45 Rescue

Peter Petrelli, the central character of the entire show, possessed arguably the most powerful ability—Empathic Mimicry.

In essence, his power allowed him to perfectly replicate the abilities of other superhumans just by being around them or experiencing their emotions.

Since Claire mentioned meeting him earlier and directed him here, it explained how he managed to heal. Unbeknownst to him, he unconsciously absorbed her power, rendering him virtually immortal.

It was hard not to see his ability as anything but a cheat, a significant unfair advantage. But he was destined to be the world's main hero, so it made sense. His colossal hero complex was a perfect fit for the role he had to play.

I couldn't help but sigh when I thought of his powers. Not that I was envious or anything, but having his power would have made everything a whole lot simpler...

"We're fine," I coughed, forcing a smile as Peter crouched down to our level. "If anything, we should be asking you that question, because Sylar got you pretty hard."

Peter responded with a wistful smile, absently scratching the holes in his shirt and jacket. "...I'm fine, somehow, I guess. I thought I died, but I guess it isn't my time yet," he said solemnly.

"...Uhm, sorry for sending you here. It's my fault you nearly died," Claire apologized, her expression downcast.

Peter shook his head and offered Claire a gentle smile. "No, it's not. It was my choice to come here, so don't blame yourself. You did the right thing," he reassured her.

Claire's face brightened, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I don't think I caught your name. I'm Claire, and this is—"

"Xander... I know. He's the one I came for," Peter interrupted, giving me a strange look as Claire began her introduction.

I raised an eyebrow at Peter's comment, which soon made sense. Instead of searching for Claire, he was seeking me out. But why? First, Sylar, and now Peter—what did they know about me that had apparently elevated me to the top of their priority list?

Had the plot changed this much?

"...Anyways, call me Peter. It's a pleasure to meet you bot—" Peter trailed off, suddenly freezing.

"Peter?" Claire called out uncertainly, but Peter grabbed his head and let out a scream of agony.

"Ah!"

He bent over, falling to his knees, his screams echoing throughout the hallway, growing in intensity.

"Mr. Petrelli!" Claire yelled, wide-eyed and anxious, attempting to stand up and help, but I grabbed her arm.

"No, don't. It's dangerous," I warned her, a deep frown on my face, watching as Peter's body twitched and blurred, as though he was fading from existence.

I recognized this. It was the same thing I went through when my powers first manifested. Peter was experiencing the same thing.

It could only mean one thing—Peter had copied my powers.

"We have to help him! I think he's dying!" Claire cried, her face filled with concern as blood began to trickle from Peter's nostrils, his screams ringing in our ears.

"I don't think there's anything we can do for him, Claire," I said, clicking my tongue, my eyebrows furrowed, my mind flashing back to my own experience.

Mine was bad, but this...this was much worse. By now, the pain should've subsided, but it seemed to be increasing.

I was certain the only reason Peter hadn't fainted or gone into shock was Claire's power, healing him. Yet, in this case, instead of helping, it seemed to be exacerbating his torment. The only solution I could think of was to render him unconscious.

"Claire, take the gun and kno—" Just as I was about to instruct Claire to use the gun to knock Peter out, the blaring sounds of police and ambulance sirens reverberated through the hallway.

... Help had finally arrived.

"Claire, help is here. Go get them over here," I calmly told Claire, and she frantically nodded. Peter had just collapsed to the ground, assuming a fetal position, his screams reaching their peak.

Propping my weak body up with my palms on the ground, Claire hurriedly stood up, "I'll get them over here as soon as I can. Don't take your eyes off him." She said and then dashed towards my right.

Leveraging my palms against the ground, Claire hurriedly stood up, " I'll get them over here as soon as I can. Don't take your eyes off him." She said and then dashed towards the exit of the hallway on my right.

My eyes narrowed as I closely observed Peter's flickering state. Suddenly, it dawned on me why this was happening to him. My power was overloading him.

My ability was a lot for the mind to handle, especially the power aspect. Since Peter had already copied several abilities before mine, his mind didn't have enough capacity to take on and control mine.

He had encountered a similar issue earlier in the show, towards the end of the first season, when he had absorbed so many powers that his mind and body couldn't handle them anymore.

He had literally lost control, leading to the New York explosion that decimated a significant portion of the city in an alternate future.

Thankfully, he didn't possess any explosive abilities right now. Otherwise, Claire, I, and possibly the entire school would have been in a perilous situation.

At this point, he'd either wear out his healing ability and fall unconscious, or Claire would bring medical help in time to sedate him.

The footsteps grew louder, approaching from outside the double doors at the end of the hallway to my right.

My expression hardened as my eyes landed on the gun and bloodied knife a few feet away from me. Those objects were damning evidence that could be used against Claire and I.

I couldn't afford the police asking too many questions about what happened here. Especially, when Sylar is probably dead.

Today was already chaotic, and I had no interest in making it messier. They had to disappear.

With clenched teeth, I dragged myself toward the gun and the knife, taking them in hand. My eyes remained fixed on the door as the footsteps drew nearer.

Summoning my power, despite the pounding headache, I elevated the two objects a few inches off the gray floor.

I observed as they started to glitch out of existence the moment I left them, for a few seconds, then disabled my power.

Falling on the ground, thoroughly exhausted, I allowed myself to roll onto my back, breathing heavily.

"Over here!" a female paramedic called out, pointing at me as two male paramedics, accompanied by police officers, helped her wheel a stretcher through the door.

I closed my eyes, relieved, after spotting an anxious Claire leading more paramedics into the hallway.

... Finally, it was time to rest. God knows I needed it.

•••

My eyes fluttered open, revealing a white-painted ceiling. I let out a comfortable yawn.

Shifting my gaze to the left, I spotted the monitor standing beside me. I glanced to the right, finding my father seated in a nearby chair, arms folded across his chest, sound asleep.

Pushing myself up slightly, I grunted at the ache coursing through my body and glanced looked down to see my chest and legs bandaged neatly, an IV drip attached to my left arm, stirring my dad from his sleep.

"Xander...you're awake." My dad said softly as his eyes opened, rubbing it with white sleeve as he yawned.

I only smiled at him as a response and darted my eyes to take in my surroundings.

It was small, painted white, with a wall-mounted TV in front of me and a small desk to the right of my bed, adorned with toiletries.

The open glass windows on my right offered a view of the morning sky, while the slightly open blinds on my left allowed me to watch nurses, doctors, and patients moving about.

Ah, yes, I was in a hospital.