-1Author's Note: I was very pleased with the surge of reviews I got. I know many of you wish that I would make posts more often. I wish I could too, but sometimes the story just doesn't cooperate. For example: the conversation between Deni and Isaac; When I first started writing this I thought that was going to be chapter three. Now here we are chapter 25 and I'm finally getting around to it. What can I say, certain characters needed attention, new characters popped out of nowhere, and I had to think of how to keep Deni in the same clothes for three days.
To those who are wondering. Yes, Hiro will be in this fanfic. I just need to get a grip of the characters I already have in play before I start adding more.
Don't Lie To Me - 25
Deni was incredibly nervous as she lifted her hand to knock. Spying through the glass she saw a man, presumably Isaac, arguing on the telephone. Instinctively she took a few steps back. From what Peter had told her, Isaac's life was enough of a mess. No reason for her to mess it up more. She could wait a few minutes.
Bennett's voice was firm, and slightly condescending. "Listen to me. I know you've had a rough couple weeks, but people's lives are at stake. I need you to help me find someone."
Isaac was exhausted, so he relented to Bennett's will. "Who?"
"A woman, twenty-seven years old, named Denise Haskell. I have an old photograph, I can drop it off."
"A woman?" Isaac cleared off one of the paintings he'd thrown across the room. "Caucasian, with long brown hair?"
"You've painted her. Where?"
"Here. I painted her in my loft, standing right next to me."
"I'll call my partner, we'll be right over."
Just as Isaac was about to hang up he glanced out his front door. "You might want to hurry. She's already here."
Deni was pacing awkwardly on her crutches, talking to herself. "Hey, I'm a friend of Peter's… No don't bring that up. That might be a bad idea… So, I hear you can paint the future. I'd like to help you with that whole "Saving the World" thing… Great, I'm starting to sound like Brighton." She heard the door swing open. The pain in her head caught her off guard, and she nearly fell right off her crutches. "Ah, shit!"
"Are you ok?" Isaac asked, helping her back to her feet.
"Just take a couple steps back please. Ah, thank you… That brings back memories," she said while massaging her temples.
"Memories of what?"
"Never mind. I need to ask a favor, and I'm sure it's going to sound crazy-"
"I'm use to crazy," Isaac interrupted. "Come on in."
XXXXX
Audrey Hanson did not like feeling out of control. Parkman being a rookie, had followed her lead almost blindly. Lawrence had taken the lead with both hands and had dragged her all over the city. "Why are we leaving."
"We've warned Miss Juarez. I have a good feeling that she can take care of herself."
"If Sylar is coming here, then we're going to wait for him."
"And do what exactly, Detective Hansen? You've said so yourself, the guy can stop bullets, he's frozen people, he can play you like a marionette. How do you expect to stop him? And even if you could, how would you hold him."
"With your instincts I'm sure you'll think of something."
"My instincts are useless if I don't listen to them, and right now they're saying to get the Hell out of here."
Audrey stood her ground. "Leave if you want to. I'm not letting Sylar get away this time."
Mitch Lawrence let out a breath between his teeth. "I don't suppose there's anything I can say to persuade you."
XXXXX
Nathan was on his knees holding his wife's hands in his own as the truth came hemorrhaging from him. If he hadn't known better he would have thought that Deni was standing right behind him, forcing the truth from his lips. He told her everything; from Nikki Saunders to Claire Bennett to Deni Haskell, from his own ability to fly to Peter's capacity to explode.
Nathan couldn't look his wife in the eye. He couldn't bare to see her sorrow, her anger, her hatred. Whatever emotion might be playing across her face for which he was the cause. He was gripping her hands tightly, forcing himself not to cry. He never wept, not since that day 15 years ago that he thought his daughter had died.
"Look at me Nathan?" Heidi finally spoke. Her voice was strained with emotion. "Do you still love me?"
"Yes," Nathan answered. He hoped that she believed him. He needed her to believe him.
Heidi slipped her hands out of his. "The boys and I are packed. We'll finish this later."
It was less than he'd hoped for, but it was more than he deserved. His family was soon loaded into the helicopter. Before they took off he grabbed Heidi's hand one last time. "I'll meet you on the terrace at eight!" he shouted above the sound of the helicopter blades.
XXXXX
Deni photographed each painting where it lie, moving them only to get to others that lay beneath. The one she was currently photographing depicted a suited man standing beside a helicopter. The man's tie looked like the same one Nathan had been wearing earlier that day. Shifting it aside, she was suddenly recognized the painting beneath. Not because she had seen it before, but because Peter had described it to her over a round of margaritas. She recognized Peter's angular face and floppy hair as he took his nearly fatal leap of faith. She picked up the painting, and placed it on a nearby easel. She captured it with her digital camera, but instead of moving on, she continued to study the painting. He looked so confident in the painting, so serene. Denise wondered what it must feel like to have that kind of faith in something.
"You're in love with him aren't you?" Isaac called from across the room.
Deni felt a swell of pity for the troubled painter. "Are you asking to make conversation, or do you really want to know?"
"I just find it ironic that the woman he's suppose to love can be dead for little more than a week, and he's already moved on." Isaac was making his way across the loft.
"He hasn't moved on. He saved my life, and I'm trying to return the favor. That is the extent of our relationship."
"But you wish it was something more."
"I don't waste my time wishing." The pulse in Deni's head intensified as Isaac kept getting closer. Deni rotated one of her crutches and used it to push Isaac back a couple feet. "And if you don't keep at least one crutch length away from me I'm going to beat your ass with it."
Isaac sneered. "I guess Peter told you how Simone died. Are you afraid I'm going to shoot you too?"
"You can shoot me from across the room, now back the fuck up, you're giving me a headache."
"That's me, one big headache. Not everyone can be perfect."
Isaac was treading on Deni's last nerve. "You asked for it," she muttered to herself, dropping her crutches. "No one is asking for perfection. A little effort wouldn't hurt. You think you have it so damn tough because your girlfriend left you for another guy, then died while you were having a pissing match with the guy she left you for. Yeah, your life sucks. Welcome to New York! The truth is, you brought all your problems on yourself because you couldn't stay clean. You've tried, six or seven times in the last 14 years? What is your drug of choice anyway? I can tell it's not pharmaceutical. Cocaine, Heroine, Meth?"
"Heroine," Isaac stated involuntarily. "It's easy for you to judge. You don't know about addiction."
"The Hell I don't!" Deni shouted back. "I got my first bad headache when I was five. My Mom told me to take an aspirin and leave her alone. By the time I was 13 I was having migraines every day. And by 20 my head was in constant pain. The aspirin wasn't helping any more, but I couldn't stop because the withdrawal was agony. Then I went into liver failure." She quickly unbuttoned her jacket and pulled one side open revealing a surgical scar across her abdomen. "The doctors gave me four months to live. I managed to survive five and a half before a Jersey cop I'd never met offered a piece of his own liver. The only thing he asked in return is that I give up pills, all pills, forever. Just try to imagine enduring abdominal surgery and withdrawal at the same time.
"Don't think that because Simone is gone that you have nothing left to lose. You have a home, a job, friends, family, fans, relatively good health, a pulse… Keep using, and you will lose Everything, just like I did." Her tirade had succeeded in shocking Isaac into silence. Denise had blown off most of her steam, but felt the need to clarify one final point. "And yes, I do have feelings for Peter, but he doesn't return them."
"I wouldn't be to sure about that," Isaac stated. He sifted through a cluster of paintings that Deni hadn't gotten to yet. There he found it, the painting that had made him so furious the day before that he had trashed his loft.
Deni recognized herself, wearing the same clothes that she was wearing now. Peter had changed. They both appeared to be standing in the rain. Peter was holding her close, and was kissing her forehead. Deni didn't know quite how to react to the painting. She photographed it and moved on to the next one. She could sort out her reaction later.
Suddenly her head began to swarm with new vibrations. Or rather very old vibrations. It was a very distinctive cocktail that she recognized immediately. Shit! she thought to herself. He found me.
XXXXX
Detective Lawrence weighed his options very carefully. This was not an easy process considering that the pounding and shouting coming from the car trunk wasn't aiding his concentration. He needed to get Detective Hansen far enough away from the strip joint that she wouldn't go running after Sylar, but the longer she stayed in there, the more likely she would charge him with kidnapping a federal officer. Pie, that sounded pretty good about now.