The airconditioning was yanked up until the car was like a wind tunner.

Sylar's smile broadenes evilly as he reverses out of the spot, and makes his way out onto the freeway.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Bray, Luoisiana was a small town that sat just off the highway. Its white houses covered by large towering trees, hiding it from all civalization. The small town of about 1000 wasn't even on the map, making it the ideal haven for Sylar.

It was late afternoon, the sun still boiling hot, when Sylar noticed his fuel tank was near empty. He took the next exit, thinking he'd just find a solitary rest stop and a gas pump. But as soon as he made the sharp turn, the wood bowed out to reveal a small town square.

Sylar had spent a good half hour driving through the town, marking down that his black atire might not make the best first impression. Most men wore suits even though the sun baked them, and if it wasn't suits it was sweaty muscle shirts stretching over beer bellys and belted jeans.

He parked down a side street and changed into his khaki pants and blue button up shirt. Sylar combed his hair back in teh rearview mirror, and slipped on his glasses. He almost looked like he did when he went to visit his mother for the last time. She had been the only one to believe in him, and she was killed. His one link to humanity – killed by her own son.

Maybe that's why the girl from the dream has begun to appear, mused Sylar, maybe she's my mind trying to save me and everyone from my dangerous powers...

Sylar readjusts his glasses and slippe dout of his car. His long legs moving across the steaming black tar up to the post office. He looked in through the front window and judged the rental properties in the area. Some looked promising, but he wanted privacy, and most of them looked like expensive BnBs disguised as rent rooms.

With a deep, calming breath, Sylar pushed open the door, making the bell tinkle loudly in the stillness of the shop. The postman was chatting idly with a woman dressed in a nurse's outfit. They both looked up hopefully at Sylar's approach and smiled welcoming. His outfit must have been work.

"Hey there! Welcome to Bray!' the postman enthused, shaking Sylar's hand once he arrived at the front desk. The woman subtly moved off, going to look through the magazine rack. "How can I help you?"

"Hey there," Sylar said back, smiling as he pretended to look through the town's paper. "I have an enquiry to make, if its no trouble."

"Us Bray-ians are always happy to help new comers." The man replied, rubbing his ink stained hands on his white and yellow plaid shirt.

Syler's smile grew a little more. "Great. I'm looking for a room. And I saw all your great adds out front, but I'm wondering if someone like you, who probably knows everyone in this town," the postman guffawed happily, "would like to recommend one to me."

"Well, there's a lot of great places. It really depends on what you want."

"Oh," Sylar shakes his head, "what a fool I am, of course. I'm looking for somewhere quiet. I want a good atmosphere with people who I can trust. Also," Sylar leaned in, and, wth the air of telling a deep secret, told the man; "I'm not a great fan of Bed and Breakfasts."

The postman chuckled as they draw away. "A young man like yourself - that's to be expected."

The man then turned to the woman whose nose was buried deep in an issue of OK!. "Hey, Suze."

She looked up with a bright smile, her whole face seemingly open and inviting. Sylar smiled sweetly back at her, though wasn't really impressed by her sainthood. It usually made him more wary then anything, seeing as he was not saintly in anyway.

"Yes,Tim?" she replied, smiling happily towards the postman.

She'd heard every word.

"This young man's looking for a room to rent." Tim the Postman replied, gesturing grandly to Sylar.

"Well, hey there!" says the woman, moving up to Sylar and offering her hand. "My name's Susan Hart."

"Hello," Sylar said with a wide smile. "Gabriel. Gabriel Grey. Am I to assume you have a room for rent?"

Susan nodded and sppoke in a bright voice, "Yeap. Just on the outskirts of town. Its such a big house, too big for my family of three. Well, I say three; but my husband is on business so much it feels like just the three of us. I figured, why not open it up for new comers like you."

Sylar kept his friendly smile across his face as he nodded back. "I think it's a brilliant idea."

Tom moved off to help another customer, and Susan led Sylar out into the parking lot where he noticed his black car was parked right next to her light blue box car. She laughed lightly at this coincidence, and Sylar kept his smile fixed, knowing that he had to make a brilliant and charming impression so that when the money ran out, he could call up on it to keep him there.

"Here, let me get out some directions for you," spoke Susan, opening her passenger door as she speaks.

"You said there's three of you..." Sylar said as he leant against his own car's door.

"Oh yes," Susan laughed, her hand now rummaging through the papers in her glove compartment. "I have two daughters. They're both in senior year here in the local highschool. They're twins, but so very different."

"Ah," Sylar said, his brow furrowing. He hadn't been expecting that. Girls weren't really part of his plan for a quiet existance. He wondered what they were like. He really hoped they weren't as siantly and over helpful as their mother – though teenagers rarely were. If he was lucky they were seventeen, and therefore out of his reach. Eighteen year olds, adults in their own right, might be a bit of a temptation for him.

"Yes," sayid Susan as she drew out from her car. "Jane and Sasha Hart. You might run into Jane when you get over there. Sasha just got excepted onto the swim team, so she'll be at practice!"

Sylar opened his mouth in fake excitement for Sasha Hart. He really hoped that Jane was ugly, deatched and snarky. And Sasha was butch... Romaticizing with young adults wasn't really below the radar. Sylar was just wondering if there was anyway out of the deal, as Susan's smile broadens.

"Here you are, Gabriel!" she said, the papers in her hand.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O

The house was just like the photo, tall with two storeys and peeked with an attic. It was covered in white veneer that took on the red sunset like paint. There was a surrounding wood that seemed to dwarf the white structure. The window curtains on the second floor were drawn against the sun, but downstairs Sylar could see the flashing light of a TV.

Sylar parked his car on the street in front of the house, and stepped out quietly. If he was lucky he could slip up into the guest room on the second floor without Jane Hart spotting him. Sylar slipped his duffle bag over his shoulder and started to walk silently along the crushed gravel driveway. A beat up brown pick up sat next to the house, and Sylar peered into the cab to see a Biology12 text book left on the passenger seat, and a crystal heart dangling from the rearview mirror.

No doubt Jane's car, Sylar thinks to himself, as the crystal heart catches the dying sun rays and throws small rivets of colored sun onto the rusted brown interior.

He moved across the backyard, the long green grass denting to his footsteps then springing back up again. The tips of the trees around him glowed red, and Sylar took in the scene; the subtle beauty of it wasn't lost on him.

Teenagers or not, this actually might not be a horrible place.

As Sylar moved along the back of the house, he could hear the evening news recapping Nathan Petrelli's death. The girl inside was breathing deeply, and Sylar could hear her whimper slightly as she heard Petrelli's mother make a an appeal. Sylar rolled his eyes and continued on.

He reached the steps to the front porch and began to ascend them. This sets off a light that dangles from the white porch covering, and sends Sylar cursing up the rest of the steps. He could already hear the heartbeat from inside quicken painfully, and he flinched. He'd been spotted.

Sylar tried one last ditch effort to slip in quietly, hoping that the girl will pass off the commotion as some form of wildlife straying from the encircling woods. Sylar manages to open the door silently, and step into the dark corner without any more noise, and as he shut the door behind him, he could hear Jane's heart beat begin to slow.

Sylar peered around and spotted a figure sitting on the couch a few meters away. Her brown hair shone in the dim lamp light as the young girl finally let out a sigh of relief. Sylar watched with held breath as she bent forward and scooped up a bowl from the coffee table.

As she stood to go into the kitchen, Sylar noticed her delicious curves in her blue shorts and clingy white t-shirt. She wasn't small or thin in any way, her body a very attractive hourglass. Her hips sway to and fro invitingly as she walks away from the couch.

How could she be just 18?

She sighed once more, set her bowl in the sink, and turned on the water. Sylar licked his lips as he watched her small hand travel under the water, her palm turning up to feel the water warm against her sensitive skin.

He walked up towards her back, his figure immerging from the shadows and into the light. Her hair swayed as she shook her head. What could have her so absent minded that she can't feel me? Most of the people he met sensed him, felt their instincts pick up on his danger. She seemed oblivious as she squeezeD soap into her bowl and began to scrub.

Sylar felt another smile slip across his lips, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"Hello."

The resulting scream made him feel better - it was probably better she feared him - His reaction to her could have had bad consicqunces. The plate crashing on the floor splashed soap and water onto their legs, and Jane leant forward with a gasp.

Sylar instantly froze and stared down – her hand was resting against his chest.