He was floating in dark ether, neither here nor there, but—a spark ignited within him. The darkness became less of a material thing, less physical and he could—feel again. He was he. A concept. An idea. A molecule of purpose floating in void of nonexistence. The darkness began to rail against him, to dissipate the grain of consciousness that began to form around him. He felt himself melding into the nothingness once more, going to that place-not-a-place. Once again something pulled into him, made him remember, pushed into recesses that he no longer thought he had.
That's right! He was a person! A human! A man! Ideas, equations, theorems, rationalizations, thoughts and notions began to form into hard, jagged crystalline shapes. His mind began to form again. The darkness wailed. Rebeled. Pushed and prodded. But it was too late. He existed. He wanted to exist. Softness rubbed against his cheeks and then his lips. Touch! He cried inwardly, I had forgotten…..
Who was touching him? Where was he? He was cold. Unbearably cold. But then something warm slid over him and he was—warm. Warmth. The concept was alien to him. Then he began to remember. Warmth was sunshine flowing over his back on a crisp autumn day. Warmth was an apple pie fresh out of the oven. Warmth was—her lips upon his—
He suddenly opened his eyes and gasped. He took in gulps of air and sputtered. He was staring into a pair of beautiful, brown eyes, the corners slightly slanted and exotic, and the lashes thick and long.
Tears coated those lashes, and splashed down onto a smooth brown cheek. This—creature was kissing him and repeatedly saying "Human,"
He didn't know what this was—but he was enjoying her breasts crushed against his body, the feel of her arms around him, and her hair tickling his shoulders. He mimicked her actions and pressed his lips against hers. She fell silent and still for a moment, but then her kisses became insistent. He found himself opening his mouth and trying to taste her tongue. She was like—like—honey. Sweet, delectable honey. He cooed into her mouth as her kisses grew fevered. He felt his hands grow itchy, impatient, wanting—something. He found that he seemed to like the feel of her body beneath them. He began to explore her curves and her symmetry with anxious fingers and soon let his tongue follow.
She began to breathe in out quickly. He found that his breath too had hitched and came faster and faster. Pleasure surged through him as her hands began to smooth themselves over his skin, teasing the delicate places below, before coming to his chest and shoulders. Their kisses grew deeper and more passionate. He felt his body begging for something he couldn't describe, but needed. He needed her. This creature laying atop him, smelling like sunshine and honey and good things.
She unraveled his robe and he pulled at her tunic. He grew frustrated that the material seemed bent upon remaining obstacle between him and her smooth and lustrous skin. He thought he heard her chuckle before she fidgeted and the tunic was gone. He moaned when they finally lay skin to skin. She was rubbing against him, slowly and sensuously. He groaned and buried his face in the softness of her hair. He licked the crook of her neck and she bucked slightly with pleasure. He felt her touch him there, and a feeling of wonder and amazement overwhelmed him as her long, slender fingers stroked his sensitive skin, skimming over his tip and down the shaft.
And then—there was a glorious and gentle warmth as he felt himself slide into her. She was so tight—so tight—soooo tiiiiiiggghtt---
Her body seemed to be milking him, sucking pleasure from him. But unlike some other time he could remember, there was no feeling of losing oneself, no feeling of loss. Instead, he could feel himself coming closer and closer to some unknown yet wonderful release. He yearned for and strove for it with each seductive roll of her hips, and every flick of her pelvis. He was soooo close. The feeling was intense, that he could lay beneath her, holding onto her as he sailed wave upon wave of excruciating ecstasy.
He wanted to come, but he was afraid that such a release would destroy him. But surely if it did, he would die happy. And then, there it was, rising over him like the sun. Inevitable and enjoyable, so pleasurable it was almost pain. She convulsed around him, softly at first, then in firm and insistent waves. He couldn't hold back any longer, he'd reached the edge, or rather the edge reached him, and it splashed over him like a waterfall. He fell down into a deep and abiding abyss of contentment, his body spasming as he filled her with his seed.
His mind began to clear after a few moments. And then he began to remember everything—the queen, the ride in the desert, and the sorrows. He had been nothing. And he had somehow come back to the world of the living. Not existing had taught him something he had always known, but never really knew. He had always been special and different—not in spite of his existence—but because of it.
Aydra stared down into his eyes, the dark pools were questioning, wondering. He kissed her gently on the lips and smiled.
"Thank you."
She awkwardly pushed herself off him and began to hastily pull on her clothes.
"That was not the sentiment I was hoping for. But coming from you, it is something."
Sylar was confused. "Are you angry?"
"I—I do not know what it is I feel."
They were both silent for a moment before he spoke. "Aydra, it was wonderful, beautiful, something I've never felt before. You brought me back from the edge and for that I am grateful."
Her hard expression softened as she gazed at him. She sighed deeply and said, "I did not expect that the first time I mated, it would be with a human."
Sylar's breath hitched. "You were a virgin?"
"Yes," she replied and turned away, as if she were ashamed.
"I had no idea--," Sylar began, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No," she replied.
He brushed her hair gently from her face. "Do you regret it?"
"No," she said again.
They sat in silence for a moment. "Human--,"
"Gabriel. My name is Gabriel. Most people call me Sylar. But I don't feel like him right now."
She blinked in confusion, and then smiled. "Okay, then, Gabriel, it was—I never knew it could be that way. I—I," she stopped and turned away.
He pulled her close, kissed her the cheek and held her for awhile. They said nothing as he dressed and they made a fire in the cave. The flames flickered and danced around the kindling. As the flames skittered and wove in between the bracken, so did their hearts race and stutter around each other. Her heart skipped when he smiled, his breath caught when he gazed the delicate flick of her wrist. They were at an impasse, afraid to move forward, but unable to go back. Finally, he cleared his throat and placed his hand atop hers.
"Where do we go from here?"
She avoided his eyes and shrugged just as prettily as always, but the indifference she always wore was replaced with a feeling of uncertain vulnerability.
The old him, the he that had been Sylar, would have cringed at the sight of such vulnerability. Sylar would have shunned it, saw it as a weakness and capitalized on it. Instead, he was touched, and afraid. He examined his feelings for a moment. Then—yes-there it was. He was baffled, confused and amazed. He was afraid. Not afraid of her, but afraid for her, and afraid of losing her.
She sighed and her breath fanned his chest and desire stirred within him once more. He had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted her. It was maddening and exciting all at once.
She looked up and into his eyes. "My mother had a saying, she would say 'Live each day as if the sun would tumble from the sky and the stars would fall, and the wind would crash.'"
"Gabriel," she continued, "Let us love each other. Let's not think about tomorrow."
He gazed into her eyes for a moment. Noticing the unspilled tears, pulled her into his arms and loved her over and over until the sun rose into the sky.
They awakened to the harsh cry of birds outside the cave. She shook him gently and stared at him with fearful eyes.
"It is time to go. It is the last part of our journey."
He sighed. He didn't want their time with each other to end. He even began to question if he even wanted to go home. Wherever home was. His old life had been filled with nothing but an aching emptiness. He didn't want to go back to that. His head and his heart felt clearer than they ever had. But he had to at least help her find her brother. He rubbed her hands in long, gentle strokes then rose to his feet.
"Where are we going? To some weird unicorn land, some ancient place filled with dragons?"
She shook her head. Her eyes going wide and her body shaking with fear. "No, much worse. We're going to the place where our world began."
"What place is that praytell?" he asked.
"A land call Primatech. It is where mistress resides."
A chill ran down Sylar's spine and he began to understand her fear, because now, he was beginning to be very, very afraid.