[AN: Ok, so some parts of this are slow and won't make sense but bear with me. This is my continuation of the series because, although I understand why it ended, I wish they'd wrapped things up. No slash, mentions of pairings (mostly cannon ones), one or two OCs (not Mary Sues). Hope you enjoy it. -Selena]
-HEROES-
Prologue: The Butterfly
Three years ago Claire Bennet revealed to the world that Humans had evolved and taken on new and extraordinary powers. The Nation was in uproar for years, political lines were drawn, radical views surfaced and major changes had to be made across the country. The Genetic Equality Act of 2010 was passed to insure the safety of all such gifted people, known as Specials. Today a government agency, the Office of Special's Affairs, formed to help Specials in aspects of government, swears in their first Director. It is a pivotal moment in time that will decide the fate of the world.
"Good Morning," Rosalyn Franklin's voice carried across the hushed crowed outside of the newly erected Deveaux building, amplified and repeated across the lawn. Pausing before she continued she glanced to her left at the heads of her security team. Gabriel nodded to her from where he stood, only feet away. At the base of the platform, Peter met her eyes and smiled, floppy hair falling in his face.
"Thank you all for coming," She continued, drawing strength from them. "Today I am sworn in as the head of this new agency and the President lays on me a deep trust, a trust that I have said many times I am ready and willing to uphold. Three years ago I would have said the same thing though this ceremony would have been held behind closed doors. I don't condone that and I do not believe the world should be kept in the dark concerning our evolution as a species. I do not believe that the American people should be left ignorant of the threats and miracles that go on around them every day. Three years ago a brave young woman, without fear of rejection, threw herself from the top of a Ferris wheel and walked away unharmed. She showed the world what she could do and we sat back in awe. Some of us cried. Some of us shouted. Some of us cheered. The world is ready to know. If we weren't then the Genetic Equality Act would never have come to the President's desk and I vow to uphold that monumental piece of legislature at every turn. As I take this chair I promise to lead our country into that brave new world…"
BANG! The shot rang out clear and harsh in the chilly November air and for a split second everything was still.
"Rosa!" Gabriel Gray cried out in equal shock and horror, rushing to her side.
The crowed was suddenly in panic as the speakers spewed the sounds Rosalyn Franklin's last breaths and the panicked cries of the man holding her. Dark suited men pushed into a screaming, writhing crowed, all eyes tracking the dark hat and jacket of the assassin.
"Stop!"
"Get Down!"
"You There!"
BANG
BANG, BANG!
More shots. Screams of terror rose from the people as their sweaty, horrified faces swung left then right in the mob. The assassin fell, blood pooling around him and feet trampling over him. The dark suits were washed away by the living stream. The man at their head, a new Yorker and former nurse, pushed forward to find only a pool of blood on the concrete. Equipment tumbled as the hundreds of spectators fled like ants. Red ran down the steps of the platform as Rosalyn Franklin, newly appointed Director of the Office of Special's Affairs, died. With her died that brave new world.
History is often decided by one man, one word, one pivotal decision that saves or destroys. The glories of our past are written in the stories of people who were in the right place, at the right time, had the right skill, or made the right decisions. The shames of or failures are written in the absence of these people. Perhaps alone they were unimportant, flawed and human as any other but their effect on the whole of humanity cannot be quantified. Equally vast and unimaginable is the effect of their absence.
-HEROES-
Chapter 1: The Hurricane
-Three Months Later-
Peter Petrelli stood shivering in the chilly spring air of New York City, blowing into his hands and rubbing them together to coax out warmth. His blue eyes darted up and down the sparse traffic of the street outside his apartment building.
Peter's mind was pulled from the cold and his search by vibrations traveling up his jacket and rattling against his hip. Fishing his phone from his deep pockets, a smile graced his face. Flipping it open he read the incoming text.
be safe
good luck
tell Gabriel hi for me
I love you
-Emma
A new kind of warmth rose in his chest and sparkled in his eye.
HONK! Peter jumped and looked up at the idling car in front of him. With a jump in his step the tall man hurried to take the passenger seat.
"You've got that stupid look on your face again," the driver noted as he pulled away from the curb.
"What?" Peter tried to hide his smile. "No, I don't."
"Yes you do," Gabriel Gray, once known as Sylar, noted in his superior tone. "You always get that look when Emma dotes on you."
"Emma doesn't…" Peter trailed off as Gabriel gave him the disbelieving, one-eyebrow-raised look. Peter shook his head and settled for passing on a message, "She says 'hi'." Gabriel just smirked at his victory and turned toward the airport.
"So what's the new assignment?" Peter asked.
"Identify and approach, boring, low threat level, mundane…"
"Thank god," Peter cut off the criticism. "Where?"
"Chicago."
"Aren't Tori and the new guy… Damien, aren't they based in Chicago?"
"Busy chasing a fire-starter across South Dakota…" Gabriel said cynically, then muttered under his breath "should be our job."
"Calm down Gabe," Peter laughed a little at his partner. ("Don't call me 'Gabe'" the driver responded and was ignored.) "We nearly lost our last assignment, let's just take it easy for a while and be thankful."
"You be thankful," Gabe muttered but there was a slight smile to his lips. "I'll be board."
-HEROES—
There was a soft knock on the office door of the Yamagato Industries CEO.
"Hai," Mr. Nakamura said from behind his desk.
A young secretary came in and said softly in Japanese "The American lawyer for Ms. Franklin has arrived."
"Ah, send him in," Hiro replied with a friendly smile and a joyful nod. She disappeared only to be replaced by three men in smartly cut black suites. Hiro stood quickly and rounded his desk to shake their hands.
"Welcome," He said in English with a thick accent. "Please sit." They obliged with the awkwardness of people unfamiliar with Japanese culture.
"Mr. Nakamura," The baldest of the middle aged men started. "We are here to fulfill the wishes of the late Rosalyn Franklin."
"So you said over the phone, but I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name."
"The three men exchanged glances."
"Apparently she knew you." From a suitcase the second suited man removed a document and a sealed envelope.
"This is the last will and testament of Rosalyn Franklin. It states that 'The attached letter, placed in the care of my lawyer, shall be delivered by hand to Mr. Hiro Nakamura of Yamagoto Industries.'" With a weathered hand he passed the standard sized envelope across the desk to the young CEO. Hiro looked it over carefully as the lawyer read out the date it was written and signed.
"Do you know why Ms. Franklin would have a letter for you, Mr. Nakamura?" The last man in the group finally spoke. He looked different from the other two, more keen and critical, looking everything over with suspicious eyes.
"No," Hiro replied honestly, "But thank you for delivering it. He laid the letter down on the desk. Yamata-san will show you out." The young man stood and bowed respectfully to his guests before they filled out. The suspicious man giving him one last calculating look before following the lawyers out. Confused Hiro picked up the letter from the woman he had never met.
-HEROES—
"Good afternoon Mr. Hillman," Claire Bennet said with her sweetest face. The man sitting at her table forced a smile onto his thin lips but his eyes said he saw through her show. "I just got your case file, it seems you ran into a little trouble with the local LEO's."
"We had a few misunderstandings," Mr. James Hillman spoke with a Georgian accent. "I thought it would be best if I simply left town, they were rather confrontational."
"I see," Claire said distractedly as she read down the faxed over copies of various police reports. "Mr. Hillman, I want you to know that this isn't the first relocation I've done and I know how to spot the instigators. I must impress upon you that if you create problems in your new location we are obligated to punish you to the extent of the law and that by doing so you are forgoing any further chance of relocation."
"Yes, I read the Terms and Agreements, ma'am," he smiled with a strange sincerity. Claire shivered at the familiarity though nothing about the man was particularly familiar. There just seemed to be an aura about him she disliked.
"Well then," She sat back, the sooner she finished this meeting, the sooner she never had to see Mr. Hillman again, "let's get you set up." A self assured smile split his face and Claire shivered again. It was all too familiar.
-HEROES—
"Matt!" Molly Walker called from the front door as she threw it open. "Matt!" Running through the small apartment she found her adoptive father sitting in the living room with a book in his lap, head tilted back and lightly snoring. Without hesitation she jumped up beside him, despite being 14 she was still short and excitable.
"Wh-What?" Matt sat up bleary eyed as the coach shook under new weight. "What's goin' on. Back already?"
"Matt, it's 3:30!"
"Is it really?" Matt looked down at his watch. "Must have dozed off. "What's this?" He asked pointing to the paper the little girl had clutched in her hand.
"My first 100% math test!" She held up the paper proudly.
"That's awesome!" Matt laughed and picked her up happily. You're amazing! Didn't I tell you the studying would pay off." Molly laughed in his arms.
"Yes, you did."
"Matt," Janice called from the door. She came around the corner seconds later with their four year old son, Matt jr., or Matty, in her arms. "Would you and Molly run out and get the groceries please?"
"Yeah sure," He put Molly down so she could remove her backpack. Together the dozen or so grocery bags weren't a big deal for the father and daughter but Matt paused on his way inside, sharp eyes lighting on a parked van across the street.
"Hey Molly?" He called to the little girl.
"Yeah?"
"Wasn't that car there yesterday?" He asked her with a vague gesture.
"I don't know," She shrugged, unbothered and uncaring. She was teenager with teenage worries. He sighed, with one last look at the suspicious car and headed inside.
-HEROES—
Peter's fingers flew over the phone's keypad as he texted. Around him people bustled through the New York airport with rolling suitcases, talking loudly into earpieces.
"Does it ever cross your mind she might find you annoying?" Gabriel asked as he sat beside Peter in a hard airport chair and held out a coffee cup. Peter quickly typed out 'Gabe's complaining gtg love you'.
"Don't call me Gabe."
"Or what?" Peter asked. "You'll stop reading my texts?"
"I don't need to read your texts, I know what it sounds like when you hit those keys."
"Freak," Peter muttered.
"You're the one who can see sounds," Gabriel countered.
"Nope," Peter smiled, putting away his phone. "Still have Frank's ability."
"The guy who shot me in the head?" Gabriel asked, remembering their last assignment that had taken them across five states and cost them two cars. Their target had spotted them on the first day. He was a paranoid, schizophrenic with the ability to see people's intentions. If he and Peter had known that, they'd have kept out of sight but it was a new find.
"Yep," Peter nodded, smiling. The look on Franks' face as Gabriel stood back up and spit out the offending bullet was one for the records.
"So what's she planning?" Gabriel pointed to an attractive blond two rows away, reading on a Kindle. Peter went pale.
"I don't think you want to know," He muttered. Gabriel grinned. "Got a thing for Blonds, Gabe?" Peter retaliated. The smile dropped from his partner's face.
"No," the former serial killer said bluntly.
"You know I think that's your problem," Peter smirked. "You can't stand watching Emma and I because you can't move on and find a girlfriend." Gabriel leveled Peter with his best Serial killer glare.
"We are not having this conversation."
"Just tell me," Peter edged out on a treacherous limb, "blonds or brunets?" Gabriel sighed.
"Come on," Peter taunted.
"Our plane is boarding," Gabriel replied and stood quickly. Peter just grinned and followed his friend with no intention of letting up on the subject.
-HEROES—
Hiro quickly opened the simple looking envelope, his mind running through the many dramatic possibilities that it might open. After a life of saving the world, traveling time, and fighting criminals he had come to expect drama and interest at every turn. The past three years had been turbulent as the Japanese government struggled with the world wide revelation that Specials existed. His life as head of Yamagato Industries had been busy and, thanks to Kimiko's talents with PR, a positive influence on the political climate. Things in Japan were far from settled but they were better than the situation in America was looking. Finally the letter was in his hands and he read the English script quickly and fluently.
"Dear Mr. Nakamura,
You do not know me but we will meet in your future and my past. Events will unfold that neither of us have the power to stop, but if their disastrous effects are to be remedied your help is essential. In the past destiny has called on you to save this imperfect world not once, but twice and you have risen to the challenge graciously. I must ask that you do so once more.
On November 4, 2011 in room 639 of the Wide River Motel at 8:05 AM you will see what you need to in order to save us all.
Good Luck and Goodbye my friend,
Rosalyn Franklin
November 4, 2011 6:34 AM"
Hiro looked in wonder at the letter. He re-read and re-read it. Hastily he picked up his phone and hit the well worn extension.
"Hello?"
"ANDO! Destiny calls!"
"Hiro, what is this about?" Ando asked as he came into the large office minutes later.
"I have received a letter from a maiden in distress," Hiro said proudly and held out the letter for Ando to see.
"This could be anyone Hiro," Ando defended. If Hiro was being called it meant bad things were most likely going to befall those around him.
"No," Hiro turned around the computer screen. "She is a maiden in distress. She is calling me from the past to come and save her." On the screen was displayed an American news report on the Assassination of the presidentially appointed Director of the Office of Specials Affairs.
"Office of Special's Affairs?" Ando asked.
"Yes. They take care of the American Specials."
"Why do you need to save her."
"Because she is important!" Hiro cried. Ando knew in Hiro's big heart everyone was important and berated himself internally for even asking such a question.
"So you go back and then what?" Ando asked. "What if it's a trap?"
"Then I must take that risk," Hiro nodded. "A Hero does not back down!"
"Who will run the company until you return? What about Kimiko? She's six months pregnant and I can't leave her."
"That is why you will stay here and take over until I return." Hiro nodded.
"Wha… me?"
"Yes, I wouldn't trust anyone else." Hiro said with complete conviction. Ando's face was a mix of pride and reluctance. He'd been with Hiro through a lot and it was hard to be left out, even when such an important task and an important woman needed his attention.
"Be careful." He warned his best friend.
"Hai!" Hiro smiled. He stood ready a few feet away. "I'll be back soon."
"You better," Ando replied before Hiro disappeared with the soft whoosh of air filling the vacated space. Ando sighed. He'd just have to settle for waiting, and worrying. His eyes then fell on a stack of waiting paperwork and he groaned loudly. Waiting, worrying and paperwork, he amended.
-HEROES—
"There she is" Peter noted and motioned out the window at a tall young woman walking purposefully down the windy Chicago street. Gabriel just grunted his recognition and pushed his hands further into his pockets, it was cold in Chicago, even in a car. "She's just heading home."
"That ability of yours is quite useful," Gabriel muttered, "Makes this job even more boring than it otherwise would be."
"Hey," Peter cut off his complaining. "At least we have coffee shops around. I've personally had enough of chasing fugitives through back roads and no-wheres-ville."
Peter started the car with numb fingers, hoping that it would heat up soon, and pulled into the street.
"Three years working for the OSA and they have us going after little girls."
"She's 29," Peter noted, "and she's a Special. The OSA doesn't discriminate based on threat level. Besides, we aren't sure the extent of her powers."
"Sophie Stone 'Suspected ability to alter genetics or healing powers' 'credited to have cured a man dying of Huntington's'" Gabriel quoted her file. "Hardly dangerous."
"People gifted with healing are often gifted with the power to take life as well," Peter countered.
"She's a low level newspaper editor," Gabriel muttered. Peter shook his head; the mood was starting to wear on him after two days.
"Wait!" Gabriel suddenly sat straight up and alert.
"What now?" Peter asked annoyed.
"I saw something…" Gabriel trailed off as a ticking started sounding in his head. He ignored it and focused on the street that was going by them and the people on it. "I've seen that man three times this morning." He pointed to a middle aged, average looking, African American with a dark hat and stuffed gunmetal gray jacket, stopped at a newsstand but looking intently down the street. Peter's eyes caught him quickly.
"Oh shit!" He speed up, "He's going to kill her."
"Keep driving!" Gabriel instructed, his instincts and years of experience kicking in. Before Peter could argue he was unbuckled and stepping out of the moving car. Thanks to his telekinesis he hit the ground gently and stumbled up onto the sidewalk. The man didn't seem to notice him though he was only five feet away, walking toward the corner that his target had just turned. Gabriel made a dash for the attacker as Peter turned the corner sharply.
The young editor, hugging her bag and holding up her coat collar against the wind was surprised at the screeching of wheels and brakes as a large SUV pulled to a stop just ahead of her by the curb. A young man threw the side door open and motioned to her.
"Get in. Quick!"
Sophie's first thoughts were of panic and she backed up. The face of the young man in the car transformed into dread and his eyes rose to look over her shoulder. She barely had time to turn before a heavy, dark skinned hand fell on her shoulder. The flash of a blade caught her eye and she turned in time to see the knife in her attacker's hand fly forward, out of his grip and lodge itself in a parking meter. A hard shove sent her falling into the waiting arms of the man from the car.
"What the…? More freaks? All the better!" the attacker growled and reached into his jacket again.
"I wouldn't," A steady, velvet voice warned. Peter looked on over the girl's shoulder as the African American ran at Gabriel with a second knife he'd pulled from his jacket. He tackled Gabriel and they tumbled onto the pavement. All according to his plan, Gabriel latched his right hand around the back of the man's neck and blue electricity arched from his skin.
"Gabriel!" Peter yelled. The tall man stood and dislodged the six inch blade from his side. On the cold pavement lay the attacker, still breathing but unconscious as if he'd been tasered.
"Oh my god," Sophie Stone had turned in time to see Gabriel remove the offending weapon. He rubbed his side and looked down at the man on the street.
"That kind of hurt," He noted with mild annoyance to the unconscious would-be-killer.
"Did he just…" the young woman started to ask but trailed off. Peter suddenly found his arms occupied by more of the woman's weight than he anticipated and he stumbled.
"Did you have to make her faint?" Peter asked his partner exasperated. "We're supposed to be breaking this to her gently." Gabriel smirked.
"You have to admit this is more fun," He told Peter, who groaned. For the former-Paramedic, this assignment was turning into a nightmare.
"Not boring anymore," Gabriel smiled, kicking over the unconscious man to show a crudely drawn fist on his shirt. "It would seem STRIKE has spread their influence a little further again."
-HEROES—
Gabriel wandered their targets well sized but crowded apartment. The walls were lines with overflowing bookcases, too much furniture was pushed up against them, liberally scattered with papers, books, and magazines. A few seemingly random pictures were propped against a cushy armchair where Peter now sat, leaning forward to take the young woman's pulse. She was laid carefully, still wrapped in her jacket, on one of the three sofas that dominated the room.
He noted the orange pharmacy bottles beside her kitchen sink, stack of rolled news papers, and layer of dust over everything. It reminded him of his own apartment in New York. Turning from the familiar sight of an apathetic existence he paused between the kitchen and living room.
"How is she?" Gabriel asked from the doorway.
"She seems fine," Peter muttered. "Should wake up soon though I imagine most people aren't used to seeing a man casually pull four inches of knife out of his chest!" his last few words were pointed and harsh.
"I said I was sorry," Gabriel spread his hands in surrender but didn't look very apologetic.
The woman on the couch groaned and her hands came up to feel the neckline of her coat. Eyes still closed she started undoing the buttons. The coat halfway off, she sat up, opened her eyes then stopped in mid motion. Mouth open, her wide eyed gaze shifted from Peter to Gabriel then back twice before her panic caught up with her body. Abandoning the coat she jumped back into the couch cushions.
"Take whatever you want I don't care!"
"Relax," Peter said in his best soothing, I'm-a-nurse voice, "we don't want to take anything we just want to talk to you."
"Talk? Wha... I saw him..." she motioned toward Gabriel. "You... You should be in a hospital! How did you get into my house? What happened to the man who attacked me? Why did he try to…" She gulped as the realization of her near death experience hit.
"It's ok now," Peter said softly, hoping to avoid the panic attack.
"NO!" she shouted, "it's not!"
Silence fell for a moment as the door opened with a prominent and ear splitting squeal of hinges.
"Oh, Sophie dear," the middle aged woman who entered the apparent sighed, "I'm glad you're awake." she seemed completely unalarmed by the two strange men, but instead offered a steaming mug off the tray she was carrying to Gabriel before entering the cluttered living room. She was getting on in her years but looked sharp as a whip the way her blue eyes assessed each of the men in the room. "These boys saw what happened, dreadful, and they were nice enough to bring you home; found your address in your wallet. They asked me to open the apartment 'cause you left your key in the office again."
"You went through my purse?" Sophie glared at Gabriel first, who looked un-guilty and pointed covertly at Peter. She turned her dark eyes on him only to find him throwing a baleful look at his accomplice. The slightly demonic grin that came over the taller man's face wasn't missed by anyone.
"Anyway," the woman went on, "They say they're with the government but if you find anything missing you let me know, I have their names."
"There's not much worth stealing here," Sophie muttered as she accepted a cup from her landlady and threw her eyes around at the library of books that littered her home. "Thank you, Camille."
"Not at all dear. I'll be next door," she said as she left again, "and these walls aren't sound proof," she added with a meaningful look at both men. When the door latched Peter found Sophie's dark eyes glaring at him.
"What do you want?" she asked with exasperation.
Peter sighed and started his well practiced and over used speech. A year working in crime management and two working with new Specials had given him time to perfect it.
"Three years ago the public leaned that a certain percentage of humans have evolved to a new level. These people have developed superhuman abilities; flight, regeneration, hyper awareness, telepathy, and in some cases the ability to manipulate DNA."
"Yeah, I'm not blind. I've seen the news in the past year," Sophie took off her coat and removed the knitted hat from her head revealing short, curly brown hair framing her rounded face.
"Many of these people don't know that they have these abilities. They go years, sometimes even their whole life without knowing."
Sophie's gaze traveled between Peter and Gabriel slowly.
"You can't really think that I'm one of these people."
"Yes we do, Sophie," Gabriel cut in, "you visited a friend in the Chicago General Hospital last week. He was dying of Huntington's chorea, a genetic disease. After your visit he was miraculously cured." Gabriel paused and leveled Sophie with his most trustworthy gaze. Like so many people, she seemed to crumble under it and a small voice in his head laughed at her, it took joy in the power just a look could have on people, the power he had. Gabriel shut off that line of thought, his eyes unconsciously falling to where a broke watch still hung on his wrist.
"No, if Craig was cured I would have heard about it by now," she rationalized. Peter gave her points for it, they'd run into a few who were more than happy to accept that they might be different; those often turned out to be the harder assignments.
"The hospital didn't want to admit that they might have made a mistake, I mean how could he be cured of an incurable disease unless they diagnosed him wrongly to begin?" sarcasm and a touch of scorn entered Gabriel's voice. It sounded too much like a certain serial killer for Peter and he chose to jump back into the conversation.
"Sophie, you touched him, held his hand?" Peter asked and she nodded. "And did you feel anything?"
"N...no, well... it felt... wrong... Craig is the best guy, he makes my job bearable. I was just thinking he didn't deserve that... and then... they said he had a seizure." Peter's eyes lit with understanding.
"That was his body adjusting to the change. You altered his DNA, cured him," the nurse held Sophie's gaze with his own. "You did a good thing, something amazing." His hand strategically slid into hers. To his surprise she pulled away.
"That doesn't explain who you are and how you knew before even I did." Sophie glared now at the two men.
"My name's Peter Petrelli and this is Gabriel Larson, we work for the Office of Special's Affairs." Peter fished his badge out of his pocket and flipped it open to reveal the gold insignia, "It's our job to find people like us, Specials, and tell them what they are, help them if they need it."
"You're here to help me?" she asked skeptically.
"Do you need help?" Peter asked.
"Apparently," Sophie said shakily. "I've lived my whole life in big crime ridden cities but this the first time anyone's tried to kill me. I can't help but think your arrival and that attack weren't coincidence." Peter and Gabriel exchanged looks.
"Not everyone... accepts specials," Peter said tactfully. "That man, Derek Fuller, is on a list of known anti-special-radicals. He's got a list of arrest warrants waiting for him."
"So because I'm a Special, he tries to kill me?" Sophie leaned back hard with a heavy sigh, "good lord."
"I know this a lot to take in but we need to look at your options."
"Options?" Sophie asked, confused.
"They know who and where you are, now," Gabriel said from the doorway. Sophie noted that he didn't enter the room fully.
"Since we took out the first guy they're likely to send more," Peter finished,
"They?" panic and disbelief crept not her voice.
"There is a local group of anti-specials in the area calling themselves STRIKE, that the OSA has been observing," Peter tried to keep his voice as calm as he could but his experiences with the prejudice and violence against specials had been traumatic and painful even for him.
"And now I'm a target?"
"That's why we need to discuss your options," Gabriel explained, his deep, solid voice having a calming effect on the young woman.
"What do I do?" she asked him helplessly. For the second time the little voice in Gabriel's mind laughed at the woman and took a sick pleasure in her weakness. He fanaticized for a moment what strange contortion that fragile body would make it the pain of slow death... No! Gabriel cut it off and looked quickly to Peter. It had taken a lot of effort not to kill the man who'd attacked him in the street and the fatigue of fighting the hunger was taking its toll.
"Usually we would suggest relocation, new name, new life, new city, but in your case, the situation is fairly contained and we could use our resources to make you safe. It would take several weeks, you'd need 24 hour guard and..."
Sophie waved a hand for Peter to stop.
"I'm sorry this is just a lot to take in..." she sighed and put her head in her hands. "Could you just give me a minute?"
"Yeah, sure," Peter forced a reassuring mile and stood to join Gabriel in the doorway.
"Well that went better than it could have," the taller man whispered.
"She seems open enough, but judging by the amount of stuff she has I don't think she'll go for the relocation," Peter responded reluctantly. It would be nightmare trying to hide Sophie again.
"I wouldn't be so sure," Gabriel said as he picked up a worn paperback copy of the Lord of the Rings and memories of many fond readings came to him but none younger than ten years old. The once loved book had been abandoned like many of the other things he'd touched in the apartment.
"I'll go for the relocation," Sophie smiled resolutely if joylessly from her seat on the couch. "These books are going to be a bitch to move though." Peter looked stunned, he'd never seen anyone so willing to drop their life and leave, while Gabriel just nodded, he understood.
Peter sputtered for a moment before he could pull together the words "I'll get us plane tickets to DC"
"Plane?" all the color drained out of Sophie's face as the word passed her lips. "Forget it!" Despite her lack of color, her voice had clear conviction. Flying was not an option.
-HEROES-
Hiro closed his eyes tight, felt for his familiar power and focused on the date and location his strange guide had provided. He knew he'd moved because the quiet office with its smell of cleaning supplies was replaced suddenly with the stench of old cigarette smoke, mold and a scratchy voice emitting from the speakers of an old television. Hiro opened his eyes at once to see a dingy motel room where a small, harsh featured man sat with his back to the new arrival, the bed beside him covered in the parts of a hand gun. Hiro's eyes widened and he quickly suppressed a gasp. Looking around quickly Hiro stashed himself in the open bathroom. From there he could clearly hear the announcer as he spoke to the screen about the upcoming inauguration of Rosalyn Franklin, who would head the Office of Special's Affairs. Hiro was peeking out to catch a glimpse of the woman who'd written to him when the man on the bed started talking suddenly.
"They want to help the unnatural devil's spawn," He scoffed. "God wouldn't make such things in this world. I'll show you Ms. Franklin... oh yes I will… the world doesn't need these heroes... it needs real people!" A firm knock on the door cut the man off. Hiro ducked behind the bathroom door quickly as the other occupant of the room bustled across to the door, now fully assembled gun in hand.
"What do you want?" He asked a man Hiro couldn't see.
"Not much," a familiar voice made Hiro's stomach flip.
"Brain man," he whispered. Eye pressed to the crack in the door Hiro could only stand on in horror as Gabriel Gray, otherwise known as Sylar, walked into the dingy room.
"Hey! I didn't invite you in!" the man with the gun cried.
"You're insignificant," Sylar went on as if the man hadn't spoken. "What your actions caused is not. It will feel nice to kill that woman," Sylar's eyes fell on the television where a woman's face, she looked to be in her mid forties with dyed red hair, looked back and smiled.
"The bi..." the man didn't get to finish. While-blue electricity arched from Sylar's outstretched hand and land squarely on the man's chest.
"In a different time you had the pleasure of ending her but now it's my turn. Rosalyn Franklin dies today," Sylar walked casually over to the body of the man he had just murdered and took the gun from the dead hands. Blue cracks of electricity danced over it's surface. Sylar just smiled while his face morphed and rearranged itself painfully into a perfect copy of the corpse on the floor.
"This should be fun," He smiled before leaving. In the bathroom Hiro was left wishing he'd brought his sword.
"Oh, no..." Hiro whispered. "Brian man is going to kill Rosalyn... I must stop him... but the time space continuum...?" Hiro debated for only a moment more before hurrying out of the room, past the dead body and into a parking lot outside.
"Hiro Nakamura?" Hiro blinked and froze in mid step. He turned to a see a confused looking man with a strange pattern of facial moles and horn rimmed glasses holding a white envelope. "Are you Hiro Nakamura?" He asked again.
"Ummm... yes," The confused Japanese man replied.
"I have a message for you," The man with the horn rimmed glasses held out the envelope.
"From who?" Hiro asked. It was a bit of a pointless question because no one knew he would be there except Ms. Franklin herself.
"My boss," the man replied cryptically. With steady but urgent hands Hiro ripped open the letter, his childish face scrunching up in concentration.
Hiro, it read, this is the second part of the letter that brought you here. Please know that there is nothing you can do to prevent my death. If it is meant to happen let it happen. Right now there are more important things to attend to. Peter Petrelli, a mutual friend of ours is in danger. You must go to him now. Kirby Plaza, by the fountain, buy a cup of coffee and draw Kensei's symbol on it. This will make sense very soon.
Hiro reread the note twice.
"I do not understand," He looked up to the man with the horn rimmed glasses but he was gone.
-HEROES—
James Hillman fumbled with the lock of his new apartment door. It stuck and he cursed it colorfully. Looking carefully left then right he decided that the coast was clear. He looked over the lock, its parts, and the careful mechanism inside of it. It was nothing near as complicated as the watch on his wrist or as well made. He waved his hand over the face and used his telekinesis to shift the out of line pins back into place. A metallic click rang through the hall and he smiled.
"Mr. Hillman," a board voice addressed him. James turned slowly to the young man walking down the hall.
"I'm sorry," James smiled politely, eyes shining with recognition and impatience. "Do I know you?"
"Not yet," The young man explained. He'd lost the extra pounds since his teenage years and his face had hardened into that of a man instead of a boy but the air of recklessness and overconfidence hadn't faded. Luke Campbell smirked. "I'd like to make you an offer though. What if you didn't have to hide what you where? If we didn't have to hide what we are?"
"That sounds almost too good to be true," Mr. Hillman shook his head. "I don't think the world is ready to accept us, not peacefully." Luke shrugged.
"It's about time they did and it was never going to be peaceful." James Hillman smiled. This is what he'd been waiting for, this is why he went through the long and exceptionally boring ordeal of relocation. He was finally in the action.
"What are you proposing? I'm interested," Hillman assured his new (or old) friend.
-HEROES-
"What did you do with the man in the trunk?" Sophie asked from where she sat in the back seat of the government provided SUV.
"I dropped him off at the local jail while you were packing," Peter explained. Gabriel made a face that said it was better than the man deserved.
"Oh," Sophie fell quiet.
"Anyone you need to say goodbye to before you go?" Peter asked their charge.
"No," she sighed.
"No one?" Gabriel asked, surprised.
"I don't get out much," she shrugged. It fit with what he'd observed in her apartment.
"I can sympathize with that," Peter muttered. "Speaking of life outside of work, would you text Emma for me Gabriel? Tell her I'll be few more days." Rolling his eyes, Gabriel pulled out his phone to comply.
"A girlfriend?" Sophie asked.
"Fiancé," Gabriel corrected as Peter turned a light shade of red.
"She pretty?" Sophie prodded with a slightly evil smile on her face.
"No," Gabriel answered for Peter again. Sophie laughed and Peter punched his partner.
"Emma's gorgeous!" was his defense to which Gabriel gave him a withering look. Sophie laughed though it sounded unfamiliar to her.
"What about you Gabriel?"
"No," He answered without any hint of embarrassment, though Peter looked at him with poorly hidden worry.
"Suppose OSA agents are just like all government employees, over worked and underpaid." She speculated.
"You got that right," Peter chuckled. "You work as an editor for the Chicago newspaper?"
"Don't anymore, thank god," Sophie sighed. "Seven years in school and they have me correcting grammar and spelling for the literary equivalents of third graders." She sighed. "What about you two, you must have been something before all this weirdness." Peter glanced at Gabriel again, who was staring fixedly out the front window.
"I was a paramedic," the driver explained. "Before that I was a hospice nurse. I've come to consider the 'weirdness' to be my calling."
"You're one of those hero-types then?" Peter caught Sophie's grin in the rear view mirror.
"Insufferably," Gabriel laughed. "It's impossible to hang around this guy and not find some poor person who needs saving. I think he attracts them; that's his real power."
"Wonder what that says about me?" Sophie huffed. "And you, what did you do before this?"
Gabriel paused.
"I was a watchmaker in Queens," He answered simply.
"From my home town no less," the young woman's voice took on a false note of happiness.
"Yes, I read your file," Gabriel admitted.
"Bit creepy," She told him, head cocked.
"It's my job now," He shrugged and looked over his shoulder apologetically.
"Yeah, I guess," She smiled at him. "Actually... I have something that... well... if you were a watchmaker perhaps you could fix it." Gabriel's face fell into neutral curiosity as he watched Sophie rummage through her one bag that she'd hastily packed before climbing into the car with them. From her small jewelry box, Sophie produced a wristwatch. Gabriel's attention was dominated by it as she passed it forward, mostly by its silence.
It was a wound watch, thirty five years old, of good quality, a woman's watch, European made, most likely in Italy. His mind ran through all of that instantly before his fingers even closed on the cracked black leather band. When he did touch it an old ability came to life. Images flashed rapidly before his eyes: a happy woman accepted the watch from her husband, they were a contented couple expecting a child; the child was born, weak, sick; she grew stronger but her father grew weaker; the father's funeral; the mother weeping; dust, screaming, fire, walls caving in then silence; the monitors monotonous beep, the ambulance blaring on though it's passenger was dead; the mother's funeral; Sophie crying as she held the silent watch.
"Gabriel, hey!" Peter slapped his arm lightly, "You ok man?" he asked, the question having more than one depth.
"Yeah, fine," Gabriel said distractedly and looked down at the cracked surface of the silent watch. He turned it over in his hand and like everything he picked up the pieces showed him how they worked, every cog and wheel fulfilling a purpose and causing chain reactions that made the mechanism function.
"Can you fix it?" Sophie asked.
"I could," Gabriel answered. "But I don't think you want me to." He passed the watch back to the woman. "It's seen a lot of death."
"How did you...?"
"Gabriel has more than one ability," Peter piped up, "He can heal, move things with his mind, and see the history of any object he picks up."
"Oh," Sophie turned red under Gabriel's heavy gaze. His voice full of sincerity Gabriel apologized.
"I didn't mean to pry."
"It's alright," Sophie answered.
"Can I ask…" Gabriel hesitated, still watching the woman in the back seat carefully, "the collapsing building?"
"My mother worked in the South Building of the World Trade Centers," Sophie whispered without meeting his gaze, from her detached tone she was used to explaining by now but no less hurt by the loss.
"If it's any consolation, I know what it's like to lose a parent," Gabriel answered. He knew the look that Peter must be giving him now but he found that he wasn't referring to his absent adoptive father, the mother he accidentally murdered, or his now-dead biological father. He was thinking of the woman who died before his young eyes outside a Nevada Cafe, the one he barely remembered yet still missed.
Gabriel realized suddenly that Sophie was smiling sadly at him with wide dark eyes that, unlike so many others he saw from day to day, didn't hold the fear, the resentment, the accusations, just understanding. He forced a similar smile but knew it could never have the same effect and turned back to look out at the road ahead.
The hours passed quickly in the car as it ate up the miles between Chicago and D.C. Soon the three companions were driving through the night, faces lit by the passing headlights. Sophie, exhausted from a day that set her world tumbling, was breathing evenly in her sleep, her head propped against her bag.
"So..." Peter broke the comfortable silence, "Brunettes then."
"Grow up," Gabriel glared across at his partner.
"I see intentions remember and she wants you to like her," Peter grinned.
"She won't later," the former killer muttered.
"How do you know that?" Peter asked. "I gave you a chance, why wouldn't she? You did save her life remember."
Gabriel gave him the drop-it look.
"Alight, be that way," Peter shrugged, "but finding someone, anyone, might help you fight the Hunger."
"And they might end up dead."
"I've been to the future you know. Having other people didn't do you that much harm."
"I blew up Costa Verde," Gabriel pointed out. He'd learned about Peter's trips into the future a long time ago in the dream Matt Parkman had trapped him in.
"Yeah, but it was an accident," Peter pointed out
"Ever the optimist. I think Emma is a bad influence on you."
"What?" Peter looked offended. "Don't think you can get out of this conversation just by insulting my girlfriend. I want to know what that comment was about your parents?"
"Nothing," Gabriel answered, looking away sharply.
"No, the only time you talk about them is when you're drunk or high on power," Peter pointed out. Neither of the instances he was referencing had ended well.
There was a moment of silence. "My biological mother... my father killed her the day he sold me." Gabriel's voice was soft. It was only when it took on that tone that Peter believed his companion had once been just a humble watchmaker.
"Let's find a place to crash for the night," Peter muttered and pulled off the interstate at a well populated exit. Gabriel remained silent, but glanced back at the woman asleep behind him.
-HEROES-
"Good morning, Noah" Lauren Gilmore greeted her co-worker/lover, putting a steaming cup of coffee on her desk. She wasn't quite sure what to call him, even after three year, because you couldn't be sure of anything with Noah Bennet and he didn't quite know what to call her so it was alright.
"Not like I didn't see you just two hours ago," Noah sighed, putting down a file and turning his piercing gaze on the blond before him.
"Yes well," She smiled. "I was just upholding the mock facade that we aren't violating the personnel code every other night."
"I see," His smile said everything she needed to hear. It's nice to be cared for, thank you. "Lunch today?"
"Of course." Lauren smiled before turning and walking away. Noah looked down at his coffee and frowned at the sharpie'd checkmark on 'Black'; their code for trouble.
Ten minutes later they met behind the Deuvoux building, at a strategically placed blind spot in the cameras.
"What is it?" Bennet asked, all play fullness gone from his voice.
"They're moving today, the order went out for Peter and Sylar last night. They'll hit the Relocation office this evening."
"Claire..." the protective father took over in Bennet.
"Stick to the plan," Lauren warned.
"Always," Noah nodded. He may have become ruled by his feelings but he was still a company man.
"I'm sorry I couldn't warn you soo..." Lauren was cut off by a quick press of warm lips on her own that left a familiar taste of coffee on the tip of her tongue.
"Be careful," Noah warned before slipping away into the building. Lauren took a minute to catch her breath.
"I'm too old for this," She muttered, feeling like a frivolous teenager and smiling happily in spite of herself.
-HEROES-
The lights of Washington D.C. lit the darkening sky as Peter drove into the city. Behind him Sophie was reading aloud from her poetry book with a clear and strong voice.
"Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,
With an eye like its crystals, a heart like its glow;
Once I was loved for my innocent grace,—
Flattered and sought for the charm of my face.
Father, Mother, Sisters all, God, and myself, I have lost by my fall.
The veriest wretch that goes shivering by
Will take a wide sweep, lest I wander too nigh..."
She paused to turn the page and Gabriel picked up without missing a beat, reciting from memory.
"For all that is on or about me, I know
There is nothing that's pure but the beautiful snow."
"You have it memorized?" Sophie looked at him in shock. "Show off." Gabriel laughed and looked down humbly.
"It's a favorite," he admitted, "you read well."
"I used to read poetry at a school for the blind when I was in High School. It was a way to get community service hours."
Peter saw Gabriel's smile in the rear view mirror and couldn't help noticing it was genuine. He'd heard the usually cynical or dismal man laugh more in the two day car ride than he had in a month of assignments together. It was a nice change from the constant worry that Sylar might return in the middle of the night.
"We're almost there," Peter told them, reluctant to intrude.
"Thank God," Sophie sighed. "I think I'll go crazy if I have to spend another hour in this car. Not that I don't like you guy." She added quickly.
"I understand completely." Gabriel answered. He was used to flying by his own power, planes and cars didn't agree with him.
"Peter," Gabriel said, his voice suddenly serious.
"What?"
"The SUV behind us... I've seen it twice today."
Peter caught sight of the car behind him and a passing street lamp illuminated the driver enough for him to see the man's face and for his borrowed power to work. Adrenalin pumped through his system and he glanced meaningfully at Gabriel.
"Who is it?" Sophie asked.
"Just keep your head down and stay buckled," Gabriel used his most persuasive voice. Climbing over the seats to the front he pulled a loaded handgun from the glove compartment.
"The radicals?" Gabriel asked in a hushed voice as he checked the ammunition before handing the gun to Peter.
"Capture, don't kill," Peter answered.
"So someone else, we have to split up," he told the paramedic, catching the other man's hand as Peter accepted the weapon.
"No, Sophie..."
"I'll protect her," Gabriel's voice rang with conviction, "I have a better chance of fighting them and you know it. Take flight and go! I'll see you in three days where we always meet."
Golden energy seemed to flow from Gabriel to Peter over their hands before Peter let go suddenly, opened the door and leaped out of speeding car.
"Peter!" Sophie cried. Gabriel focused on the road, sliding into the vacated driver's seat. In the mirrors he saw a dark blur dodging around the tailing SUV. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Gabriel turned the car off the road to a side street, winding through the grid till he could swerve with a scream of burning rubber into a parking garage. Pushing the speed he wound up, and up, till the night sky was over them again. Sophie nearly threw up when the car pulled to a sudden stop. In what seemed like no time at all Gabriel was at her door, opening it and beckoning her to get out.
"What's going on?" She managed to ask but one look at his worried face told her now was not the time for answers.
"We have to get out of here," He stated, pulling her from the vehicle. "Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Trust me?" he asked and for a moment the world was quiet but for the frantic beating of Sophie's heart. Then the screech of tires brought bright headlights around the corner and she was blinded.
Gabriel didn't wait for the answer, just wrapped the girl in his arms and kicked off from the ground into the air. Twenty feet up and over the empty street below he felt it, a tazzer bullet coursing through Sophie's body and into his. If it hadn't been for Elle Bishops ability he would have fallen, unconscious, to the street below. Half dazed he could see the pavement racing up toward him and a fear he hadn't know since taking Caire Bennet's gift jolted him into wakefulness, but it wasn't fear for himself because he'd long since learned he couldn't die. He didn't have time to ponder why it was so vitally important to slow his fall before slamming into the pavement; he only knew that it was. Then the world was blackness and pain.
-HEROES-
Just across the Capital city, Claire Bennet was leaving the OSA headquarters for the night. Like every other day she took the elevator down to the parking deck below the building. No sooner had the doors opened then the barrel of a shotgun and a gloved hand twisted around the corner. The would-be-assailant was greeted by a less than complacent victim. Taking the gloved hand in her own, Claire controlled the point of the weapon while throwing the man's weight toward the opposite side of the doorway. The man was saved from a painful crack on the corner of the wall by his helmet but it didn't protect his chin from the harsh up thrust of the gun into his face just seconds later.
Claire Bennet didn't stop to admire her work but turned to search for her attacker's companion, these types of people never come alone. An identically dressed man, dark helmet, gloves and body suit lay just a few feet away on the pavement, taser wires curling up to the hands of Noah Bennet.
"Dad?" Claire exclaimed.
"Now's not the time," The man in the horn rimmed glasses told her quickly, "We have to get you out of here." He pressed a set of keys into her hand while lifting hers from her bag effortlessly.
"What? What's going on? Who was that who attacked me? How did they get into the OSA building..." somewhere in the echoing concrete parking deck, booted feet pounded.
"There's no time to explain," Noah dragged his adoptive daughter by the arm to an unfamiliar car. "Get in and drive. Hide, stay out of trouble."
"What? No!" Claire exclaimed as her father opened the driver's door. "I can't just leave..."
"I warned you this would happen!"
"The OSA would never!"
"Then how did they get into the building?" Noah demanded. "Go now! Don't believe me? Call the other people in your department, they're gone, never made it home!"
Claire felt her blood run cold as confidence shone in her father's eyes.
"I can't just..."
"Please Claire-bare," Noah begged. Pouty lipped Claire bent her head, defeat clear in every muscle of her body.
"My car's two rows over toward the exit."
"Thank you," Noah relaxed at her words. With one last look at his daughter climbing into the new car, he sprinted, crouched low, through the parking garage.
Halfway in the car Claire turned to see her father gone and slipped back out. Her back pressed against the wall she slid along it till the creeping grab team came into her view, fanning out on the other side of the deck. The small blond kicked off her high heels, ignoring the cold concrete and hard rocks under her feet. With one mad dash she reached the service entrance, conveniently hidden behind a government SUV. Pausing at the door she heard movement on the other side, of course they would cover all the exits. The screech of tires filled the parking deck as Claire's red Chevy tore toward the exit. The service door beside her flew open and, oblivious to the blond behind them, the grab team streamed like black ants, into the garage. Claire slid silently around the closing door; her pursuer's running blindly after her father.
The blond woman ghosted up the stairs to the now abandoned relocation office where a few computers whirred, abandoned. Her eyes traced over the desks and semi private offices she'd worked in for the past two and a half years. All she saw were the hundreds of Specials that might be in danger if her father's fears had come to light and the OSA was left with the information her office recorded. Every Special she'd ever relocated or saved would be in jeopardy. Face set Claire hurried to her office where she stashed her own panic kit, three bottles of lighter fluid and a box of matches.
Flames were leaping in the records room and main offices as Claire made her way to the safe at the end of the hall, it had become her responsibility to protect the contended. Inside was the key to finding the Sanctuary, the town of Specials created by the remnants of the Sullivan Brother's Circus. Claire dialed in her code and removed from the otherwise empty vault, a box engraved with a compass. Looking back and forth Claire opened the box and pulled out a leather pouch. She glanced into the box at the five identical bags inside before tossing the whole box into the nearest pile of burning papers. Pouch in hand Clair made for the exit, choking on the smoke as she fled the burning building. Outside, fire trucks speed up to all sides, their crews hurrying inside. No one noticed the small blonde slipping into the growing crowd of spectators or taking an abandoned taxi away from the scene. They only saw the OSA building in flames, it's records lost.
-HEROES-
[AN: Tell me what you thought of Chapter 1. There's lots more to come if you like it. The story gets timey-wimey, there's some romance, some death, Mohinder, evil Sylar, etc. R&R Thanks. –Selena]