A Note From Lara: Alright. I had a really productive writing day last Wednesday, but thanks to my internet being down AGAIN, I couldn't post anything. So there are a whole bunch of things to be posted over the last couple days. Hooray. I guess. I don't know if I already mentioned it, but I'll be gone for most of July and probably won't get a lot of time to post stuff. I might be able to write one or two chapters MAYBE. Just a heads up, so you don't freak out and think I died or something because there are no updates until the end of July.

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Odessa

Peter ran a hand through his hair, glaring across the gymnasium at where Mason was talking Dr. Hardburn, the doctor in charge of triage at the secondary hospital that had been set up here. He didn't listen in on their conversation, but as he watched them, he could see the doctor's expression growing more and more stony. Peter couldn't imagine that Mason knew how to manage a hospital better than Hardburn. He sighed in irritation. In the six hours since Mason had arrived, he had rubbed nearly everyone the wrong way, and Peter wished he would just leave so he could go back to handling this.

On the one hand, he was actually relieved to have the burden suddenly lifted from his shoulders and placed on someone else's; he wasn't a natural leader. That was Nathan's job.

But at the same time, he knew the responsibility hadn't actually left him. It was his fault that any of this had happened, and it was his job to fix it. So he would let Mason handle the small jobs and the day-to-day problems of managing a terrified, sickened city, and he would work on finding a way to reverse the disease. Not that he was likely to. He wasn't a virologist or a geneticist...

A geneticist. Mohinder! Of course. Mohinder would know what to do. Now if he just knew how to get in contact with him--

"Are you insane!?" someone yelled. Peter glanced up to see Parkman advancing on Mason. "This town is already one wrong word away from a full-out riot! Are you seriously stupid enough to think that--"

The telepath didn't get another word out before Peter leapt across the room- sprinting unnervingly fast for someone who, to the rest of the world, was absolutely ordinary- and stepped between him and Mason. "Parkman, calm down," Peter said firmly. "We're in a hospital. These people are sick, they don't need us upsetting them with our arguing. You want to yell at him? Go somewhere where you won't be scaring the infected half to death." Parkman and Mason glared at him, but acquiesced, and the three of them, plus Dr. Hardburn moved their discussion to the hallway outside of the gymnasium.

"Alright," Peter said, glancing at Parkman. "What's the problem here?"

Parkman glared at Mason. "He wants to impose a curfew," he said angrily. "And he wants to have everyone tested for the virus every other day, and anyone who turns up infected will have to be quarantined."

Slowly, Peter shook his head. "It makes sense, Matt. I don't like the idea much either, but it does make sense..."

"No it doesn't!" Parkman yelled. "This town is on edge as it is! Everyone is terrified, and setting up armed patrols and imposing a curfew and marching everyone through the hospital every other day isn't going to make anyone feel better! And besides- do you know how many people are in Odessa? With the number of doctors in this city, it would take days to get everyone tested, and nothing else would be tended to. All the people who are already infected will die!"

Peter bit his lip. Mason had a point... but so did Parkman. Neglecting the sick to needlessly disrupt the healthy wasn't logical. "He has a point," he said to Mason. "Maybe for now you should just stick with how we've been running things until you get more of a feel for the situation."

Mason shook his head, smiling. "No, I think we'll follow my idea. After all, I don't suppose a hospice nurse and a traffic cop would really understand how to handle an emergency like this one," he said condescendingly. Parkman turned scarlet with fury, and Peter himself was hard-put to keep from losing control. He felt a familiar tingle of radiation just beneath his skin, and forced himself to think about other things. Now was not the time for a nuclear meltdown on top of everything else.

Smirking, Mason ambled down the hall toward the front doors of the school. Hardburn, who had been silent throughout the whole exchange, glanced at Peter. "Please tell me he gets under your skin, too."

Peter nodded sadly. "Normally I can put up with just about everything," he said resignedly, "but he's so... confrontational. I'm about this close to a meltdown." Parkman glanced at him sharply, reading the warning in Peter's words. Peter met his eyes and shrugged. "The guy just ticks me off," he said.

Petrelli Mansion

New York

She walked slowly down the corridors of Primatech. As she turned a corner, she saw the shattered bodies of Matt Parkman and Hiro Nakamura lying on the floor. Nathan lay sprawled half-through a broken window, and Mohinder Suresh was twitching on the ground beneath him, impaled by several shards of glass. More bodies, more familiar faces, lay scattered around the hallway, and she realized that a great battle must have taken place here not so long ago.

A sense of dread crept up her spine as she approached the final turn in the familiar hallway. Unable to halt her progress, she stepped around the corner. A dark-skinned man held Peter pinned to the ground, beating him around the head with unnatural strength, and her empathic son was clearly losing this fight. A man with flaming blue hands held a panic-stricken Hispanic woman at bay in a corner. Elle Bishop assisted him, repeatedly shocking the woman so that she couldn't concentrate to access her ability.

On the right side of the hall, Sylar held her granddaughter against the wall by the throat, raising his other hand to open up her skull. As he made the first cut, Claire screamed. On the other side of the corridor, a woman with spiky blonde hair sat rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around her legs and here forehead on her knees. A taller blonde stood next to her, arms folded, glaring down at her.

All at once, another woman- the exact double of the blonde who guarded the sobbing woman- ran almost in slow motion past her, headed for Sylar.

A hand clamped itself over her mouth. "Remember me?" whispered a voice in her ear.

"Adam!"

Angela sat up with a shout, clutching at her mouth where Adam Monroe's hand had crept over her face. She stared wildly around her bedroom, realizing what the dream must mean. "Oh no," she whispered.

Throwing back the covers, she ran barefoot downstairs, seizing on the secure phone line in her late husband's office. Hurriedly she dialed a number she hadn't called in years. It was time for her to take action once again. Adam Monroe had to be found and stopped before her dream came true. He had to be.

Somewhere in New Mexico

Claire spotted the pair of men at the side of the road, and pulled over with a sigh. "Hiro?" she asked. "Ando? What are you doing here? I thought you were off to fight Sylar or something."

Hiro nodded solemnly. "I tried to stop him, but I failed. His new... friend... is too powerful."

"What new friend?" Lyle asked curiously.

"The electric girl."

Claire groaned. "Elle. I should've known. Is she teamed up with Sylar now?"

"Who's Sylar?" West asked from the back seat. "Who are these guys? What's going on?" Claire shot him a shut up glare and didn't answer, instead turning back to Hiro.

"We have someone to help us stop him now, but her abilities have been taken away by a dangerous sickness. We need your blood to help cure her," Ando said. "Will you give us some?"

Claire shrugged. "Sure, whatever. Do you have a needle?" Grinning, Hiro produced the desired item from his coat pocket. Claire took it and plunged it into her arm, producing a vial full of dark blood. "Will this be enough?" she asked.

The time-traveler nodded. "Thank you, Cheerleader!" He and Ando disappeared with a pop.

West stared at the place where they'd been. "Friends of yours?" he asked faintly, looking blindsided.

Claire nodded. "Yeah. Sorta. Actually they're more friends of Peter's, but they were involved in some stuff that happened last November, and... well, like I said. It's complicated." West looked like he wanted to ask more, but Lyle gave him a death glare, just daring him to say another word, and he fell silent. Claire was grateful. This whole situation was just so absurd, she felt that if she had to try and explain it, she would break down either laughing or crying- she didn't know which yet.

--

Claire heaved a sigh of relief when she spotted the sign that read "Welcome to Texas." The familiar golden-brown desert was surrounding her again, so much more comfortable than vibrant Costa Verde or bustling New York. "Just a few more hours," she said, unable to keep from smiling. "We have to get across the Panhandle, then we head south. And then..." She trailed away.

"Then?" Lyle prompted. "Do you actually know what we're going to do once we get to Odessa, or are you just being stupid?"

She ground her teeth to keep from strangling him. "No," she said. "I... I have a plan."

"Care to share it with the rest of us?" her brother asked irritably. She shook her head, because quite frankly she had no idea what she was going to do when they arrived. But apparently denial wasn't what Lyle was expecting. Face red- from anger this time, not sunburn- he shouted, "Oh, so you're just going to put us in danger without giving us any clue what's going to happen so we can prepare ourselves? That's great, Claire, that's real great. You know, you might be able to get away with that shit at home because you're Dad's favorite, because you're the one with the fancy power--"

"Lyle," she said placatingly, but he overrode her.

"--But I'm not gonna put up with that when it's my life on the line, Claire! I know it was my idea to come, but I'm starting to think you have no idea what you're doing! Isn't that right?" She was silent. "Isn't it?" he shouted again, his voice rising and his hands balling into fists.

"I--" she began, but fell silent.

Lyle narrowed his eyes. "Claire, why do you have to be like that? Everybody expects you to be the heroine of the story and save everybody, but you don't have a clue, do you? You act like stuff just happens to you, and you whine about everything! Why can't you just buck up and do something?" He slammed his fist against the dashboard, and the car skidded violently as a burst of blue appeared around his hand.

Claire screamed as the car careened wildly across the highway. She slammed on the brakes, steering into the skid as best she could. A whoosh of air told her that West had launched himself out of the backseat out of the oncoming wreck. She stared with wild eyes at her brother. He looked back, shock and terror written all over his face. And then the car slid off the road and rolled down a steep embankment, throwing both Claire and Lyle from their seats. The world went dark.

When Claire regained consciousness, she found herself impaled on a sharp bit of metal that used to be part of the convertible's front door. Pulling herself off and wiping the blood from her mouth, she staggered up the embankment to where West was skidding to a landing in the gravel next to Lyle. Wait... Lyle?

"Lyle, how did you survive?" she asked, coughing from the dust.

He shrugged, looking shell-shocked. West answered for him. "He... did something. I dunno what, but when he was about to hit the ground he threw out his hands and there was this flash of blue and then he was going the other direction."

She stared at the blonde teenager who was currently making a close examination of his sneakers. "Lyle," Claire asked slowly, "Do you have a power?"

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Ooh, suspense! And is it just me or is Claire a really bad driver? I seem to be getting her into all kinds of skids in this fic. At least now the car's totalled so they don't have to worry about it anymore. Review, please!