Title: Godsend
Characters: All
Genre: Action/adventure, hints of romance and humor.
Rating: T, PG-13ish
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes or any of its characters.
Summary: My version of the 12th ep, Godsend. Close to the story as I can get, as I have seen from preview. Paire, IsaacSimone. Obviously post fallout

Godsend

The large man rushed at Hiro, the sword raised above his head. When he was close enough, he brought it down in a crude hacking movement, aiming for Hiro's head. Hiro ducked, and moved around the man. The thought back to the martial arts movies he had seen, and kicked the man in the back, making him stumble forward. The man turned and slashed again and again, over and over. Hiro jumped back, but wasn't quick enough, and got a deep cut along his chest. The cold bite of the metal told him how serious this was, and his eyes darkened considerably.

"You have… no honour," he said, once again cursing his lack of knowledge with the language. "You are evil. You are bad guy."

The large man laughed. "That's right, I'm a bad guy. Too bad you're not the hero." He grinned, and stabbed Hiro through the chest.

Except Hiro wasn't there.

"You wrong," said Hiro from behind him. "I am a Super Hiro." The man cursed, and spun, hacking at Hiro again, but once again, Hiro wasn't there. He looked around wildly, and saw Hiro to his right. He rushed again, and Hiro closed his eyes and scrunched up his face, concentrating hard. The man cried in triumph and brought the sword down over his head.

Then froze. Hiro opened his eyes and grinned excitedly. Quickly he moved the man until he was facing a wall, then stood back and let time move normally. The man brought his sword down in nothing, and continued moving forward, ploughing face first into a brick wall. The sword fell from his stunned hands and he stumbled backwards, dazed. Angrily, he spun in the direction of the Hiro's laughter. Blinded by rage and pain, he lunged at Hiro, but once again froze. And once again, Hiro repositioned him. When the unfroze time, the large man flew into the open lid of a dumpster, and tumbled inside unconscious.

Hiro turned to the scrawny man, his eyes severe. The scrawny man gulped, released the woman, and fled. Hiro walked over to the fallen sword, and picked it up, inspecting it. On one sit was a funny symbol. A curvy line with some lines coming off it. He turned it over and gasped. Running down the blade, in Japanese characters, was his name; Hiro Nakamura.

"Thank you," said the woman. She was leaning against the wall, catching her breath. "I didn't expect anyone to help. What's you name?"

Hiro bowed and said, "Hiro. Hiro Nakamura." The lady smiled.

"Fitting name. Again, thank you." She began to walk away as Hiro took off his jacket and wrapped it around the sword, before running after her. He was silent for a mere second before his questions burst from his mouth.

"What's your name? Where are you going? Do you have a power? Will you tell anyone about me?" Simone laughed and held up a hand.

"Don't worry; your secret is safe with me. My name is Simone Deveaux, and I'm going to see a man named Isaac Mendez."

"Why did you hand yourself in?" asked the detective, pacing back and forth. He had asked that question so many times over the past three hours, and every time it ended in the same result. Nikki sat silent in her chair, her hands cuffed in front of her, staring at the polished metal table. Jessica stared back at her, cold look on her face, grimacing with effort. 'Let me out,' she mouthed, fighting against the barriers Nikki had surrounded her with. Nikki just scowled and strengthened the blockade.

"Miss Sanders, you handed yourself to the law, confessing to a multitude of murders, at least half of which your husband is guilty of, and you won't tell us why. Nor have you said anything since. We don't have a shred of evidence that can place you at any of the scenes. Is your husband forcing you to confess?" Nikki just looked at him.

"DL didn't kill anyone."

"Lets just pretend what you've said is true. You could have gotten away with it, no one suspected you. So why did you hand yourself in?" asked the detective, spinning his chair around and sitting down.

"I need to protect Mi- everyone from myself," she said, cursing herself for slipping. The detective latched onto the opportunity.

"And who will look after Micah now? For that matter, where is he?"

"I don't know. I don't know. And as long as she can't hurt him, I don't want to know," she said, shaking her head.

"She? Who's she?" asked the detective coolly.

"Jessica."

"Who is Jessica?" the detective demanded.

"Every time I look in the mirror, I see her. Then, sometimes I black out, and when I wake up, I'm somewhere else, or I'm surrounded by dead people. It's her. It's Jessica."

"You know what? I think you're lying. I think Jessica is something that you made up, so you won't have to take responsibility for your actions. Someone you created to blame all those murders on. To blame your sons murder on," said the detective, leaning forward.

"My son isn't dead," spat Nikki.

"Oh, no? Then where is he?"

"I don't know!" she yelled, glaring at the table.

"I'll tell you where he is. He's buried in some shallow hole somewhere, surrounded by the bodies of DL's gang. Because you killed him! You killed you own son!" shouted the detective, standing up and leaning in her face. Nikki looked up at him, her eyes cold and remorseless.

"I would never kill Nikki's son."

From outside the interrogation room, a scream of pain was heard.

"Go to New York… are you sure that's all he said?" asked Peter, pulling clothes from the bag his brother had brought him. In it were his personal items and a few new sets of clothes to replace the blood covered ones he had worn down to Texas.

"He also said 'that is where it will happen'," said Claire, watching him from the chair. It was the day after he had woken up, and he was getting ready to go back to New York City, so Claire had told him about the Haitian, something she has withheld earlier.

"Where what will happen?" asked Peter, setting his clothes down in thought.

"'I don't know, he never said." Claire sighed and buried her head into her hands. Peter groaned and she looked back at him. He was holding up his brown trench coat, glaring at it. Why was obvious, it was covered in blood.

"How am I going to get this out?" he muttered. Claire shrugged.

"You won't. Trust me, I speak from experience."

"It was my favourite too," said Peter. Claire offered a smile in sympathy. Peter sighed and dropped it into the bag, then picked up the clothes he had chosen and walked over to the bathroom to get changed.

"So what am I going to do?" Claire asked him. He paused and looked at her, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"You're going to come to New York with me," he stated, before disappearing into the bathroom.

A/N: There we go. The next chapter will be up soon. Mainly because there is only a few hours before Godsend airs. Please Review