Heroes - Rise of the Phoenix
Chapter seven - time to wake up

Angela Petrelli opened her eyes in agonizing pain; her eyes felt like they were gritty and burning while she squinted against the immense heat in the air. She slowly and cautiously looked around and found herself standing in the center of Times Square in New York City. She was confused as she looked at the horizon of the city buildings deep in a dark haze of oranges, reds, and blacks. She pondered how she had arrived in such a random location. The place was devoid of life, as bodies of the dead dotted the asphalt as far as she could see. The buildings surrounding her in all directions burned with an immense heat and flame. The roar of the fire beat through her body and filled her heart with dread. The City was on fire and burning to the ground! Bodies lay in every direction smoldering from the flames and heat. Women lay curled about their children in futile efforts to protect their babies from the agonizing death that consumed them. Men dropped to the cement were they had walked ever chasing the all mighty dollar. Birds dropped from the sky burned to little more than ash through the smoke and flames that stretched as high as she could see. The City was on burning to the ground!

The air itself was boiling hot and tore at her lungs as she tried hard to breath, her longs felt like an inferno was twisting inside them. She could see floating in the air burning embers and ash, drifting about randomly, igniting anything in their path. Suddenly the ground below her feet began to shake and tremble as a roar of fire overwhelmed her sense from behind her. She screamed as she turned to watch two buildings each facing across the street from each other came tumbling to the ground. Each building had over thirty floors. The taller of the two structures smashed into other as they crashed to the street, releasing a burning and roaring twisted maze of concrete, glass and metal in a billowing cloud that rushed at her faster than she could move out the way or find shelter.

Angela covered her head with her arms and dropped to the ground as the wall of flame, glass, and twisted metal enveloped her with a blast of fumes, fire, and boiling hot air. The cloud washed over her and she knew what hell felt like. Glass and metal ripped at her flesh and clothes. Flames licked at her hair and skin, digging deep to the bone as it incinerated her exposed flesh and clothing. The Pain of death was too much for her to bear as she opened her mouth and released a blood curdling scream of pain and terror. But the smoke and fire finding a new source of oxygen flooded into her lungs and burned her from the inside out.

As the wave of fire and explosive debris passed over her, she curled into a ball coughing hysterically, with each hack and convulsion her body felt like it was going to break apart. She was alive! Her body was covered in burns, clothing vaporized into ash. Her flesh hung on the bone like boiled chicken after hours in the pot. Her skin was mostly eaten away by the intense flames, exposing muscle, and bone in her arms and legs. One eye would not work as she tried to lift her head in a desperate attempt to escape: to find a hole and die. She would not die on the street like a common troll, or vagrant. She was Angela Petrelli! She was queen of her own fate.

She placed her hands underneath herself and stumbled to her feet. Stifling a cry out of pain as the gravel of the asphalt dug into her palms of mangled flesh. She was covered in blood and burns; but she was still moving, she was still living. Her mind was stronger than her flesh. She knew the pain would hit her system soon, and if she did not find a place of safety, she would collapse and she would not get up again. She tried to blink her one remaining eye as it blurred from the dust and ash in the air, but her brain could not successfully command the eye to close and reopen. She lifted her hand to her face and fumbled with her blood scared fingers across her red and blistered skin. Her hair was missing on one side of her head. The flesh of her ears, were scorched to little more than stubs protruding from the side of her head. One side of her face was covered in a pulsing and painful scar of melted skin, encasing her left eye in the folds of burning flesh. Her right eye was frozen open as the skin surrounding that used to be her eyelids were curled and twisted from the exposure to the flames. She crawled toward a motionless form burning with fire just a few feet away from her, as buildings around her exploded in flames and showers of glass that rained down upon her and the street.

"Peter, help me!" Angela gasped through burned and scorched lips. "I knew this was coming. What have I done? I could have stopped this."

The motionless form stood before her as flames raged about its body. A swirling inferno of fire twisted about the form and lifted the small human a foot or two off the ground with its arms spread wide. A voice wailed out of the roaring flames in agony, mixed with over whelming anguish that resounded across the City as it burned to the ground. "HELP ME!" the voice cried. The sound waves of the words cracked the pavement at the small forms feet; and lifted the empty hulks of two nearby small burning cars, and rolled them over onto their sides.

"She is the one," Angela thought to herself, "She is the cause of all this pain!" Angela drug her bleeding and dieing form across the pavement leaving a trail of blood and gore. "I have to know! I have to stop this." Angela struggled to her feet and reached into the remains of her jacket and drew her personal 45 revolver; with her last strength she drew back the hammer of the weapon and pointed the muzzle at the center of mass, of the form floating before her. She pulled back on the trigger and fired, then fired again, and again. The form turned toward her with flames of Gold and Red encased a small girl, golden hair and pleading blue eyes looked back at her. The forms mouth opened as spoke in a frail childlike voice, which echoed with the sound of a thousand ocean caves, "I am so sorry!" Blood stained the girl's chest as Angela took careful aim, "Save Me!" the young girl cried out in a haunting voice, which made the air about them pulsate with fear.

Angela screamed in horrific pain as the flames licked at her body and ripped at her flesh. The young girl reached out and grabbed the muzzle of Angela's gun, with a small hand encased in red flames. The metal instantly glowed a bright orange as Angela's hand and skin steamed from the intense heat. Angela pulled the trigger as the gun exploded, and everything went black.

With a gasp of breath and a start of the sudden slap of reality Angela opened her eyes, with a distant look of confusion in them. Alfred sat beside her holding a steaming cup of tea. Her stare focused quickly on Alfred and then on the cup of tea he held to her lips. With trembling hands she wrapped her long slim fingers around the delicate china tea cup as she took a long slow breath of the tea, inhaling the beautiful smell, "Chamomile...thank you Alfred."

"Alfred, I need Peter now," she groaned through tight and dry lips, "We don't have much time!"

X-X-X

Detective Becket struggled free of the building debris with the helping hands of a few surviving police staff. When the last sheet of plaster and rock was lifted off his legs, he let out a sign of great relief. He was covered in dust and dirt and everything around him looked gray with ash. What had happened? Something had exploded in the sewers. Somehow he had ended mostly under the protective cover a Fire Engine chassis. How had he made it all the way under here? He remembered being hit from behind, like he was tackled by an NFL linebacker. Whoever hit him, hit with a blow that rattled his teeth and knocked the breath out of his lungs. Slowly he passed his hands over his body, checking for bruises or breaks. No joints out of place. No broken bones that he could feel. Beside a few cuts and scrapes, and the need of a good long shower, a change of clothes and a deep muscle massage; he was in tip top shape.

He placed one of his large hands at the base of his neck and stretched long and slow before he attempted to get back onto his feet. The emergency crew and EMT's that survived the bast rushed past him as he waved them along to look for other survivors. Thirteen men and women had been in that alley when the explosion happened how many had survived? He grumbled to himself as he staggered to his feet; not looking forward to the paperwork he would have to complete before the night was over. His head was spinning and hurt like the morning after last year's department Christmas party. That was the morning he swore off whiskey forever. And vowed never again to be kissed on the lips by Lieutenant Bradley; never again! That was a moment in his life that he did not want to ever re-live.

He held on to the wreckage of the Fire Truck as his body convulsed suddenly with a spasm in his back, and he let out a grunt from the pain. His back slowly stabilized, but his whole body felt like it was crawling with ants just under the surface of the skin. He was alive, and back on his feet. Now where was that girl? She was like a cockroach that was always under foot. She seemed to always be in the center of chaos and trouble. Why had she been so eager to see those shoes? She kept telling him she knew those shoes. Sometimes he wished he could just retire and live as a hermit on an island, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, or the Caribbean. He could be like that Robinson Crusoe character and live his days out in peace. Knowing his luck, Noah Bennet or his daughter Claire would crash land on his island and make his life a living heart-attack.

Claire! She was the one that had pushed him to safety. She had saved his life! Where was she? He began to dig through the rubble and rock at his feet. She had to be close to him. She could not have gone far. He pushed aside a small section of plaster and uncovered a foot. A small female foot, in a white sneaker. He checked for a pulse just at the base of the ankle. Nothing, was she dead, or was he too clumsy to find her pulse? "Over here!" He bellowed out, "I need help here. NOW!" he commanded as heads turned and police and EMTs ran to assist.

Eager hands lifted and tossed aside broken and melted concrete, rock, and re-barb. Detective Becket held his breath as the last chunk of rock was lifted clear of the small girls body. But what he saw made his heart stop cold and then drop to the pit of his stomach. Claire Bennet lay before him her eyes open wide in a blank glazed look. Her skin was covered in a fine layer of dust. Her face and torso was drenched in the crimson red of her blood, crushed and broken by the weight of the rock that had fallen one her. Her hands griping in death a re-barb bar piercing through the back of her head, and protruding out her face, directly between her eyes.

"Blast!" Sam grumbled as he gently closed the dead girls eye lids, "Call the Morgue.."

X-X-X

Gabriel rolled over onto his side in a fit of coughing to clear his lungs of the putrid sewer water that had filled them. With each cough his body convulsed and curled into the fetal position as his face deepened into a shade of bluish red. With each retch vomit and sewer waste lurched from his lungs and to the sands of the beach beneath him. Slowly with great struggle he rolled over in the sand to hide his face from the bright sunshine of the daylight around him. The light hurt his eyes and the coughing felt like his lungs were going to burst. Rolling onto his hands and knees he dug into the sand with his fingers as the last of the sewer waste spewed from his lips and air could fill his lungs. He was free of the sewers. They had made it to the harbor. By hanging his head down and looking out into the harbor from under his body, he could see in the distance the faint copper green coated Statue of Liberty. That Old man had saved them. Whatever he had detonated had created such a wall of wall and muck, that they had been forced through the sewer tunnels under that city into the main water way. The water and blast had flipped them around like toys forcing them through passageway after passage way. He had long since lost any sense of direction. Finally with a burst of sunlight and a last tumble of water that tasted like rotten eggs and pickle juice, they had rolled out onto this beach.

They! Where was the girl? Gabriel opened his eyes wide fighting against the pain of his eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight. Where was the little girl? He had held on to her all through the tumbling. She had been so brave; with each gasp of air he had assured her they would be safe. His hands and strength had only finally failed him as they were thrust from the sewer pipes to the sandy beach. She had rolled free. Where did she go? With desperate furry Gabriel looked through eyes blurred from the sunlight and spread his hands wide feeling about him hoping to catch a touch of her clothes or skin. His eyes burned like acid had been poured over them; tears of pain stain his cheeks. She had trusted him. He was her angel! Where was she!?

His hand hit water from the harbor, had she fallen into the sea? Gabriel lurched to his feet as he splashed salt water into his face and eyes. The salt burned into his eyes sockets but seemed to help against the acid pain from the sewer water. His hand felt a shoe. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision as he felt from the shoe to an ankle. She was here! She was motionless, face down in the water. Gabriel grabbed the girl, and pulled her into his arms. She was limp and cold. With fumbling hands he checked for a pulse. It was faint, but she is not breathing. Her face was twisted in agony, and her coloring was a sickly shade of blue.

With desperation and fear, Gabriel scurried back to the beach and laid the young girl on her stomach. He didn't know what really to do. He had only seen a few late night crime dramas that showed actors playing doctors or police detectives going through the motions of CPR. But he knew he had to get the water out of her lungs. He straddled her small body and placed his hands on her back and pushed hard against her lungs and rib cage. He paused for the count of two and pushed again. Was he going to save her or kill her? He placed his ear beside her mouth, no breath. He pushed again and again on her back, forcing her small lungs to contract. He felt her body as he worked. She was not moving, she was not changing! Had he failed?

"Come one Esmeralda!" Gabriel commanded. "Come back to me."

Once more he pushed against her ribcage and with a panic of fear and horror he heard and felt several ribs crack. "Please GOD; don't let this little girl die because of my failures!" He shouted out with little hope his prayer would be heard. "I am the monster! I am no angel; I am a devil, a murder, and killer. But you let me keep living. Please let her live. I promise to protect her. I promise to care for her. I promise to never let anything happen to her! Just let her live!"

Suddenly the little girl coughed, releasing from her lungs mud, water, and blood. With her little body convulsing with each hacking cough, Gabriel lifted her into his arms and launched himself into the sky. He needed to get her to safety. She needed a doctor. Like an arrow he pierced through the sky toward his target. Faster he flew the wind and clouds splashing against his face and arms as he protected the frail young girl. With each cough more blood gurgled out of her lungs and onto her face. Her eyes fluttered open for just a moment, "Are we flying?" She gasped through another coughing fit. "Are you taking me to heaven?"

"Not yet little one, but I am sure when the time comes you already have a ticket for that flight." Gabriel told her as he landed hard in the parking lot of the nearest hospital. As he feet hit the ground the asphalt splintered in a web of cracks from the impact. Gabriel held the girl tight to his chest as he rushed through the doors of the emergency entrance of South-side General Hospital, " I need a doctor!" He shouted as he found a gurney and gently laid the girl down. A doctor and several nurses ran to his side looking over the girl beside him. The Doctor gave instruction to the nurses and pushed the gurney down the hallway dragging Gabriel along as the small girl held firmly onto his hand and would not let go.

X-X-X

"What is your name boy!" the man demanded as Hiro was tossed over the front seat into the rear section of the dark vehicle. Slowly a tinted separation glass lifted up from between the rear section and the driver's area and locked into place. Calmly the man before him took from his mouth a stub of a cigar and rolled it back and forth in an ash tray mounted beside him in the seat. Silence entombed the small space as Hiro looked around. The car was gilded in gold and rich woods. The seats were of plush leather that was as soft as a new born child's skin. The engine of the car roared to life and he could feel the car pull away from the curb and into traffic.

"I am speaking to you boy," The man's voice lowered to almost a growl as a cold hand grabbed Hiro by the face and forced him to look at the man. The man was dressed in a very expensive suit. The color just an off white. His shirt was white, accented with a starched white tie. On his index finger he wore a large gold ring that Hiro figured cost more than a years salary. His only other jewelry was a bracelet of dull silver, etched with a symbol he was very familiar with. A symbol his family was intertwined with for more than a thousand years. A symbol that was carved into the hilt of his sword, now locked away in the family vault in Japan. "What is your name young man? Tell me now or I just might have to hurt you!"

Hiro looked at the man through calculating eyes. His powers were not back to full strength yet. He could stop time, or at least bring it to crawl; and he could teleport from one location to another. He concentrated as the man's grip grew stronger and stronger. He could feel the muscles in the man's hand tighten and his own jaw began to hurt. He closed his eyes and willed that time would stop. He willed that everything about him would instantly halt in its path. Time would freeze. He could open the car door and walk away from this man. He opened his eyes expecting the man to be frozen in time. But the man was not, he tilted his head at Hiro as if he was trying to place him in his memories. "I am through playing games boy! Now tell me your name!"

Hiro struggled in the man's grip. What does he tell him? Should he tell him that he was looking for a small boy that had wondered off. A small child that can at will turn off all power of any source. Should he tell him that the boy is lost and if he is not found quickly then the entire city and the secret of specials walking among modern day humans would be at risk? Should he tell him that the fate of the world might depend on Hiro finding the boy now, and that any delay would compromise their very existence? Should he tell him that Molly is hurt and in the hospital and that he needs to find the boy fast and get back to the only real friend (female of course) that he has ever had is dieing because of a mysterious link between her and an unknown set of twins? Should he tell him that he is scared, tired, angry, and wanted nothing more than a shower and a large chocolate sundae?

Hiro felt the car pull over to the side of the road as the divider glass slowly rolled down and the driver cleared his throat to get the man's attention. "Sir, they return!" the driver said as he nodded his head to the alley way they were parked near. Hiro turned as the man let go of his face and with a burst of bravery he threw open the door and dashed off into the crows of New York City. He needed to get to Peter! He would know what to do. Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed him by the shirt collar. A tall woman lifted him off the sidewalk and turned him back toward the car. She was covered in sewer grime and fire burns. Her clothing still smoldered in places, as the exposed skin was scared and twisted from an incredible fire. She was dressed in all black, and looked like a ninja to him. A man stood behind her looking like he had been to death's door and came back. He barely could stand as he leaned against the alley wall and heaved his chest with great agony to breath. Most of his boy was covered in burns and scars. His flesh was eaten away by a fire that must have caught the two of them without warning.

"Hold him!" The man commanded the woman as he climbed out of the car; he walked slowly toward Hiro amongst the sidewalk crowd. He paused before the young boy and reached out a hand to Hiro's face once more. Hiro closed his eyes out of reflex and then opened them just a slit expecting to be grabbed by the jaw like before, however the man just gently padded him on the side of the face like a father to a mischievous child. Hiro opened his eyes wide, as the mysterious man slipped a sealed envelope into Hiro's shirt pocket. "Take this to Angela Petrelli." he said as he nodded to the woman, "Let him go! I know where we will find him again."

Hiro gulped as the woman dropped him to his feet and turned away from him to help her partner into the car. He placed an absentminded hand over his open shirt pocket feeling the envelope. Then he ran.

X-X-X

Peter Petrelli stood behind the safety glass of the isolation room he had built in the new wing of the hospital. On the inside of the room before him doctors and nurses worried over two small girls on separate beds. Obviously they were twins. Blonde hair, blue eyes, both lay quietly on the hospital beds in night gowns. Their clothes had been tossed as they could not be cleaned from the stench and filth of the city sewer systems. Nurses diligently applied cleansers, one after another to clean their faces and bodies of the filth that they had been in. Their golden hair spilled over their pillows like a wave of liquid gold, the only way he could tell them apart was that one had a pink ribbon around her wrist and the other a purple. Ribbons that had once been tied up in their beautiful hair. Who were they?

Gabriel had been a mess when Peter had spotted him and the other girl in the hallway as the hospital staff hurried them down the corridor to the closest room. He looked like death had rolled over him and buried him face first in a pig wallow. He reeked of urine and sewer waste, and his eyes told Peter there would be an interesting story to tell once they were able to squirrel away a few minutes beyond listening ears.

"Mr Petrelli?" a detached voice spoke through the wall mounted intercom. "Mr. Petrelli?" the voice called out again. The second time pulling Peter back from his reflections and distracted thought. "Yes, Doctor." Peter spoke as he concentrated once more on the events happening in the room beyond the glass and the doctor now speaking to him. "I am sorry doctor; I was distracted for a moment." Peter lifted a hand and pressed his fingers hard against the bridge of his nose while he allowed his eyes to close for just a second or two. "Must not allow myself to be distracted." He thought to himself. He had not been sleeping well for the last several weeks. In fact over the span of the last three months he could only remember four specific days where he had slept more than a single hour at a stretch. He exhaled slowly, calming his mind and heart. Over the last week he had not slept at all. The dreams kept coming. Every restful moment he would relieve them over and over again. Fire, death, pain it was incecent. The dreams never relented. He would die soon. His life would end if his dreams could not be changed. Somehow it had to do with these two girls, and Melody.

He had felt the sheer power of the girl when he had stepped into the apartment for the Christmas meal. It had been like a wave of energy that contained her, and he had walked into it and could feel his soul and body independently struggle through the barrier. Once on the other side he felt calm and at peace. But for that moment he knew she was more powerful than any special he had ever met, even Gabriel. Why had Molly not felt her? How was she connected to the girls in the other room, or was she? Could she be another part of the puzzle that he would never fully comprehend? His detective had found little more on the woman. Her past was a mystery. She at one point did not exist. She had no records of life before six years old. However after that her life was the typical textbook example of a girl growing up in the foster-care system. Never setting down roots. Never making lifelong friends. Until she started college, she was mostly invisible to the world.

How? How did this all fit together. He was not afraid of death, just not ready. After more than 300 year, he still had life to live and was not ready for it to end just yet. He should call the detective and ask for an update as to Melody's location. He had not been contacted in a few hours. Maybe she had some involvement in the events of the day? Why would he think that? He was so much on edge he was grasping at straws. He needed to calm down and focus. Focus on the moment at hand. The girls, Gabriel, Claire; where was Claire? She had been out looking for Gabriel, until Noah received that call from Sam Beckett. He like Beckett and had put in a good word for the man as well as a sizable donation to the police retirement fund after the events of Hitler's demise. Beckett had proven himself a man to be trusted. Where was Claire? His heart was nervous and needed to know where each of his precious family was.

Would they be able to handle things when he was gone? Could his mother step up to lead and guide the group with integrity? Or would she fall back into her pernicious ways and lead the group deep into the darkness of politically defined gray morality? Where was Angela, where was she? It had been days since they had been able to spend time together. She was so busy with her little painting project. She didn't think he knew of the studio she had above her favorite little restaurant in the City? She had to have her little mysteries. She needed to feel like she was in control. Maybe the pictures she had stashed away there from Isaac Mendez might help him. He had died in those dreams too, but somehow had survived.

A hand touched Peter gently on the shoulder and pulled him out on his reflections and back into reality with a sudden slap of fear. "Peter?" Tracy asked with a soft voice that filtered through the clouds of his pondering mind. Peter looked to Tracy and smiled, his face revealing for just a second or two before his was able to mask it away; a look of exhaustion. Molly grabbed Peter's hand from the wheel chair she sat in. He felt the tingle of her powerful touch against his own flesh. It was a comfort to have them here. Why did Molly not see or feel Melody? It was like she was invisible to the child. Molly saw everyone but himself. It had taken more than a lifetime of years to learn the craft of concealing his signature. He needed to know more.

"Mr. Petrelli?" The Doctor called once more from the isolation room.

"Uncle Peter?" Molly asked in a voice that pierced through his reflections. Blast! This was getting worse.

"I am sorry Doctor," Peter motion to the man behind the glass to forgive him, "please continue..."

"As I was saying sir, the children are resting now. The girl brought in by the utility worker is heavily sedated with a drug I cannot yet identify." The doctor spoke as he motioned to the sleeping girls. "The other had a very close call with drowning. We also found several cockroaches in her lungs along with a few broken ribs."

"That was me," Gabriel mumbled from behind Molly's wheelchair as he watched over Peter's shoulder, "sorry, Doc."

"She is resting now just fine, for the most part." the doctor said as he glared at Gabriel.

"How soon can we wake them up?" Peter asked, "We need to find out who they are, and where they came from."

"I could wake them up now, if you would like", the doctor stated.

"Do it." Peter directed.

X-X-X

Noah Bennet slammed on the brakes as his police vehicle skidded to a halt as he took in the scene of destruction that was before him. With trained reflexes he grabbed his keys and stepped from the squad car and slowly took in all that he could see. Some sort of explosion in the alleyway had crumbled the stonework of the buildings on either side of the alley. The buildings now visibly leaned away from the blast, and would soon be condemned by the city as unsafe to inhabit. Emergency vehicles stood by with flashing lights as men and women searched through the rocks and surrounding buildings for the injured or dead. He counted ten squad cars parked on the street blocking traffic at the nearest intersections and adjoining streets. Dust still hung thick in the air as he made his way through the crowd of emergency response personal and into the cramped alleyway searching for Sam and his little girl.

The first thing he saw was Sam Beckett standing beside a damaged fire truck with stone and building rubble covering most of the large engine. Beside him and closer to himself was Sam's squad car, now smashed to the asphalt with a huge slab of stone wall from the building high above that had fallen and squashed the car to the ground. With panic and fear boiling Noah rushed to the squad car, as Sam last phone call had mentioned Claire being arrested. His heart beat with anger as he pulled away a large stone and dropped to his knees to look into the remains of the destroyed car. Nothing! She was not there!

Noah lifted his head as he heard a foot grind broken glass on the cement. By the sound he could easily determine the person's weight, approximate height, and distance from himself. He guessed who it might be. "I'm sorry Noah. She is not here."

Noah stood to his feet and faced Sam with a look in his eye that made Detective Beckett step back a foot or two instinctively. "Where is she, Sam?"

"I'm sorry, Noah. I don't know how to say this without sounding callous and brash." Detective Beckett stammered as Noah's glare boor a hole through his face and into his very skull. "She saved my life! She pushed me under the Fire Truck over there." Sam said as he pointed to the now damaged truck. "She saved my life..."

Noah placed a firm hand on Sam's shoulder and the detective winced under the grip that quickly grew stronger and stronger. His arm started to tingle as the blood flow was restricted, "Where is my little Girl, Sam!"

"She is on the way to the morgue," Sam gulped through the pain, "Southside General Hospital. Her death was quick and sudden; a concrete support rod went right through her head."

Noah turned and with incredible force drug detective Beckett behind him. "There is no rush Noah! Let them clean her up first. You don't want to see her in the state she is in. Every bone was broken, blood everywhere." Sam blurted out as Noah shoved him into his squad car and with a roar of the engine, hit his emergency lights.

"There is a lot about my daughter you do not know about," Noah stated as the squad car's tires squealed and burned the pavement as they grabbed and the car lurched forward at break neck speed back to the hospital Noah had just left. "If the mortician pulls the rod out of my daughter's head, they will discover a secret that I have killed many times to keep hidden."

X-X-X

Hiro sat huddled in an alleyway crouched down on his haunches deep in worry. His powers seemed to be drained. Something was wrong and he was scared. Since coming back from being ripped apart and patched back together by the essence of time; the emotions and limitations of the young teenage body seemed to haunt him. He had gone through puberty already once, and it was no picnic the second time. Something in that car, something with that man, something had stripped him of his powers and he could just now barely feel them sprouting once more deep in his soul. It was like he was computer server that overheated and had to cool down before a restart could be performed. He was desperate to know where NJ was. He had lost the first kid he had ever been trusted with to baby-sit. He had failed.

Somehow that man new Angela. Somehow they were connected, he thought as he stared at the envelope in his hands. "Give this to Angela Petrelli." the man had said. Somehow this was not going to turn out to be a good day. He needed to get back to the hospital. He needed to get to Peter. Only Peter would know what to do. His brain skipped a beep in alarm as a shadow blocked the sunlight and enveloped him in its cold touch. "Hiro?" a sweet voice inquired.

Hiro looked up against the bright setting sun light and the figure standing between it and himself. The sunlight radiated around the figure and caused a halo effect that made the woman before him seem like an angel from heaven. "Hiro?" the voice asked again, "Are you alright?" the person asked.

He knew the voice, it so sounded familiar. He wanted to trust the voice and reach out to the now open arms. He needed his sister. She has been so strong, so supportive since his return. She had loved him like mother had before she had passed. When the world seemed too large for him to handle, she was there. In his moments of weakness she had been his giant of strength.

Suddenly the voice above him spoke in perfect Japanese, as the woman wrapped warm arms around his shoulders and lifting him to his feet; "Watashi wa koko ni iru chichi, watashi wa anata o aishite." Hiro looked up with amazement and wonder into the eyes of Melody.

~ Heroes - Rise of the Phoenix ~

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