Author's Note: I really put off writing this chapter because I was not looking forward to it. It required walking a fine line of changing things and not changing too much. In the end, I made a conscious decision to incorporate some of the lines from the Sampson episode. And just a non-canon reminder from Chapter 22, Sylar actually liked his adopted father.

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Chapter 44:

Elle pulled up outside a house in Newark. The sign in front read "Sampson Gray, Taxidermist" and had depictions of large game painted on it. Sylar knew that the last name could not be merely a coincidence. This was his father's house. "He's a taxidermist?"

She hesitated before opening her car door. "I'm sure it's not as creepy as it sounds."

Sylar got out and started for the walk, but Elle took his hand and stopped him. "Just breathe and stay calm. You don't want to provoke him; you just want to talk. Unless you do want to provoke him, in which case, I have your back."

Talk like that worried Sylar. He knew that he could just stop her from going in. He could teleport her miles away and strand her there until he was done talking with his father. That would be the best way to protect his family. Sylar was torn because he wanted to respect her choices, but there had to be a line. "You want to hear this, so I'm going to let you, but promise me that you aren't going to do anything stupid."

Elle was clearly annoyed by this. "I don't do stupid things. I am a highly trained--"

He had not meant to upset her. If she got defensive, she would just get more reckless. "Right, I know that you're more capable than people give you credit for. I'm sorry. But not a word about having an ability. If he asks, you lie. In fact, he may know about the company and paper front, so feel free to lie about as much as possible. Your job, how we met, whatever you say I'll go along with it." He still felt like it would be better if she was not there.

She nodded solemnly. "I can do that." Holding tightly onto his hand, she walked him up the sidewalk. She rang the doorbell and whispered again, "Stay calm."

Sylar did not know what he expected his father to be, but the man who opened the door did not fit his vision at all. He was hooked up to an oxygen tank, and he looked so old, decrepit, pathetic. After all this time, after everything Sylar knew about his father, he was not sure where to start.

Sampson Gray looked them up and down. "I don't need a religion, thank you."

He tried to close the door, but Sylar caught it with his hand. "We're not here about a religion. I'm your son, Gabriel."

"Are you?" Sampson nodded his head a little. "I don't know what you're looking for, but you came to the wrong place." He turned and headed back into the main part of the house, leaving the door open for them. "Well, come on in."

As they walked in, it was difficult to miss the dead and stuffed animals on display all over the house. Elle touched a squirrel with one finger. "It's actually a lot creepier than it sounds," she whispered. Sylar had to agree.

They sat on the couch, and Sampson settled into a worn recliner, next to a much larger oxygen tank. He turned it on and took a deep hit from the mask. "And who is this young lady?"

Sylar was reminded again of how uncomfortable he was having Elle there. "This is my fiancée, Elle. She insisted on coming along." Elle rolled her eyes at this. Sylar did not care about that; he wanted his father to understand that he was not expecting a family reunion. "I'm not here for any kind of father figure. I just want answers."

His father looked at him with yellow, watery eyes, and Sylar saw his future in those eyes. It took him a moment to realize that he would never end up like that because he was not a smoker and he could heal. Sampson coughed a few times. "Are you sure about that?"

Sylar was very sure. "Yes, I want to know why you gave me away."

Elle shook her head with a frozen smile. "No, Gabriel, you don't" He turned his head, confused, but she was looking straight ahead at Sampson. "He's skipping something kind of important." She continued under her breath. "You need to start with that thing you can do, otherwise you're going to sound like a little boy with abandonment issues."

Sylar had no doubt that his father had heard that, nor did he doubt that Elle intended to be heard. He did not know his father or care about his father, but it was still a little bit embarrassing to be talked to like that in front of the man. He did not want his father to think that he had been browbeaten by a domineering woman, especially considering the mother he had grown up with, but he did not want to fight with her just then either. He hated most of all that she was right. People tended to keep their abilities close to the vest around non-evolved people. It was best to get that out of the way right up front. "She's right, I should start by saying that I have an ability, and if I remember correctly, so did you."

Sampson shrugged. "I had lots of 'em."

Sylar sighed. "Yeah, so do I. I take them from people I've killed."

When he said this, Elle closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and took a deep breath. It was really some good acting. Sampson seemed happy to hear about Sylar's ability. "Looks like the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree."

That was not what Sylar had come for. "I'm not your apple," he said bitterly.

It appeared for a moment that Sampson was going to disagree, but then he looked over at Elle. "Hmm, maybe not." He shrugged. "I don't know you, but I know that for me killing was in my blood. Couldn't stop it anymore than I could stop breathing."

When Elle hung her head at hearing this, Sylar did not think she was acting anymore. That was exactly the kind of thing she was afraid his father would say. Sylar wanted to move on from that troubling news. "Fine. So with that in mind, I want to know why you killed my mother and abandoned me."

"I don't really remember. It was so long ago, and it didn't matter much to me. I think I needed the money."

Elle took his hand and squeezed it. He was not sure whether that was part of the show for his father or out of genuine concern for his emotional state. Sylar did not have time to be upset or angry though; he was more interested in finding out what his father meant about the money. "What money?"

"I sold ya," he said as though he expected Sylar to already know that. "I needed the money, and my brother's wife was so desperate to have a child, after she found out that she couldn't have any of her own. How is Virginia doing these days?"

Sylar had always been reluctant to talk about his mother, but now he wanted to say the words out loud so that his father would know what kind of person he became. "She's dead. I killed her."

Elle gasped and dropped his hand. Sampson raised his eyebrows calmly. "Didn't know about that one?"

"No, I knew. I just--" She turned to look at Sylar. "I didn't expect you to say it like that. It was self defense. Right, Gabriel?"

Sylar did not know why she was reacting like that. "That's what I say."

She looked horrified when he said that, but he always thought she knew there was more to it than just self-defense. "We should leave," she said in a shaky voice. "He doesn't remember. It didn't matter to him. That's all you need to know."

Sylar could tell that she was going to stand next, and he prevented her from doing so. "No, I don't think we're done here yet."

She pulled on his arm. "Please. You're not acting like yourself, Gabriel." The way she emphasized his name helped him understand why she was acting so strangely.

Sampson watched this exchange with some interest. "What about you, young lady? You have any abilities?"

Elle dropped Sylar's arm and sighed. "No, I'm just a regular person. I work in marketing for a company that sells hair care products." She gave a slightly hysterical chuckle, as though to say that she did not know how someone like her had gotten caught up in this life. "When I went to Gabriel to get my watch fixed, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I didn't know I was going to fall in love with someone so... special." She said "special" in a bright, false tone, sounding like she was trying to convince herself that she was not making a mistake.

Sylar was not crazy about her choice to come across so hesitant about her decision to marry him, but it was probably the only way a normal woman could possibly handle finding out who he was. He hoped that was still part of the act.

"So you fix watches," Sampson said. "Like Martin. That's good. A man needs a hobby, something to keep the mind from thinking so much." There was a knock on the door, and Sampson got up. "Excuse me. That's probably just the kid from down the street. I'll get rid of him."

As soon as his father was out of the room, Sylar turned to Elle and hissed, "That wasn't all I needed to know. I have more questions for him."

She hissed back. "Right now you are straddling a line between Sylar and Gabriel, and I don't know which side you're going to come down on. And what scares me is I don't think you do either. If you're going to kill him, tell me right now, But if you're not, please don't sit here and listen to any more of this. It's not going to help you. Just remember that you are--" She stopped midsentence, looking at something behind him. "Peter."

Sylar turned around, and sure enough, there was Peter. At first, Sylar was annoyed to see him there, but then he realized that for once, Peter might useful to him. Get Elle out of here, he thought. Peter nodded slightly.

Sampson settled back into his chair. "He said he needed to see Elle."

Elle shook her head at Peter. "No. I'm in the middle of something here."

"Oh, it's okay," Sylar said innocently. "If Peter needs you, you can go with him."

Elle narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could protest, Peter spoke. "I know I told you you could have the day off to--" There was the slightest hesitation. "--make wedding plans, although I'm not sure how a taxidermist figures into that. But there is a problem with Nathan and I can't speak to him on your behalf anymore. I don't feel like this is the sort of thing that should wait." He pulled her to her feet and she reluctantly went with him. "I mean, you know it's important if I drove all the way out to New Jersey to--"

The door closed, and Sylar could not hear any more of what Peter was saying. He was glad that Elle was gone, even if she was with Peter. He would deal with the rest of his feelings about Peter showing up later. Without Elle there, he would be able to speak more openly with his father.

His father was staring back at him with an expression that seemed more astute than before. "Your girl seems nice enough, but there is going to come a day when you can't keep the promises you're making to her. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, and you have to kill."

Sylar pushed the thought that he had already killed her once out of his head. "I'm not you."

"We can't be all that different. I know the hunger you feel, Gabriel."

He was going to say more, but the door opened again. A few seconds later, Elle came into the living room. "It turns out I do have to go with Peter." She handed him her keys and leaned down to kiss him goodbye. She whispered in his ear. "I love you. Don't do anything stupid."

Once she was out the door again, Sampson said, "You should probably ask yourself what kind of an emergency there could be marketing shampoo."

"I trust Elle." Peter was another matter, since there was a small possibility he would be able to lie to Sylar by blocking his ability to detect it. So the Nathan emergency might have been contrived, but Elle would not have left unless she believed there was one.

Sampson turned off the oxygen tank and lit a cigarette. "The only thing people are good for is disappointment."

"Is that why you killed my mother?"

He paused for a few seconds like he was really thinking about it, and then he shrugged. "Maybe, I don't really remember."

The last time he said that, Sylar had been distracted by the money and staying good for Elle. But now he was able to focus on the fact that his father was not lying about that. He did not even remember. When he said that killing her and abandoning his son didn't matter to him, he meant it. Sylar felt a rage spreading through his body. One spark of electricity would be all it would take to ignite the oxygen tank and blow up this pathetic man and his pathetic life. And then Sylar would lose everything. "You remember me. You remember the money. Why can't you remember her?"

"I remember that I had a son, and the name Gabriel sounds about right. I remember that Martin and Virginia were willing to pay money to have a kid. I remember being married, more than once. But I don't remember how any of that ended. I don't even remember which one was your mother. None of it matters anymore. Someday, you'll understand."

It was ironic that those were the things Elle had insisted on hearing, so that she would be able to counter them later, but Sampson had waited until she was gone to say them. Sylar still had not heard any actual reasons yet, but he no longer thought there was any chance his father would give him any. "Does it hurt? Dying like that?"

"We all have to die some way."

Sylar stood. "You still don't understand that I am nothing like you. I know my limits and what I'm capable of, and I know that I'm stronger than you. I'm not going to end up in a meaningless life with only dead animals to keep me company. I'm not going to kill and forget Elle. Thanks to cheerleader in Texas, I'm not even going to die. It turns out you were right; you don't have anything I need. Thanks for your time. I won't be coming back." He walked out the door without a glance backward.

Sylar was glad that his father had cancer. It would not have been nearly as easy to walk away like that if he had not known that his father was going to die slowly, painfully, and alone. He did not care if his father was affected at all by the speech he made before leaving. That had not been for Sampson's benefit, but for Sylar's. He needed to say out loud that he was not going to end up like that, and as it turned out, that was all he needed from his father, a reminder of what kind of life awaited him if he could not make this change work.

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