I don't own Heroes

Left you with a rather angsty chapter earlier but I'm making it up as I go along here. So I thought it would be the way to go :P Enjoy!

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Sheila woke up smoothly as usual, rubbing her eyes and yawning loud enough to wake the dead. She pulled herself out of bed and into the bathroom so she could get herself ready for a day as a librarian for the Library of New York. She put on eyeliner, jeans, a blouse, and a casual jacket. She pulled her hair back in a pony tail and got her portfolio. She greeted Claire who was up and with Coffee, Claire knew better than to give her Coffee. She grabbed a piece of toast and rushed out of the door instead of trying to trick Claire into giving her Coffee. She Hailed a Taxi and got driven to her job instead of trying to walk there. She was still shaken and wary. They arrived and she paid the driver, running into the building just making it on time barely.

"Sorry I'm late Traffic was murder."

She said the lady behind the desk, her unofficial boss. She nodded and Sheila clocked in and started to put books away in their proper places Filing them with care and precision. Singing lightly to herself.

"The world is a vampire…Sent to Drai-ia-ian…Secret destroyers, hold you up to the plains…."

She found comfort in the musty smell of the old books, the feel of cloth and leather in the binders and the warmth of the library. She felt too comfortable, letting her guard down. Several times that day she found herself looking over her shoulder, the library was mostly empty and slightly eerie. She was alone in the long, long aisle. Noiseless, peaceful, dead. She Jumped when a voice broke in behind her.

"So, 'Sheila' How are you holding up? Ready to be rescued yet?"

Sheila turned around, no one was there. It was her mind playing tricks on her again.

"Oh come on…You know that you need to be saved. I like your book…very accurate, but you'd know now wouldn't you lovie?"

"Lily…Can't you leave me alone? I've got a life, I want to live it normally."

"You can't ever be normal Sheila, no matter how much you want to. It's because you aren't normal and will never be normal. Just give in, and please use your name it pains us to see you fake it."

Sheila sat down and sighed.

"Lily…Please I have enough troubles…Why do you choose to show up when the worst ones happen?"

"I'm here to help you make it through them, to help save you."

"How are you going to do that…I've walked that road before. I may have pointed the gun but you never pulled the trigger. You may have doused me in the gas but I never struck the match right. We're two halves of the same suicide. But I've walked off the edge now. Can't you do the same?"

"No, Only when you say your name, our name, admit who you are not who they tell you to be, that's when I'll leave."

Sheila hit the back of her head against a book shelf and smiled a little.

"Lily Irving, Lily Irving we are Lily Irving, there Happy?"

Sheila asked getting up and brushing herself off.

"Your faking again, I'll see you, a friend is coming."

With that the voice quieted itself and she heard foot steps. She picked a heavy book off the shelf in case it was Sylar. When the footsteps neared the corner she was so Self Psyched that she swung the book automatically. It made contact.

"Ow Jesus Christ!!!! What the hell is wrong with you, I come by to say Hi and you hit me in the face!!!?"

Peter Petrelli was lying on the ground, holding his nose as it healed itself. Sheila dropped next to him and started apologizing incessantly.

"I'm so sorry mate! Oh I thought you were Sylar I'm just really on edge today. Oh Jeez I'm Sorry."

"it's okay, it's okay, it stopped bleeding. Man you swing hard."

"I'm from New Zealand, you learn."

She helped him up and cleaned up his face with a tissue she had in her pocket. They talked a little while; Claire had told him what happened. Sheila didn't get mad she knew that Claire was just worried for her.

"Yeah, But I'm trying to put it away in my mind."

"Hard to forget something like that isn't it?"

"Eh, you learn to suppress stuff like that y'know."

Sheila was talking and putting away books. She had a hard time getting to top shelves so Peter lifted her up every few minutes so she could make it.

"Actually I don't."

"Well, I'm a rock so I have to, its how I was taught to live."

She said pushing her heavy book cart down the long aisles. Counting place marks taking notes and the such.

"How can you be taught to live isn't that a natural primary human function?"

"When you die you must be taught to live, that's what they do, they kill you inside it's like cleaning a hard drive, Wiping the whole system clean. They teach you how to live through their rules."

"Who's they?"

She paused, froze really, blinking a few times and putting her notes back on her trolley.

"No one."

She said quickly, moving at a brisk speed. Not looking back at Peter.

"That's what I hate about you, you always have to be hiding something, makes you look untrustworthy."

"I don't care if I'm viewed as untrustworthy by you or anyone. My life is mine to keep a secret if I want."

She said putting the books away faster and sloppier. Trying not to give anything away, she hated how her life had to be played out. It was so melodramatic.

"That's means there is something."

"N-no it doesn't!"

"Yes it does and you just stammered! You are hiding something! Why won't you just say it?"

"say what!?"

She said gulping and turning quickly, her eyes darting around, nervous. Lily was getting on her nerves, literally.

"Who you are, what you are, whatever you're so desperately hiding!?"

"I'm not hiding anything. My Name is Sheila Hogan, I'm 5'4 with red hair and green eyes, I come from New Zealand and moved to Kansas when I was 13, I can make black holes and can recite all of Edgar Allen Poe's 'The Raven' from memory. That's who I am and that's all I need people to know or see."

She said this so uniformly it's like she was actually trying to convince herself. Like she had repeated it in front of a mirror many times.

"Fine, I won't dig anymore but if you ever want to tell you know where to find me."

With that Peter turned around making fists and flicking his fingers out at the sides of his head in frustration, like how you might flick water off your hands after washing them.

"Peter?"

He turned enough to look at her.

"I don't want to be enemy's, the less questions you ask about me the better we get along. Friends K mate?"

"Yah, whatever."

He said walking out, Sheila rolled her eyes and went back to her booking. Her life was too complicated. She took her lunch break to go and walk around, check out the newspaper and that kind of thing, she looked through the ads for a place of her own. One caught her eye.

Manhattan Loft- Painted floors, great view, $200 a month Great deal going fast!

She circled it and called the number at the bottom. She got an appointment walk through for after she got off work. Because she was so excited the day seemed to speed by straight to the walk through. She met with the lady selling the place.

"Hello Sheila right? We'll be making a short walk through; we haven't been able to sell this place yet. Its really unfortunate."

She said leading her up the stair case up the apartment loft. When she was let inside she saw it was filled with paintings.

"The man who lived here was an artist, he's dead unfortunately."

She grimaced, she had light brown hair, blue eyes and pale skin, very European looking.

"I see…I'm liking it so far."

She was shown that the place had heat a full kitchen, bathroom and electricity. The only downside was that the place smelled like death she could live with it though. Bleach and incense should do it.

"I want it, can I have it I want it!"

"Okay I'll just get those deposit papers!"

She said wanting to sell this place fast as possible. She got the papers and Sheila quickly signed them, putting down her income and stuff, everything was perfect, she could afford it easy and it was great.

"Congrats, you get the key when I get my deposit."

She said smiling. Sheila nodded and was so glad that Friday was payday. She got her ride home and immediately went to Claire's room, jumping up and down.

"Claire guess what guess what!!"

"You had Coffee?"

"No! I got my own place!!! I found it in the papers this morning, and I signed the deposits and it's all mine on Friday!!!!An apartment in Manhattan!"

"Oh my god!! I am sooo happy for you!!! I'm going to miss you though! But who cares you've got your own place!!!"

The loud squealing caught the attention of Peter and he popped his head in.

"Whats this now?"

"Sheila got her own house!! Well apartment but still!!!"

"Cool, Happy for ya."

He said happy she was going to be out of the house, he could just tell the girl was hazard waiting to happen. The sooner out the better.

"Oh contain your enthusiasm, Mate."

She said flatly, raising a brow, Peter left the girls to squeal and gabber. It was driving him nuts. Peter was usually a pretty accepting guy but something about her set off a little alarm in his head. He just didn't trust her. He went out, the girls kept squealing, and the whole night flashed by. The next morning everyone was tired. Sheila took a sick day to catch some Z's, Claire slept till 3:00 PM and Peter came home at around noon. the whole house was full of snoring or breathing or things like that. Peter was asleep on the couch, Sheila was hanging off the side of her bed and Claire was bundled like a cat. It was like the house of Hangover. It wasn't until Mohinder knocked on the door that anyone was disturbed. He let himself in.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Mhm…"

Peter said, head smushed into a pillow on the couch.

"Peter? Are you okay?"

"Long night, girls wouldn't stop squealing, Sheila got her own place…good night…"

He said going back to sleep. Mohinder was here to see Sheila anyways, he had gotten news about her house. It had not been destroyed but rather moved. He went up to her room and opened the door, slipping inside and pushing her back onto the bed he woke her.

"Who now?"

"S'me, Mohinder."

"Oh hey Mohindy…."

She said, disoriented, she kissed his forehead lightly. Mostly to say good morning.

"Uh okay, Congratulations on getting a place and your house was found on the shores of Australia. It got teleported."

Sheila woke up some at that news, she imagined her little brother coming out of the house with their dog Toto. Carrying him out and saying "Toto…I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

"Oh great…Goddamned Wizard of Ozzies…."

She said lightly and groggily. She Got up and looked at herself in the mirror, her hair was a mess because she had forgotten to dry it before going to bed. She rubbed her head and Used Mohinder to steady herself.

"Ozzies?"

"Australians."

"Aren't you-?"

"New Zealand."

She said before sighing and looking closer into the bathroom mirror. Her hair was knotted and she immediately started to tug at it with a brush, cursing and snarling at it. Mohinder watched with interest, she certainly had a very colorful vocabulary. The only thing that even compared was how she moved her hands, gliding through with a certain feminine grace he could never quite apprehend. Even when frustrated, she remained the grace; maybe it was just because of how her hands were built that made it seem graceful.

"So, they alive?"

"Yes, but the thing your mother said was that you would never be allowed in their house again."

Sheila stopped brushing her hair and laid the brush down, sighing and looking at the bathroom ceiling.

"What did she really say? I know her; she wouldn't say that, it's too simple."

Mohinder looked at her, in her frozen state she looked like a statue, a rock. Willing and still, holding everything in, he could almost feel the invisible anger radiating off of her. It was rather scary.

"You want her exact words?"

He asked, skeptically.

"Yes."

Mohinder sighed and tried to summon her exact words to his memory.

" ' I will never allow that damned freak in my house ever again, not after what she did.' And I'm sorry to say that those were her exact words."

Sheila lowered her head and resumed the attack upon her hair. Brushing furiously, loosing her grace. He moved his head hoping to see her expression in the mirror. He had to crane his neck to a painful extent. He saw two shining streams on her cheeks, a flushed face and furrowed angry eyebrows, and her eyes, he couldn't even describe them; they looked as if they could burn a hole in the wall and that was the closest he could get.

"Sheila are you …crying?"

He knew full well she was, but he need to hear it from her, better to ask than to tell and aggravate her further.

"No. I'm fine. You've given me the news, you can go now right?"

She asked, clutching either side of the sink after she had dropped her brush. He saw her hands starting to glow ember and he took this as a warning sign. He took it upon himself to follow her in and lay his hand on her shoulder. Her skin was burning hot, and not like she had a fever, it was like she had been standing next to a fire for too long and too close, it was unnatural.

"Sheila, your mother isn't very accepting is she?"

"No."

"Than why bother getting frustrated over what she thinks? You are who you are why should it matter what one person thinks? Hundreds even? As long as you're happy with yourself…"

He hugged her like how a big brother might comfort a little sister.

"…What else matters?"

Her temperature cooled and her hands returned to normal, she was looking at herself in the mirror. Mohinder's arms draped over her shoulders like a piece of red-brown silk, his head buried in the crook of her neck, tired and relieved looking that she hadn't completely destroyed the bathroom sink and possibly the bathroom. She smiled; she liked how it looked, so natural for him to be standing there, for her to be with him. But what she was thinking was only a deluded fantasy that would never happen why someone as smooth and pretty as Mohinder would want to be with someone so callous? She laughed a little and stroked his hair gently.

"You're my best guy friend. You've done more for me than I could ever say; you keep saving me, keep being my hero. I could never be able to repay you probably, Why do you keep saving me when I'm beyond help, I've pointed the gun, I didn't pull the trigger though, I did this by myself. No one had to save me; I had to make it on my own. But you were there, you did. I'm going to have to light the match someday. Please when that day comes…Don't be my hero. There is still a part of me that doesn't agree with my two sided suicide. You've only made her more rebellious, she doesn't want to leave. I have to kill her. I need to kill it…"

Mohinder's eyes had gotten wider as she was talker and he had started to get scared of her. What was she talking about? What part of her why would she want to kill herself?

"Sheila what are you talking abou-?"

"The woman you talked to wasn't my mother mate."

"What?"

"She was my adoptive mother. My real one is in New Zealand somewhere…"

"And Read over my story again…You'll know then what I'm talking about."

He left in a flurry as Sheila started to brush her hair again. Slower, calmer, she was even humming. He ran out and into his car and pulled one of the manuscript copies she had made for him. He skimmed through it, he remembered something about a two sided suicide. He found it and read it over and over again, he realized now that this was a detailed description of when a memory haunts a suicidal girl, pushing her over the edge. Killing her inside and then having someone recreate her personality. He had heard of this being done to long term prisoners. They are forced to give up their identity for someone else's, being haunted by a memory of their olds selves, they go insane, not exactly split personality but instead a hallucination of a sort of ghost of their own selves. They find the passionate need to kill the old part of themselves, the ones forcing painful memories to the surface; it was a way of protecting themselves. They usually found solace in killing or hurting themselves but if not they had to retrieve there old identity in order to stop seeing their old selves.

"Dear god…"

Mohinder said closing the book and going inside, He went up to Sheila's room but the door was locked. He pounded on it.

"Damn it Sheila or whoever you are I know already! Open this door!"

This aroused Claire and Peters attention, Claire came over, rubbing her eyes.

"Wazzgoing on?"

"Too long to explain, just help me get this door open."

Clair yawned and slammed a spot next to the door handle and it clicked open. He went in slowly, cautious. He heard an empty clicking noise in the bathroom, like the snipping of scissors. He knocked on the door.

"Sheila, Please tell me it's you…Why didn't you just ell me about her, why didn't you tell me about lily? I could've gotten you help. I could've taken you the psyche ward."

The clicking stopped and the door opened. He saw her with wide eyed, slight horror. Her hair was cut short and sloppy, black ink dripped form her fingers and her hair, the sink was stained with it. Her hair looked scraggly and her head seemed to droop to one side. She had her gun in the other hand.

"No one can help me anymore…they won't let me get help…they won't let her live, she burned herself in that courtyard so long ago… I held her hand and told her I couldn't save her… I said that I didn't want to be saved. That day we died…"

She seemed to be slipping between the transitions of Sheila and Lily. Moving between their personalities, Maybe Lily was merely an excuse of her old self.

"Mother forced me into my names and my clothes…she tortured her so much… she made he into me…now she won't leave me alone until I let her out…She won't leave me alone…Until I complete my two sided suicide."

She said pointing the gun at her head, from her angle she could only see Mohinder. But Claire had snuck in and was seeing everything; she now saw that Sheila was a very sick person. She had woken up completely and was moving towards the bathroom, out of Sheila's realm of vision. She moved like a cat and right as Sheila closed her eyes to pull the trigger Claire grabbed the gun out of her hands. Partly at least, Mohinder had seen Claire sneaking and wasn't worried the worst that could happen was that Claire could get shot in the process and she would regenerate quickly. Sheila clawed at Claire for the gun.

"Give it back, Give it back now!!"

"I'm Sorry."

Claire Hit Sheila in the face with all her strength, there was a nasty crunching sound and they could tell that Sheila's nose had broken. She let go of the gun and Grabbed her nose, Blood gushed from between her fingers. She looked at it and somehow it brought her back to her senses. Maybe she felt she had shot herself and this was the blood, maybe it was the pain but either way she cursed loudly.

"Ah Fuck!!! What the hell is wrong with you!? What did you do that for!?... Why are my hands covered in ink?"

She asked looking at them before grabbing tissues from the bathroom, she felt her hair, Sopping wet with Ink. She looked in the Mirror, a 14 year old version of herself looked back, black, short, scraggly hair.

"Ah…Fuck. It happened again…I'm really sorry you had to see that… Jesus…I need to get my prescriptions filled…"

She said placing her nose in its original setting. Watching the bleeding stop a little.

"You really clocked me there! Good shot Claire!"

She said giving the thumbs up with one hand and holding her nose in place with the other. So odd. Claire gave her a weird looked and bustled out of the room with the gun, hiding it in her room somewhere. Hoping Sheila would never find it.

"Okay, first… You need to get out, second you need to wash your hair, third…We need to get you to a psychologist."

Mohinder and Claire said the last part in unison. They felt a lot better 'cause Sheila seemed to be back to her normal self, but they had to be wary. She might go over the edge again at any time. Such a tedious thing Mohinder had found on the road. Who knew she could go into such a relapse?

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I know its being weird but I'm feeling weird! Such and odd thing I am sometimes, anyways, I hope you like the story byiyi!!!