Sylar - Gabriel Gray

Continued from HERE

It takes me a couple of days to work up to going to see Angela Petrelli. I have to remind myself that she’s not my mother. She’s Nathan’s mother. I don’t have one. Virginia Gray was stabbed with a pair of scissors. The cops think I did it. I think they’re probably right, but I don’t have anyway of finding that out. I spent another day at Gray & Sons trying to rebuild my life, but I don’t feel like Gabriel Gray is who I was. The files called me Sylar, but other than Brian Davis’ brutal murder, there aren’t anymore Sylar memories there for me.

Gabriel Gray’s apartment is gone. There’s a family of Armenian immigrants living there now. They looked at me like I was a serial killer when I asked to go inside and look around. Should have picked up a fake badge or something, conned them into believing me. So that was a dead end.

I’d be lost if it weren’t for Heidi. The more I find out about the real me, the less I’m sure it wasn’t better to be Nathan. He was a dick. He was alone. But he wasn’t a murderer. Not like me.

I’ll have to wear Nathan’s face to get in the door at Angela’s. Heidi’s coming with me. I’m not sure if I’m glad or not. I’m afraid of her seeing the monster that I really am, and I’m not sure I can keep it at bay when I deal with Nathan’s mother.

But if anyone can fill in the blanks and explain what they did to me, it’s Angela Petrelli.

Continued from HERE.

I didn't want to move. This was the only place I felt safe anymore, safe, wanted or needed. When I was in Heidi's bedroom I didn't wonder who I was, and why I felt so disconnected. I felt like I belonged. It was harder to leave each and every time. I brushed my thumb over her beautiful lips, and reluctantly forced myself to move. I stretched, feeling the muscles in my shoulders shift.

"My head hurts," I told her. My neck hurt and my face, but that was becoming a daily occurrence. The pain wasn't chronic, but it happened in spurts. Like all the other weird things that had been going on. Keys and coffee cups flying into my hands, the lightning that fried the laptop in my office last week. All this moments of power that no one could explain to me, except possibly Peter, and he still wouldn't return my calls. I was beginning to hate him.

"Do you think the boys would forgive me if I did hide in bed with you all day?" I closed my eyes and stretched out next to her again, hoping that she'd say it'd be all right to stay home. "I don't suppose we know anyone who can make it rain?"