Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. I'm just playing with it for fun.

One

Eventually all bars looked about the same. Same basic layout, same air, same feeling. Whether it was a pub in England or a bar in Las Vegas, it all came down to the drink in your hand. Locale didn't make a damn bit of difference. The feel of the glass in his hand, the taste of alcohol as it ran across his tongue... those things didn't change.

In a world gone to hell, it was good to know he had little things like that he could depend on.

Five years had gone by now. He recalled the day he first walked into this bar. Back then, he couldn't handle anything stronger than a beer. These days it took something much stronger to have any affect. Drinking in bars quickly became a routine for him. The bartenders were wary of him at first but over time grew used to his presence. One had even chosen to take advantage of the man's intimidating air. That is how he ended up here, leaning against the bar with a drink in his hand.

His eyes scanned this evening's crowd. Rather small, but it usually was on a week day at two in the morning. Only one other person besides himself and the barkeep seemed to be aware, and it was a gentleman sitting alone at a table. Their eyes met across the room and the gentleman gave him a polite nod before knocking down his drink. The table was littered with several other empty glasses.

Intrigued, he pulled away from the bar and approached the stranger. He usually didn't talk to people but it wasn't every day he saw someone who could hold their liquor like that.

"Looks like you've had a lot to drink," he observed.

"So have you," the stranger replied in an English accent. "I was watching." This little confession didn't bother him very much. He was used to people staring at him. He had a fucking scar over his face. Who would blame them for staring? "Are you supposed to be the bouncer... Bruce?"

"What?" The Englishman wordlessly pointed to the nametag that the other forgot he was still wearing. Feeling stupid, he pulled it off. "No, I'm not a bouncer. I'm a bartender."

"Ah... I thought bartenders weren't allowed to drink on the job."

"I'm on break," he said shortly. The Englishman just smiled, propping his legs up on an empty chair. He looked fairly young, possibly in his early thirties, with blonde hair and eyes that held the weight of more years than the rest of him. The man was dressed casually, jeans and a leather jacket over a plain T-shirt. Perhaps it was the accent or the casual way he had knocked down all those drinks, but there was something in this stranger that was very attractive. Especially the eyes. Those eyes took hold of him and held his attention long after he should have looked away.

"Not that you asked," the Englishman drawled, "but my name is Alex."

"Oh, right. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand to shake the other man's. His social interaction skills were basically extinct, but this didn't seem to bother his new acquaintance. Which was a refreshing change.

"A pleasure to meet you as well," Alex replied as he took the offered hand. "I hope that we'll cross paths again."

"Yeah," he agreed as his muscles remembered how to smile. "So do I."