Title: Squall

Fan dom: Heroes

Rating: T -

Couples: Well some exist, but...

Characters: Nathan, Peter, Angela, The Haitian, Mohinder, Molly

Notes and Spoilers: Through "Chapter 23: How to Stop an Exploding Man." Plus speculation based off Chapter 35 & 36 of the Graphic Novel, "It takes a Village".


Chapter 4

"Nathan?!" Peter's voice screamed.

Peter reached out for Nathan but couldn't grab him.

And Nathan started to plummeted to the ground.

Peter frantically stopped time and Nathan stood still, but for some reason, it didn't stick.

"Pete...do you remember fourteen years ago?" Nathan asked while falling.

"Yeah?" Peter replied speeding after his brother, at a painfully slow speed, "When?"

"You know the date."

Peter thought for a while.

"Yeah..."

"I never thanked you. It will be the memory I will protect forever."

"You're too weak, you couldn't save them..." growled a whisper.

"Mrs. Petrelli?" another voice shouted.

Angela opened her eyes, unable to breath for a second.

"Yes, Jonathan?"

"I'm sorry to wake you. But were are here."

"Oh, yes, thank you," she replied, still a little disoriented. She took a few moments to secure a few loose items near by before she unbuckled her seat belt, and exited the helicopter, wasting no time.

A familiar face stopped in the distance and stared at her.

"I need your help," she said to him.


Molly was coloring in the book she salvaged from the Kirby building on a table in the center of the waiting room; it was one thing that always calmed her nerves a little. She gave Micah a couple pages as well, inviting him into her fold. His father was in the hospital, as was her Hero...her first Hero. Her second Hero stood quiet a few yards away. Unfortunately, she doubted that coloring would return Dr. Suresh's spirits.

Mohinder looked up from the pamphlet he was reading and smiled at the girl.

"Much misery had been seen with those eyes." he thought to himself

He himself had seen enough misery himself, like Thompson had said, at least two lives were dead directly because of him, and several others were killed because of an experiment his father designed. Though he was a man. An adult. If he could barely stand the extreme tragedy, imagine watching through the eyes of a child. The boogie man. And apparently there was someone out there that was even worse. He didn't even want to think of that right now. His mind was fixated on Peter Petrelli. The man died right in front of his eyes, not once, but twice. And this time, his brother Nathan with him.


"Peter?" a woman's voice whispered.

The young woman caressed Peter's forehead.

"Peter?"

Peter opened his eyes and looked around the room. He was alone. He never felt so alone.

"Mr. Petrelli? Can you hear me?" the voice called out again.

"Where am I?"

It was a stupid question. He knew where he was. He was really getting sick of this place.

"The hospital."

"How?"

The woman smiled.

"Now that one is one interesting question," she whispered.

Peter looked at the woman strangely.

"You just kinda appeared here. But I know better. What do you remember Mr. Petrelli?"

Peter continued to give the woman that confused smirk.

"You know me? But who are you?"

"All you have to do is intern at one of those campaign dinners, Peter. But have we met officially? No, I'm Alex, and I'm your stalker."

Peter narrowed his eyes.

"Alex... Are you going to tell me what is going on?"

"If I were to guess, it has to do with that explosion."

That explosion...

Peter turned away.

"I don't want to talk about that."


The Haitian walked closer to Angela Petrelli, meeting her about halfway.

"I can't take the memories away," he said. "They may hurt, but memories are all we really have. And it is part of us."

"Not me–them," Angela gestured to the two men next to the helicopter. "They saw Nathan."

"Did it happen?" The Haitian whispered.

Angela nodded.

"Just as I envisioned."

"I know you feel hollow, but when I looked into the eyes of those people, the victims of my power..."

"Madness. It is all madness!" she turned away from the Haitian, refusing to make eye contact, refusing to show weakness.

The day she was arrested for stealing the socks, she was desperate. She wanted to fight fate; she wanted to show fate that she was in control.

"I will take the memories from those men if you like."

"Thank you."


Molly Walker finished coloring her page. It was a picture of a woman in a funny hat, walking in a rose garden. Molly drew them in all different colors, from red and white, to pink and orange. Though, Molly added a rose of her own, a lavender rose falling from the sky.

"Dr. Suresh?" Molly called.

Mohinder looked up from pamphlet on blood borne pathogens and made eye contact with the child.

"Hmm, yes Molly?"

"I made you something."

"Thank you Molly."

She handed the picture to Mohinder.

He studied the picture and smiled.

"Do you like roses?" he asked.

Molly nodded, "They are pretty. They come in so many colors, but at the same time, they are all beautiful."

"That is very true Molly."

"What about this rose here, the lavender rose that is falling?"

"That one is the best part," Molly beamed.

"Yes, it's very pretty."

"No...that is not what I mean."

"He's here."


A blonde hair woman squeezed a wash cloth over a wash basin before placing it on someone's forehead.

The man opened his eyes and looks straight up at the woman, a look of terror and unease, scorched in his eyes.

"Oh Nathan, you are awake. Thank goodness. Now you can tell me what happened."

The woman went to remove the wash cloth from his head."

Nathan grabbed her hand by the wrist, stopping her.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The woman stared at Nathan, not saying a word.

"You are not serious, are you serious Nathan?" she asked.

But she didn't wait for a reply, "I know there is a lot that was left unsaid between the two of us, but it wasn't my fault."

The woman gaped at Nathan, desperate for a reply.

"It's me Meredith."


To Be Continued