Disclaimer: I don’t own Heroes in any way, shape, or form. This is the sequel to a one-shot, The Master Plan, which was really more of a teaser for this fic and I suggest reading that first. I only own Sam and a few other original characters that may or may not turn up. Don’t steal! Enjoy!

This takes place during Six Months Ago.

The Primrose Path

“We all imagine ourselves the agents of our destiny, capable of determining our own fate. But have we truly any choice in when we rise or when we fall? Or does a force larger than ourselves bid us our direction? Is it evolution that takes us by the hand? Does science point our way? Or is it God who intervenes, keeping us safe?” – Mohinder Suresh, Don’t Look Back

Chapter 1: Bellevue Hospital

APRIL 23, 2006

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

Groaning, the blonde rolled onto her side and squeezed her closed eyes even tighter together. The beeping continued, annoyingly so. This was the third time her pager had gone off in ten minutes. She’d hoped the nurses would let her off the hook and page someone else. Silence. She sighed in relief, utterly relaxed, and prepared to go back to dreaming. The beeping came back. Apparently, her hopes of someone else getting paged were unfounded. Hands quickly rubbed her face as she sat up, groaning at the feel of her aching body and quickly laid back down again. She was only twenty-nine, why did she feel so old?

The beeping persisted.

“Not. Happening,” she groaned into her hands.

“Dr. Hughes?” a female voice sounded through the closed door. Sam blinked and looked around her, confused until she remembered where she was: an empty room, lights out, napping for an hour, maybe two or three, after a near twenty-four hour shift with only two or three thirty minute breaks for food. “Dr. Hughes, are you in there?” the voice called again, more insistent and knocking loudly.

“Yes, Jen, what seems to be the problem?” Sam called out, still trying to wake up. The door opened and the lights suddenly flickered on, sending a new set of painful groans from Sam. “Easy, geez! I just woke up!”

“Yeah, after five pages. Rise and shine, we got a GSW coming in,” Jen told her. Nodding, Sam took a deep breath and hopped of the bed.

“ETA?” she asked as she pulled her white lab coat back on.

“About two minutes. Are you awake enough to handle it?” she asked mockingly, trying not to laugh. Sam glared at the black nurse and friend, moving past her with her stethoscope in hand and out the door.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she insisted. “I just need about six shots of espresso and a vacation,” she mumbled. “I’ll be in the lounge, fueling up!” she called to Jen, walking towards the front desk.

“Slow night, eh, Sam?” the desk clerk, Danny, asked, commenting on the lack of serious patients. Danny, a big hulk of a man, looked as though he could be a sumo wrestler. If only he weighed a bit more and was Asian instead of Caucasian than he probably could. He smiled at Sam and she couldn’t help but smile back, even if it was strained and tired.

“Got that right. Where is everyone, Danny?” she asked, leaning against the desk.

“Uh, waiting in the ambulance bay or on break, I think. Or surgery upstairs.”

“Thanks, Danny.” She gave him a tired smile and walked towards the lounge. Would this day ever end?

“SURPRISE!”

Sam laughed, hands clutching her chest. The entire ER staff was inside the lounge and her Attending, Dr. Adrian Malcolm, was holding out a tiny circular chocolate iced cake with a few candles. She laughed even harder when she saw the pathetic decorations and noisemakers her colleagues had, and were using without reservation. Behind her, Danny and Jen appeared and pushed her further inside. Embarrassed beyond belief, Sam let them do so until she stood before the chocolate cake, which read, ‘Happy Birthday Sammy!’ in green icing.

“Happy birthday,” Adrian told her, grinning wickedly.

“I was so hoping you’d forgotten,” she replied, shaking her head at him.

“Forget one of our own’s birthday? Yeah, right!” a Spanish nurse, Consuela, gasped at her right and nudged the birthday girl. “¡Mujer loca! ¿Para qué clase de tontos usted nos toma? Blow them out! Make a wish!” Rolling her eyes, Sam obliged and her colleagues cheered.

“Thanks, you guys. This is really sweet and…completely ridiculous,” she stated, making the staff laugh. “You guys really didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” Adrian echoed incredulously. “You’re twenty-nine now, almost thirty. That just means your closer to being as old as dirt, just like the rest of us.”

“Well, some of us, maybe,” Consuela pointed out, knocking her hip with Sam’s. “Some of us are still young enough to know what goes where, Dr. Malcolm. Viejo hombre,” she teased, laughing.

“I have no idea what you said, Consuela, but thanks to all of you,” she replied sarcastically, hitting both Malcolm and Consuela’s shoulders. Adrian just chuckled and set the cake down on the table, allowing the staff to dig in. As soon as the first piece was cut, Adrian passed it to Sam and grabbed his own. “This is fantastic, thank you.”

“Not a problem,” he replied as they moved to stand by the windows. It was still dark out, just before dawn, and Sam’s shift was almost over. “So, in true ER tradition, as the birthday girl, you get to pick what you want for dinner. What’s it gonna be, Sunshine?”

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble, would you mind Italian?” Adrian cringed but nodded.

“I hate the stuff personally, but if that’s what you want, I will bring you whatever you want when you come back tonight.”

“Thank you. Just don’t try to cook anything yourself for me, okay?” she requested, smiling as she swallowed more caked.

“Why not?” he asked curiously. “I would make it extra special,” he teased.

“Adrian, everything you cook is already special,” she retorted dryly, rolling her eyes.

“Very funny. Are you saying I’m a bad cook?” Sam looked up at her mentor, thinking about what to say. She ultimately decided that it was better not to lie.

“I’m not even gonna beat around the bush. Yes, you're a horrible cook.” Adrian nudged her with his shoulder, making her laugh. Shaking his head, he repressed his own laugh.

“Ambulance is here!” Consuela called, poking her head into the lounge.

“I thought that was just a joke to get me awake and in here so you all could scare me into a MI,” she snarked. Sam immediately set down her cake and moved to go, but Adrian grabbed her arm.

“I got this,” he told her reassuringly, setting his own cake aside. “You go home and get some sleep,” he ordered kindly.

“Not a chance. I still have twenty minutes before I’m free. I’ll just go do some sutures,” she protested easily as they walked out of the lounge.

“No, we’ll be fine. Go home, Sammy,” he assured her as the gurney and patient sped past him. She looked at the severely bleeding patient before looking back at Adrian skeptically. “Fine. Stay, if it’ll put your mind at ease,” he insisted with a roll of his eyes, chasing after his patient. “I’ll see you tonight. Happy birthday!” he called.

After casting a little boy’s leg, a woman’s wrist, giving another woman crutches, Sam's twenty minutes were way past over and she was ready to leave. She went to her locker, grabbed her backpack and exchanged her lab coat for her regular jean jacket. As she turned back for the door, she saw that all of her birthday cake was gone. With a shake of her head and a bemused smile, Sam hauled her pack further on her shoulder and walked out of the hospital. She didn’t get very far though, halfway through the ambulance bay, when a much older man stopped her.

“Excuse me, but are you a doctor?” he asked, voice dripping with a Middle Eastern accent.

“Yes, I am. Is something wrong?” she asked kindly. Inside, she was screaming for him to go away so she could sleep for a million years.

“Yes. You see, I was changing a tire on my cab and cut my hand,” he explained, holding up his bloody hand covered with a handkerchief, “but I see you’re leaving. I won’t trouble you,” he said politely and moved around her. Sam closed her eyes and groaned quietly. Her conscience would never let her live it down if she didn’t help this man.

“Wait, sir!” Sam called, turning around and chasing after him. She was lucky and caught him by his arm. “It’s no trouble. I’ll take a look.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“What’s your name?”

“Chandra Suresh.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Suresh. I’m Dr. Hughes. Let’s get inside and get a chart started for you.”

Five minutes later, the old cabbie was seated on a bed with Sam on a stool before him. His cut palm rested on a tray beside her tools. She was suturing his palm, eyes fully focused and concentrated on the gash. She never noticed Chandra watching her closely, curious about her. She seemed to have a kind soul to him; after all, not many people would pass up the chance to go home in order to help someone they didn’t know or if it didn’t benefit them.

“There! Good as new, sir,” she said, smiling as she removed the latex gloves and started to clean up the station.

“Thank you very much, doctor. I don’t know how to thank you.” Chandra rose to his feet and straightened himself out. Sam just smiled at him, reminding him that she was simply doing her job, as she signed off on his chart.

“Now, you’ll have to come back in about two weeks to get the stitches removed,” she advised and wrote on her prescription pad his appointment. “Come back here then, and I or someone else will be happy to do so. Just don’t try to take them out yourself, or you’ll make it worse. And make sure to keep it wrapped up and change the bandage everyday, otherwise you could get an infection. Okay, Mr. Suresh?” Chandra thanked her and moved to leave, but turned back to Sam.

“How will I be able to reach you, if I need you again? If you're not here, that is.” he asked curiously.

Sam told him that, like all the hospitals in the state, Bellevue had a website that he could find her email and Adrian's office number, since she didn't have one, who could get him in touch with her. She also told him that it would be best if he emailed her, since she hardly ever had time to speak on the phone unless it was another hospital department. Chandra thanked her once more and left, Sam leaving not long after that. The moment she stepped inside her apartment, way out in upper Manhattan, Sam was attacked by a large black and brown German shepherd, Cooper.

“Are you hungry, Coop? Huh? You hungry?” she asked, smiling as she rubbed his ears. Cooper groaned happily and sat down before her, his tail wagging excitedly. Sam just laughed and shook her head, moving into her kitchen with Cooper at her heels.

P.S.: Five pages total.

A/N: Yes, gentle readers, I am back! I've decided that my old format for this fic -- going from Volume 2 to flashbacks of Volume 1 -- was far too confusing, especially for me because I'm the writer and I got confused after going back to the fic after not touching it for about a month or two. So, it's changed. Almost all of Volume 1 is written, as is Volume 2 and, as for Volume 3, I've got lots of ideas brewing and I'm editting them as we see new episodes. I hope you all like what I have coming because, originally, this whole thing was supposed to remain as a Mohinder/OFC and Sam stayed a hero. Now? Well, like Future!Peter said, the lines have blurred. Lots of changes, people! I hope you like them because I'm excited for responses!