The lights were really flickering down in the basement.
She had taken to hiding down there lately because was the only place in the building Claire couldn't hear them together, even with her subconscious amplifying the sound a thousand-fold. Down here, at least, there was silence.
Of course, she had to watch the lights flickering, which was almost worse in its way.
Still, she sat there on the floor, watching the lights turn on and off, on and off, on and off... the gaps between light and darkness decreasing slowly and then ratcheting back up to strobe.
And that's when she knew the worst was coming.
Without fail, it would hit. The shattering of fluorescent bulbs, the violent sparking of light sockets, the moment of pure gutwrench as machine in the building lost power... followed almost immediately by the horribly reassuring hum of the generator roaring back to life.
It was like that every time.
And every time, Claire just wished she could die.
--
"Well," Peter gasped as his healing abilities worked double time, "that was different."
"I've got change it up somehow," Elle teased, "it's the only time I ever see you genuinely invested in anything."
He almost seemed to lighten for a moment.
Then, out of nowhere, he asked "what are we going to do with them, Elle?"
Elle flashed him a confused look.
"The prisoners," he explained. "Are we going to keep them all here forever or do we have a long-term plan? So kind of rehabilitation or something."
"Wow, this is new," Elle said, taken aback. "You're actually thinking about the future."
Peter shook his head. "I've been to the Future, Elle. I've been to five of them. It's not something I let myself think about."
Elle looked at him softly for a moment. "You really do think you're the worst person in the world, don't you?"
Peter said nothing.
"Do you want to run away again?" she asked simply. "We could find somewhere no one would ever find us. Like the Dawn of Time or something."
Peter actually seemed to consider it for a second. "I'd only end up stepping on a butterfly or something," he decided.
Elle wrapped herself around him from behind. "Do you need another jolt?"
"Maybe," Peter quipped. Then he turned back to her and smirked. "You know, everyone would have been much better off if I just stayed in here with you from the start."
"Definitely," Elle agreed. "But you always have to make things complicated."
Peter nodded.
Elle smiled a little more slyly. "We can pretend for a while, though."
--
Eventually, Peter found his way down to the infirmary.
"Well?" he asked brusquely, gesturing towards the prisoners on the other side of the glass.
"Obviously I'm not a medical doctor, but they seem well enough to me," Mohinder replied.
"Except?" Peter prompted.
"Except they all have Strain 138," Mohinder stated dryly. "Every single one of them."
Peter's eyes went wide.
Mohinder waved him off. "It doesn't appear to be active or contagious. It's as though they all been inoculated. Actually, it's almost like..."
Mohinder stop suddenly and Peter gestured for him to continue.
"You're familiar, I believe, with FIV... the feline equivalent of AIDS," Mohinder began.
Peter nodded. "I've heard of it."
Mohinder nodded. "A while ago, scientists discovered that nearly all modern tigers have the virus, but didn't seem to be adversely affected as a whole. They theorized that there must have been an pandemic thousands of years ago and the surviving tigers were the ones genetically suited to survive the virus."
"But that took generations," Peter pointed out.
Mohinder smiled. "Well, I certainly seen a few quantum leaps in evolution these last few years. Perhaps this is another one."
Peter said nothing, but kept his eyes across the glass on the prisoners on the other side. "I'm making ripples again."
"I'm sorry?" Mohinder asked, feeling he was missing a few tracks.
Peter waved him off. "It's nothing," he insisted. "You're sure they're not contagious?"
Mohinder shrugged. "I can test our blood if you like, but if they're carrying anything harmful I'm not seeing it."
Peter nodded, distracted. "It's probably better to be sure."
--
"We have more experience saving the world than anyone else in the world," Ando complained, "why are we stuck 'patrolling the perimeter?'"
"Because we will be better prepared for anything that comes our way," Hiro replied evenly. "Because we have to defend Molly from being used again. When the assault comes..."
"'When the assault comes,'" Ando parroted. "There's nothing in the area to attract anyone to this house except the fact that you and me keep circling it. This is ridiculous."
"Peter Petrelli attacked West's cell unprovoked and without warning," Hiro reminded him.
"The Fourth Man says it was unprovoked," Ando remarked. "But the Fourth Man will not even tell us who he is... he could be Sylar for all we know."
"Sylar is dead," Hiro muttered certainly.
"Yes, Sylar is dead," Ando agreed, "because we fought alongside Peter Petrelli."
Hiro said nothing.
"Why do trust the Fourth Man?" Ando demanded. "What do you know about him?"
And then a shadow passed over Ando's face.
"Or what does he know about you?"
Hiro just kept scanning his surroundings. "I think we're safe for the night," he finally decided.
Ando glared for a few minutes, but followed after him.
--
"They're going to figure it out, you know," Molly cautioned. "Hiro and Ando aren't stupid and I don't think they'll understand what you're doing."
After a moment she added. "They're good men."
"They won't be able to act until it's too late," the Fourth Man assured her, unfazed. "And, anyway, I'm sure Hiro won't try to stop it. They all feel response for what happened to you."
Molly nodded sadly. "It's happening?"
She could hear the Fourth Man nodding on the other end. "The Trojan Horse is in place. It's only a matter of time."