Alright so we have some interesting things stirring up in this world. We've got teens seeking something to do, adults seeking someone in general, children trying not to seek anyone at all, and an overall displacement of everyone's feelings and significant others. Umm as always, after you're done puzzling over my four o' clock in the morning drabble here, read and review! Oh and BTW if you haven't seen it, Alice on the Syfy channel ( though why Syfy makes more sense than Scifo\i is beyond me) you should give it a look. Pretty cool show and I already see fanfics cropping up. The Mad Hatter was quite cute and Alice was a blackbelt, nuff said.

They found themselves in a small town and Sylar begged rest break. Derek agreed saying he needed something to eat or he'd die of starvation. Sylar wanted to strangle him simply for the comment, hadn't he been the one navigating massive forests and abandoned roads for days? Alejandro (Maya had introduced him eventually) and Maya agreed to lie low in the car until he and Derek returned. He decided to use the time to get food, perhaps even find a bathroom, that was deemed usable.

"Hey, Gabe!"

Sylar held in the urge to sigh. The man complained more than anyone he had ever met. He always seemed to be on the edge and his nagging throughout the trip had grated on his very homicidal tendencies.

"Come check this out."

He strolled over expecting some sort of complaint by the way of food choice.

"There are killers in the car with us."

Sylar chuckled at the comment, what was it, a wanted poster of himself? Of course, there was a killer in the car. Still, playing the game came first. You only mocked your victims when they were dead or close to it.

"What?"

Derek lifted up a newspaper and showed it to Sylar. He recognized the sketches immediately.

"Homicidio, says it right here," Derek continued.

Sylar couldn't help but mock the entire situation. "Well, golly, they seemed so-"

"Dude," at this Sylar cringed. Did he look like a dude? "I've been riding with them for two days. We gotta ditch 'em."

Sylar agreed. There was definitely going to be ditching, but of the more normal variety. Time to put the sheep to slaughter.

"Okay...um, I'll distract them. You, uh, you go call the police. There's a payphone right inside." Derek swallowed the plan with relative ease and turned to head inside. Sylar couldn't help but smile, it had been awhile since he hunted. Who had been the last person he killed? Honestly, he was long overdue. He paced quietly behind Derek, picking up the rock that had been holding down the stack of newspapers. The old woman seated at the table looked up and he smiled kindly at her. She looked like the kind of woman that minded her own business. He waited until Derek had the phone pressed to his ear and then brought down the rock over the man's head. He watched as he fell to the ground a pool of blood already collecting on the tiled floor. He sighed a wicked grin stealing over his face, killing someone was practically cathartic. He knelt down putting the rock at the man's side and taking the key's from the very dead Derek's pocket.

He walked back to the car allowing for the smile to fall from his face. He opened the door and sat inside apparently interuppting a very heated conversation.

"We have a problem. I need to ask you a question and you need to tell me the truth."

"Yes, of course," Maya said eagerly. He could see panic starting to set in but Sylar had to see it. If playing catalyst did it then so be it, he'd play guinea pig, but he had to see it.

"What is it," she asked getting him to look at her again.

He held up the paper with their faces on it. "This. Is this you?"

She gulped slowly and her face became dotted with sweat. Of course it was her, the resemblance to the two people in the paper and the two of them was uncanny. He wondered if she would try to lie to him. Alejandro said something to her, probably advice that once again she'd ignore. Inside of his head Sylar knew that Maya already trusted him completely. She was like the perfect doll, which was why he had no qualms about hurting her. Had this been Tehya she would have fought tooth and nail to get out of the car or at least made some attempt at denying the paper. This girl here was a doll and Tehya was more of an animal, his mouse. Really, he was doing this to get back to her. Also, he was doing it to get a jumpstart on the abilities race. Perhaps, the power Maya and Alejandro held would be the key.

"Yes, this is us. But it is not our fault! We didn't mean to hurt anyone!"

"Well you can tell the police that because Derek is calling them right now."

"No, no, no! Please he cannot!"

Alejandro sensed that things were falling downhill. Sylar almost felt sorry for him, not knowing English he was at a severe disadvantage. Clearly, he had more sense about the etiquette of running away and keeping secrets. However, it seemed as if his sister was their voice and she was simply too malleable for that. And then he felt it, between the panic and the sharp gasps he felt his body begin to shut down. His heart began to slow, a deathly pace and he felt himself growing weaker. A blinding agony settled behind his eyes and his chest became too heavy to take a single breath. He managed to wheeze a sentence, a question to see what was happening.

"What...are you...doing to me?" He glanced up to see that her eyes were black, completely devoid of any white, of the light brown that he'd gotten accustomed to. Alejandro took her hands in his and began to speak to her gently. The two of them sat face to face their hands shaking as the darkness drained out of her eyes...into Alejandro's.

He felt the pain ebb and disappear completely. His heart skipped a beat and then began to beat regularly once more. Now that was a fascinating gift, certainly something that he could use against his rebellious mate.

"You both have power."

"This is not our fault," Maya said once more, her voice breaking with unshed tears. She was right, for now her power was unrefined. Her gift was not only tied by her emotions but also, it seemed, by her brother. "We don't know what's happening to us."

"That's...that's why you need Dr. Suresh."

"Yes."

"Believe me, I understand what you're going through...to be held responsible for things that you didn't mean t' do, to be hunted. I've helped Suresh with so many people like you," he added, which was partially true. He had helped himself to a lot of people courtesy of a Dr. Suresh.

"He'll know what to do."

"But the police," Maya hissed as she glanced back through the window.

"They have to catch us first," he said as he waggled the keys in front of her. He started the car and this time couldn't help the smirk that found its way to his lips. This was almost too easy and it was going to be so much fun.

. .. . .. . . . .

"Jesus, Matt did you know about this?"

"Of course I didn't I haven't seen the man in years."

Zaya crossed his arms and gave his best intimidating look. He didn't want to cause any pain for Molly and if keeping Matt away from her did that, then that's just what he'd have to try and do.

"She can't do this one Matt."

"Agreed," Mohinder muttered crossing his arms.

They had already sent Molly to bed so that they could continue the discussion but Zaya didn't see what there was to discuss. She didn't want to look for the man, end of story.

"Look, I'm sorry but she has to find my father."

"She said no Matt, what the hell's your problem."

Mohinder left considering the matter settled but Zaya sat down on the couch near Molly's bedroom. Mohinder and Matt were still arguing hissing sharply in angry tones. They came back and from the looks of things Matt wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"No, Matt."

"Zaya, get out of the way."

"No! We're not the Company we don't-"

"I'll do it for you Matt...I'll find your father."

Zaya turned to see Molly behind him, her atlas under her arm and a push pin in her fingers. Zaya glared up at Matt, shoving past him. He couldn't watch her be forced to look for someone that made her scream every night. He couldn't watch another child be exploited, it had happened to so many people he knew and he couldn't be a bystander.

"I gotta go."

He strolled to the door and slammed it quickly behind him.

. .. . . . . ..

A long time ago, Zaya could have called his sister. She had been on his speed dial, just after voicemail. In fact, she was the only one that had been on his speed dial, there were no other friends, relatives, girlfriends, just her. Now, suddenly with this new predicament rearing its ugly head he had three people to worry about.

He needed someone to talk to, someone he didn't have to take care of, someone who would listen.

He tried Claire's phone and let it ring four times before ending the call. Besides, what could she do from so far away besides tell him things would get better. And did he really want to hear from her now that she'd clearly moved on?

No, he couldn't do that. Besides, New York was a big place. There had to be something to take his mind off of things. His hand pushed through his curls anxiously. There had to be something. And then he saw them. It was a group of five, all wearing black caps pulled down to their ears. He saw them there, close to the wall shamelessly painting with cans of spray paint. Art fizzed and bubbled beneath their careful hands. He wasn't sure how long he stood and watched, it was strange, it was like he couldn't move.

One of them turned and saw him but he nodded. He didn't want to stop them anymore than they wanted to be stopped. Still, one of them turned to one of the others and tapped them on the shoulder. They all stopped then and then finally one of them approached him.

"Hey, whatchu lookin' at man?"

Zaya shrugged his shoulders and stated exactly what he saw, "Art."

The boy looked to be about sixteen, seventeen. He had dreadlocked hair that was a pale blond. He wore goggles over his close fitting hat and had a cigarette in between his lips. The smoke curled around his head, clouding his sea green eyes. The mystery graffiti artist smiled.

"You're one of us aintcha?"

"What're you exactly?"

"Just people lookin' for shit t' do. Want in on this?"

"Sure...what do I have to do?"

"Meet us t'morraw, wear black and meet us down by Utica. Can do that, right?"

"Yeah, what's your name?"

"Name's Jeremy. You?"

"Zaya."

Jeremy, without turning back called for one of them. "Abel, gotta new addition to the group, pass me some smokes wouldja."

"I don't smoke."

"You ever try it?"

"No."

"Then you don't know that yet. First lesson, you ain't somethin', ain't nothin' less you try it. You could be an artist, might not be, but I'm takin' a chance on you ain't I?"

"Yeah, yes."

A small mousy boy with dark brown skin and soulful brown eyes approached with a pack of cigarettes. He pressed it into his hands and he closed his fingers around the pack carefully. Jeremy handed him a lighter and then walked back to the group.

"By the time you finish the rest, we'll be done and you'll know."

"Know what?"

"If you're an artist or not, if you smoke or if you don't."

Zaya leaned up against the brick wall and lit a cigarette. He inhaled trying to get the tip to light and after a few tries was successful. He inhaled and coughed a bit. The smoke hit his lungs a bit painfully, but he tried again. Another uneasy cough, but not as uncomfortable as he the first time. Once he got the hang of it, the group resumed their painting and Zaya resumed watching trying to figure out what exactly he was.