I'd been escorted to the airport, where I met a man who was tall, wearing a smart business suit and a pair of thin glasses. He met me in the car park, and as the car pulled off he guided me in, sticking at my side but saying nothing as we checked in. He didn't look like any of the goons I'd seen so far, and I wondered if the point was for him to fit in. He did it well enough with light brown hair cut in a simple, normal style. It wasn't long before we were in the air, and I found the whole concept of flying somewhere that was in the same country really weird. I guess I just forgot how big the United States were.

Before leaving the car, yeah, a normal sleek black car this time instead of the van, I had been instructed to change my appearance. Short brown bob, boring hazel eyes and my normal body, easy enough to fit into any crowd.

I just wanted to find whoever we were looking for, talk nicely to them and then get back to the others.

I wondered if they were worried for me; was Molly on my trail? Mrs Petrelli had already told me that I'd be constantly on the move, which would make it all the more difficult for little Miss 'find-all', as she'd bitterly called the young girl, to pinpoint my exact location.

Hopefully I'd be able to come up with a plausible excuse when I saw them again.

I hadn't looked at the envelope I'd been given, and it now sat stuffed into a handbag I'd been ever so kindly loaned for the occasion.

Burrowing my head in a magazine my mysterious and so far silent travelling companion had brought at the airport, I forced myself to read about celebrities I really didn't care about. I was relieved when the plane landed, and due largely to our lack of luggage we were out of the airport fairly quickly.

He ushered me out to a taxi, leant in to the driver and gave him the address of wherever we were going. He then opened the back door and pushed me inside. For the first time, he spoke. "Good luck." He muttered, before slamming the door and walking away. I frowned at his retreating back. That was it? He was just leaving me to do this alone?

Great.

I sank down in the seat as the taxi pulled off, whizzing along the streets. I took the envelope out of the bag and finally opened it.

My eyes scanned the photograph attached to the top of the sheet. It was slightly fuzzy, but clear enough that I could tell my intended 'victim' was female and blonde. By the red and white uniform she wore, she was also a cheerleader. Awesome, I thought, I'd finally get to meet the typical cheery prep I saw in American teen movies. Kind of. I read the small amount of information I was given,

Not too much, I noticed. Just enough to get me through. Her name was Claire, and there were notes typed out about her family. She had a dad, who had 'dangerous' next to his name. A brother, listed as harmless, and a mum, who I was advised to tell I was from the school.

A small bit caught my eye. Unlike the rest of the sheet it was handwritten, scrawled out in cursive writing.

Tell Claire you are friends with Peter.

That was kind of odd, to me anyway. I couldn't help but wonder what her link with Peter was, and my eyes were drawn back to the photograph.

Blonde, pretty, maybe the same age as me.

Surely too young for him?

I frowned at her photo, my heart sinking.

Inwards, I scolded myself. I couldn't let emotions rule over me, not right now. I had a job to do.

Lucky for me, as a black hole was starting to gnaw at me, the taxi pulled over.

"I was told to wait for you?" The driver asked, gazing at me through the mirror.

"Oh, yeah. Please. If you don't mind."

"No problem."

I pushed the sheets back into the envelope and stuffed it into the bag.

I drilled the girls surname into my head as I walked up the path and knocked on the door, shifting the bag on my shoulder. Lucky for me, a woman I assumed to be Claire's mother opened the door, gazing down at me with kind but stressed eyes. Her brown hair was tied back in a bun, and in it I could see a few streaks of grey.

"Hey Mrs Bennett!" I greeted, trying to perfect the chirpy, go getter attitude I assumed the mother of a cheerleader would respond to. "I'm Nicola, I'm in Claire's class at school."

I had considered giving my real name – after all, I didn't officially exist in America. But if they dug enough...I didn't want these people getting into any trouble, not really.

"Oh," her eyes crinkled as she looked at me, "she didn't mention anyone coming over."

I needed a cover story, and quickly, scratching at the surface of her mind, I found one. "I noticed she hasn't been in school for a few days." I tried to sound sympathetic and worried, as the suspicion in her eyes grew. "I just thought I'd bring her some of her homework and see if she was OK?"

"We're moving." She spoke quickly, looking wearily at me.

"Aw no." I tilted my head forward, trying to seem genuinely upset. Hell, maybe I was better at this acting business than I thought. "Can I say goodbye then? Please?"

"She's out." Her reply was quick and curt, and I could tell she was close to dismissing me and sending me away.

A name shot out of her mind. West. Along with it came the image of a good looking boy flying in the air, Superman style. I had to hold back a small smile, reminded as I was of Sam.

"OK, no worries. I'll try to see her before you go, if that's OK?" She nodded and I flashed her another chirpy smile. "It was nice meeting you Mrs Bennett."

"Goodbye, Nicole, was it?"

"Nicola." I corrected, lifting a hand in a wave. I darted down the path and climbed into the back of the taxi, glancing behind me at the house. The door closed, I could see the smallest edge of the curtain lift up. I turned to the driver. "Drop me around the corner. Think you could come back later after?"

"Sure." He shrugged as he started to drive. "Your friend paid me enough." He smiled through the mirror, revealing a set of yellowish teeth.

"Cool, midnight should be as good a time as any."

I needed to give myself enough time to see her, to talk to her. I climbed back out of the cab and started to wonder around, wondering what the hell I was going to do for the next few hours.

It's starting to get dark, and still no sign of her. I think I know which bedroom window belongs to her, and I'm crouched in a bush at the back of their garden, watching it for signs of the teenager. I've seen Mrs Bennett passing in the kitchen window, but now the lights in there are off and I feel confident enough to fly up to her window.

I hover just in front of it, and focus on the window. Telekinesis is not something I've perfected or even like using, it leaves me feeling headachy and dizzy, right now it's no different. Still, I squeeze myself in and glance around the room. Night vision reveals a couple of posters on the wall and a dressing table, make up all over it. Other than a few teddy bears in the corner and furniture, the room feels empty. If it weren't for the posters and make up, seeming to be the few essentials she hasn't packed already, you wouldn't be able to tell there was a teenage girl living here.

I wait, crouched at the window and ready to leap out if someone unwanted enters.

I have a few close calls when I almost leap out on hearing steps pass by the doors, but lucky for me no one enters and I'm warned of Claire's impending arrival by a male voice coming up the stairs.

"Claire, please you can't do this. Even your dad...."

"My dad doesn't know." A female voice hisses back, and I know instantly it's her. "He can't know West. Please, I have to do this."

Their footsteps get closer and as they do, I feel something tingling over my body. An appearance change cannot get rid of wounds, though I can give myself superficial scars and marks if I so wanted to. But now, before my very eyes, the red welts disappear.

The file didn't lie about her ability. Nice trick.

I stand up, as the door open and the pair, talking now in hushed whispers, step in. Engrossed in their conversation neither notices me until Claire flicks on the lights and turns so she faces the window. West steps forward, looking ready to throw a punch, as Claire opens her mouth to either say something or scream.

"No, don't. Sshh." I lift my fingers to my lips. "Claire, I'm a friend of Peter Petrelli."

"Peter?" The name sounds like a lifeline, coming from her, and I lock onto her mind. Jesus, I think. That means Angela is her grandmother. Poor girl. Wait, it doesn't make sense...that means Nathan must be her father, but I just can't imagine the smiling man from Angela's photograph shacking up with the woman downstairs. No offence to her, but they just don't fit. Something isn't right, but before I can delve further I realise I need to speak, now.

"He says hi." I offer, hands in the air. "Your uncle says hi."

She frowns, West gazes at me with the same suspicious expression Mrs Bennett had downstairs. There's another thing; Bennett? So how is Peter her uncle? Unless her mother is...ugh. My head starts to hurt. "What do you want?" Claire asks, and suddenly her thought floats into my mind.

How does she know Peter is my uncle?

"Please, you need to believe me. I'm a friend, alright?"

Lightly, I keep my mind open, realising that in order to gain their trust I'm going to need to have an idea of why this whole family, and West, are weary of me.

"How do we know we can trust you?"

There it is – an answer, a way I can convince them I'm on their side. My fingers go to my neck, feeling the new addition to my appearance. I step slowly towards them, turning my neck so they can see the new marks there, the ones I've made to match what I see in West's mind.

I do feel guilty, for deceiving them, but something tells me it's going to be safer if they don't know the truth.

"You're moving, right?" I asked, staring hard at her. She nodded, and I can see a slight glimmer of trust in both of them. "Good. Don't stop. Keep moving. Keep running. Hide." She opens her mouth but I cut her off, raising my hand. "I know, I know. You're fed up of running. But trust me, it's for the best." Then I get it. The flash of a plan in her mind and I realise now is when I need to bring my job into the equation. "I know you're planning to tell the world about you, but you can't." I see him in her head then, her father. But in her mind, beside him, is Nathan. She's adopted. It makes sense, now. "Listen, if you do that then they will use you as a lab rat. They will lock you up and fuck you up."

She lifts her chin, and shining in her eyes I see determination and a desire to go against what I'm telling her. She reminds me of Peter like that, the same urge to do what she sees as right.

I cross to her desk, ask her for a pen and paper. Confused, she rummages in one of the drawers of the dressing table and hands me a pad and biro. I scribble down an address, rip it off and hand it to her.

"Go to them. They will help you. Tell them Melinda sent you, ask for her." I point to the name I've written down. "They can protect you and help you stop running."

"This is..."

"I know it's far." My eyes dart from her to West. Please, I'm begging silently, please listen to me. "But it really is the safest place, for you and your family. For you too, West." I look at the boy now, hoping that if I can convince him it's for the best, Claire will follow. "I don't know how much longer it'll be safe for you to stay here."

"Who are you?" She asks, staring at the paper in her hand.

"Melinda." I manage a weak grin. "Good luck guys." I open the window fully, normally this time, and slip out. As I land, I glance up to see them both standing there, watching me. I raise a hand before sneaking into the shadows and darting to where the taxi is going to meet me. I pray they follow what I said, and that I don't see Claire again. Not while I'm working for Angela Petrelli anyway. I can tell already that woman doesn't care for family ties, and I know next time I see young Miss Bennett I won't be allowed to just talk.