Buried Alive

By TheLostMaximoff

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. It's been awhile so I hope everyone remembers to R/R.

I can remember when I was a little girl there was this board game called "Life". It was a neat, little game where you got to pick your career and eventually get married. You got to have kids and grow old and everything about your life fit into neat, little squares on the board or on neat, little cards. I always liked that game. It's too bad that real life never turns out as neat and pretty as Life.

They didn't give Daddy a funeral. They didn't even give him a pretty, wooden casket or a nice, shiny headstone. I'm not really mad at them for that. I don't want to listen to Angela Petrelli and Noah Bennet and whoever else they decide to dig up talk about what a good Company man my father was and how he always took one for the team. Daddy was your damn Company, you morons. He sacrificed everything and all he gets in return is a shiny, golden urn to sit in forever. All he gets for a funeral is his daughter hugging his remains to her chest and crying her eyes out.

The plane ride to Toledo was longer than I remember. I haven't been back here in so long but it all feels familiar. Mrs. Petrelli at least let me use a private plane so I didn't have to lug Daddy through the airport security and tell them over and over again that I'm taking him home to be with his wife. Plus, the luxury of being the only person on a plane besides the pilot is that it gives you plenty of time to think. It gives you plenty of time to run your fingers over the scar on your forehead left there by the monster that murdered your father and almost did the same to you.

I can still see the cold, dead eyes of Sylar as he meticulously and maliciously tried to slice my head open. I can remember the overwhelming fear that gripped me and the pain that set my body on fire. People think I'm a monster, some inhuman freak that lives for torture. I'm nowhere near the monster he is. In fact, I'm not anything anymore because without Daddy or the Company I have no life. People tell me I'm lucky to survive because few people walk away from an encounter with the great, all-powerful Sylar but they're wrong. Sylar killed me back in that facility and this girl walking into the cemetery right now is nothing but an empty, hollow shell, nothing but a burned out light bulb that can't function anymore.

"I hope you'll be happy here," I tell Daddy as I pass row after row of headstones, my feet remembering the way I walked as a child, "I just want you to be happy." I remember when my mother died and we buried her in this place. I remember the look on Daddy's face and I understand it now. The difference between Life and life is that in the board game nothing bad happens. Oh sure, you might lose your job but there's a shiny stack of brand new, ready-made ones to pick from. Sure you might get a divorce but it'll be a happy, amicable one. Your spouse won't actually die and your father definitely won't get murdered.

"I know you two have a lot to talk about," I explain as I kneel in front of Mom's headstone and rest Daddy next to it. It's a pretty urn and I'm sure it cost a lot of money. It suits Daddy very well though but it reminds me of the fact that he's gone and that without him my purpose is gone too. I'm tired, so tired that I just can't do anything anymore. I turn over on my back and stare at the stars. It's so peaceful here, so quiet. Mom and Dad are here with me and I feel complete for a moment. It's like the family camping trip we never took.

"I miss you," I whisper as I roll my eyes back to look at them. Half of me hopes that I'll get the chance at Sylar so I can take revenge for what he did. The other half hopes that he'll catch me off my guard and finish the job he started. My fingers graze the wound on my head as I feel my eyes droop. I'm just so tired of living. The stars I see merge into a kaleidoscope and I remember how pretty the sparks were as I danced on the edge of unconsciousness. I remember someone saying something. It was Peter Petrelli's voice but it . . . wasn't. He said he was Peter but he was someone else. That doesn't really make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing matters anymore except . . .

"What's that, Daddy?" I ask as I roll over and stare at him, "You want me to find Peter Petrelli again?" I listen for his voice, for my purpose, and again I think of Peter. I can't stop Sylar on my own but maybe he could help me do it. Maybe Peter could help me with a lot of things.

"Okie dokie, Daddy," I tell him, "You and Mom stay here while I go find Peter." It happens just like that. Just like that, I draw a new purpose from the stack of shiny cards in the game of life. Just like that, I feel alive again.