Shades of Gray

“I wonder if Gabriel knows about this guy,” I said, looking at the hazy television as my mom sat down on the couch adjacent from the chair I was currently sitting in. Mom looked at her cup briefly, and brought the coffee to her lips.

“I don’t know honey,” She said simply, unable to form anything else to say. The air was awkward, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the topic, or the fact that I chose to stay with Gabriel.

Looking back at the T.V, I laughed, internally as the news reporters listed characteristics of the man known as Sylar. The description seemed to match Gabriel, with the exception of a few characteristics, like his clothing, and mannerisms.

I was confident that it wasn’t Gabriel. Out of the many people of the world, I knew this monster was not Gabriel Gray.

“How is he?” asked my mother. My concentration averted from the television to think about what she had just asked. Let’s see. Besides the acute awkward tension, and heavy air, things seem to be marvelous.

Not so much. But being the eternal optimist, I figured things would mend in time. I was hoping he still cared. I knew he did, deep down.

Realizing that my mother was still waiting for an answer, I looked over at her. “Oh. He’s been doing pretty good,” I began, casually. “Doing a lot of traveling,” I continued, nodding my head slightly. This was really weird.

Mom took another sip of her coffee. “Are you moving back to New York, Alison?”

I looked at her again, and I wasn’t really sure how to answer that. I had the money, the means, the history. I realized then, how much I had left behind when I went off to college to pursue my master’s degree.

Several times, when I knew Gabriel was upset with me, or discontent, I would date other guys. As did he. At times, we had gotten sick of each other. He was sick of my so-called excuses, I was sick of his temper. Discussing men with him ultimately fueled my own anger and contempt that I was never Gabriel’s, and as a result, our communication broke down.

I really missed him, and I knew this was probably my only chance to restore what once was.

“I should, Mom. Despite everything, I realized this is my home. This is where I belong. In Queens, in Brooklyn, hell, even in the busy streets of Manhattan. School never felt like home, mom,” I spilled out onto words to her, and turned to, quietly.

She looked at me, and understood. I knew she would, as we had always had a fairly good connection with one another. “I know you miss him, dear,” She said contently. “Just do what feels right, alright?” my mother continued, forming a small smile upon her lips.

“Mom?” I looked up at her.
“Hm?”
“I love you,” I finished, simply. I felt at peace, but I knew my stay would not last much longer, as dusk was beginning to fall upon the sky.

***

“Thanks Gabe,” I said, entering his apartment, with my arms full of bags containing materials to cook the night’s dinner with. They were heavy, and waiting a few minutes for him to wake up to open his heavily locked door was not fun, but I greeted him with a smile nonetheless.

“How was time at your Mom’s?” He asked, considerately helping me with the groceries, pulling the contents out one by one.

“It was good. Comforting, but slightly awkward,” I told him. Once we were done, he realized what I was planning. I was making him his favorite meal.

“Alison Mintle, you really know how to cook now?” He asked, cheekily, with a smile. That was the Gabriel I was used to seeing. I nodded, proudly at that.

After throwing the leftover bags away, I looked up and caught Gabriel walking to his living room. He didn’t see my intent gaze upon him, and I prefer to keep it that way.

“I’ll be right back,” He declared, loudly, continuing to walk towards the bathroom. “I’m going to go wash my hands so I can help you cook,” Gabriel continued.

“Oh, Gabe. You don’t have to. This is about you, not me,” I replied, pulling a large cooking pot out of his bottom cabinet. I lifted it up onto the stove and filled it halfway, with water.

“Well, I think it would be a good way to get my mind off of some things that have happened recently,” He explained to her, very vaguely. He looked down at the bathroom floor and saw his past change of clothes, covered in blood. Smirking to himself, he wondered how big of a fool this girl really was now.

“What do you mean?” I shouted from the kitchen.
“Don’t worry about it, alright? I’ll be there in a second,” Sylar continued, finishing washing his hands to bend down, and pick up the soiled clothes. He turned to his laundry basket and shuffled through it, to hide the clothes inconspicuously, until he had an opportune time to dispose of them.

While she had been gone, Gabriel had taken advantage of another target. Every day, he was gaining more power, more strength. It was just a matter of time before he was more powerful than Peter Petrelli. God, Peter, how he hated him. He was so close to retrieving the cheerleader’s powers. Sylar knew his time would come though.

Looking back into the kitchen, his friendly persona resumed, and he wondered to himself how long he really could get away with this, without even having to try.