{Chapter: 179 - The Ice Beneath the Surface}
The town was peaceful in a way that almost felt staged—picturesque houses lined the street, children's laughter floated on the evening breeze, and the glow of warm kitchen lights spilled softly through curtained windows. It felt safe. Too safe.
But Aiden knew better.
With just a bit of asking around—his charm doing most of the heavy lifting—he'd managed to locate the house of Molly Walker. At this point in time, everything was still untouched by the storm that was coming. Her father was still alive. Her mother still smiling. The air hadn't yet been stained by blood and dread.
Yet Aiden couldn't shake the tension crawling along his skin.
He stood on the sidewalk, watching the modest home for a few more moments. From the kitchen window, he could see the family inside, preparing dinner together. Molly sat at the table, drawing something on a pad of paper while her mother stirred a pot on the stove. Her father—James Walker—was just stepping in from the hallway, laughing at something his daughter said.
It looked so... normal.
And that's what made it hurt. Because Aiden had already seen how this ended.
In the original timeline, Sylar came here like a phantom in the night. James would be the first to die—his freezing ability deemed worthy prey. Then came his wife, pinned grotesquely to the wall like a warning. Molly, barely spared, would hide under the sink, trembling and alone until Parkman eventually found her.
It was one of the earliest massacres that set the world ablaze.
Aiden took a slow breath, straightened his jacket, and walked up the driveway. He knocked lightly, three deliberate raps against the door, then stepped back.
Footsteps approached on the other side. The door creaked open, revealing a kind-eyed woman with wavy chestnut hair. She looked at him with polite curiosity, the kind you'd expect in a sleepy town where strangers rarely came knocking.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
Aiden smiled warmly. "Good evening, ma'am. I was hoping to speak to your husband. Is he available?"
Her brows lifted slightly in surprise, but she nodded. "Just a moment."
She turned and called over her shoulder. "James, someone's here for you!"
A few moments later, James Walker appeared at the door. He was taller than Aiden remembered from the show—solidly built, with a tired sort of confidence in his posture. He had the face of a man who worked hard, loved his family deeply, and did everything he could to protect them.
James stepped forward, half-shielding his wife and daughter behind the doorway as he faced the stranger. "Do I know you?"
"No, sir," Aiden replied, his tone respectful. "But I'd like to talk to you. Privately, if that's okay."
James hesitated, studying Aiden's face. Eventually, he stepped outside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. He crossed his arms but kept his expression neutral. "What's this about?"
Aiden didn't beat around the bush.
"My name's Aiden. And I'm here to save your family."
James blinked. "Excuse me?"
Aiden raised both hands to signal peace. "I know how crazy that sounds, but please—just listen. You have an ability, don't you? You can freeze things. You've kept it secret, but it's there."
James's jaw clenched slightly. His breath puffed out into faint mist, even though the air was still warm.
"I'm not here to expose you," Aiden said quickly. "But someone else will. Someone named Sylar."
James flinched at the name, even if he didn't fully recognize it. Something about it seemed wrong.
"He's a serial killer," Aiden continued. "But not just any killer. He hunts people like you—people with abilities. And when he finds them, he kills them to take their powers. When he finds you—and he will—he won't stop with just you. He'll kill your wife. And if he finds out Molly has powers too…"
James's entire body tensed.
"You're lying," he said, but his voice trembled slightly.
"I wish I was," Aiden replied softly. "Look, you don't have much time. I'm offering you a way out—two ways, actually. First, you could run. Pack your bags, get in your car, disappear. Hide forever. But you'll always be looking over your shoulder."
James frowned, already shaking his head. "I can't do that to my family."
"Then let me take your ability," Aiden said, his voice lowering. "I can absorb it. You'll be normal again. And Sylar won't have a reason to come here."
James looked like he'd been punched. "Take… my ability?"
"I won't hurt you," Aiden said. "And I won't touch your family. But if I remove what makes you a target, you'll be safe. Molly will be safe."
James's hands twitched. The temperature around them dropped sharply, frost forming along the edges of the lawn, crawling up the nearby mailbox. His instincts had kicked in.
Aiden didn't flinch.
"I could kill you in an instant," Aiden said quietly. "But I'm not your enemy. I'm just someone who knows what's coming."
James struggled, caught between disbelief and desperation. He finally choked out, "Why should I believe you?"
"Because if I were lying," Aiden said calmly, "your daughter would already be dead."
That hit like a hammer. James's breath hitched. The frost stopped spreading.
"I don't want to fight you," Aiden added. "I don't want to traumatize a young child. I just want to help. And while I am here for her ability too… I promise you, I'll take it gently. She won't feel a thing. She won't even remember this conversation."
James looked at the door to his home—his sanctuary. His world. He saw his wife through the glass, now washing dishes. Molly was still at the table, drawing a crayon figure with stars around its head. Maybe a superhero.
Maybe what she wanted to become someday.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," James whispered.
"But you are," Aiden replied. "Because you're a father."
James stared at the ground, defeated.
"If I agree," he said slowly, "you swear—swear—that you won't hurt my family."
Aiden nodded solemnly. "On everything that I am."
James exhaled like the weight of the sky had been on his shoulders.
"Then… do it."
---
> Meanwhile, inside the house…
Molly looked up from her drawing, a strange chill running down her spine. She had no idea why… but something about tonight didn't feel right.
She turned to the window and saw her father speaking with a man she didn't recognize. They weren't yelling, but the air between them felt tight, heavy.
Molly narrowed her eyes, then turned back to her sketch, her small fingers trembling ever so slightly as she picked up her crayon.
---
Inside the softly lit bedroom on the second floor of Molly's suburban home, the air carried a hint of lavender and warmth, as if time here had been suspended in an idyllic family moment. Aiden stood still, his hand resting gently on James Walker's shoulder. The man stood rigid under his touch, as if waiting for a blade to drop. His jaw was clenched, his eyes darted to the door, the hallway, the window—calculating escape even if he knew it was pointless.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then suddenly, Aiden withdrew his hand. A strange shimmer passed over James's body. He gasped and took a step back, blinking rapidly. The room was still warm, but James's breath no longer frosted in the air. His hands instinctively opened, and he tried to summon the familiar pulse of cold energy from within his chest.
Nothing.
James's expression twisted with confusion and fear. "It's… gone?" he murmured. He clenched his fists again, this time with growing panic. "I can't… I can't feel it. It's like my body forgot how."
Aiden stepped back and casually extended a palm. A chill ran through the room as a layer of frost crept over his hand, glinting in the lamplight like glass. Then, as if dismissing it, Aiden flexed his fingers and the frost scattered into a shimmering mist.
James stared, breath caught in his throat. "You actually… took it." His voice was barely above a whisper, a mix of disbelief and awe. "You took it like it was yours to begin with."
"This is something you should be grateful for," Aiden replied calmly, his voice devoid of boastfulness, almost tired. "Because if Sylar had gotten here before me… you wouldn't have had the luxury of being scared. He doesn't take gently."
James sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to process it all. He rubbed his hands together, as if the motion would coax back the power that had defined his fear—and, in some ways, his identity.
Aiden wasn't as impressed with the new ability as James was. To the outside observer, freezing seemed flashy and lethal. But Aiden could feel its limitations already—it required moisture in the air or nearby surfaces, and lacked the versatility of higher-tier frost abilities. Still, it served a purpose. A stepping stone. A key part of the quest.