Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes

Author's Note: The following chapters will focus in on one or two individual characters when they are fifteen years old. Since they are all different ages, each chapter will take place at a different time. I do realise that the characters mostly found out about their abilities during season one, when they were older. For the purposes of this story, they already know (or will be soon finding out) that they have one.

Two. Isaac.

"Hey, Mendez."

Isaac looked up. Naomi Emerson stood above him, looking shy as ever, twisting a brown plait around her finger.

"You're blocking my light."

"Oh…sorry." She moved around to the other side of the table. "What are you working on?"

"It's nothing." He shoved the sketchpad and paint brushes back into his messenger bag.

"Ok. Um…"

"Did you want something?"

"I…uh…guess not," she said, biting her lip, "I'll just…get out of your hair." She looked upset as she walked away, back to her friends sitting at another one of the cafeteria's round, bolted-down tables.

Isaac usually sat by himself. He liked the quiet, it helped him to paint. And anyway, no one wanted anything to do with him. They all thought he was some kind of psycho junkie. Except Naomi. Why was he so rude to her? He wasn't sure. The poor girl had a crush on him. Maybe that freaked him out a little bit.

He didn't know what she saw in him. Naomi had a reputation as a "good girl", and they didn't mix very well with the "psycho junkies".

Isaac stood up, pulling his messenger bag off of the ground, and walked out of the cafeteria. The halls were empty, and a little too quiet. He could hear his converse squeaking on the cheap linoleum floor. This was the part of the horror movie were something leapt out and grabbed him.

And lo, it did.

"Where you going, Mendez?"

"Ah, Fraser. Nowhere that would interest you, I'm sure." Isaac tried to shove past the lump of a fifteen-year-old boy but had no success.

"I don't like your attitude, Mendez."

"I don't like you, Fraser. Can I go now?"

Fraser, clearly stunned by Isaac's failure to cower and stutter at him, blinked. This was his moment. Isaac tried to go around him, but his tree-trunk arm shot out and caught him around the neck.

"What's in the bag?" Fraser was almost growling.

"Nothing," Isaac said, too quickly, "I mean, it's just school stuff."

"I think you've got something to hide." Fraser grabbed the messenger bag and pulled out the sketchbook. Isaac felt his heart leap into his throat. No one looked at his sketchbook. Fraser began flipping through the thick, high-quality pages, passing only a fleeting glance across the paintings. They were mostly of people Isaac knew, but they weren't things he'd seen. He didn't know where the subject of each painting came from, he just painted and there it was.

Except for the last painting. He didn't know where that had come from.

Unfortunately, this was where Fraser's pig-like eyes came to rest.

"Who are these Japanese guys?" His brow furrowed. "Your boyfriends?"

"I don't know, I made them up."

"Ha, imaginary friends?"

"You continue to amaze me with your intelligence, Fraser."

_______________

What seemed like a long time later Fraser left, leaving Isaac with a number of sizeable bruises and a bloody nose. Isaac bent down, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and snatched up the sketchbook.

"Isaac! Are you ok?"

Isaac turned around to see Naomi running towards him, her big eyes full of concern. She was quite pretty really, he noticed for the first time.

"I'm fine Naomi. Listen, do you want to go, I don't know, get some coffee or something after school?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

Thank you for reading, and we'll revisit Isaac in a later chapter! Please review, I'd love to know what you think.