Dying is like the ocean, he discovered. Even as you lose yourself, you find yourself again.


While no one would deny the disadvantage of being deaf, there were certain advantages too. When someone loses one sense, others compensate for it. In the case of hearing loss, visual acuity, and the ability to read subtle behavioral cues, become heightened. Emma knew this well, and called it to mind as she sat at dinner with Peter, his mother, Claire, and Sylar.

She could feel the tension was high, amongst all of them. She knew that if she asked it would seem foolish, after the events of the last few days; using it as an excuse was the easy thing to do. But Emma knew there was more going on, more than Peter would admit to.

She saw the way Peter's mother, Angela, held herself. This was a woman who held her emotions close to her, who exuded iciness not only as a shield, but as a way of life. The way she held her glass – her knuckles pointing outward – Emma knew she was angry about something. Angela's eyes never drifted to the left of her – the side that Sylar was seated on. Angela held some animosity toward the dark-haired man.

Claire was holding something in herself as well. Her chair was backed away ever so slightly, her shoulders were pulled back just enough that Emma knew that she didn't want to be there. She looked like a bird desperately trying to spread her wings and fly way.

Peter's eyes hardly moved from his plate. He kept them locked downward, taking quick, full bites of his food. Emma could tell he was trying to keep his mind off of something.

None of the people at the table who were related would talk to one another, or to Emma. Finally, Sylar looked at Emma with what seemed like sympathy, smiled, and said, "Dinner is delicious. You're a very good cook."

Emma smiled back, uneasily. "Thank you. It helped that we had a very well-stocked pantry. Thank you for getting the supplies we needed."

Claire did something – Emma missed it because it was more sound than gesture – but it was something like a sigh or a exhalation of breath that was a little harder than just a normal exhalation. In any case, it caught everyone's attention. Sylar looked at her.

It was a moment that seemed to escape everyone else in its briefness – it nearly escaped even Emma too. Sylar flicked his eyes upward, across the table at Claire, and Emma caught a glimpse of the emotions that registered there, in just the brief second that it lasted.

There was pain there, guilt. Sylar didn't strike Emma as a sentimental man – he seemed like a loner who cared little for people, or hadn't had much experience at it – but when she saw his eyes linger for just that second on Claire, she realized that there was something she'd missed before.

Peter excused himself from the table first. He ran his fingers lightly over Emma's shoulders as he passed by, causing slight shivers in her. It was a familiar, possessive gesture, and ordinarily Emma would have found the shivery reaction to be delightful. But there was a knowledge in Peter's gesture, something old and world-heavy – as if he was trying to elude his jadedness for a moment.

Emma often believed that Peter viewed her as naïve and innocent, partly because he discovered his powers before her and had experienced more of the incredible and surreal than she had. That he would admit to. But the other reason was her disability. In Peter's eyes, it made her vulnerable. But he'd never admit it. It was the one thing about him that grated on her.

By the time Emma had roused herself from these thoughts, she found that Angela and Claire had retreated to the other room, presumably to speak freely without worrying that Emma could read their lips. With a sigh, Emma began to clear the table, wondering now if she wouldn't have been better off facing the riots going on outside rather than living apart from everyone else in this hiding place.


Peter stared out at the black sky, squinting at the unusual brightness of the moon that night. He was thinking that at that very moment, when his corner of the world seemed so quiet and peaceful, there was chaos and misery nearly everywhere else. People being torn out of their homes and questioned for what they knew about abilities. Riots, arsons, murders – all around him. If Noah Bennett was right, then in two nights, all would be right with the world again. Somehow, he had a good deal of trouble believing that.

"You know you can't go through with it, Peter," a voice said from behind him. Peter turned around, smiled bitterly. It was Sylar.

Peter sighed and turned away. "I suppose I don't need to give you the details. You probably figured everything out when you brushed my hand passing the mashed potatoes tonight."

Sylar nodded. "As much as I despise Noah Bennett, I have to say that I understand why he's planning this. And it's a very clever plan too, in spite of my opposition to it."

Peter gave a short laugh. "Understanding? That doesn't sound like you."

"And spearheading the biggest lie in human history doesn't sound like you, Peter. Lying to the people you love most definitely doesn't. Look, I know I don't know you that long…"

Sylar made himself tingle as he said those untrue words. Sylar knew Peter; he probably knew Peter better than anyone else did, even those who had known him longer. Not only did he have the advantage of possessing Nathan's memories, but he'd also lived with the man for years in their virtual prison. But Sylar knew that Peter was irritated and even ashamed of the intimacy between them, and he didn't want to remind Peter of that fact if it would only push him further from his side.

Sylar continued. "I haven't known you long, but I do know that this is killing you. Pardon my French, but as fucked up as everything is right now, Bennett's plan is not the answer."

"Then what is, Sylar?" Peter spat. "How do you propose to make everything better?" Since you're such an expert on the right thing to do, Peter thought to himself with spite. He nervously caught a glimpse of Sylar out of the corner of his eye, as if he expected the other man could read his thoughts.

Sylar looked away. "I have an idea. It won't stop anything, just slow it down. But, it will mean that no one will get hurt. Do you want to hear it?"

Peter seemed to take forever to answer. "Yes."


Emma put the last dish in the dishwasher and clicked the lock into place. She could feel the gentle vibrations of the machine working beneath her toes as she leaned against the counter. She closed her eyes, imagining with the colors and shapes would be like from the humming of the washer. She imagined pale blue waves, flecked with white. Yet another unlikely advantage of being deaf: the mundane sound of an appliance working would elude the hearing, but to her, it was like watching a painting before her eyes.

Emma felt a tug on her sleeve, and opened her eyes to find Claire standing next to her with two dirty dessert plates and a guilty look. "I guess it's too late to add these in."

"Oh, that's fine. I'll wash them up," Emma took the plates from the other girl quickly, and turned to the sink.

As she washed, Emma had the feeling Claire was saying something to her, but of course she couldn't be sure without looking at her lips. She wondered if Claire was using the opportunity to confess something, since speaking to Emma's back was like shouting in the wind – she could say it without having to justify it.

Emma sighed as the brown flecks of chocolate from the plates mixed with the white foam of the soap. "I know you aren't obligated to tell me anything, but you should know that I'm more perceptive than you might think I am." She turned around to face Claire, who was looking at the ground in embarrassment. "I'm deaf, not blind. What's going on between you and Sylar? And why is Peter acting so strangely?"

Claire crossed her arms. "To answer your first question, nothing. Absolutely nothing, and that's the way it's always going to be. As far as Peter goes…I have no idea. He doesn't tell me any more than he tells you. Although you probably know far more than I do, sharing a bed with him and all."

Seeing Emma's pale cheeks burn from her words, Claire apologized. "I don't mean to make you feel bad. I'm glad he has you. I hope you two will be very happy."

Emma smiled, "Well, I hope-"

Emma trailed off as she realized Claire was hearing something. The younger girl's eyebrows were furrowed as she leaned towards the sound of the TV coming from the next room. Claire walked into the living room, and Emma followed.

It was a special report from the President. He approached the podium solemnly, flanked by his cabinet members and Congress. Claire's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she watched the leader of her country prepare to speak. She hadn't forgotten that this was the man who had authorized the hunting down and imprisoning of dozens of Specials like herself. It didn't matter anymore that Nathan was the one who had told him; as far as Claire was concerned, he'd atoned for his part. But now that she was watching President Dubose finally react to the truth he had no choice but to acknowledge, she was almost certain she wasn't going to like what he was going to say.

"My fellow Americans," he began, "Over the last week we have witnessed, through various forms of media, the most incredible event in human history. What was once the stuff of our imaginations in literature and art is now reality. The news has met all of us with shock, and our reactions have been mixed across the board: fear, paranoia, joy, hope – we've experienced them all. These emotions have turned into hate, and violence. What is the most upsetting is that we have been unable to prove without a shadow of a doubt, that what we have seen is not a massive conspiracy, a hoax of the grandest and cruelest kind."

"Liar," Claire hissed as the President continued his speech. "He didn't have any trouble believing it when he had us hunted down and drugged like animals."

"Claire, please," Emma chided. "I need to concentrate if I'm going to understand what he's saying. This broadcast doesn't have closed captioning."

Claire apologized, and turned to listen to the rest of the speech.

"After conferring with my advisors, we have decided to request that those who claim to have abilities similar to Claire Bennett's voluntarily submit to observation, study, and testing to understand the root of these events. We need to understand the cause of these…abnormalities. If there is a way to treat it, to ensure that no more innocent lives are threatened. Those who submit to the testing will be guaranteed all of their rights under the constitution.

On a side note, we are asking that if Claire Bennett is watching this broadcast, that she immediately turn herself in to the authorities. We hope that in setting about this turn of events, she may also set an example to others like herself."

Claire didn't want to hear any more. She turned to Emma. "We need to do something about this!"

"Yes. But you know what happened when you tried to tell the world about us. The government tried to turn you into a guinea pig."

"I need to get on a broadcast from a safe location. How am I going to do that?"

As if fate and the universe heard her, Claire's cell phone cracked and buzzed from its resting place on the coffee table. Claire gave Emma a curious look, then swept it into her hands.

She smiled as she read Micah Sanders' name on the glowing blue screen of her phone. "Ask and ye shall receive."


As much as Noah tried to deny having prejudices towards any group, he had to admit that stereotyping had always been useful in his line of work. It had helped to identify patterns in the behaviors of Specials and use them to track them down. Now, sitting in the room at the Watergate that he and Lauren had rented, waiting for their meeting to begin, he began to feel his old profiling tendencies kicking in.

They all had a particular mold they fit into. Shapeshifters and Illusionists were charming and had a sense of humor, but were naturally deceitful. They could never really be sincere, be themselves, because they were capable of being so many other people.

Flyers were dreamers; they looked at life the way they watched the world below them. No problem was too big; no pain or suffering couldn't be overcome. When they realized that there were things that they couldn't put right, they simply flew away from it. The sky was big and empty and welcoming.

Pre-cogs tended to be tormented, nearly to the point of madness. Everyone thinks they want to know the future, but they don't. What people really want is the assurance that everything will turn out all right. Pre-cogs have the unfortunate advantage of knowing that it often doesn't.

Re-gens were rebels, revolutionaries. Noah had just formed this separate library in his head after he'd been forced to deal with the consequences of his daughter's actions. At first it hadn't occurred to him that it was part of her genetic design; for him, it was just Claire being Claire. It took sitting helpless in a hotel room, clutching a shotgun and staring out at a city gone mad to make him realize that Re-gens like his daughter and Adam Monroe were inherent troublemakers. He hypothesized it was because they were aware that being immortal meant living through the very worst humanity had to offer. There was no welcoming thought of death at the end of a miserable life, nor the self-deprecating realization that life was short and they had to make the best of it; therefore, Re-gens spent their time trying to reshape their world to fit their ideal.

Negators, those who could remove memories and take away powers, were difficult to spot. They were quiet, introverted. They watched the world with a sense of incredulity, as if none of it were real. As if it were some sort of game waiting for them to make their move.

Noah had always thought Rene's reticence was part of his individual personality; having gathered other Negators all together for their plan, he now knew it was just who they were. They hardly made eye contact with him or any of the others. They did not speak; they could not be coerced or provoked, even by the shapeshifters. It made Noah nervous.

Then Lauren arrived with Peter in tow and Noah bolted out of his seat in relief. "Good! We're all here. Let's begin."

Noah and Lauren gave the teams their assignments, briefed them on the time frame, and gave them the documents they'd need for travel. The teams adjourned, and Noah noticed that Peter ducked out first, giving him a pointed look as he headed for the hallway.

"Lauren," Noah said, not taking his eyes off the door. "Finish up here. I'm going after Peter."

Noah headed out the door, just brushing past a tall, red-haired shapeshifter. The man shot him a particularly hateful look as he moved out of Noah's way.

"Peter!" Noah called as he watched Peter head for the door.

"Peter, where are you going? You need to wait for your team," Noah reminded him when he caught up with the younger man.

Peter shook his head. "I'm having doubts, Noah. You must be having doubts too. I'm sure of it."

Noah shot him a bemused look. "We don't have time for doubts. This has to be done – now!"

The look on Peter's face was confusing. He seemed to be looking past Noah, towards the empty hall, as if he were expecting something. "What if this doesn't work? What are we going to do then? Claire will never forgive us."

"Argh, I don't have time for this. Peter if you're backing out, fine, that's your mistake to make, but I can't sit here and argue with you!"

"What's going on?" Lauren called from behind them.

"Peter doesn't think he can go through with this," Noah said in a mocking, nasty voice.

Lauren scowled. "I have a dozen people in there ready to go. This isn't the time to have a change of heart!"

Suddenly, Hiro Nakamura appeared in the hallway, causing all three of them to jump. He smiled in his goofy way. "Time to go!" With that, he closed his eyes, and they were whizzed away into nothingness.


Aaron Neil: We're back with the Aaron Neil hour, which, if we can be honest, has become far more than an hour with the latest news that President Dubose plans to implement a quote-unquote voluntary detention and testing of people who exhibit extra-human abilities like that of Claire Bennett. We now know Bennett is the young woman who has created this sensational news story. I have with me General Thomas Wakefield, a former commander in Operation Desert Storm and a regular contributor to our show. Our other guest is Doctor Mohinder Suresh, a geneticist who has been studying these genetic mutations for several years. Gentlemen, thank you both for attending.

General Wakefield and Dr. Suresh: Thank you.

Aaron Neil: General Wakefield, let me begin with you. Over the last few days, as we've watched the riots erupt from both urban and rural areas, you've claimed that this revelation on human evolution is not the cause, but rather a result of international governments infecting our population with diseases in order to distract us to leave us open for invasion. Could you – could you please elaborate on your claims?

GW: Certainly, Aaron. Our intelligence reports that governments such as North Korea and Iran have had spies living among us for years, blending into our society to gather reconnaissance on us. There have been cases of water and airborne attacks, assassinations – even the September 11th attacks can be linked to these undercover operations. This new "revelation" about human evolution is no different. The video of that girl jumping from the ferris wheel is no different – it was orchestrated to divert our attention from a sinister, impending attack from our enemies overseas. What we need to do is drop this…witchhunt for "superheroes," if I may use such a sensational term, and focus our attention on the real issue at hand – finding the foreign government responsible."

AN: Thank you, General. Doctor Suresh, let me turn to you. In your book, Activating Evolution, you've claimed that human evolution has been an active part of human events for hundreds of years. Things like flight, teleportation, rapid cell regeneration are all natural parts of human evolution. If that's the case, why haven't we seen instances of this before? I would think it would be difficult to hide these abilities, assuming people would even want to."

MS: Well there are two reasons. Firstly, only approximately 10% of the world's population possesses the genetic potential for these abilities. And of these people who do carry the genes, not all of them have their powers activate. In my experience, it takes a high rush of adrenaline to activate these abilities – that doesn't happen for all of these people.

AN: I see. And for those whose powers do activate? Why haven't they…done what Claire Bennett did last week, and tell the world who they are?

MS: Fear, I suppose? The fear that what has happened in the last few days would happen if they revealed themselves.

GW (chuckling derisively): But Dr. Suresh, if these people are "naturally gifted," which I am 100% sure they are not, wouldn't there have been some sort of proof? I mean, you'd think that you'd have these superheroes jumping from tall buildings or…stopping cars from crashing into other cars.

MS: Well, perhaps there is proof, General Wakefield. And perhaps there have been covert organizations covering up this knowledge and keeping it from the public for years! Perhaps the government's even been doing some experimenting of their own.

AN: Wait, I'm sorry. Dr. Suresh, are you accusing the United States government of having knowledge of this issue and even experimenting on people for years?

MS: I…I don't know. It is possible.

GW: Oh, this is ridiculous! The very idea that our government would keep something this important and dangerous from its people –

MS: Of course, General. Because the government never does anything morally questionable, does it? Things like the Japanese internment camps in World War II and Tuskeegee never happened, right?

GW: You are out of line, sir!

AN: Gentlemen, please. Doctor Suresh, are you at least willing to accept the possibility that a foreign terrorist organization may be trying to distract us from a greater threat?

MS: I might – if I didn't know for a fact that this revelation is happening all over the world right now! Nations in South America, Europe, Africa, yes, even in places like North Korea and Palestine, are having to deal with the knowledge that human evolution is very real and won't go away peacefully!

GW: And what about this girl that supposedly set off this chain of events – Claire Bennett – where is she, exactly? Conveniently she has vanished with no trace. Surely if she was as passionate about telling the world the truth, she wouldn't just fly off – no pun intended – without explaining herself.

MS: Claire is a…very good friend of mine, with a family that loves her. They are trying to protect her right now. There are many people that want her dead.

AN: Well, from what I've seen, that won't be an easy thing to do. But finding her should be fairly easy, her picture has been everywhere on the television and internet. Yet, she's disappeared like a ghost.

GW: Hmpf. Is invisibility one of your "good friend's" abilities too, Doctor Suresh? Perhaps you know where she is, since you have such a good friendship. I think it might even be possible that you're hiding her right now, and you're using this broadcast to distract us from finding this…terrorist…and defending ourselves from this threat.

Claire Bennett (from the broadcast screen behind their chairs): Mohinder is innocent.

Aaron Neil (gasping lightly, and looking around at the crew in panic): Uh, I'm sorry, this is highly unusual. How did she get broadcasted to our channel?

CB: Let's just say I know a guy who can talk to computers.

AN (lightly touching his earpiece): I'm getting reports from our technical staff that they have no idea how this is being fed into our broadcast, but they are assuring me that this is live. Looking around again in uncertainty Well…Miss Bennett…since you're here with us, perhaps you'd like to explain yourself?

CB: Well, I've come here to tell the truth about who we are and what we want. From what I've seen, there are a lot of misconceptions floating around (looks pointedly at General Wakefield, who stirs uncomfortably in his chair). And of course, I'll try to answer any questions I can.

AN: I…see. I suppose my first question would be, where have you been this week, Miss Bennett? We've had quite a mess on our hands.

CB: Mohinder was telling the truth. My family has been protecting me. After I leapt from the ferris wheel, the government tried to hold me against my will. I escaped, and I've been in hiding.

AN: The government held you against your will? What did they try to do to you?

GW: The same thing they do to any terrorist: interrogate her and uncover her group's plan.

CB (frowning in anger): I don't have a plan. I don't have a group. And we're not terrorists. Do you want to know who we are? We're mothers and fathers. We're husbands, and wives, and sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. We're the people who drive the buses your kids take to school, we're the people who serve your coffee in your favorite restaurants; we help you with your taxes, haul away your trash, and help deliver your children. We come home tired at the end of a long day of work, then go to bed for all too short a night and wake up in the morning and do it all over again, year after year. We mow our lawns on the weekends and bake cupcakes for school bake sales. We worry about how we're going to pay our mortgages and feed our families. And long after our kids grow up, we still turn around in a grocery store when a child yells, "Mom" because it's just built into us to do that after all those years. That's who we are. If that makes us different from anyone else, then I guess we are terrorists.

AN: That was a very moving speech, Miss Bennett. But you can't deny, however, that if human evolution is true, then all these people who live among us are capable of extraordinary things. You are capable of extraordinary things, unless your first stunt was just that.

CB (chuckles mirthlessly): Ah yes, I see. I read the blogs that say that the video of my healing is just a hoax. And you'd like me to prove it again, don't you Mr. Neil? Boost your ratings?

AN (smiles): You've chosen my show for a reason, Miss Bennett. I just want to see you take advantage of the opportunity.

Mohinder: Claire, don't. You don't need to prove anything.

CB: I've come this far, Mohinder. A little farther won't make any difference.

The camera pans away, revealing Claire standing next to a table and a large, shiny meat cleaver. Claire picks up the meat cleaver and shows it to the camera.

CB: A standard butcher's tool. So sharp it can cut through bone and cartilage. Two guesses what I'm going to do with it.

Suddenly, Claire slaps her right hand onto the table, raises the cleaver high in the air with the other hand, and brings it down onto her flesh with a nearly deafening crack as the metal slices through skin, muscle, blood, and bone, severing the hand from the body. The defenseless appendage is thrown several inches away.

Aaron Neil turns green and nearly vomits. General Wakefield cringes. Mohinder sits there in shock.

Claire Bennett groans in exertion, then brings the bloody stump of her left arm in front of the camera.

CB: Keep looking, gentlemen. This is the money shot.

The three men on stage, the production crew, and 5 million viewers watch as the deathly white skeletal frame of a hand pushes through the mangled flesh, the carpal and metacarpal branching into the phalanges that make the fingers. The bones are immediately followed by muscle layering itself like ribbon over the frame. Veins and capillaries twist and twine themselves through the muscle and nerve. Finally, a smooth golden covering of satin pushes and pulsates, enfolding the red mass of digits. Claire smiles and waves the fingers in front of the camera, turning it from palm to back and to palm again, demonstrating that this new hand works just as well as the old one.

CB (smiles sadly, feeling as though she's taken away the innocence of these grown men): It's a brave new world, everyone. The only way we're going to survive it is together.