Did you see what they did there at the end of the episode? I cannot WAIT for the finale! Anyway. Wrote this really quickly, so it might be error-filled. Will fix tomorrow. Man, crazy-Sylar is fun.
Takes place during "I Am Sylar"
Little things keep changing.
It's not just his appearance, either, it's not just what he sees when he looks into the mirror, it's everything. It's the way his hands never feel quite right when the fingers are too short or too long. It's the feeling of bone shifting and rearranging whenever he loses control and starts to shift, just a little. It's memories that aren't his- no, he isn't crazy, he knows where they come from, they're from objects and people who he's touched and he's not crazy, okay?- that sometimes play around in the back of his head.
It's feelings. It's the way that he never seems to feel pain, physically at least. There's plenty of pain inside. Plenty of trouble. Nothing good. He can feel pleasure, for brief moments at least, but then they're replaced by much longer periods of bad things, uncertainty, fear even. But he's Sylar. Why should he ever be afraid?
Saying that used to work. It doesn't anymore. Maybe that's because he's not Sylar anymore, sometimes at least. Sometimes he's Taub. Someone different. He likes that, for brief moments at least, but that makes it all the worse when he comes back to his senses because Taub is not special. And special is all Sylar has left.
Danko used to get on his nerves, but now the man is nothing but a constant. He obeys or ignores, depending on his mood. He lets the agent give little spiels about losing identity (like this is just an identity crisis- he could almost laugh!), and values him only for the quality of his watch. He likes watches. Nothing wrong with that (right?). Of course.
The man has one good idea, anyway- an anchor. Something to remind him who he is. Something more permanent than lines on his skin (no, no, permanent marker won't cut it, stop making jokes). He thinks, first, his mother. Not the one who died first. Who is she? Nothing special.
(Not that he really believes that.)
The other one. Mother. Ambitious. Slightly off, always. He hadn't really grasped that fully, before, had he? But she hasn't changed at all, she's still avoiding the issues at hand and obsessing over such trivial things. Death hasn't changed her a bit (does it seem wrong that he's talking to her? Is she alive or is he imagining this or is it all in his head?)
He talks to himself. A lot. Or to her. (It doesn't really make a difference, which face he wears, which voice he uses).
He can't really think straight anymore.
He thinks- maybe he's paranoid, but people seem to be trying to control him, manipulate him, (he doesn't like that). Even little boys. Even meaningless, powerless people. He can't tell for sure anymore. But he suspects. He can't trust anyone.
Almost anyone.
He's met a lot of people (certainly he remembers the number, but reciting it would just be depressing), hasn't he? Most of them liars, to themselves if not to him. Most of them worthless. One of them… not.
He needs an anchor, because sometimes he thinks (he knows) that maybe, if he's not careful, he'll lose control (he already has), and he can't stand the thought of that. He needs someone close to him. Someone who can accept him for himself (not Gabriel, Gabriel's gone, not a good guy, that won't work). And the only person he can think of would probably (98% probability) never do so, but he can't think of anyone else.
His father will die alone. He won't die. But he will be alone. Unless.
Claire Bennet.
(He likes saying her name. How long has he liked that?)
She's special. He clings to that fact. He's lost a sense of special, but he just knows that she still is, and maybe, maybe that can lead him back. He needs someone to talk to. (Someone who won't run away.) Trust. Good things. (She'll hate him.) He'll deal.
He's not crazy, alright? And he's going to stop talking to himself now, because surely, surely the cheerleader will show up soon. She always does. And he wants to save the talking. For her.