Title: Passengers

Rating: Call it a hard "T."

Spoilers: Pretty much everything, I guess,

Standard disclaimers: All "Heroes" characters and properties are owned by NBC and related entities. Respect to Kring, Beeman, etc.

Matt Parkman

Petrelli Mansion

Matt had been more than a little surprised when Angela Petrelli sent for him. Given their recent history, he expected she'd never want to see him again. Still, he felt he owed it to her to honor her request and here he was, trying not to feel like he was walking into the lion's den.

He crossed into the drawing room of the Petrelli Mansion slowly, his head bowed respectfully. "Mrs. Petrelli. you have my deepest condolences..."

Angela raised a rueful eye to him. "I'm not here asking for you pity, Parkman, and this isn't about Nathan or anything you've done to me," she snapped. "This is about your adopted daughter."

Matt took a step back. "Molly?"

Angela nodded. "I'd like to invite her to live here, with me. Suresh as well."

Matt was flummoxed. "Where is this coming from? Have you even met Molly?"

Angela characteristically chose not to answer the question. "I know she was central to Linderman's plans, and that you yourself have... used her to find your father... it only makes sense that she would figure in what lies ahead. Since you've proven yourself incapable of protecting her..."

"Now, just a second," Matt broke in.

"You allowed your father toviolate her mind," Angela continued, "you brought her into an apartment that had already been attacked by a serial murder... and I'm willing to bet she's sleeping in that same apartment right now."

Once again, Matt found himself unable to meet her eyes.

"The battle that's coming... that could have been avoided if all of you had listened to me in the first place," she couldn't help but point out, "could go catastrophically wrong if young Molly... or your Doctor Suresh... fall into the wrong hands." She took a moment to eye him with contempt. "You I couldn't care less about."

Matt nodded, he definitely had that coming. "And you think they'll be safe here?"

"My husband and I knew more about what the future held than anyone else in the world," she voiced unshakably. "And while your generation has toppled some of our best laid plans for you, this is still the safest building on the East Coast."

Matt was still unsure, had no reason to trust Angela Petrelli. "I don't know..."

Angela rose up and eyed him. "Mr. Parkman, the last time you refused to listen to me, I lost a child. I would never wish that on anyone... not even you."

Matt paused for a moment to think. "Would I get to stay with her?"

Peter, Elle

New York City

"I don't think I can do this," Elle mumbled.

In the past few days, she had lost so much of her projected confidence and her child-like exuberance, but Peter felt that was ultimately a good sign. He'd dealt with addiction before, seen it in Isaac and numerous others, and he knew that learning to survive the pain of withdrawal was at the heart of recovery.

"Yes, you can," Peter assured her, grasping her hand. "Just take all the energy you want to fire off at the world and send it through me."

"No," she shook her head rapidly.

"I can survive it, Elle," he insisted. "I can heal."

"It's not the same, Peter," she mumbled.

Peter took her face in his hands. His feelings for Elle were complicated at best, but in the end, his desire to help others and his belief that she genuinely wanted to reform had won out. "Think about how good it felt to help people, Elle. How proud everyone was of you for doing the right thing."

Elle lifted her eyes and gave him a slight, sad smilet.

"Now, give me a jolt," he whispered.

"Okay," she nodded.

Elle dug her nails deep into Peter's palm and began to pour wave upon wave raw electricity through him, treasuring the feel of her power coursing through every square inch of his body. Time seemed to stand still as each of her perfect blue bolts of lightning explored all that was Peter Petrelli, licking their way across his veins and arteries, tracing him down to his very DNA. When she finally disengaged herself, she found that she had never felt more satisfied with her powers.

Until she realized he'd stopped breathing.

"Oh my god," she gasped. She knew she'd take it too far, had warned Peter this would happen and now no one would be able to help her get ahold of herself.

Then Peter let out a cough and, slowly but surely, the damage she had inflicted him with began to fade away.

Peter gave her a lopsided grin, not letting her see the lingering agony he still felt. "See? It's nothing I can't take."

Instantly, Elle threw her arms around him in what was probably the most sincere embrace of her adult life. It was such a strange sensation, Elle thought, the joy of knowing she hadn't taken a life. Maybe Peter and Mohinder were right, maybe she could be cured.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything..."

Peter turned at the sound of his niece's voice.

Even given all that they had been through together, the Peter had never seen Claire look so lost and hurt as she did at that moment, standing in the doorway watching her uncle, the man that had saved her life, and the girl that had gotten her father killed and nearly destroyed her whole family.

"I guess you can probably explain this," she creaked, her voice falling completely to the floor and shattering there.

Sylar, West

Costa Verde, California

"I just wanted to thank you," Sylar said sincerely. "I've dreamed of flying all my life... I was afraid it would never happen after what happened to Congressman Petrelli."

Sylar took a moment to regard West, who, being dead, was understandably silent.

"Are you two related?" Sylar asked casually. "It seems too much of a coincidence that you'd both share the same power."

Sylar paused as though he actually expected West to answer.

"I suppose it doesn't matter," Sylar conceded, "I got what I need... and I don't want you to think I don't appreciate your sacrifice."

Sylar leaned down to give one final glance at West. For a moment, he held his latest victim with something approaching real warmth...

...But Sylar was never one to get caught in the moment. No, the great thing about time was that it kept moving on. That's why a stopped watch was such a powerful annoyance.

And Sylar had lost too much time already.