"Eventually," she agreed, folding her fingers over the gun delicately as if she sensed her thoughts. "And when he does, he'll kill me. I'm prepared for that -- I have been since he stopped being my son."

It was why she hadn't brought the Haitian in. Why, when she'd reached both Matt and Bennet's voice mails she'd only warned them to watch out, not begged them to come to her. Even without her ability, she could have guessed her time was nearing its end. Sylar couldn't be gotten rid of or contained, no matter how many times she'd tried, and after the last botched attempt, she knew his efforts to claim her life would be redoubled. She had supposed she could prolong the inevitable if she'd called someone else in, but she was tired. Her son was dead, her other barely spoke to her, there were no grand schemes to continue on for, and Sylar -- both of them -- could be better dealt with by someone else. It was simply time.

Though, of course, not before she'd sewn some seeds of doubt between the two of them. It was her last gift to the son who had all but disowned her. "Though, I think the more important question is what's more important to him. My life or yours." She offered her another grim smile. "At the rate your ruining my carpeting, I'm not sure you'll last much longer."