Chapter 2- …To Worse

I all but ran with Mary down the hall of the ER all the while reciting her stats to the doctor that would take over the minute I let go of the gurney. I watched as the doors to the exam room swung shut and the medical staff swarmed around her like bees to nectar. Although I wished there was more that I could do for her, I knew that the best thing was to just stay out of the way.

And then it hit me. Adrenaline could be useful in that it kept me awake enough to react to the car that nearly made cream cheese of us as well as gave me the physical strength to pull much harder than I could in any other normal circumstance. The human body was incredible when it came to things like that, but when it was all said and done I was left almost dizzy and weak with exhaustion. I felt like just collapsing in a pile in the middle of the hallway, but I managed to shuffle over to the central nurse's station to start my paperwork.

"What the hell happened to you, baby?" Ruth peered at me over her glasses from behind the desk. Ruth probably could have retired years ago except she loved the job too much. Sure she bitched about it every breath, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Her white hair stood out in contrast to her dark complexion, but she was still beautiful in a worldly wise kind of way. After a lifetime of working in nursing, she had done and seen it all and never gave even our most bizarre cases a raised eyebrow.

She peered at me with eyes so sharp it felt like they cut directly to the core of my being and I knew there was no chance I could dance my way around this one like I usually did. "Just a tough day, Ruthie." I mumbled as I scribbled away on the papers.

"I would say so." She nodded as she chewed her gum mercilessly. "Either that is your blood or it ain't, but either way you just bought yourself some more trouble."

My pause turned to panic when she reached for the phone. "Ruth, please." I begged to no avail.

"I don't want to hear it." She waved me off with authority. "You know the rules and you ain't above them. Now finish up there before the doc gets here." She held the phone to her ear and waited for someone to pick up. While she waited, she looked at me with a half smirk as she added, "Someone's gotta look after you. Lord knows you do a piss poor job of it yourself. Look at you- white as the snow outside. When was the last time you ate, boy?"

I smirked and quickly grabbed a red foil wrapped Hershey's Kiss out of the bowl on her desk. She regarded me with a wary eye. "Or slept? My goodie bowl was almost empty when I got in- that's how I know you were here last night. Nobody has the balls to touch my bowl but you."

I popped the bit of chocolate in my mouth and gave her my best innocently shy smile. "C'mon, Ruthie. You know you love me."

She turned incredulously to the nurse beside her and scoffed. "Look at him all up in here tryin' to play that I-talian Romeo crap with me." She turned to me and shook her head. "I'll tell you now that those days are long over for me, sweetie. Where the hell were you 30 years ago?"

I finished signing the last paper and sighed, "Oh you know…hanging out in my Ma's womb."

"Mmmhmmm." She hummed. "I was old enough to be your mother then and here you come tryin' to smooth talk me like I was one of the new girls fresh out of nursing school." She slammed the phone down and muttered, "Damn doctors too busy to pick up the phone. I don't know why the hell they get paid so much to just ignore us. They need to assign a nurse up there to pick up the damn phone for them and hold it to their ear."

"Amen." I commented absentmindedly as I made sure my paperwork was in order to hand in. I may be a paramedic now, but I was a nurse first and there was no end to the pile of work that was shoved onto the staff by doctors who were just too lazy. I actually had one medical student have the audacity to ask me if I could pull his charts and open each one to the last page so all he would have to do is sign it before moving on to the next one. I was appalled…but of course I did it and that wasn't the half of what I was asked to do.

"Well, as always if you want something done you have to do it yourself." She sighed walking around the desk but coming to a sudden stop behind me. "Now what the hell is this?" She asked pulling up my jacket to look at the cut on my back. I had actually forgotten about it in all the excitement, but now that she mentioned it, it did sting a little. "You got blood all down the back of your pants. My god, boy." She shook her head slowly. "I swear one of these days they will wheel you in on a stretcher."

She snagged a passing resident and all too soon I found myself in a chilly exam room with the halogen lights that make everything seem way too sterile. I had never seen the resident before, but the way they rotated in and out so quickly I hardly knew any of them. "Ok," she sighed snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "Drop your drawers." If it was meant to be some kind of a joke, I didn't think it was funny. You just don't make that particular reference to guys without inducing a large amount of anxiety and dread. Still, I took off my jacket and loosened my pants enough for them to slide down my hips a few inches before turning to brace myself against the table.

As she inspected and scrubbed the cut, I tried not to flinch because she was scouring away like she was using sandpaper to smooth out marble and it really hurt. This was the curse of working for a teaching hospital: staff are fair game to practice on and she was still in the process of learning the ropes. I couldn't blame her too much for her lack of clinical skills because I too had to intern and practice on people to learn the intricacies of my job as well. I remember the first time I had to see a real, live patient and I had to draw blood. I was so nervous my hands were shaking and it took a few attempts to get the job done. I was so jumpy I'm surprised I didn't accidently poke them in the eye. I kept apologizing profusely, but that is all part of becoming proficient. People suffered so I could get better and now it was my turn to be the guinea pig.

I was ever so thankful that the assault stopped. My bottom lip was sore from biting it in order to keep the pain in check. "Looks like you need stitches." She announced in a bored tone. I hung my head and sighed. "Hop up on the table."

I climbed up on the exam table, tearing and crinkling the paper strip that ran down the center beyond any effective usefulness and took some deep breaths to prepare myself for the next endurance test. She gave me a shot to numb it first, but didn't wait long enough for it to take effect before she started in. She had other patients to see and I knew that I was kind of low on her personal priority list (as simple sutures are for any doctor), but I was still a patient that had a fully functional nervous system that reported pain quite frequently and I hoped she didn't treat all of her patients this way. I tried to block out the pain and think of something else, but my brain was so fatigued all it could focus on was how convenient it would have been to have Claire's ability right about now.

Once again I was reminded of how inconvenient it was to only be able to hold onto one power at a time since my father had taken that ability away from me. The pit of my stomach sank at the thought of him. I believed he was dead for all that time and then to come face to face with him? Truthfully all I wanted was to hug him. Although we were never really close when I was growing up, he was still my father and I hoped that there would be a second chance to start over again- to at least be able to form a mutual respect for each other because in the end that was all I really ever wanted. He was always more interested in Nate and I couldn't blame him. I wasn't on the football team, I wasn't really popular, I didn't fly fighter jets. There was no doubt that I was the runt of the litter and had it not been for Ma he may have just killed me the way Spartans killed weak children. But still I missed him when I thought he died the first time and when I saw him alive and well, I was relieved. Imagine my surprise when he wiped me clean like a slate for his own selfish gain before Sylar finally did him in. I would have…I wanted to…but I couldn't. He was right: he was practiced killer and I wasn't.

I was brought back to reality by the sound of the exam door slamming shut. I turned my head to see the boss with a grim expression on his face. My heart sank because I could tell he was the bearer of bad news. The resident quickly cut the thread she had just tied and said, "Well, I am done here. I will send in a nurse to get you the tetanus and hepatitis booster as well as get you started on antivirals until the results from the HIV lab come back. You know how to wash out your eyes, right?" She asked setting down a liter bottle of saline by the sink. It was a bit late for that since more than enough time had passed from the moment Mary coughed on me for the virus to make it into my system- that is if she had anything at all. I nodded and she nervously skipped out.

"Peter." The boss nodded grimly. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

I fought not to let my despair show too much as I quietly asked, "She didn't make it, did she?"

"I'm afraid not, son." He replied in a low tone as he looked down at the fresh stitches in my lower back. "She died of a ruptured aorta, she didn't have a chance. But it gets worse. I'm afraid I have to place you on suspension. I told you I was going to give you a break, but this isn't what I had in mind."

"What?" I asked painfully twisting to face him. "Why?!"

He kept his calm and I could tell that this was not his doing. "Marshall has reported you as negligent. He said you unnecessarily moved the patient and in doing so you caused her death."

I was almost too stunned to speak, but my voice finally forced its way past my lips. "I did move her, but only because there was another car that was going to hit us! He had to have seen it!"

"He claims you were the only one on the scene and he didn't see anything but you moving her. No EMS, fire or NYPD were there to back you up. I hate to do this, son, but you know I have to investigate claims of negligence- especially when it results in a death. So clock out and I will call you." The door shut quietly behind him and I just laid on the table trying my best not to be sick. In the matter of a half hour my entire world had come crashing down.

I walked home in the falling darkness, slowly shuffling my feet toward my apartment in the cold, blowing snow. My stitches pulled painfully with every step and my upper arm ached from all of the shots, but I didn't care about any of it. The windows of the stores I passed glittered and gleamed with Christmas cheer, but I was the most miserable man on the planet. What was Mary doing out this afternoon? Was she doing her holiday shopping? I was saddened by the knowledge that she would never see these windows again and wondered how her family would celebrate in light of her death. Somewhere in the country, gifts would sit under the tree never to be unwrapped by her. I knew what I did was right, but despite my best efforts I couldn't save her. Some hero I was.

The wind was fierce and I drew my arms closer to my body to preserve heat while I dodged people carrying shopping bags who frantically waved for taxis to carry them back to their warm homes. Snow clung to my hair and melted, dribbling streams of cold water down my neck and into my eyes. It was irritating, but on some level I felt as though I deserved it. I was sad, but I was also angry at Marshall for outright lying his ass off about what happened just to satisfy some stupid, petty grudge he had with me. He saw the car hit us, I know he did. He knew I had no choice but to move her and yet he told the boss I was reckless in an attempt to no doubt get me fired. How could you possibly hate someone that much?

I trudged forward, keeping my head down to prevent the snow from blowing into my eyes, feeling the snow crunch under my boots when I heard a woman screaming. I immediately stopped and looked around, but no one else seemed to notice even though it was getting louder. Typical jaded urbanites. I followed the sound to a nearby alley where her voice reverberated up the brick walls and into the dark sky. I peeked around the corner and waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness to see a man dragging a woman by her arm down the alley. He was easily twice her size and she obviously didn't want to go with him. I quickly looked around at the people passing by, but they were determined not to get involved and I couldn't believe it. Someone had to help her and it looked like that someone would have to be me. There was no way in hell I could just walk away now and pretend I didn't know what was going on, although if I did no one would think less of me and that was very disturbing. For as long as I have lived here, I never understood the complete lack of concern for fellow human beings that the residents appeared to have.

I crept along the rough brick wall of the alley, trying to stay out of sight until the last moment. Once again I found myself thinking that I had the wrong ability. If I still had Sylar's telekinesis, this would all be so much easier. Or Hiro's teleportation for that matter, but what wasn't really helpful was the fact that I could run really fast. That kind of ability required a fairly good distance and the little alley just wasn't suited for that. Even at a distance I could tell that he was much bigger and stronger than me, so hand-to-hand combat was probably going to be out although I did complete the company's self defense class and I could probably pull a few surprises out of my hat.

You wouldn't think that I, as a person who is called to save lives in an emergency, would need to defend myself from bystanders but you would be wrong. I actually got stabbed once by a mentally ill man, but thankfully I had Claire's ability and I quickly healed. That was the day Hesam and I forged our own 'don't ask, don't tell' policy when I had to give one excuse after another for why I had blood on my shirt but no cut- especially when he watched it happen. I finally convinced him that he was seeing things and that he had swiped at me and cut my shirt, but not me. And the blood was the patient's, not mine. Yeah, something like that. Since then I have been incredibly careful and discrete how and when I used whatever ability I had so he wouldn't know.

But I didn't have the ability to heal now and I had to minimize my chance of injury if I tangled with this guy. There was always the element of surprise, but I wasn't counting too heavily on that. I narrowed my eyes when he yelled at her to shut up and slapped her in the face hard enough to knock her down. She sat in the icy slush on the ground, holding her face and sobbing. I bared my teeth as a white hot anger boiled up from the pit of my stomach. What kind of a man would hit a woman like that? No doubt he was planning far worse for her, but I couldn't let that happen. I wasn't sure what, but I had to do something and the first step was jumping to my feet and getting into plain view. "Hey!" I shouted just be sure he noticed me.

He turned quickly as though he wasn't expecting company, but in a low voice he growled, "You best move on, mister. This doesn't concern you."

My heart was pounding so hard I almost didn't hear him. "Well," I shrugged, "it kinda does now." It was the only thing I could think to say and I hoped it wasn't too confrontational. We could work this all out like gentlemen…

He looked me up and down as though he was planning which bone in my body to break first while the woman cried, "Don't do it, Ronnie. You don't want to go back to prison!" I swallowed hard. This wasn't working out like I had planned…wait…I didn't really have a plan. I instinctively crouched into a fighting stance with my hands up to protect my face like a boxer just like I was taught in the self defense class and Ronnie laughed as he slowly approached. I admit I was afraid, but I held my ground. I reminded myself of the times I faced off with Sylar- a man 10 times- make that 1000 times worse than this guy could hope to be and when it came down to brawling, I beat him every time. If I could smack Sylar around in Kirby Plaza and Pinehurst, I could handle this. Besides, I didn't have to fight to the death- I just had to buy enough time for the woman to escape and then I could run if I had to.

While I watched him with a keen eye, she pulled herself to her feet slowly and started for the street in a daze. I wished she would walk faster, but she was no doubt traumatized by the assault and Ronnie boy wasn't making any moves to chase her but he was watching her every move with a sick smirk on his face. And then, unexpectedly, something very hard hit the back of my head with enough force to send me to my knees. I was quite literally dazed and confused as I watched lights dance in front of my eyes and I fought off a wave of nausea.

Ronnie seized his opportunity for revenge and I reflexively curled into a ball to protect my already damaged brain from further assault. The punches and kicks came so fast I hardly felt the last one before the next one came, all the while the woman screamed and begged for him to stop. When he was panting with exhaustion and too weak to throw another punch he did, but not before giving me one last stomp in the side. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I felt him fish in my pockets until he found my wallet. He removed what he wanted and threw it down next to my face with an evil laugh. The last thing I saw before blacking out was him counting the cash he had stolen and her tagging along behind pleading for him not to leave her. He damn near killed me for $6 and it was all for nothing.

When I woke up again, the first thing I noticed was the sensation of snow gently falling on my face and then quickly melting. It was a calm and peaceful feeling for almost a full minute before the pain hit and I remembered I was laying face up in an alley after being beaten and robbed. I sat up slowly and dragged myself to the nearest wall where I could rest. My head was throbbing, I felt sick, I was soaked to the bone, I was cold, and I was bleeding. I pulled my knees up and ignored the sharp pain in my side so I could hold my head in my hands and wonder what the hell I had done to deserve the kind of day I had.

Twice in one day I tried to be a hero, I tried to do the right thing by doing what I could to help and both ended in disaster. I couldn't believe the woman was the one that hit me in the head because she was afraid of losing a crappy relationship. Mary died despite all I could do and now I was faced with the possibility of losing my job. Now more than ever I wanted someone to help me for once. I was always the one extending my hand and going out of my way. Where was my hero when I needed one?

I thought of all the people I knew who I could possibly go to for some kind of comfort. For whatever reason, the first name that came to mind was Sylar although he would be the absolute last person on the face of the earth that would give a damn. I had to be careful because like a bad penny, he often turned up just when you least needed him to and right now I could do without his sarcastic remarks and subtly evil smirks. But despite his persona, deep underneath it all there was something odd between us. He has saved me before and if he were here now, he might not even so much as help me up but he wouldn't try to kill me either.

My mother was absolutely out of the question. She may feel obligated in some way to render first aid, but it would be just as personal and loving as the resident that saw me earlier. There was Matt, but he was a cop and no doubt he would be more interested in finding the guy that did this to me. He couldn't help it, it was what he always wanted to be and I admired him for his determination. Hiro was a pretty good friend, but I didn't know where he was. I was friendly with Ando, but I didn't know him well enough to drop in unannounced looking like this. Noah had been in contact a lot lately, but he was the kind of guy you went to when you wanted information- not sympathy. Claire would have understood and respected me enough not to make me feel guilty, but she was far away at school and I wanted her to have the normal life she wanted without having weird guys visit her on campus late at night. Hell, not even my future self turned up to lend a hand and that really said something.

I tried not to, but tears began to fall from my eyes when I realized that the person I wanted most, the one that would make me feel better almost instantly was Nate and he was gone. If he were still alive, I would have gone to his house and he would have let me in with the stern look he always had when I got myself into trouble. He would have given me some of his clothes to wear while he washed and dried mine. Of course they would be too big, but at least they would be comfortable, dry, and warm. He would have lit a fire and sat me down close to it to warm up while he made me a hot buttered rum even though I didn't like it and told him so on many occasions, but he always forgot. I would sip it anyways so I wouldn't hurt his feelings and enjoy the popping sound and the smell of the burning wood. He would no doubt lecture me about how I worked too much and spent way too much effort trying to help other people when what I needed to do was watch out for myself. This might go on for hours, but at the end of it all he would no doubt get up to hug me and tell me how much he worries about me and how I need to start being more responsible and take better care of myself. Then he would tell me it was late and insist I spend the night in the guest bedroom and he would end with the same line he always used- 'We'll sort this all out in the morning' although everything had already been discussed. But for him there was always unfinished business. What he really meant was he would lie awake all night thinking about all the things he didn't say and he would take it up again later. God how I missed him.

But Nate was gone and I was completely alone, shivering and hurting. I didn't even have money to take a taxi home. So with no one to help me, I hauled myself up and limped home wondering if it was all worth it. Why spend so much time helping others when in the end no one was there for you? Maybe I just wasn't cut out for the hero business. Maybe Nate was right all along.

All the way home, the passers by pretended not to notice the bloodied, sopping wet man that pushed past them holding his side and walking with an odd gait. Not one person stopped to ask me if I was ok or needed help. Maybe it was time to become one of them.