I don't own heroes.

Well I don't know about you, but I'm having fun. So, sorry for the slow beginning, but things should start to really pick up in the next few chapters so don't give up on me yet. We're just getting to the good stuff...I think...I hope.

Review if you feel compelled to do so, if not I hope you at least enjoyed reading :)

Chapter 11

He wasn't exactly sure at what point he realized where he was headed, he just knew it hadn't been that much of a surprise when he did. The aspiration to find his father, talk to him and ask him questions still lingered in his mind. Not as compelling as before, more of an afterthought now, but it was still present. Sylar knew the man wouldn't be there, but he also hoped that nobody would look for him at that house again, at least not for a while, enough time to get his head on straight anyway.

The drive hadn't been a long one but Olivia managed to doze off sometime after the abrupt end to their conversation. He looked over at her, head leaning back against the headrest, turned slightly toward him. She had a facade of peacefulness that Sylar found himself uncharacteristically jealous of. Peace wasn't something he sought; it was the exact opposite in fact. Chaos was his desire, and power…but never peace. Sitting back in the driver seat of the parked car he watched her sleep for a few moments. His thoughts drifted to earlier when she had used her ability to facilitate their escape. Anger emerged in the background of his thoughts as he briefly wondered how the agents kept finding them, especially when he had no immediate idea where they would end up. Nothing made sense, frustration turning to disgust at his own disorganization. All he had wanted was to find his father, talk to him…probably kill him…and now he couldn't form any sort of cohesive plan for the direct future.

Olivia had thrown a stick in his spokes that he wasn't sure how to remove; honestly he wasn't positive he wanted it removed. Being pursued by some one, even the government, was not new to him. He was after all a serial killer and one person or another was always trying to put a stop to his activities. But Olivia's something he hadn't come across in a long time…not since first meeting Elle all that while ago.

After having decided to dispel the humanity that had been building inside, the self-possession he had been expecting to surface just wasn't there. It wasn't like before…before Angela's lie. Getting back to being the monster he knew he was hadn't been as simple as he assumed. Hesitation plagued him, over thinking any step he had been about to take. Even the decision to go see his father when he finally knew where to look had been wrought with disinclination.

Before the last eclipse he felt the goodness reconstituting in his soul, it wasn't as shriveled and black as everyone had thought. For a little while he considered that he could be happy like that, live the rest of his life without hurting another person for his own advancement. Then, finding out Elle had betrayed him again, lied to him just like everyone else…it was the reason he had killed her. She represented everything good that had been developing and all of it had been based on a lie, just like the first time she had come to him as a company gal.

It escaped his discernment previously, but there really was no going back…not all the way. The seed of kindness had been planted when he wasn't looking, and there was no way to stomp it out, not completely. That was only because it wasn't as foreign an emotion as he would like to believe. Gabriel had been a kind man, and he was still in there somewhere. He need only remember the few months he spent as a counterfeit member of the Petrelli family to know that was true. Killing Elle had been his attempt to bury Gabriel once and for all, but apparently that hadn't even done its job. He remembered his dream, with Elle telling him he didn't really know why he had killed her. She had perturbed him greatly, trying to tell him what he did and didn't know, but it had been a dream after all…it hadn't really been Elle. Obviously his own mind was trying to tell him something he wasn't completely aware of, something Sylar was sure he had no desire to learn since it would only serve to further disrupt his resolve to be Sylar again.

But looking at Olivia he was still puzzled by the lack of hunger for her ability. He wasn't sure if taking her empathic mimicry would give him access to the empathy she possessed as well, and he didn't care, not even after the scene back at the motel. He hadn't been exaggerating when he told her how powerful the ability was. Logic versus emotion, which was the more influential? Sylar already knew the answer. No matter the amount of thought a person put into something, no matter how much they have rationalized an idea or action…emotion would win out every time. It was the reason he denied feeling anything whenever he could. Emotion made a person weak, and lately he had been feeling eerily reminiscent of a wet noodle, even before meeting her.

A tiny hope had been developing in him since yesterday, wondering if they were meant to discover one another at a time when he was trying to figure out what direction to head in, figuratively speaking. He saw it in her right away, that she too was unsure of where she was heading and the idea that he would influence her was still causing him considerable distress. He didn't want to be responsible for anyone, not even himself most of the time which he assumed was one of the reasons he had allowed himself to trek down the path of destruction he had been on in the first place. Relinquishing restraint in favor of freedom of choice just proved so much enviable than self control. Yet in the end, no matter the choices he made that shaped his questionable past, there was no way in hell he wanted to form some one else into the same type of person time and isolation had molded him into. The surest way to avoid that was to ditch the woman and continue on his own, but that was the one thing he was almost positive he didn't want to do.

"Where are we?" Olivia asked quietly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Sylar started at the sound of her voice. "Newark." He informed her.

"Again? What's in Newark?" She gave a small yawn, making him want to do the same.

"My father's house." He said turning to look out the window up the street.

She followed his eyes to a weathered building with an unkempt lawn and a sign swinging slightly in the breeze. "Taxidermy?" She cocked an eyebrow, no hint of condescension in her tone.

"Yeah." He answered, his voice deep.

"Interesting." She added lightly. "Do you do taxidermy too?"

He twisted his neck to look at her and before he let the initial defensiveness punch through he reminded himself that she knew nothing about him and didn't realized the ridiculousness of the question. Composure returned to him after a few seconds and he felt even enough to answer.

"No…I've never met him actually." He revealed.

"Oh." Her eyebrows came together in disbelief and bewilderment. "So…you thought this would be a good time to meet him?" She asked innocently.

"He's not here." Sylar responded turning to look at the house again.

"Well, you're just a wealth of information aren't you." Olivia opened her mouth to say something else, but closed it quickly as she thought of a better way to find out what she wanted to know.

"Don't…even…think about it." Sylar warned still looking out of the car window.

"How did you…"

"Why wouldn't you? I'm sure you're just itching to use your abilities…now that you know what you're capable of." He turned to her with a cautioning glare. "But I wasn't joking earlier, it's dangerous…"

"I wasn't gonna…"

"I know what you were going to do, but reading emotion can be just as detrimental to your well being as useful to whatever situation you're in. Sometimes you find out things you don't want to know and those things can't be unlearned, not matter how hard you try…do you understand?" Sylar looked her right in the eye and didn't break the stare as he waited for her to respond.

Olivia followed his logic, but felt that there was much more behind the statement than he was letting on, he was being undeniably mysterious. Still she couldn't completely understand why he was cautioning her against the use of her abilities when he clearly had no qualms about using his own…unless he had an ulterior motive, something to do with what he wasn't telling her. It occurred to her that they were very much alike in that aspect of their personalities, they both liked to hide. For now she was resigned to letting him come clean in his own time, the same respect she had given everyone else in her life.

"Olivia." He pressed.

"Yes, I understand Sylar. But…" She bit her lip, uncertain whether or not to go on.

"What?" He insisted.

The uncertainty didn't arise from fear of his response. It grew out of the fact that she didn't actually have any real concern over revealing things about herself to him. While in the past she never found sharing as cathartic as it seemed everyone else did, with him it was different…easier somehow.

"I just…" she looked down into her lap as her fingers played with a loose thread on the hem of her t-shirt, "it's been such a long time, not knowing what this was, not knowing how to control it…or if I was going crazy imagining that I could do this…this thing. I felt like it was consuming every thought every second of every day for so long. I couldn't understand why this was happening to me and eventually I just accepted that I would always feel like that."

"Like what?" Sylar asked in a low voice.

"Lost…outcast…separated from the very few people that I care about because I couldn't stand not feeling like myself anymore. But now…it feels good to do something, anything with it…to know that it has a purpose." She finally looked up at him and her breath hitched at the expression on his face.

His mouth was pulled down into a sad frown and his eyebrows sank to frame his eyes with pity. When she had said the word outcast a million pictures flew through his mind. The image of himself as Gabriel wouldn't disappear on it's own after that, and he didn't instinctively try to push it away like he normally would. That was when he knew what he had to do, what he wanted to do. The Elle in his dream had been right; he did often wish he could go back to when everything was simple. None of them could really return to the times before their abilities manifested, but he didn't have to leave her alone to figure out how absolutely a person could be destroyed by them.

"Olivia…"

"I thought you said your father wasn't home." She said unexpectedly while staring through the windshield.

"What?" Sylar whipped his head toward the house, and sure enough he noticed slight movement behind the curtain in one of the front windows.

"More agents?" Olivia suggested nervously.

"I don't think so." Sylar thought for a second before peeking out the corner of his eye at her.

She looked at him too, almost reading his mind. "It doesn't feel like them. I'm pretty sure it's only one person actually. I don't know how accurate…"

"Good enough for me." Sylar undid his seat belt.

"Wait, are we going in?" Olivia asked surprised.

He didn't answer directly but did have instructions for her. "Don't use your empathy to project only use it to sense the surroundings. If you need to protect yourself, use the telekinesis. Anything else, I'll take care of…ok?"

"Ok." She agreed, her voice shaking a bit.

They walked at a casual pace across the street, Olivia keeping a very short distance between Sylar and herself. She watched as he jiggled the locked door knob and almost let a sigh of relief escape her lips, until he miraculously opened the door without use of any sort of tool that she had observed. The bafflement must have shown on her face because he answered her unasked question.

"Telekinesis. I moved the parts inside the lock to open it."

"Without being able to see it?" She whispered just as he had.

He half smiled with a raised eyebrow. "I told you earlier, I understand things most people can't." Holding his finger up to his lips he gave a quick shush before quietly opening the door into a living room that reeked of stale smoke.

Olivia breathed deep, savoring the smell and being revolted by it at the same time as she recalled the last time a cigarette had touched her lips. Sylar was in front of her and moved deeper into the room, leaving the door open a crack. Olivia moved to follow as she felt the need to stick close to him return when something else drew her attention. She gasped, the sound making Sylar turn to her at once with wide expecting eyes.

"What is it?" He said very quietly as he made his way over to her. "Are you gonna…."

"No, I'm ok. It's just…whoever's in here is pretty scared…and angry." Olivia put her hand over her heart trying to quell the invading emotions.

Sylar grabbed her gently by the upper arms. "Don't let the emotions overwhelm you. Just because you've gained some control doesn't mean you have to let them in," he counseled, "push them out if you need to. I told you…" Before Sylar could finish he caught movement through the doorway of the kitchen and started toward it without a second thought.

"Sylar." She tried to catch the sleeve of his shirt but missed.

As soon as he entered the kitchen he stopped and looked over the space. The place looked like it had been sitting uninhabited for more than just a few days seeing nothing but a mess of dirty dishes, tools and more mounted animals. But there was no one there that he could see. He heard a noise behind him and turned with his hand raised ready for anything only to find Olivia standing very still right behind him. She was looking past him, her eyes getting bigger by the second.

Before Sylar had the chance to turn back around a voice broke the silence, one he was not thrilled to hear.

"Sylar." The voice was hard and accusing.

Sylar responded over his shoulder, still keeping his eyes on Olivia whose face was contorting with uncertainty. "Peter."

***

"Honey, who is Luke Campbell?" Sandra followed after her daughter, Mr. Muggles close at her heels.

"It's one of the names that Angela gave me. She suggested I go there first." Claire responded as she padded up the stairs.

"Where?" Sandra asked.

"New Jersey."

"Claire, New Jersey! You can't go to New Jersey; it's on the other side of the country." Sandra's voice raised a few octaves as she tried to reason with her daughter.

"I know Mom." Claire agreed. "But I have to go, I have to find him and tell him what's going on…help him, remember." Claire yanked her suitcase out of the closet and began stuffing clothing into it.

Sandra was not backing down. She had agreed that Claire should follow her instinct, but to New Jersey? "Honey…honey stop, please." Sandra grabbed Claire by the wrists, forcing her to look at her.

Claire became agitated and pulled herself free from Sandra's grasp. "Mom, you just said…" She began to argue.

"Yes I know what I just said…and I'm not changing my mind, yet. But you can't just pack a bag and hop on a plane Claire. Those agents are watching you, waiting for you to do something wrong, anything. You can't exactly walk out the front door while the sun is shining and expect to get past them without a fight." Sandra knew she was getting to her when Claire's shoulders fell and her lips started to form a pout.

"Mom…" She started, but didn't know what to say. She knew her mother was right, but she also knew she had to leave.

"Claire honey," Sandra comforted, "you need a plan. One that doesn't involve getting nabbed by the government before you make it out of the driveway." She squinted her eyes and smiled. "I have an idea."