Now she was crying softly against his shoulder, letting him settle her against his chest and rock her slowly. There were no words. He looked at her and seemed to understand exactly what she was feeling, because he gathered her close and kissed her again and again, up and down the sides of her face and by the corners of her eyes.
They held each other for a long time, lying at the edge of the bed. Neither one of them had slept yet and Eden was exhausted--she started to fall asleep against his shoulder. She felt him start to stand up, but she touched his arm. "Will you stay with me?" she asked. Her voice was still thin from all her crying.
She heard his breath catch in his throat, a combination of surprise and hesitation, before lying back down and pulling her close. They both fell asleep.
Time passed, and a thick rectangle of light volleyed off the window and into Eden's eyes. She blinked and slowly sat up, her neck and shoulders stiff from sleeping in the same position. She exhaled slowly and stretched, gingerly rolling to her side to watch him sleep. His hands were clenching and unclenching the sheet, and she felt herself start to smile. If I clench my hands, so do you, she thought, and she lightly touched his face. He seemed so different now, sleeping beside her like this. She wondered briefly if this was what he was like before he became Sylar; he seemed so gentle now.
Mousy neighbor or Tinkerbell cunt, she thought, and she lightly touched his hair. Mousy neighbor.
The sun was out now, and the slits in the blinds made bright stripes of light across his face. The corners of his mouth turned upward slightly and when he opened his eyes, and she couldn't help but notice how long his lashes were.
"Sorry, did I wake you?" she asked.
"No, it's okay," he said. His eyes were smiling. He brushed the hair from her face and propped himself up on his elbow. "What time is it?" Before she could answer, he stretched his arm across her body and picked up a watch that was sitting on the nightstand. "7 AM," he said. He sank against her, closing his eyes. "God, that's what? Two hours of sleep?"
"Yeah, it's too bright out," she said. He kissed her forehead.
"I can fix it," he said, and he held his hand out. The room grew cold and the window frosted over, layers and layers of ice changing the hard, bright light to a soft blue gray.
"Now it's too cold," Eden said, and Sylar laughed, pulling her close. She settled against his chest and sighed.
"How's your hand?" she asked.
He shifted his weight and showed her his hand. She gingerly cupped his palm and held it to the light. The gash was crusted and weeping.
"Does it hurt?" she asked. She gently stroked his palm with her thumb.
"Not so much, right now," he said. "I'm still having trouble holding things, but once it heals it should be fine."
Eden frowned. "You can't use your telekinesis?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I can swing my mind around like a baseball bat, but it's still hard for me to do anything that requires fine movement. I haven't practiced enough," he said.
"I thought you were good at everything," Eden said.
"I can figure things out, but that doesn't mean I don't have to practice," he said.
Eden smiled. "Do you want to know what your original ability is?" she asked.
He looked at her, confused. "I wasn't born with any ability," he said.
"Yeah you were: intuitive aptitude," she said. "'A superhuman ability to determine exactly how things work.' I saw it written on your chart," she said.
He stared at her. "You're kidding," he said. "I thought anyone could do what I do. I just thought I was more patient."
"I mean, who knows, it might be a bullshit diagnosis, but it explains a lot," Eden said. She felt him stiffen slightly, pulling inward.
"So it was all for nothing," he said, more to himself than to her. He looked at her, and she could see the regret in his eyes. "All the people I've killed, it's no wonder you were afraid of me," he said. "I don't know what happened, I let it get out of control. I never wanted to hurt anyone, I swear it. It just happened."
Eden didn't say anything. Instead she rubbed his arm and waited for him to continue.
"Do you know about Brian Davis?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yeah," she said. "He was your first kill."
He took a breath. "I wasn't planning on hurting him," he said. "I just wanted to see what he was like. He was special, and I wanted to know what made him different. But he wasn't different, he was just like me. Weak. Unimportant. Except that he had a talent I didn't have, and he didn't even want it. It made me angry, and that's why I killed him. Afterwards I couldn't stop. I sought out more people, more abilities. Taking what they didn't deserve. And every time I took, a little bit of me died. Every power I gained, I became less like myself and more like God." His voice dropped to a ragged whisper. "If I were a better person I would have killed myself," he said. "Sometimes I wish I did."
She eased him against her chest, her arms tight around his back.
"I know what you're going through," she said. "When I discovered my power, it was like a whole new world. I could make people do what I wanted. I could make them listen to me. It was better than sex," she said. She looked at her hands. "I hurt a lot of people, though," she said. "If Bennet didn't find me, I don't know what would have happened."
"Have you ever killed anyone before?" he asked. She nodded against his chest.
"Yeah," she said. "My stepmom, by accident. And then this guy in Oklahoma." She closed her eyes. "My stepmom and I got into a fight, and I told her I wished she was dead," she said. "I was high when I killed the guy in Oklahoma. I wanted his car, but he wouldn't listen to me. So I shot him."
She hugged him tighter, as if trying to escape from the memory.
"I was so messed up," she said. "I used to go into clubs and pick up random guys, and I'd tell them to look at me, that I was the most beautiful girl in the room. I'd make them fall in love with me, and for a while I'd convince myself that it was real. But as soon as I stopped using my voice, they'd all leave, and I'd have to find another guy and start all over. I was lonely; I didn't have anyone. I thought sex was the same thing as love and when I figured out it wasn't, I started using. It wasn't until Bennet came along that I finally got better."
He touched the side of her face with his fingertips, softly tracing the outline of her jaw.
"I wish I knew you then," he said, and she closed her eyes.
"Me too."
They were quiet for a long time. Across from them, the sheet of ice began to melt, the water dripping onto the floor. Eden kissed the cut on his hand again, letting her lips trace the curve of his fingers.
"I really hurt you, didn't I?" she asked. She watched the ice drip and pool around the floor, the light coming through in ragged patches. "That's why you stopped coming to my room."
He nodded. "The last time you kissed me, you were lying and I fell for it. I was so humiliated. Ashamed. I didn't want to go through that again," he said.
"But you came back," she said, and she hugged him tighter. "You slept next to me."
"I missed you," he said, and she started to cry.
"Don't cry," he said, and he kissed the corners of her eyes. "Eden, it's okay. Don't cry, don't cry."
He moved to kiss her forehead, but she tilted her head up and kissed his mouth. He hesitated, surprised, but she took his head in her hands and brought him closer to her. She kissed him again, softly at first, then with a gathering intensity that made them both gasp. And when he finally touched her, he did so with a tenderness she had not experienced before.
Later, when they finished making love, he offered to let her shower first while he made lunch. "Can't we just stay here?" she asked, but he laughed, promising they could come back to bed after they ate.
Now she stood at the doorway, watching him make lunch. He had opened up a can of soup and was warming it up on the stove, and she stifled a laugh when she saw him taste it. He turned around and saw her standing there. "What?" he asked.
She walked up behind him and reached an arm around his waist. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"Tasting the soup," he said. "Why? What's so funny?"
She ducked her head against his arm. "You're tasting it, but you don't have any spices," she said. "You don't even have salt."
"Oh." He grinned self-consciously. "I wasn't even thinking," he said.
She popped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "You know, next time someone catches you doing that, just tell them you're testing the temperature," she said. "Better yet, you should probably just let me do the cooking from now on."
He started to smile, but then something changed; he stopped stirring. He cocked his head to the side, a look of intense concentration on his face.
"What?" Eden asked.
"Something's wrong," Sylar said.
Suddenly the windows smashed open. Darts came flying from outside and armed gunmen came rushing into the room. Sylar grabbed Eden and tried to run down the hallway, but Bennet and the Haitian cut them off. A tranquilizer hit Sylar in the neck and he crashed into the table.
"Gabriel!" Eden rushed toward him. Guards came running after her.
Bennet was yelling. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" but the tranquilizer dart hit her neck and she crashed into the wall, crumbling onto the ground. Bennet threw himself on the ground next to her and shook her. "Eden!"
She struggled to open her eyes, and she could see Gabriel lying on the ground, swimming in her field of vision. The blackness and the colors of the room swirled together but she focused on his face; their eyes locked before she finally passed out.