"They told me she just showed up on the doorstep one day, tears in her eyes and bags hanging off her shoulders. She asked if she could stay because she had nowhere else to go. I've heard people call it the beginning, but thinking back, I'm not so sure. To me it seemed more like the end."
---
"We should do something."
Peter turned his head, taking in the beautiful blonde as she plopped herself down on the couch beside him; her ponytail whipped around as she bounced slightly, coming to rest on her shoulder.
"Like what, Elle?" he asked.
"I dunno." Elle shrugged, the smile remained on her face however. "Let's just do something fun! I mean, come on, babe, you know I love that brooding look you get, it makes me melt. But you can't worry all the time. I miss your wonky smile."
"Wonky?" Peter raised his eyebrow, amused by Elle's playful banter.
"Oh, don't worry, it's hot. See! There it is; I knew you had it in you, Petey!"
Peter couldn't prevent the grin that swept across his face. This was a game they played sometimes, and Elle always won. "We could watch something. I'm pretty sure some of the older movies are still upstairs."
A series of swift knocks echoed from the front door, and Peter's head whipped around as he jumped to his feet. A blue ball of electricity reflexively appeared in his hand.
He heard Elle giggle as she followed him up and cup his face in her hand. "That must be the pizza I ordered." Elle suddenly frowned as she stared at him, her blue eyes, filled with laughter before suddenly becoming hard. It was as though she was seeing him for the first time. "You're not meant to be here. You can't be here!
"WAKE UP!"
Peter jerked awake, bright, artificial light stinging his eyes as he blinked and began twisting and straining. He was sitting upright in a freezing cold chair; both wrists were handcuffed to the chair's armrests. He reached for his powers, desperate to find something, anything that would help him escape.
"Trying to use your abilities, Peter?" He heard a woman say. He had heard that voice before, he just couldn't place it. His head was pounding. He couldn't think clearly, it was all a mess of worry and anger, both completely dominated by pain.
"What's happening?" he mumbled, squinting blearily into the light. "Where's Claire, where's Elle?"
"You don't remember?"
A face appeared behind the light; a fuzzy, unclear picture. Peter swallowed, he felt like he was going to be sick. "Remember what?"
"It's the gas. It knocks you right out, but waking up the next morning feels like you've just drunk your way through your liver. The feeling will pass soon. But it will be a while before you can use your abilities again. It's a small precaution. You're too dangerous."
"Where are they?" Peter repeated. Gas? That was something new. "What did you do with them?"
"Not yet." It was Audrey speaking, Peter recognised the voice now. "You mentioned Suresh, back at the loft. You said that you'd be safe with him for a little while. Tell me where he is, and I'll let Claire go."
Peter narrowed his eyes, focusing directly on the face. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the light. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He wasn't ready for the punch which nearly shattered his jaw. Peter clenched his teeth as his head snapped back. A dull ringing began to pulse in his ears.
"You're only making things worse for yourself, Peter." Audrey told him. "Tell me what I want to know."
"I don't know where Mohinder is." A second punch struck the other side of his jaw. Peter gasped and squeezed his hands into fists. He heard a soft chuckle from somewhere behind him.
Audrey audibly sighed and her voice filled the room. "You know what's going to happen to your niece? In the morning, she is going to be dragged from her cell and taken to a research cell. Our scientists are going to test her until they conclusively confirm her ability. And I think you know what that entails."
"If you even touch her, I swear—"
"She is going to be tested, experimented on, because of her ability. She can't die. She's Omicron's gold mine. Now you can put a stop to that before it even happens. All you need to do is tell me where your friends are hiding."
Peter looked up, the light suddenly seeming insignificant, "My friends?" he asked. "Mohinder isn't my friend."
"Then tell me where he is!"
"I'm telling you the truth. I don't know. He finds you."
"But you have a way to get in touch with him. He has to find you somewhere, somehow…." Audrey drifted into silence. Peter could only imagine the thoughts streaming through her head; connections being made, lines being drawn. "…He has Molly Walker, doesn't he?"
Peter straightened in the chair, and a hand suddenly pressed down on his shoulder.
"He does." Audrey continued thoughtfully, almost as though she were talking to herself. "It's the only way he's evaded capture. You know where he's hiding, just not a specific location. He watches you and if you're alone he comes." Her voice suddenly lost its thoughtful tones and became harsher, authoritative. "You go somewhere, to a location he watches through Molly Walker. Where is it?"
Peter glared at her. "If I tell you, you promise to let Claire go? Unharmed?"
"If I'm satisfied that you're telling me everything, she'll be set free."
Peter hesitated. Audrey was staring at him, and he didn't need his abilities to know what she was thinking, or feel the excitement that was definitely coursing through her body. "The subway lines under Manhattan. Last time I saw him, he found me there."
"You don't know if he's there now?" There was something else in Audrey's tone now. Suspicion, doubt; she didn't believe him.
"No, but—"
"That's not good enough, Peter." Audrey said. Peter heard her chair scrap against the ground as she stood and walked over to him. The hand on his shoulder pressed down harder, digging into his flesh. "Unless you can tell me beyond a shadow of a doubt where he is, Claire's staying right where she is, and so are you. Just tell me, Peter. I don't want to do this to Claire, but I will, unless you give me what I want. Mohinder Suresh, Matt Parkman, Daphne Millbrook, Hiro Nakamura. Just tell me where any of them are, I don't care who, and I'll make sure Claire is set free before sundown."
"Mohinder is hiding in the subways. I don't know where the others are. I haven't seen them in two years!"
"I'm sorry, Peter." Audrey said. "But I can't help you. Maybe you'll hear Claire's screams from your cell. If you suddenly just seem to think of something when you hear them, tell the guard to contact me."
"No, wait!" Peter shouted furiously. "I told you where Suresh was!"
"And for all I know, we'll be walking right into a trap as soon as we get there." Audrey paused as she reached the door leading out of the room. She turned her head and addressed the guard standing with his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Take him to his cell and give him another dose. I don't want him even thinking about his powers."
"If anything happens to her, I'll kill you!" Peter said threateningly. "If anything happens to either of them, I'll tear this place apart!"
"If your tongue doesn't start loosening, you'll never see your niece or your girlfriend again."
The door opened and a several guards came through, holding guns and batons. They seemed an unexpected twitch away from killing him then and there.
"Put him in with the other one." Audrey commanded the guards. She then glanced at Peter, staring at him with hard eyes. "I hope you're more cooperative tomorrow. The man in charge of Claire, Doyle, isn't known for his kindness. I don't want to read another report describing the things he did to her before she dies. But she can't die, can she? You can put a stop to everything, Peter, before it even begins."
Peter glared at her. "If she or Elle are even touched, I'll kill you! I'll kill that Doyle! I'll make you pay!"
A flash of guilt appeared on Audrey's face, it was gone so fast; Peter thought he may have imagined it. "Take him to his cell."
It was freezing. That was the first sensation that flooded through Peter's body as he wrapped his arms around his body and tried to prevent his teeth from chattering. They had made him change into a thin grey shirt and pants, and then stuck a needle in his neck, his body had lost all of its warmth after that injection. Peter was surprised his breath wasn't coming out in a plume of white.
A harsh-looking guard with a long, hideous scar across his face pulled open a door and gave Peter a furious stare as Peter's cuffs were unlocked and removed. Peter used the opportunity to look around the icy corridors. He could only see a few iron doors, each one both locked and bolted tight.
Peter stiffened slightly as one of the guards poked his rifle into the middle of Peter's back, motioning him forward through the door. Two of the guards followed him through. Peter could almost feel the barrel of one of the rifles training on his head.
He looked around the cell as he wrapped his arms tighter around himself. Two beds were pushed against either wall. They barely deserved to be called beds; they were just slabs of concrete. A single toilet was against the back wall, but Peter wasn't focused on the beds, or the toilet placed out in full view. He was staring at the man who had turned his head to watch as the cell door opened.
The man's eyes widened in recognition, and Peter could feel his own eyes widening in surprise. "You!" the man hissed; leaping up from the ball he was curled in on one of the beds and striding across the cell to face Peter. Behind him, Peter heard the guard's rifles click threateningly.
Peter forgot the cold and the guards behind him as he drew back his fist and struck the man as hard as he could in the jaw. "Sylar!" he shouted furiously. "You bastard!"
Sylar recoiled slightly as Peter's fist struck home, but that only lasted an instant as he sprang back and returned Peter's strike with a punch of his own, hitting Peter's already bruised mouth.
Peter gasped as pain rocketed through his jaw, and then launched himself at Sylar, tackling him to the ground and drawing back his arm to punch again.
All of a sudden Sylar's knee came up, battering Peter's hip and knocking him over. Peter felt a pair of hands grab his shoulders and launch him back, causing him to collide painfully with the concrete bed.
"Enough!" the guard with the scar bellowed furiously. "As much as I love to see two girls fighting, management doesn't want you two killing each other. So unless you can keep your hands to yourselves, I'll come in and work both of you over until you do. Understand!?"
Peter glanced at the guard and then back at Sylar. The other prisoner was rubbing his mouth and shooting venomous glances in Peter's direction.
The guard nodded once and jerked his head. The two guards who had broken up Peter and Sylar's scuffle straightened and walked out of the cell.
"Now you two, play nice. I'll be watching" The scar-faced guard said as he too turned and walked out of the cell. The door slammed shut behind him and the lights turned off, leaving Peter in the darkness. A gentle, almost peaceful hum began whirling, and was quickly followed by a steady stream of cold air.
Peter wrapped his arms around himself once more and sat down heavily on the concrete bed. The stone was freezing. Adrenaline was still pulsing through his body, but it was quickly being smothered by the cold.
"I was wondering when they would capture you." Sylar's voice echoed from the other side of the cell. "I knew it was only a matter of time."
"Shut up." Peter responded as he lay down and faced the wall.
"Now what happened to sweet Claire? Or pretty Elle, I wonder." Sylar continued as though Peter had never spoken. "If they were captured with you, they'll be even worse off than us. The guards hate us 'specials'. And that sick bastard Doyle loves his fun."
"I said 'shut up'!" Peter said, louder this time.
"You know what's going to happen to her, don't you? I'm sure one of the guards would have told you."
"SHUT UP!" Peter shouted furiously.
"Yell at me all you want. It's not going to change anything. She's going to suffer, and you're going to live with that knowledge for the rest of your life!" Sylar laughed.
Peter squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore Sylar's maniacal laughter. He would have covered his ears if his hands weren't busy retaining whatever warmth he had left in his body.
Sylar's laughter echoed around the cell for a long time.
