The Prophet and The Illusionist
Disclaimer: Heroes, or any of its characters, belong to NBC and Tim Kring. Not me.
Author's Note: Since Heroes has about a hundred pairings already, I've decided to toss another one into the barrel. You can call them…..Canssac.
In the end, what does it matter if the human heart can only find meaning in the smallest of moments?
-Mohinder Suresh
The first jolt of panic came when Isaac realized that Simone was indeed dead. The only woman he had ever really cared for was lying, shot, in his apartment with a gun that he had fired. And sure, he wasn't really thinking when he picked up the rifle off the floor and began firing at Peter Petrelli again, but it felt really good at the time.
And then, right before his eyes, Peter just disappeared. Poof! Into thin air.
"The son of a bitch can turn invisible now?" Isaac asked himself out loud.
Not really caring to investigate this thought any further, Isaac slumped to the floor and placed his head in his hands. Nothing was going as it was supposed to right now.
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It made Candace laugh at how clueless Bennet's wife was. Of course, the memory wipes had probably done most of it, but it was still kinda funny.
Did Sandra really think a fresh outta college girl like Candace would really work at something as boring as a paper factory? Maybe the Haitian had paid her one visit too many.
Candace considered mentioning Mrs. Bennet's being senile on the plane ride to her husband, but why bother? It's not like Mr. Bennet would ever listen to her anyways. She was just the young, stupid assistant with the funky powers to him.
'Little do you know, Mr. Bossman, that your time at the Company is growing shorter and shorter.'
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The second jolt of panic came about two hours later, when a knock came on the door of Isaac's apartment. This followed by the sound of policemen yelling, demanding for him to open the door.
He was completely screwed.
Isaac was seriously considering getting his old stash out its hiding place and quickly shooting up to calm himself down, but then he realized that would get him into even more trouble with the cops. So he picked himself up off of the ground and went to answer the door.
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Bennet suggested that he and Candace wait in a coffee shop across from their project's apartment before they needed to intervene in whatever this Mendez guy had done.
Candace watched as Bennet occasionally sipped his coffee as he stared across the street. She began to drink her own espresso, stopping every now and then to wipe the foam off her upper lip.
The clock in the upper corner of the shop ticked slowly, tempting Candace to go insane if it didn't stop.
Five minutes past. Ten. Fifteen.
After twenty minutes, Candace peered out of the window and saw that three men, one wearing a suit, the others police uniforms, were heading up towards Mendez's place. Candace looked at Bennet and noticed that he had stopped his watchdog act. She pointed behind him and shook her head as he turned around.
"Time to go?" she asked, grinning.
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Isaac could barely hear what the men were saying. All he knew is that they better not look over his shoulder, or they'd see Simone's dead body lying in the far end of his apartment.
Had he covered it up with anything? He didn't think so. All Isaac could really concentrate on the few minutes after Simone's killing was shooting Peter.
The detective asked if he and his buddies could come inside to look around.
'Busted, I am so busted!' Isaac thought wildly as the man stepped inside. But before they could get any further, a soft voice filled his ears, and in walked…..
Simone?
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Candace loved the look on the guy's face. A mix of horror and confusion lit his eyes as he watched his dead girlfriend cross the threshold of his apartment.
"Is something wrong?" she asked in Simone's voice.
The guy in the suit seemed less surprised than Isaac that Miss Deveaux was alive and walking. He apologized to "Simone" for the misunderstanding and left.
"Simone," Isaac gasped, "You're alive."
Candace glanced down and grimaced at the real Simone, who was a bloody mess by now. Of course, she was the only one who could see it. Everyone else saw only what she wanted them to.
It was then that she began to feel sorry for Isaac. All he did was try to protect his city, and he wound up killing his girlfriend.
He was actually kind of cute, Candace realized. Sure, his hair was a bit on the long and unruly side, and his face had the look of someone who hadn't slept in days, but it oddly worked for him.
From what she heard what Bennet, Simone sounded like a real bitch. Isaac had loved her, really loved her, and she repaid that devotion by leaving him in his time of need for some sissy with a cheerleader fetish.
But why should she care? This guy's life was none of her business. She was just here to do her job.
Candace turned to face Isaac again. "Lucky you," she said coldly.
Bennet walked into the room and smiled. "My, you're very useful." Candace returned the grin and began to change back.
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Isaac stumbled back in shock. Who the hell was this girl? And why was she able to change into Simone? Was his mind just playing tricks on him due to lack of sleep?
And that's when it hit him. This girl was one of them. One of what whatever he, Peter Petrelli, and Hiro Nakamura were.
Sweet Jesus.
The world had officially stopped now. Simone was dead, a living bomb was roaming the street, set to go off at any given time, and his new boss had just shown up in his apartment again.
"Candace is special, Isaac," Mr. Bennet said, "Just like you."
Isaac refused to look at him. This girl was not like him. She didn't know what it was like to see death before it happened, she didn't know what it was like to have the only thing that mattered stolen away from you, she didn't know what it was like to have her world come crashing down in a matter of seconds. He snapped his attention back to Mr. Bennet.
"As of now, Simone Deveaux is traveling Europe," he told Isaac. That wasn't going to be good enough.
"How am I supposed to forget this happened?" Isaac asked, launching into a full panic attack. He heard the girl who was claimed to be "just like him" giggle. He whirled around.
"You should have thought of that before you shot her," she smirked. Isaac wanted to walk right up to her and smack the grin off her face. But he couldn't. As tough as he wanted to admit it, she kind of reminded him of himself.
Weird.
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'What am I doing here?' Candace thought bitterly. 'I just want to leave.' She looked up at Isaac again and noticed him staring at her. 'What's he looking at?' Candace flipped her hair over her shoulder and began to change again, this time to look like the 'new' Simone.
"What's wrong, honey?" she asked, opening her jacket to reveal a bloody chest. "You wanna shoot me again?"
Isaac stumbled back, causing Candace smiled. 'Look away, little boy.'
"Drop the illusion, Candace," Bennet ordered. Candace considered flipping him off but decided against it. He who ruins her fun will get his later.
Candace threw one last look at Isaac and walked out the door and away from the apartment.
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Isaac had no idea what he was getting himself into. He knew Simone's body wasn't going to be moved anytime soon, because he couldn't look at it without breaking down and crying.
He had asked Mr. Bennet what he was supposed to do, and the old man had replied for him to, "Keep painting."
Keep painting. Yeah right, he was never going to pick up a paintbrush again. But he was going to pick up something else.
Isaac ran over to his bookshelf and pulled out a large red book. He opened it and pulled out the drug paraphernalia hidden inside. He brought it all over to the kitchen table and began to let his old habit worked its magic.
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Candace was almost a block away from her apartment when she remembered that they hadn't gotten rid of the body. She knew that she had to do something about it, because Mendez was obviously in no condition to move his girlfriend's corpse.
"I'll be right back," she told Bennet.
"Better hurry up," he said, not even asking where she was heading off to. Candace waved a farewell and began to jog down the crowded sidewalk.
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Pictures were flashing all over Isaac's mind, but only one stayed in focus long enough for him to paint. The familiar brush strokes made him relax more, but his overuse of the color red made him feel uneasy.
When he was finished, he was able to shake off his fog and examine his latest piece of art. What he saw made him nearly shout out in shock.
At first glance he couldn't tell who it was. But as he looked closer, he saw the familiar hair and eyes, and realized that he had painted himself.
No big deal, right? He usually painted the future him about four times a week. But this time was different.
The painting depicted Isaac Mendez lying on the ground, eyes opened in shock, head sawed clear off.
Now he knew why he had used so much red paint.
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The door of the apartment was opened, Candace noticed as she let herself in. The stench of blood hung in the air now. She had better dispose of Simone before the vultures started arriving.
The first thing Candace noticed as she stepped into the room was a painting. In it, there was a picture of Isaac lying on a red sofa, a woman with black hair leaning over him.
It was then that she saw the actual Isaac Mendez. As the painting depicted, he was passed out stone cold on the floor.
Candace considered taking Simone and leaving; telling herself that she wasn't a nurse, but her conscience wouldn't let her. So she walked over to Isaac, ignoring the smell of heroine lingering in the air, and dragged him to the same red sofa in the picture.
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Isaac woke up from his deep slumber to a cold rush on his forehead. He opened his eyes, and saw that the Candace girl was poised over him, dabbing his face gently with a wet cloth.
"What happened?" he murmured, rubbing his eyes.
"Drug overdose," Candace explained, "Now lie down, you need to rest."
"No, I don't," Isaac barked, brushing her hand away. "I need to get the hell out of here. Some psycho is going to cut my head open!"
"Sylar," Candace whispered. Isaac perked up when he heard her.
"Sylar?" he asked, "You mean that psycho who was trying to kill Bennet's daughter a few weeks ago? So he's after me now, is that it?"
"I don't know," Candace admitted, "But stay here, alright? I'm gonna call someone."
"Call who?" Isaac demanded, "The police? Like that's gonna do any good." He tried to stand up but a burst of dizziness forced him to sit down again.
"Just sit down, okay?" Candace looked like she was about to kill him.
"Fine," Isaac grumbled, too old to sulk but feeling the urge to anyways.
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Candace couldn't believe it. A man who was four years older than her was acting like a complete baby. All he needed was the rattle and soother and he'd be set.
"Hey!" she snapped, causing Isaac to raise his head in surprise. "It's going to be okay, alright? From what Bennet tells me, Sylar hasn't been spotted in weeks. He may be dead, to think of it. So can you chill?"
Isaac folded his arms across his chest and sucked his teeth. "My paintings don't lie."
"Well they might if we get you away from here," Candace told him, "Pack a bag."
"Excuse me," Isaac asked, his mouth hanging open.
"Pack. A. Bag," Candace repeated slowly, "We're going to Clayton."