Lara's Notes: I am a founding member of the Monica Coalition. We're starting a Monica Revolution on FF. Time to give some love to THE MOST underloved character of the Heroes fandom! This one is just for fun, since I felt the need to inject some Monica into somewhere she CLEARLY wouldn't be. This is just a oneshot, but there might be a sequel if I decide to do it.
Warnings/Disclaimers: Some spoilers for V5, so be sure you're up-to-date. I don't own Heroes. Wish I did.
Peter still held the slip of paper in his hand, trying to puzzle out what Hiro meant by "Save Charlie." Emma had done her best to explain earlier what Hiro had said on that subject, but he still didn't understand what the man was trying to do. He vaguely remembered something about a woman named Charlie, but he had been too wrapped up in Saving the Cheerleader that night to pay attention to much else.
Knuckles rapped on the glass, causing him to spin around.
A young black woman, maybe twenty-three or so, stood in the doorway, watching him. She wore a pink sweater and a pair of ripped jeans and was justabout the last person he'd have expected to turn up in Hiro Nakamura's hospital room. Her dark eyes were bright and curious, but she was obviously shy about approaching him.
"Um... Peter Petrelli?" she asked in a New Orleans accent.
"That's me," he said, surprised.
"My name's Monica Dawson," she said. "I have a message for you."
Here we go again, thought Peter. "Uh, okay," he said.
She took a deep breath. "Stay away from the carnival. Don't trust Samuel."
"Carnival?" he asked. "What are you talking about? What carnival? Who's Samuel?"
Monica bit her lip, looking uncomfortable. "I'm not supposed to tell you. They want me to let you figure it out on your own. You'll know when the time comes."
If Peter had been confused before, he was even more so now. Why did these save-the-world type messages always have to be so cryptic? "Yeah, that's really helpful," he muttered.
"I'm sorry," she said, and she obviously meant it. "But Moll- our clairvoyant knows stuff and she said that you can't know too much just yet, but you do need to know that Samuel Sullivan can't be trusted. He means well, we think, but he's dangerous. Like, seriously psycho-crazy. But we can't do anything until he does something, right? Like, even if a cop knows somebody's unhinged, they can't bring him in until they actually commit a crime. But yeah. We just needed you to know that much. Don't trust him."
"What are you talking about?" Peter demanded. "Who's "we"? Who sent you to me?"
Monica grinned. "Now that I can tell you," she said. "I'm Rebel's messenger." She pulled a plain white business card from her jeans pocket, handed it to him, and walked away.
Peter glanced down at the card in his hand. In bold black lettering was the word R.E.B.E.L. and a phone number. Below that, in neat, precise handwriting, were the words Call when you need us.