Mun's going to be out of town until Monday. Please refer to fangirljen for any updates. :) COMIC CON!!!

Within the last year, I have experienced all three of these things, in that order. They are equally exqusite in their own ways, depending on the circumstance. I spent the most time on enacting a plot of revenge. I was certain of Sylar’s identity when he said we should not go to the police with Dale Smither’s death. He was on the run. The last person he wanted to see was a police officer. I intended to give him more grief and pain than what he had put my father through. There were two particular times that I felt a thrill of excitement: when he realised that I had poisoned his chai and then passed out and when I extracted his spinal fluid. I dug the syringe even deeper than was necessary. His scream came out and I went even further. My anger and desire for watching him wither in agony blinded my perception to his escape. I wasn’t able to kill him.

Relief. Of the three, relief is the overall greatest feeling. It is the longest lasting feeling of the three. I brought a child out of excruciating pain. The pain would only grow worse with time; it would never deminsh. She was inflicted with the same disease my sister, Shanti, suffered and died from. My blood, particularly the anti-bodies, saved the child’s life. I had never met her before, but I was invested in saving her life and restore her well-being. She’s a brave child and knew how to hide the pain well. But seeing her expression change when she was cured, she became more active, talkative. More how a child should be. The relief I could bring to her, I felt myself. That was the first time in years that I had felt at complete ease with myself. I had believed my father’s death had made me a much more obsessive, and angry, man, but there was light to be found as well.

This light, the fact that it carried over from my relief with the child surprises me even now, led me feeling only vindication toward Sylar. I don’t hate the man any longer. I don’t feel any need to extract my revenge. He says that he has changed. I do see that in him. He doesn’t have the same amount of rage he once had. If he’s merely acting again as he did as Zane, who was convincing, or he really has changed, this remains to be seen. But I think a part of me is hoping that he is truthful.

My father made it look and sound terribly easy. A man of science trusts what he observes with his eyes; what he can physically see in front of him, or can see from his test results. Theories are based upon observations--but observations that have not yet been proven. He also had questions, many questions. But what good is something if it is an unanswerable question, there is no conclusion to draw, no future questions to ask? My father asked questions, but when it came to the gods, he had no use for them. "The stories of the gods are merely ways to offer simple explanation to the workings of the world," he'd sometimes say. I have to say that, when I was younger, I was inclined to follow this logic. The existance of gods, while definitely possible, has not been proven or disproven. It is a question that we are to always ask, but never truly answer. This then becomes a matter of belief and less about religious doctrine and
stories.

My belief in the divine was not strong. The gods could be there, but I did not know for sure. Both my mother and grandmother were convinced, so certain of their existance. "You just need to look," my grandmother told me. And I would find myself asking the most obvious question: look where? Where was it she saw this? Unlike my father, I could not put aside what I saw with my mother and grandmother. In my observing of my mother and grandmother, I saw what my father could never see. If you believe in what you cannot see, but know is still there, you will find new questions to ask.

Boho Dreams. That's where Sylar was this very moment. He had heard it from Sylar himself. Could easily use that information to harm Sylar, but he wasn't. He didn't mean him any harm, in fact. Not anymore. He didn't forgive Sylar for murdering his father, but he wasn't so bent on revenge any longer. He actually meant to help Gabriel.

Molly didn't know. In fact, he was telling Molly that he was going to work as he did most evenings. He brought her to Mrs. Estavez's apartment, his neighbour, kissed Molly on the forehead, hugged her, and then wished her goodnight.

And then he was on his way to the motel.