Disclaimer: You know what; it's too much effort to think of a clever way to say, "I don't own Heroes."

Summary: Future AU. While reeling from tragedy, the last members of the Petrelli family are captured after two years on the run. Now they struggle to save the people they love and the world that never should have changed.

"'People fear what they don't understand.' It's one of those sayings that only touch on the problem. People don't just fear what they don't understand; they reject it and try to find a solution so they can understand. But when they do, that's when the fear becomes something more… They see as us a lesser race because we're different. And that's just something they can't accept."

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The soft sound of rain tapping against the concrete streets filled the air, dulling the sound of distant traffic and all but masking the sound of footsteps they crossed the street. The rain was only light now; it would not be long until the drizzle became a heavy deluge that was sure to empty the streets of the last people who believed they could brave the overhanging storm for just a little while longer. Nowadays it didn't take much for people to seek the safety of their homes.

Peter Petrelli stepped onto the sidewalk and scowled up at the sky. The rain had plastered his hair down onto his head and occasionally a drop of water would manage to seep past the collar of his coat and trickle icily down his back. The fierce look in his brown eyes was normally enough to deter most people, even when his gaze wasn't directed at them. His gaze lingered for a moment before he turned away and continued his way down the streets.

Above his head, the murky clouds growled a warning and lightning flashed across the sky. The flash lasted only a heartbeat, but it was enough to send fresh guilt streaming unchecked through his body. He forced the guilt away; replacing it with another emotion he was far too familiar with, anger.

As he quickly closed the distance with the corner, the elegant buildings began to give way and reveal the glass and steel monstrosity surrounded by a field of green. The Omicron Pharmaceuticals headquarters was the greatest architectural accomplishment in modern memory. Its entire grounds were an ordered array of trees and flowers and fountains. It was a haven surrounded by buildings that paled in comparison.

Peter glared at the building and the few offices that were lit. Even at this time of night Omicron never seemed to stop.

He turned away from Omicron Pharmaceuticals and continued to walk. He had no destination. She had told him to walk, that he wasn't any use for now. She had told him to calm down. But how could he calm down when all he could think about was her.

Omicron wasn't the only building with lights on, nor did they shine the brightest. Peter looked at the shopping centre near the end the road, almost parallel to the Omicron building. The mall was often open late at night. It gave people a way to escape the constant worry of today's world.

Peter started towards the mall, content to just wonder around. People didn't know what he looked like, who he was. He was careful to keep out of the spotlight, especially when he had people who were relying on him. Not that it mattered, I couldn't protect her.

One set of double doors slide open as Peter approached and stepped through. A rush of laughter and happy voices assaulted his ears as he made his way across the black and white tiled ground. He gazed at shop windows expressionlessly, his eyes seeing, but not registering the displays.

A group of bag-laden shoppers swarmed past him. Some sparing a glance at his grubby face, while the others ignoring him completely. Pity was seen in the eyes of some, while disparagement was in the eyes of others.

He paused outside an electronics store window, his eyes suddenly catching a picture of firefighters attempting to quell a fire gripping a mansion. They were making headway, but it was too little, too late, even with the help of the overhanging storm.

"The sudden blaze sparked into life this evening when Federal Agents raided this Manhattan home, under the pretense that several 'special' people were residing there. The raid resulted in the wounding, and possible death of one special, while two others escaped when the sudden fire began to spread. The FBI and Omicron Agents who coordinated the raid are confident that the specials at large will be brought to justice soon, and urge the public to report any and all sightings."

Peter glared at the television screen furiously. His fists clenched so tightly he could feel his fingernails digging sharply into his palms.

"Spooky, isn't it?"

Peter looked to his side sharply, and his eyes fell on a brunette woman, wrapped warmly in winter clothes and a coat. She glanced at him and smiled kindly. She was young; Peter thought early twenties at least.

"What's spooky?" Peter asked, looking back at the television screen and frowning slightly.

"All of that." The woman gestured at the television screen with a gloved hand "You know, with it being Halloween today and everything."

"It's Halloween?"

"Yeah." The woman smiled wider and a small giggle escaped from her mouth. Peter glanced back at her and watched as her expression of amusement suddenly disappeared and was replaced by one of shock and fear. "Oh, my…." she mumbled, staring back at Peter with a terrified glint in her eyes.

Peter looked back at the television screen and directly into the eyes of his picture, one from years ago. "Peter Petrelli, the sole survivor of the Petrelli family, along with an unknown female escaped the scene, and…."

He turned away from the television screen and the girl, closing his eyes and picturing a building inside his head. It came so easily know; he found it hard to believe that once he had trouble doing this. He heard a frightened gasp behind him, and then all there was, was silence.

Peter opened his eyes. He was standing at the top of a darkened staircase, exposed to the cold air and rain. The Reed Street Loft had been abandoned for over two years now, back when everything had gone from bad, to worse.

He crossed the concrete walkway and turned towards the door. All of the windows were closed and the curtains drawn, from the outside, it appeared as if it were still deserted.

Peter hesitated, his hand hovering over the door handle for a moment. Shallow light was flickering inside the loft; he could see it through the crack in the door. But there weren't any voices, why weren't there any voices? He felt a pain stab in his heart as he grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open.

His eyes fell on a woman sitting beside a bed near the end of the room. Candlelight flickered and reflected off of her golden blonde hair, casting a warm glow around the room. To Peter though, the atmosphere had never seemed more depressing.

"Claire?" He asked weakly as he stepped forward into the flickering light.

The blonde woman turned around in her chair, looking over her shoulder to stare at Peter with tear-filled eyes. "I am so sorry, Peter. I tried, I really did. My blood isn't healing her."

Peter stared at her blankly. It didn't work? How could it not work? Her blood could heal anything. Anything. He walked towards her; each step seemed to echo inside his head. Claire stood up from her chair and launched her self into his arms. He could hear her sobs and muffled apologies as she buried her face into his coat, heedless of its dampness.

Peter cupped the back of her head and held her close. His eyes wandered from Claire to the bed positioned haphazardly beside Claire's chair, or more specifically the woman tucked under the covers. When he had left, her face had been smeared with dried blood and cuts. The scrapes were gone, and so was the blood, but she was still asleep, still sick.

Peter released Claire and kneeled beside the bed, completely ignoring the chair. He reached out his hand and smoothed the woman's golden hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her pale cheek.

"My blood healed her scrapes, but…." Claire fell silent. There was no need for words. Peter knew.

Peter felt tears prick his eyes as he reached down and held the woman's hands in his. He had never felt useless before, he had always been able to do something, anything to help people. He had saved New York from destruction; he had prevented the world from being ravaged by the Shanti Virus. But this time he couldn't do a thing. She was wasting away and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"I'm sorry." He muttered as he brought her hand to his lips. "I am so, so sorry, Elle."

She wouldn't want this. She wouldn't want him lingering by her side. She wouldn't want him mourning her. He could even imagine her voice, her tone, taunting him in that childish way she had never been able to completely shake.

"Maybe we could… there's got to be someone who knows…." Claire said shakily. Her voice sounded dull in Peter's ears, her words barely registering in his head. He was numb, cold.

He felt Claire's hand on his shoulder. A small comfort, knowing he wasn't alone.

"We have to go, Peter." Claire said tenderly. "We can't stay here any longer. They'll find us."

"I know." Peter replied as he stood straight and released Elle's hand. He looked at Claire, with her puffy cheeks and eyes red-rimmed from crying. "We'll go to Suresh. We'll be safe there, for a little while."

"No, you won't be."

Peter whirled around to face the entrance to the room. A woman was standing inside the doorway, holding a gun pointed straight at his head. Peter felt all the grief immediately leave his body as his fists clenched in raw fury.

"We've been looking for the two of you for a long time. We would have caught you before if it weren't for her." The woman's head jerked upwards sharply as she gestured at Elle's unconscious body.

"You did this to her!" Peter said threateningly. The candlelight flickered, and a single flame flickered out of existence. "You came to my house, Audrey. You attacked us! Do you really think I'm going to let this go?"

A smirk lifted the corners of Audrey's mouth. "You don't have a choice."

As soon as the words left her mouth, a cylinder-like canister flew over her head and hit the ground in a stream of dark smoke. Peter jerked backwards, coughing and choking into his wet sleeve as the smoke inevitably entered his nose and mouth. His eyes stung painfully and fresh tears began to stream down his cheeks as the smoke itched and ached. He heard a sharp scream, but he couldn't see who it came from.

He collapsed to the ground as something suddenly struck the backs of his knees, sweeping his feet from the ground. Shadowed people were swarming around the loft, heedless of the gas. Peter twisted slightly and pointed his open palm at the closest shadow. Nothing happened. His mind was clouded, he could barely think straight.

"Don't hurt them!" He heard Audrey call out. "We need them alive!"

Peter looked around wildly, searching for Claire, or Elle. he didn't know who. He just needed to know they were okay. "I'm sorry." He mumbled one more time as something hard struck his head. Pain roared in his head and he could hear the blood beating in his ears. He groaned once and fell, his eyes closing. He was tired, all he wanted to do was sleep.

His world went black.