I do not own Heroes

Mohinder was still analyzing the list of People with powers, looking for Sheila's name so he could cross it off the list, When she finally stepped out of the bathroom. She was wearing his T-shirt and from what he could see, nothing else. Her hair was soaked and the bandage on her leg looked like it had been washed and re-wrapped. Red still remained but the rest was an off white, he could see the wound underneath. Because it was still wet it clung to her, congealed blood surrounded green and blue bruising as well as the pink and white cut, pink from the exposed muscle and white from the pus. Rather grizzly and infected.

"You know you should really clean that."

He said turning back to the computer, when his fathers' old box computer had broken Sylar thought he had lost the information forever but luckily Mohinder had been smart enough to store it inside a floppy disk. Sheila sighed, it hurt to clean it, to even touch it, the water had burned like hell though she wouldn't admit it and she wasn't about to douse it in something that would make the pain so unbearable she'd probably pass out.

"It'd Hurt too much."

She said looking down and throwing her semi wet clothes on her bed with one hand, and leaning on her cane with the other.

"Which is worse, hurt or dead?"

"Hurt, when you're dead the pain is over."

She said sitting on her bed carefully, as not to fall or expose anything indecent. She smiled, her Mask in place once again.

"You look much better without a layer of dirt on your face."

"Most people do….and you look better all the time."

She muttered the last part to herself; she always felt the need to discreetly flirt with pretty guys, whether they were married, over aged or otherwise.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

She said quickly, she laid back on her bed after pushing her clothes off it. It was a two bed room; she had the one in the corner Mohinder had the one near the window.

"G'night, sleep tight, don' let the rattlesnakes bite."

"Rattlesnakes?"

"Nothing, just have a good night."

Mohinder looked back to his comp and as soon as Sheila fell asleep found that on this list, there was no Sheila Hogan. Unfortunately this list didn't have a 'By Powers' search so he couldn't search for black holes. Either there was a glitch in the formula or Sheila wasn't who she said she was. He once again had to be wary of those he met, this obviously wasn't Sylar, he understood Sylars behavior and this wasn't it. Mohinder fingered a small vial in his pocket containing a heavy narcotic. Tomorrow, he severely hoped that he would not have to drug her Chai. For now he let her sleep, he doubted she could do much harm. He turned out the light and the whole room was dark, he could only see her outline in the dark, And ever so eerily one of her hands hung over the edge bathed in light from the outside reminding him of when he once saw a hand slip out from under a white sheet on a coroners gurney, pale and limp, lifeless. Her hand mimicked that perfectly, pale in the light and limp in sleep, it disturbed him. When he went to bed, he turned his head to the window instead of looking at her. He closed his eyes and went to sleep, lulled by some unknown rhythmic ticking sound. His dreams that night were not the most pleasant.

A heavy rhythmic beat out of a song he'd once heard filled his ears and in the dark a white figure moved towards him, huge, a face, a Mask. The Lying Maiden Mask. It laughed at him once and disappeared, leaving him startled and confused. A garbled mix of words hit his ears.

"This is what I brought you, this you can keep .this is what I brought you may forget me I promise to depart just Promise one thing."

He turned around; all he saw was a shock of red hair. Sheila? Another whoosh, black hair. He turned again face to face with Sheila.

"Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep."

Gone. He was turning in circles seeing flashes of their faces. When he finally stopped, he saw their faces in the shadows one half of either of them, two people, one similarity. He wasn't careful with trusting them. Sheila may very well turn to be just as dangerous. He woke.

Mohinder sat up, it was morning, and he could hear someone singing in the small kitchen of the motel room. He let the sudden occurring fear he had thought about before bed get into his dreams, it was just paranoia, nothing to get worked up over. He Got out of bed his shirt was soaked through in sweat and so was his pillow. He moved towards the kitchen and saw Sheila singing to the radio and cooking breakfast, probably stole his keys and found the food.

"Traveling in a fried-out combie
On a hippie trail, head full of zombie
I met a strange lady, she made me nervous
She took me in and gave me breakfast
And she said, Do you come from the land down under?"

She spun on her Cane swayed to the music. Mohinder had to suppress laughter as she danced, he also blushed though you couldn't see it. She obviously thought no one was watching her. Her Mask was gone and she was smiling, a true happy smile.

"No I don't actually."

Mohinder said not able to stay unnoticed for much longer. She turned and her face went a color that you'd see on a radish. She immediately put her Masking face back on and the red subsided.

"Breakast? Eggs and Pancakes."

She said motioning to the food. Mohinder smiled, he didn't have to cook this morning, Good Luck. But then the little Paranoid voice in his head said she might've poisoned it. The voice was shot down when she picked up some of the food herself and ate it. He too grabbed a plate and served himself. The Cooking was plain but decent; she had made the eggs plain and the pancakes too, a simple carbohydrate and protein breakfast. It was quiet.

"You know you should be wary about who you associate with."

"Yeah, whyzat?"

"There is a man called Sylar, He kills people like you and steals their power. I made the mistake of taking him for a man called Zane Taylor, nearly killed me."

She snickered and then started laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"My watch is going to kill me!"

She said before laughing again. Mohinder looked confused to the highest regard. Sheila saw that and reached into her shirt, pulling out a silver heart shaped watch on a long silver necklace chain. She pointed to the manufacturers name; it was a Sylar brand watch.

"How odd."

He knew that Sylar was once a watchmaker so maybe he had stolen the name, a major copyright infringement. Or on a daydreamier note maybe he was being paid to endorse Sylar watches. Mohinder laughed too.

"See? But this watch even if it was the guy in a shape shifted form or something, it would never kill me. No matter how fast my heart beats or anything, the minute it goes back to normal my watch beats along with it. Freaky Hunh?"

"More sentimental than Freaky."

Mohinder said seeing where someone would come to believe this. Probably she had received this watch from a person close to her.

"Was it a gift from a boyfriend or something?"

Sheila's face had a look of confusion on it and she poked her eggs unceremoniously.

"Actually, I don't know who gave it to me, one day It just arrived on my porch, special wrapped and express shipped."

"Where was it from?"

Sheila furrowed her eyebrows a little and thought back.

"Queens, Queens New York, The note inside said, "For Princess." And that was it. It creeped me out at first, I had been to queens with my mother on vacation that summer and I did eye it in the window of a shop my mother went to, to get her watch fixed, I felt like I had some stalker but I got over it."

Mohinder lifted his head from his food and looked at her, Sylar had come from Queens.

"How old were you?"

"15, but everyone said I at least looked twenty. I'm aging in advanced, don't like that."

Mohinder had to agree that she looked to be around her twenty's but Sylar was at least 30. Rather creepy indeed.

"I think that may have come from Sylar himself, he's at least 30."

Sheila laid her food on the counter and bit her lower lip.

"I'm really not that hungry anymore."

She said and Mohinder laughed, how uncommonly odd it was to find things like this. She was just a freak case when it came to the people he dealt with. Usually they had either adjusted to their power and were using it or they were freaked out and in denial. She was neither, plus she had a 2 year old minor link to Sylar. Utterly odd.

"Well, We should get dressed and be heading out then, long trip ahead of us."

"Yeah, New York Here we come."

She smiled and went into the bed room, grabbed her clothes, and went into the bath room. When she came out she was wearing the Tank top the jeans and the sweat shirt tied around her waist. The jeans has grass stains around a rip in the knee and she had a tattoo on her upper arm, a small simple symbol looked like it belonged to a manufacturing agency or something off the sort, a simple spiral that was drawn in a surferish fashion.

"Bit young for Tattoos aren't you?"

"Just a bit."

She said smiling and cocking her eyebrow. She pulled her hair back with a simple elastic band; It still looked a mess. Her arms were tanned and slender, standing out brilliantly against the white tank top she wore. In all horrible truth she looked like a redneck Sigourney Weaver, in its own way charming, in more ways just plain weird.

"Take a shower, I'll clean the Kitchen."

He looked around, the kitchen wasn't too bad, all she needed to do was wash the dishes and maybe wipe down the counters. She may make a good mother, or house keeper. He took the offer anyways and got in the shower. The floor of the shower was still wet from the shower Sheila took last night. He stripped out of his night clothes and got in turning the knob a little too far and sending a red hot stream of water at himself, when it hit his skin he cursed loudly and Sheila asked if he needed any help. She was obviously joking but it was still a little unnerving.

"N-no! That won't be necessary!"

"As long as you're sure!"

Mohinder rolled his eyes and fixed the temperature, he grabbed what was left of the free shampoo and scrubbed his hair, and he felt a lot less grungy as he scrubbed the rest of him. By the time he was done with thoroughly scrubbing his body there was so much steam he could barely see the knobs, He liked to take his time. There was a knock on the door.

"Forget something?"

Before he could say anything Sheila opened the door and threw his clothes at him, he did his best to cover himself. Her hand was over her eyes though of course she was peeking.

"Hey!"

"I'm not looking!"

She said leaving and quietly closing the door behind her, letting her mind dwell on the wet, naked, Pretty Indian in the steam. Her mind was not the cleanest place; actually it was probably one of the dirtier ones. But she didn't care, not like she had Jesus to make her stop. Mohinder came out and Sheila was smiling, she couldn't help it, just too many thoughts were running through her head. Mohinder pointed at her like how a teacher would a bad student.

"That never happened."

"Of course it didn't"

She said twisting her hair around her finger and giving him Bamby eyes. A Teenager she was, a Teenager she is…And unfortunately she acts like it. Mohinder rolled his eyes again. If he wasn't more flexible with his temper she woulda been out on the road a while ago. But she amused him, made him laugh, besides she was really only playing around.

"Ay sorry, I'm just fooling around, couldn't 'elp me'self. Friends?"

She asked holding out her hand to him. Mohinder was slightly taken aback, out of America he had seen many Teens and most of them were un-willing to apologize and stubborn butt-heads. What she showed wasn't really manners but crude courtesy. He took her hand and shook it. She had packed up their stuff and had lugged some of it out to the car, he noticed she had brought his bag full of books to the back seat where she could access him, she apparently knew they were going to be on the road a while.

"If you could grab the bag with the pots and pans in it? That ones a tad heavy for this little cripple."

She said hobbling out the car, he grabbed it and put it in the open trunk, slammed the trunk shut and got in the car. He looked to his side and noticed Sheila wasn't there.

"Back 'ere."

She said giving him a small wave from the backseat. Her bad leg was elevated and she already had a book on the theory of physics open and was reading the introduction. Mohinder shrugged and started the car. It had been a while since he had human company so it was nice, even if she was being quiet. In all truth Mohinder needed someone to talk to; so many people come to talk to him yet some how he doesn't have anyone to talk to himself. After 2 hours on the road Sheila had switched books, book marking the Physics book with a scrap of paper she pulled out of her back pack. She went digging through the bag of books, probably looking for something more engrossing. She pulled out a red book with swirly gold lettering on the front. She raised an eyebrow at it.

"Kama Sutra?"

She thought opening the book, she looked at the book strangely, holding it at arms length, turning it sideways, upside down, and drawing it close.

"Everything okay back there?"

"Yeah everything's…oh-oh my…."

Her eyes went wide, her face turned red, and she closed the book. Mohinder looked at the book and gave himself a mental head slap; his wise ass cousin sent that to him as a birthday present 2 years ago. He really should've hidden that better.

"Uhhh, look I can explain…"

He noticed her shoulders were shaking as her face was red, her eyebrows were furrowed. She was trying really hard not to laugh, really hard not to break the mask.

"I'm really sure I don't want to know."

She said putting the book back in the bag and rifling through it again. She pulled out a paperback copy of "The Alchemists Daughter" and started reading that. After that it got kinda quiet, They stopped at a gas station and Mohinder got up to refill the gas tank, he looked at Sheila. As she read her face changed expressions with every few seconds as she read. Her eyes skimmed the page and she quickly turned pages, he had never seen anyone read so fast before, she was the most concentrated person he'd seen since his father. He remembered the time he had found his father reading and his mother snuck up behind him and suggested a little prank. Together he and his mother gathered up chairs and stacked them around his father like a pyramid only when he scooted his chair back after he was done reading and the chairs fell over did he realize what they had done. His fathers expression was priceless, he was half way to shouting and on the other hand half way to bursting out laughing. Laughing won over. Sheila would probably smack her head and clean up the chairs if he tried that on her. He paid for gas and bought a 2 liter bottle of water. Kansas heat was sweltering. He got back in the car and looked back about to offer some of the water to Sheila when she looked on the verge of tears, still reading the book.

"Sheila?"

"Hunh? Oh hey."

She wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye, returning her mask. He held the water back to her and she took it, taking a gulp and giving it back to him.

"Thanks mate."

She said giving him a smile, the corner of her mouth cracked and started to bleed a little. She felt the place where it was bleeding and put pressure on it with her shirt, Mohinder drove out and her lip stopped bleeding a little while after they exited Kansas. It wasn't going to be more than a week to New York, but so far as he had seen of her he could tell it would be nice to have a companion. Maybe as a body guard in a fight, she looked like she could swing that cane pretty hard. For reasons un-known Mohinder found himself absentmindedly looking in the backseat with his rearview mirror, in his mind he traced the defined muscles in her upper arm. Tanned Skin Sunburned, he had often found arms to be a very attractive part of the anatomy, coming second to the eyes in his mind. Not just attractive but fascinating; her arms had one of the most defined shapes he had seen, the upper arm not fleshy but clear and defined, the wrists moving slowly onto large but graceful hands. Every few minutes she'd flex her arms to work out kinks and go back to reading where she would smile, frown, raise and eyebrow, or sometimes laugh. After they had passed through a corner of Missouri she decided to actually get out and walk at one of the gas stops. She had long since finished "The Alchemists Daughter".

"Sad book don't you think?"

She asked him out of the blue, leaning on the car; looking to the sky.

"Excuse me?"

"The book, The Alchemists Daughter, didn't you think it was sad?"

Mohinder thought back to all the books he had read, and the title dawned on him. He remembered it to be very moving and yes also very sad. He had read so few Fictions it was hard to hang on to them in his mind.

"Yes, Emily had a sudden shock didn't she?"

"Yeah, poor Em' Aislabie was a real bastard."

"I know, real selfish, but they whole way the book was brought into light about the signs of fire and such to be very methodical and rather entrancing."

You should have seen the way Sheila's eyes sparkled when Mohinder talked about books that way. She was never happier to hear such admiration of fine written work. She herself was writer and a reader, but unfortunately she had no time to hone her skills so she went un-recognized as a young writer.

"Really, I found the sensual undertones and intimacy of her affections and inspiration for the rebirth of perfection to be the most enticing part."

"Yes, that was a much defined part of the story I simply would not over look but my standpoint remains firmly in place of where I find that the methodical part to be my favorite."

They filled the tank and Sheila sat in the front seat this time, not burying herself in a book this time but instead having a rather 'In-Depth' discussion about manuscript and character manipulation in the blue prints of a story. Sheila had a vast knowledge of great storytellers and artists, it surprised Mohinder that she wasn't already selling paperback novels of a few of the stories she told him about that she had written. When Mohinder had asked to hear one she proceeded to reach into her large back pack and rifle through it, he saw it was filled with binders and paper bound books. All home written. The few other things in her back pack was a survival kit, small, almost empty. A small mirror, a driver's permit, and a 40 Smith and Wesson, a rather scary looking thing.

"Jesus, is that loaded?"

"No, not yet."

She said pulling out one of the manuscripts. She put the backpack in the backseat and opened the manuscript smiling at it. Where she started to read it out loud like Mohinder had asked a few minutes earlier. The title of the book was "The Last Real Hero"

"In this world there is one truth, no matter how long or how hard you work to be who you aren't; You will fail. To suppress your intentions and to hide your will is this same as killing yourself, you stop being you and start being something you would've hated 2 years ago. But sometimes it is necessary to put on a mask, to save the ones you love. To save yourself, even if you want to die, you must save yourself. Because if you kill what's left of you, you will disappear, forever. No one will remember your name, even your parents, your lover and your brothers. There is no one to go to after you've sold your soul to being a hero, moving far out to sea only to have your ship sink and never to be found. But its hard to do that, had to be lost when your like me, when you're the last real one, The last one not to hide behind a lie and fake their enthusiasm. Hard to be lost when you're the last real hero…"

The story wove an intricate tale of a suicidal girl who everyone expects to be perfect, She has illusions of being a hero to herself, an example of perfection. A hatred of all others who try to save her consuming her attention and obsession, seeing them as fakes and only herself as the real hero. Her illusions worsened as her parents started to crush anti-psychotics into her food. She went into fits until she murdered her mother and her father, sparing her brothers. She finally wasn't being watched and she was then dawned by the thought that others needed saving. She went out and seeked people like her, perfect people and released them. Some thanked her, some screamed; some didn't even know she was there. The story ended when she was caught by the police and killed herself. She poured alcohol on herself and lit herself on fire. This story had eerie similarities and reminded him too much of Sylar. When she had finished the book it was almost midnight and they had checked into another motel.

"…And the last thing I ever saw, the last thing I ever needed to see was the bright light of freedom consuming me, tearing me free. The one thing I wanted I had and I had saved so many. I died a happy and free soul. I died like the hero I was."

Mohinder sucked in some air and raised his eyebrows; her skills were extraordinary, being able to portray the insanity of one as the sanity of another. Because when you're clinically insane you don't know it.

"What'd you think, good?"

"Better than good, your story is great. You portrayed the example of release and renewal perfectly as the thought of insanity is perfection. You made it sound so real."

Sheila blushed, she wasn't used to people complimenting her so thoroughly on her stories, most of them say it's great or it's wonderful but Mohinder actually got in and saw the purpose of it, explained it too. She couldn't have said it better.

"Thank you; you are obviously an accomplished reader and critique, I hope it sounded real."

She said leaning against her pillows, she was in her tank top and her jeans were rolled up to her knees. She had a big smile on her face, happy to get a positive review from her first reader.

"Yes, I just said that. How'd you come across the inspiration for this?"

Sheila bit her lower lip softly and looked to the right side, away form Mohinder. Her brows were furrowed in inner conflict, the constant struggle of reason and want. She had told him everything so far so why not?

"Well, I used to do part time work for a mental facility a few miles off my home, I would change the bedding, clean, console the patients every now and then. One day I was sitting outside and eating my lunch where a girl with ragged hair and a slight droop to her head, looking like something out of "The Ring" sat down next to me. She started to talk to me, telling me everything; how she got in here what she heard what she saw and that's when I realized these people didn't have a mind any different from ours, it still functions in the same way. They think that they are normal, what they see is what we see, just warped. And its how they see the universe, 'Sane People' may see the world in black and white but these people look at all the colors. Seeing everything and knowing everything. To them we're the insane ones and they are the normal ones, we're the outcasts. The cage, the prison keeper, the birds, we're all of those. These people think what they're doing is the right thing to do…Can you blame anyone for wanting to do the right thing?...Her name was Lily Irving, she taught me the most valuable thing in life… Everyone Is Sane."

During her little monologue Sheila had drawn her knees to her chest. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she was clutching the watch at around her neck, feeling the tick in her hands, the slight throbbing in her hands; she was steadied back into place. She still couldn't regain complete composure.

"She sounds like she's important to you."

"She's dead."

Sheila said sliding off the bed; she sat down next to Mohinder on his bed and leaned her head on his shoulder. She also slung her arm around his other shoulder.

"She burned herself alive in the court yard. We don't know how she got the gasoline but she did. She killed herself of her own accord. And right before she died, what was left of her scarred body she told me that the last person she ever wanted to save was herself. That she couldn't save me…now all I know was that I couldn't save her."

She didn't cry she didn't sniffle, she just didn't move. Everyone needs a shoulder to lean on every once in a while. This girl just never had one before.

"That must've been hard to watch. I've never had to watch anyone die in front of me, much less near me. I've only seen a dead body."

Mohinder slung his arm over her shoulder like she had him, this was an awkward moment. Peaceful but awkward, He felt like a parent or a brother comforting a scared child; it felt nice to be the person who didn't need consoling for once.

"That musta freaked you out good."

"You have no idea."

They laughed a little and Sheila gave him a light hug before proclaiming that she was going to take a shower. When she stood, she looked down at him, smiling.

"You remind me of Lily, so nice, so cool. Always in control, but yet always on edge, only difference is that your 'Sane'. How conflicting it must be."

With that she went into the bathroom, Mohinder was in state of confliction. He couldn't tell if he was given a compliment or not. Wait, did she call him cool?

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I'm sorry it took me so long to update, I've been moving so I don't have much free time Eheh! Thank you Angelic-Poison for commenting!!!! I dedicate to you this chappie!!!!