“Do you think any of us should be procreating? I mean, think about it. We’re fucked up, Matteo. Shouldn’t we be respectful members of society and stop fucking so much and making more of us?”
He paused for a moment when I didn’t say anything.
“Those babies Bianca carries. They’ll be weird. Well, one of them will be. Not like me, but he’ll get the good old De Santis gene.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know for certain, but genetics and all that. Biologically, it makes sense.” He waved his hand around as he spoke, his fork catching the light. “You know Bianca is my girl’s sister.”
“I am aware,” I said.
“Just checking. I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to allow me to bring my girl here so that she can meet her sister.” He stared at me, unblinking.
“I am not opposed,” I said. “If Dante would allow such things.”
“I think I can warm him up to the idea.”
“I was under the impression your girl was not your girl.”
“Well, it’s only a matter of time. I like a good slow burn.” He winked at me.
“You’re not worthy,” I murmured.
He stilled, his smile slipping off his face. “You never turn on the charm like that for me. Guess I’m lucky you can see right through me.”
“You feel you’re not worthy. After you tried to kill the girl.”
He was quiet for a moment before he shook his head. “I’ve done a lot of really terrible things in my life. Trying to kill her was one of them. I do not deserve acceptance or forgiveness. I went into this knowing that once everyone found out, namely all of the watchers, I might get pushed out. It wouldn’t be fair to Mirage, but that’s how life is.” He scoffed softly before muttering to himself. I assumed he was talking to his voices, so I let him.
Mirage had been here a few weeks ago. His… alter. He was always so somber as the rabbit. A complete one-eighty from what sat before me now. Mirage was quiet. Soft. Eerily unsettling. Sylar was in your face and just… odd.
“I, too, have done many terrible things in my life. I believe we can end on a good note if we want it badly enough.”
He gave me a sad smile. “Did I tell you that you’ve always been my favorite?”
“You’ve mentioned it.”
He chuckled again. “You will end on a good note. A history rewrote. A new bride, and a past that died. The sun will rise on you, and you shall walk into the light. Out of this terrible world for good. Just POOF.” He made an explosion gesture with his hand. “Gone from sight.”
I swallowed hard at his prediction. I had been under the assumption I’d be dying soon for months. It had been eating at me, causing many restless nights filled with bad dreams. In many of them, I’d see my Delilah in the distance, reaching for me with her angel wings extended, our little girl at her side. I’d try to get to them, but I’d keep sinking into this black pitch that kept pulling me deeper and deeper until I could no longer breathe.
I’d wake up gasping each time, Delilah’s name on my lips.
“Memory lane is not a fun trip to take,” Sylar called out.
“I’m aware.”
We were both quiet for a moment before he spoke.
“I came to tell you that it’s time to tell Klaus of Fox’s—Evan’s— survival. They are both breaking apart slowly, and I think they’d be good for one another.”
“OK,” I said simply. I didn’t like keeping Fox being alive from Klaus to begin with, and relief swept through me that I’d finally get to tell him what Alessio and I already knew.
“And what of Klaus? His son?”
“Tricksy fellow,” Sylar murmured. “He works for Nicolai Reznikov, but he honors his roots. He is not a direct threat to you. The future isn’t always written in stone. You know this. One simple move, a different sentence, a pigeon shitting on your shoulder while you’re out for a walk, all of these things can make a difference in outcome. I only tell what I’ve seen from this point.”
“What do you see for yourself?”
