Title: Broken Things

Rating: PG-13(rating will go up in later chapters)

Genre: Romance/Drama

Summary: One man searches for answers, while another fights for his life. One man may find love, while another may find the pawn he needs in his twisted little game. Two women's lives are about to take a turn they never expected.

Spoilers: For the entire first season.

Author's Note: MUST READ THIS NOTE! Seriously--read before you flame(or don't flame, because flames will be used to roast babies for my lunch).

First-(and second-most important) This is my interpretation of what happens DIRECTLY after the first season finale, and a day after the Kirby Plaza incident. Anything I've read(or seen, depending on when this is posted) concerning the second season has been completely disregarded.

Second-(and most important) This was written for the amusement of myself and my sister--and so she could have more fuel to make fun of my Sylar fire. XD

Third- Well, I know there's bound to be some plot-holes, but every good story has one, right? Or...several.

Fourth-While this story does include OCs, I'm not even sure they can be called OCs since "Heroes" insists on adding all these new people. Just look at them as new characters...? XD Whatever, just read! Haha.

…

prologue

"I'm Not Dead"

Manhattan Sewers

He didn't know how cockroaches managed to sound so loud in his already aching ears, but he wished the damn things would just stop and let him rest. Quietly rest.

Crawling around in the disgusting underbelly of Manhattan, a part of him just wanted to give up and die--he'd tried, he'd failed, and it was over.

But that was the weaker side thinking. That was the part of himself he's tried to bury--the part of him that would always tell him to give up.

But the strong side of himself, the part he worked so hard to become, knew he couldn't give up. There was always another way. Always another plan.

He could do it. He could rise again.

He just had to remember the keep breathing.

He'd managed the slow the bleeding partially, though he didn't know how much good it was doing. He'd barely slept, and felt like he'd been crawling around for days. There was no way he could tell how long he'd been down there.

He sucked in a deep breath and coughed, blood spewing from his mouth, the taste of iron making him sick to his stomach. Tears streamed down his bloodstained cheeks, but he had to ignore the pain. He didn't know how the hell he was still alive, God only knew it hurt enough to kill him, but he thought it better not to question it. He just had to stay focused, keep looking ahead, and ignore the fact that he was slowly bleeding to death.

He needed help, but he doubted he'd find any in the sewers unless rats now had medical liscenses. His vision was blurring, what little he could see slowly disappearing. He felt his life draining from him, but he couldn't let go. Not yet--not ever.

He'd worked too damn hard. He'd come too damn far.

Not yet...

He coughed again. More blood.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and continued on, dragging his half-dead body through the sewers.

For a split second, he saw heaven. Chance. Hope. He blinked to make sure he wasn't delusional, and indeed, he wasn't.

Light.

The faintest trace of twilight seeped into the darkness, and he saw an absolute vision of beauty.

A ladder--leading up to a half-open manhole.

Now, he just had to find the strength to climb.

…

chapter one

"Troubled Men"

Levine Home,

Manhattan

"Have I mentioned how much I hate the fact that you're working for him?"

Ignoring the comment, Melony Levine continued to stressfully gather the documents and items she would need for, what she was sure would be, the hectic night ahead of her.

Standing in the doorway of Melony's office was her sister, Autumn, who continued to talk despite Melony ignoring her.

"I mean, the guys' a certified dirt bag. Do you really want this as your first major political job?"

"Alright!" Melony snapped finally, "I get it. You don't like him. Go blog about it already and leave me alone. You're not the one who's going to be working for him, right? Can it, already!"

Feigning hurt, Autumn shook her head, "Alright, fine. But when he screws you, along with the entire state of New York, don't come cryin' to me."

Breathing a sigh of relief as her sister left, Melony glanced at her watch and continued to try and get her things in order, all the while trying to figure out what was so urgent that she needed to start work a week earlier that expected.

Melony was the personal assistant to Congressman Nathan Petrelli, and he needed her at his Manhattan office immediately. When she'd questioned him as to why, he just said for her to be there as soon as possible.

Finally having everything she needed tucked away safely in her briefcase, Melony exited her office and made her way into the kitchen, where Autumn had already fixed two cups of coffee and was now sitting at the counter on her laptop.

Picking up a cup of coffee, Melony raised an eyebrow, "Any more bashing before I go?"

Autumn shrugged, looking up from the computer screen, "No. But are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, I mean, you have all these degrees in business and economics--do you really wanna be a secretary?"

"I'm a personal assistant. Not a secretary. And everyone has to start somewhere." Melony smirked, "Ok, I'm gone. Don't wait up."

"Hey, that's another thing. Don't you find it odd that he calls you to work at seven-thirty at night? I mean, what if he's a..."

"Say vampire and I'll kick your ass."

…

Nathan Petrelli's office

Manhattan

"Mr. Petrelli?" Melony knocked softly on the door before entering the spacious but cozy office that overlooked the city of Manhattan.

Nathan Petrelli rose from his seat, a politicians smile on his face as he walked over to greet her, "Ms. Levine--" He shook her hand, "I'm sorry to call you so late at night, and so early before you start, but this couldn't wait until next week." He motioned towards a chair and she took a seat, and then he returned to his seat behind the desk.

"There's no need to apologize, sir, I completely understand."

"Good." Nathan leaned back in his seat, and Melony was unable to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking as he straightened his tie, "Mr. Petrelli, are you ok?"

"Hm? Oh yes, I'm fine. Just a little too much coffee." He chuckled softly, and his eyes locked with her as he spoke, "Melony, listen--I'm afraid that you won't be able to work for me as my personal assistant. I'm sorry, but at the moment, that can't happen."

Eyes wide, Melony felt her heart sink at the same time her blood began to boil, "Excuse me...what?!"

Nathan shrugged, "I'm sorry." He repeated.

"But you handpicked me, sir!"

"Yes, I realize that, but...I'm going to have to find someone else."

"Can I at least ask why?" Melony all but growled, praying she wouldn't have to admit to her sister that she had been right.

Nathan smiled, "Because my senior political advisor resigned this morning--and I'd like you to take his place."

Melony nearly fell out of her seat. Was he serious? Career-wise, she's just skipped ahead about ten years, "Mr. Petrelli, I...I don't know what to say! Why the change of plans?"

"Well, I was going over your credentials earlier, and you're more than qualified for the position. Personally, I'd hate to see someone with your talent and determination waste it all as a meager assistant." He smiled, "So, do you accept?"

"I think 'yes' would be quite the understatement, sir."

"Alright, then let's get started."

…

Levine Home, Manhattan

Shutting off the power before closing her laptop, Autumn Levine leaned against the kitchen counter and sighed, Don't wait up, my ass, she thought. How could she sleep when her sister was working for the crookedest man in politics?

Autumn had never met Nathan Petrelli. She'd never talked to him, psychoanalyzed him, or even talked to someone who'd met him. But she didn't like him.

He was seedy. He was corrupt. As far as she was concerned, he was a liar.

She'd tried everything she could to talk Melony out of working for him, but she saw the job as the opportunity of a lifetime, and Autumn couldn't stop her.

An eerie sound broke the already eerie silence of the empty house, and startled Autumn from her thoughts. Heart pounding, she was on her feet before she realized what was happening.

The sound rang in her ears and ate at her nerves. It was like a scratching or a tapping-on-a-glass-floor sound.

Ignoring the creepy-crawly feeling she was getting, and the goosebumps on her skin, Autumn rushed out of the kitchen and into the main room where the sound was coming from, her mind on the handgun in her sisters bedroom.

Sucking in a nervous breath, she reached over and flipped the light switch, letting out a disgusted groan at what she saw.

It hadn't been a scratching sound at all, but the sound of tiny legs scurrying across the floor as dozens of cockroaches snuck in beneath the door.

Mumbling a string of curses, she stepped over the skittish creatures to open the door, curious as to where they were coming from.

She stumbled backwards in shock, covering her mouth to stifle a scream as she gazed down at the, what seemed to be lifeless, body of a man, bruised, beaten, and bloody.

She was positive her was dead, until his eyelids rose slowly, and his dark brown eyes peered up at her.

"Help." He managed to say, so weak she could barely hear him, before he passed out again.

…

As she tried to help the man stand up, pulling his arm around her shoulder and holding him around the waist, she knew she was crazy. Autumn honestly didn't know how he'd stayed alive however long since his injury. Blood seeped from both his chest and back, covering his clothes, and now hers.

But at the moment, all she could focus on was how heavy he was, seeing as how he was over six feet tall and, at the moment, quite literally dead weight.

"No...hospital..." He whispered weakly, through raspy breaths.

"Somehow, I knew that." She replied calmly, "Ok...can you tell me your name?"

His lips moved slowly, but all that came out was air.

"Ok, you can tell me later." Groaning, she managed to haul him into her bedroom and lay his down as gently as she could. Removing first his jacket, then his shirt, she gasped at the nearly four-inch wide wound that penetrated him all the way through.

"How the hell are you still breathing?" She said softly, staring at his bloody, heaving chest before coming to her senses, "I don't know if I can do this...I don't know what it's done to you inside, I don't know how this happened, I don't know...damn it, I'm not a doctor! I don't know anything!"

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, staring at her with pained eyes, and she swallowed hard. She needed towels. Alcohol. Needle and thread. Probably whiskey--for the both of them.

He could die for all she knew, but she had to try and help him. It would hurt like hell, that's for damn sure, but she would stitch him up.

Gathering the supplies(including her sisters tequila from the kitchen) as quickly as she could, she set up a mini-suture kit on her bedside table. She sterilized a sewing needle with alcohol, before emptying the bottle onto a white towel. She knew this would hurt the worst, as she winced and pressed the towel onto the wound. After a few seconds, his eyes flew open and he let out a scream that sent shivers up and down her spine. Choking sobs erupted from him as tears poured down his cheeks, his hands gripping the bloody sheets beneath him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" She yelled as calmly as she could, "Please hold on. This is gonna hurt, too."

Without any anesthetic, all she could do was give him a shot of tequila, let him bite down on a clean towel, and hope he would eventually pass out from the pain.

Amazingly, he stayed awake the whole time.

With each amateur stitch, he groaned louder and sobbed harder. She hated watching this stranger suffer even more, but it was either this or let him bleed to death on her door steps.

After she was finally done, the poor man was exhausted. His entire body was red, and not just from the blood. He couldn't cry anymore, but still sobbed, and groaned in agony at her next words.

"Now, let me do your back."

…

A/N: Really--I fear flames. But I will use them to roast babies for Sylar's dinner. I just hope he doesn't throw them in my face and yell at me. That will be gross.