"Eden!" Bennet says. He grabs Eden by the shoulders and hoists her up. "Eden!"
Across from him, Sylar is unconscious, the tranquilizing darts like quills on his neck. Bennet moves and his foot steps into a pool of Eden's blood; it spreads around her face like a halo on the floor.
"It was her decision," Bob says. "A regrettable one, but very brave nonetheless. Although if she had just listened in the first place..."
Bob spreads his hands diplomatically.
"Well you know where I'm going with this," Bob says.
Bennet stands at the corner of the morgue, hands in his pockets. As per company policy, all specials are subjected to autopsy and company testing. Eden is no different. Her body will be skinned and pulled apart: her vocal cords will be ripped out from her neck and tested, examined. Probed for the resonances that made up the exquisite pattern of her voice. And she will be cremated. That too is company policy.
Hank pulls down the drawsheet and Eden's bare breasts are exposed. "Jesus, Hank," Bennet says. He pulls the sheet back up.
"You forget, this is an autopsy," Bob says. He steps out from behind him and pulls the sheet completely off. "If you're uncomfortable, I suggest you step out of the room."
"I just don't see why we have to do this," Bennet says.
"You needn't worry. Hank and his medical team are quite competent," Bob says.
Bennet glances back at Eden's body. Her neck is bruised and pieces of bone and hair are matted against her face. Hank rinses her face with saline and briskly wipes her down with a wet cloth.
"What are we going to tell her family?" Bennet asks.
"We tell them nothing," Bob says. "Eden was a troubled girl with a troubled past. That she would commit suicide is almost to be expected."
"She has afather, we need to tell him something," Bennet says.
"We send him our condolences, nothing more," Bob says.
Bennet slams the scrub cart across the room. Hank jumps back, the scalpel still in his hand.
"Are you done?" Bob asks.
Bennet stares at the cart and the instruments strewn on the floor.
"I'm sorry," Bennet says. "It's just, when I think of everything she's been through, and what Sylar did to her..."
He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes.
"We need to tell her father something," Bennet says. Bob frowns, then nods knowingly.
"I know this is hard for you, but believe me when I say that this is for the best," Bob says. He touches Bennet's shoulder.
"Go home," Bob says. "Sandra is waiting for you. We'll take care of this, I promise."
It's almost midnight. Mr. Muggles greets him at the doorway.
"Well guess what the cat dragged in," Sandra says.
"Where's Claire?" Bennet asks.
"Well hello to you, too," Sandra says. She sets down her cross-stitch and stands up from the couch. "Claire and Lyle are sleeping upstairs, Mr. Worry-wort. They already ate because their father wasn't home."
Bennet starts up the stairs but Sandra touches his arm. "Noah, it's almost midnight, she's sleeping," Sandra says.
Bennet jerks free and charges up the stairs. Lyle's door is open and he sees him sprawled out on his stomach; he walks toward Claire's room and opens the door. Claire is curled up in bed, breathing deeply.
"Noah, what's wrong?" Sandra says. She looks at him with worried eyes. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Bennet says, hoarsely. He stares at a square patch of moonlight on the floor. "Nothing, I just..."
Hundreds of scenarios flash through Bennet's mind: an accident, a fire, a paper press malfunction that caught and killed one of his employees. He thinks of Eden's face and the gun that was lying still beside her. Bennet smiles weakly and squeezes Sandra's hand.
"I'm just glad to be home."
