Two Days Earlier
"Are you sure you want me to leave you here, Alicia?" Hiro Nakamura asked, letting go of the woman he had just been holding.
"It shouldn't take more than two days to find him," Alicia said. She looked up at the mostly darkened apartment building standing high above them.
"You might not live through the next two days… What if I don't make it back in time?" Hiro's voice was filled with concern. Alicia looked at him, his dark eyes matched his tone. "We don't know this timeline… We don't know what dangers might await you." Very gently he put his hand on her face. Alicia moved back and it fell to his side.
"All the more reason for you to go back," Alicia said, acting as if he hadn't touched her. "Sylar, might kill someone else while we're gone. You need to go back and protect our timeline."
"But what if-"
"No, Hiro. I have to do this myself. I'll be fine."
"Very well," Hiro said, a seriousness shifting his stance.
"Good-bye, my friend," she smiled encouragingly at him. "Thanks for the lift."
He returned the smile, but there was sadness in his eyes. "Good-bye. Be careful. There is probably a Sylar in this timeline as well."
Suddenly, he was gone, nothing but the night air stood in front of her.
"That's what I'm hoping for…" she whispered looking up at the apartment building once again.
She blinked and suddenly she stood on a fire escape five stories up. The window to the apartment was open, light shining through pale gray blinds. Alicia reached her fingers through and lifted a peep hole in the blinds.
"Come on…where are you?" she said, under her breath. The room was empty, only black and gray furniture sat quietly around the room.
Alicia backed away, sliding down the wall and sitting awkwardly on her knees. She put her hand to the brick of the building and felt inside with her mind. No one was home. She would have to wait.
An hour past, and sleep started to take hold of her. Just as her eyes started to droop, she felt a presence in the room. She jerked awake almost hitting her head on the windowsill.
The power from the being was very great and very familiar.
"Got you," she said, peeking through the blinds again.
A man stood inside the living room. He held a stack of mail, throwing most of it on the floor in a pile. The man was in his twenties. He held his mouth in serious pout, his brows knit together over deep brown eyes.
Alicia slipped her fingers into her trench coat pocket, caressing the hilt of the gun that lay there. The bumpy plastic felt comforting, safe, giving her courage.
The man turned his back to her. Mentally she sighed, then she phased through the wall. In one stride, she made it to him, her hand on his back.
"What?" he said, before slumping to the floor.
"Now, let's see what you're made of, Peter Petrelli," she said, squatting down beside him. She grabbed hold of his chin and pulled his face towards her. His eyes were open, but unseeing. "Or should I say, let's see what you are made of, Sylar?"