The former Company man looked down from his position on the ledge and felt reasonably satisfied. His knees had bucked countless times, his hands shook and sweat poured off him as he peered over the edge again. Pull yourself together, all it takes is one step, and it's all over. He'd been telling himself over and over for the last 10 minutes that everything would be all over if he had the courage to take that final step. This is stupid, I want this so much, but I can't bring myself to do it. His intention to end his life had ground to a halt, it wasn't that he was afraid of heights; a true Company man wouldn't let a little irrational fear like that get in his way. But he wasn't a Company man anymore and hadn't been for a long time now. Ultimately, as he stood shaking on the roof of Building 26, he was nothing. He had nothing; he was no one, a nobody too afraid to take the final step towards ending his own personal hell.
The niggling voices in his head fed him the fuel for the fire that burnt in the pit of his stomach. Face it, no one would miss you. They've all abandoned you, any love they once had for you has long since dried up. Jump, end it, the misery for you and your family. A sob wracked his body and tears spilled from his sparkling blue eyes. Noah collapsed against the wall, before he slid down it. He pulled his knees up to his chest and he sobbed into his hands for what felt like forever. As one sleeve fell down, he caught a glimpse of his wrist. That'll do, if you're too chicken to jump. His heart raced as he pulled out his car keys and held it against his wrist. He let out a gasp as he dragged it across, causing blood to spill out. Each time he did it; he went deeper and pulled the key across faster with each sweep. He choked back the tears as he hit a bone. Was this what his life had come to? Sitting on a rooftop, too scared to jump, hacking his wrist into submission? He wasn't sure whether he hoped unconsciousness would sweep him off his feet before the pain forced him to jump just to end the misery.
It was at that moment, he thought he heard someone clearing their throat on the other side on the rooftop. On looking, he saw no one, but there was one person it could well be. That was, until he remembered that his sources told him he had fled to England to get away from his past. If only it were that simple. Then you wouldn't be in this predicament, would you? Noah closed his eyes and pushed the thought of someone else being on the roof out of his mind. He briefly considered phoning someone, just in the vain hope that they would say something so callous and cold hearted that he would feel compelled to jump. Not that anyone had the time for him anymore... He'd lost his wife, his family, his job, his friends, but most importantly to him, he had lost control. It was probably the latter which had led to the chain of events that followed. Saddened and hurt, he dragged the key across one last time and welcomed the relief that washed over him. As it did, a variety of faces flashed before his eyes, each one containing a different story that had led him deeper into his depression; Sandra, Claire, Angela, Claude, Elle, Lauren, Danko, Matt, Thompson, Sylar.
Sandra; the moment he heard his wife had supposedly travelled to Washington, Noah should have twigged that something wasn't right. Sandra had never come to him when he was out on assignment or when he was working. Why he thought that particular day was any different, he would never know but just the thought of seeing her after so long away from her was a welcome relief. The moment she thrust the brown paper envelope into his hands, he should have had at least an inkling as to what it contained, even if it had come as a shock to him. Noah's chest had constricted with each and every insult 'Sandra' had thrown at him, "I don't love you anymore" had cut the deepest however. All things considered, pointing his loaded gun at his wife was not the best way to handle things. As she spoke, at first it was only things that could have been easily looked up "Your mother's name is Anita, we honeymooned in Puerto Vallarta." Sylar would have been able to pick those facts, memories from his mind if he had wanted to. "You sleep on your left side." That would have required a little more skill, and seeing as Claude and he had never met, he figured it needed too much finesse for Sylar's complex mind. "And your joints ache when it rains." That had been the kicker, the absolute icing on the cake. Only he and Sandra knew that. Many a time he had complained to her about being in agony when it rained, and time after time she had agreed to massage him back to good health. But it had been Lyle's phone call that confirmed to him that he had in fact willingly pointed a loaded gun at his wife and threatened to kill her.
He understood fully why she had attacked him, thrown him out of the room and told him it was over. If he had been on the receiving end he most certainly would have done the same thing, but then again, he wouldn't have been foolish enough to hurt his wife the way he had done if he were in her shoes. Having already thrown him out of the house once before, he knew she meant every word of it. Sadly, he had given Sylar want he wanted; his misery on a plate. After 22 years of marriage, built on lies and deceit, facades and false promises finally crashed and burnt. His ship had long since sailed, Sandra had moved on. All those years of not having him around, to care for her, love her and be the husband she had longed for were long forgotten. Every trace of him had gone; all his clothes had been thrown out, pictures had been hidden, she no longer wore her wedding ring and she certainly didn't call his name out when she made love to Doug. The only living reminder of Noah was that of their biological son Lyle, but he was the polar opposite of Noah, Sandra thanked god for her son, but even more so that he wasn't like his father.
Claire; Noah had lost count how many times he'd let Claire down, hurt her or put someone else before her. Despite all his best efforts, he had to admit that there were times when she would have been better off with Nathan. Yes, Nathan hadn't accepted the responsibilities at first, but there were times when he would have been a much more stable base for growing up around than the former Company man. He had prayed to god for a child, and he had that wish granted but it had been him who was unable to keep his daughter from harm. His biggest and worst failing, he conceded had to be letting that monster get his hands on Claire, not once but twice. Homecoming; he should have been there for his little girl, but where was he? He had been working with Lauren, trying to put an end to Sylar, by any means necessary. He could only count his blessings that Peter had been there to stop him before he got what he wanted. Going back for Peter had been a worthy cause, especially after what he had just done for Noah.
The second encounter, he had been less fortunate. Sylar hit when only Claire was in, taking the liberty of removing the top of her skull to 'acquaint' himself with her power. Of course, he had been powerless; trapped in a glass box watched by the Bishops like a hunter stalking its prey. Even if he had wanted to, he couldn't help Claire when she needed him the most and that was what hurt the most. All her life, he had been there, to dry her eyes, to cheer her up and to help her. But the one time, the only time she had really needed Noah, he wasn't there. And to him, that was the ultimate let down. He'd taken two bullets for her, but even that didn't seem to come close to the pain and heartache she had been exposed to, and as he saw it, it never would.