The force of her hitting to the ground bolted her awake. She flung upwards violently, staring at the wall across the room, shock overtaking her breathing. Addison buried her face in her palms, trying to recollect the fuzzy memories clouding her mind. Her body twitched remembering her nightmare until a loud crash pulled her from her thoughts.
She gazed at the bedroom door hearing shuffling as she pushed herself off the bed. Walking cautiously towards the door she opened it a few inches and peered out into the living room. Pillows and books lay strewed about the room and she pushed the door open walking in.
Addison bent down and picked up a book, drifting her gaze around the room. It was if a tornado had gone through her apartment, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. She heard footsteps and whizzed around coming face to face with her intruder. The man was in his late 40's with short salt and pepper hair. He dressed impeccably, wearing a dark gray suit; the smug grin on his face caused her nerves to jump as she stared at him.
"Addison McCallen I take it?" he asked keeping the smile on his face. Addison couldn't find words, slowly nodding her head in reply. He laughed, looking past her to the wreckage he caused, "Interesting."
"Who are you?" she questioned, keeping her stance. Thompson nodded his head, walking over to the coffee table and throwing down a pile of folders. He looked back up at her, "A friend."
Sitting down in a chair, he extended his hand out to the sofa. Addison hesitated but her eyes followed down to the folders on the table as she sat down across from him.
"I'm curious," he said looking at her, "Do you remember anything from last night?" His question peaked her interest and she tilted her head in confusion.
"You don't remember, do you?"
Addison opened her mouth to protest, but he was right; she had no idea what had happened the night before. Thompson noticed her perplexed expression and he leaned back against the chair, pointing to the folders in front of her. Her hand reached out to the folders and she picked up the first one, opening it up and examining its contents.
The pictures laid out a timeline, starting with the layout of her apartment, followed by images of a chaotic fight between Peter and Gabriel. She thumbed through the photographs, finding shots of her seemingly talking to herself, until she stopped short, staring the last pictures in the file. She gasped looking at them; the images depicted a blinding orange light, preceded with her lifeless body tucked in Gabriel's arms.
"You died last night, Miss McCallen."
She lifted her eyes from the images, shock written on her face. Swallowing hard, she tried to keep the shock from being noticed. "Well, clearly I didn't, as you can see." She said, her heartbeat rising. He continued to stare at her and Addison got an eerie feeling that he knew more than he was letting on.
The smug grin returned on his face and he responded, "Clearly."
Addison looked back down at the photos on the table and shook her head. Lifting her gaze, she looked back at Thompson, a disgusted look on her face. "So… you were following me?"
"I'd explain, but it's just a bunch of psychobabble," Thompson voiced, getting up. "What I can tell you is that we find people like you," he extended his hand out towards Addison to accent his confession. "and we protect them…. Or put them to justice."
"What do you want with me then?"
"What I want is for you to find your brother." He saw her face change and he added, "Yes, we know about Gabriel. Except we know of him as Sylar." He bent down and picked up another folder, tossing it in her lap. It contained another set of pictures but they were different from the previous folder. From what she saw, they looked like crime scene photos.
She felt sick looking at the images, bodies laid frozen in gruesome positions, all with the tops of their heads removed.
"Believe it or not, that's the product of your brother." Thompson said, watching her throw the folder on the table, looking away. Addison bit her lip. Closing her eyes; she shook the images out of her mind.
"How can I believe you," she said shaking her head, "You raided my apartment. How can I possibly trust this!?" She threw her hand down, pointing to the files. Thompson paced a bit before stopping and giving a response to her question, "You can't."
His answer caused her to look up. He held a card in front of her face, taking it; she lifted her gaze to his. "It's up to you if you want to be an accomplice, but then again, that makes you a criminal." The smile returned to his face, "If you find him, call." He said, turning around and exiting her apartment.