A few notes:
- Hiro and Claude will play major roles, but neither will come in for a few chapters. And I'm not really going to go into a lot of detail on what Hiro was up to in 1670's Japan because...I'm not that creative.
- The Sanders Family will be fairly minor (ie. no separate plot thread).
- Molly's Badder Boogeyman won't be in this story. Because I really can't come up with a 'worse than Sylar' type person. See? Not that creative.
Everyone's Encore
1. New Lives
Nathan Petrelli flew his brother into the stratosphere.
His mind had been a storm of torrential confusion and angst for over a week. He was experienced enough to know that no leader could keep a one-track mind about things, like Peter did. That was the way his brother always been; faithful in the things you couldn't always count on. True, faith was important, as his mother had told him. Without it, no great accomplishment ever got past being just an idea in the first place. But there were always the uncontrollable variables.
In the case of the explosion, the prime variable was the inevitability. Linderman and his mother told him repeatedly that it couldn't be stopped. Peter was convinced that it could be. With one shot to the head, he had told Claire, New York could be saved.
As Nathan Petrelli soared past the clouds with his brother in his arms, he knew that all three were right. The explosion was inevitable. New York would be saved.
But only one death was going to do, not .07 percent. And he was not going to allow Claire to be responsible for her own uncle's death.
They were miles above the city now. Fire seeped into his arms like acid, as he went higher and higher. Nathan felt like he could give out at any moment, but he continued to speed higher and higher into the night sky. He felt something burning pry him away from Peter. But he refused to let go of his brother; he needed him, more than he had ever realized before. Nathan struggled to keep a hold on Peter, trying to find him in all the light.
But there was a flash, and Nathan Petrelli saw no more.
FOUR MONTHS LATER
The only thing that went through Matt Parkman's head as he descended his fourth flight of stairs was a stray thought he had picked out of his ex-partner's head once, when he used to serve in the LAPD.
Christ, would a stairmaster kill you, Parkman?
It actually might, as he clutched his heaving chest. He couldn't believe this. The public elevators to the Baltimore Police Department were frigging working when they arrived an hour ago. It was a cruel joke, dammit.
"Parkman, ease up," said Audrey, looking back at him with concern. "We can stop-"
"—No," Matt insisted, soldiering on down another two steps. "I'm okay, don't worry about me. Just keep-"
"Stop being an ass," she told him, halting in his path.
"I told you, I'm fine-"
"You have a child due in a few months, and the last thing Janice needs is you aggravating your wounds just because my speedy stair descent made you feel insecure and less macho. We're going to rest."
Matt leaned against the banister, irritated but trying his hardest to conceal his utter relief at a break. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. And to think, he had been excited to be working again. He couldn't even get himself down the stairs of a damn building. It pained him to imagine how he would've felt going the other way.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "I can go upstairs and ask for a water."
"I'm great, thanks," Matt panted. "Aren't we going to be late?"
Audrey rolled her eyes. "What, did you think I was going to schedule an urgent appointment for your first out-of-town trip after getting shot? I need you healthy for this assignment, Parkman, don't push yourself so much."
Matt was actually growing a little sick of all the charity he'd been receiving these past few months. It wasn't false modesty; he truly did enjoy the whole serve and protect thing, but even more than that, he loathed being pitied. But all the attention did beat being considered a liar in the thoughts of everyone around him. No one certainly thought he was a liar now.
This was because he was Officer Matt Parkman, the good citizen who took four bullets and saved the lives of seven other people from a crazed pickpocket terrorizing Kirby Plaza the night of November 8th, 2006.
…At least that was the cover story Bennet had given him.
After a while Audrey cleared her throat. "Is the public hero going to need a nap during his break?" she asked dryly.
"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks," Matt answered gamely, still huffing, "I could really use a pillow for that though. In satin, preferably."
Audrey snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, Parkman, everyone else seems to do that enough already. Come on." He grinned, and followed her down the last flight.
Well, at least her attitude towards him hadn't changed. As intimidated as he'd been when he first met her, it was a relief to see Audrey as one of his first hospital visitors, days after the explosion. She'd even brought him a nice 'Get Well Soon' card—any nicer form of well-wishing would've been…well, awkward, coming from her. Matt appreciated the sincerity so much that she, along with Janice, were the only two people to whom he told the truth about Kirby Plaza.
"So who's the guy we're questioning?" Matt asked, once they were outside. It was déjà vu all over again, as if they were hunting down Sylar once more. But to his surprise, Audrey shot him that one, piercing look of hers.
It didn't take him long to interpret, even with the telepathy. "Uh, guy you're questioning?" he corrected himself. She gave a sort of approving nod and started off towards the rental car.
So much for post-near-apocalyptic camaraderie.
"Look Parkman, you're a good guy," Audrey started, "but I need you for your skills right now, not for the team player value. That doesn't mean you're playing lie detector," she added sensitively. "But until I get you up to speed, I'm-"
"—Officer Parkman!" yelled a voice from behind. "Matt Parkman!"
"God, how far does your fan club reach?" she said irritably.
"I thought only LA and New York," Matt laughed, as he turned around. "Don't worry, this won't-"
Matt stopped mid-sentence, frozen in place.
"Officer Parkman, my god, I can't believe you're here…" the young man started.
Although he had lost all sense of himself, Matt had drawn in enough breath to utter the man's name.
"Peter Petrelli…?"
"Jodi! Hey, Jodi!"
Claire Bennet, already more or less used to her new name, looked up from her homework to find her friends Rodrigo and Tyler walking towards her house. She shielded her eyes, watching the sun setting behind them over Dayton, Ohio. Smiling, she put her Biology book down on the porch table and ran over.
"Are you two skipping out on driver's ed again?" she asked, with mock disapproval. "You're a bad influence on him, Rodrigo."
"Technically we're not skipping," replied Rodrigo, the cuter of the two. "During break we told Parker that we'd run to the 7-Eleven and get him some Cheetos. We just decided to bypass the returning part."
"The guy's totally gullible," said Tyler, a thin boy who sipped on a Slurpee. "But we're going to the men's varsity soccer game right now. Wanna come with?"
"Ugh, sorry Ty, I can't. I put off the Bio paper all week and now it's due tomorrow-"
"—Pssh, Bio is so easy," said Rodrigo nonchalantly. "You could finish that tomorrow morning."
"Maybe you could," said Claire, "Mister Overachiever-Who-Won't-Even-Go-To-Driver's-Ed."
"Eh, I have like ten other pursuits, and only one me to go around. Besides, I make it a point to make life an adventure. You should too, Miss Jodi Lou Petersen."
Claire gave Rodrigo that little sideways smirk she loved to use for his dumb comments. "My middle name is not Lou."
He shrugged. "It rang better than Jodi Sandra Petersen. Come on, go with us!"
"Not if you're going to screw up my middle name, Rodrigo," She replied teasingly. "Honestly guys, I really want to, but I have to finish this. If you want you could take Mark. He's a big soccer fan."
Rodrigo and Tyler exchanged looks. "We'd love to take your bro, Jodi, but the last time we invited him over to watch a Buckeyes basketball game, he was sulking the entire time. He's not the funnest guy to be around."
Claire secretly felt sorry for Lyle, who was now and forever a hardcore Texas Longhorns fan. Who could blame a boy for not being able to chant 'Texas Fight' while watching his favorite pastime? "He's just adjusting to the move," she explained. "It's taking him a little while. Can't you guys just take him along?"
Tyler sighed. "Fine. But only for you, Jodi. And you have to come with us for milkshakes tomorrow during driver's ed, okay?"
Laughing, Claire nodded, and pointed the boys toward her backyard, where Lyle was. She hoped they wouldn't tell Lyle that she'd asked them to take him along; it annoyed him enough that she was the 'Petersen' child who adjusted best to the move from 'Yuma, Arizona.' But in truth, it was all a front. Really, she was sorely homesick for Odessa. Rodrigo and Tyler were great, as were most of her new friends, but she really missed Zach. No one she'd met in Ohio was quite as unique or insightful as Zach had been.
And even though she'd only really gotten to know them for barely a week, she really missed the Petrellis. After the explosion, no one was able to find Peter or Nathan. It started a huge, nationwide FBI search, complete with seemingly endless media coverage for the missing congressman-elect and his brother.
Claire often wondered about them. She was sorry she couldn't apologize to Peter, for doubting his faith in her father Nathan. She was also sorry she didn't get to know Nathan very well. With the election, it had been hectic when she visited their household—and he and her grandmother didn't exactly make the bonding time very bearable—but it would've been nice, while she had the chance.
She checked her watch—it was a quarter after five. It was time to help her mother get dinner ready. Her father would be coming home in an hour from work—actual work, not the clandestine kind of cover job he'd had only a few months ago.
She was certain about this, because Dad didn't even bother to make up enthusiastic work stories to share at the dinner table anymore.
Molly was getting worse.
And as Mohinder Suresh sat back in their new Chicago apartment, a frightened desperation came over him. He knew that he'd been foolish. He'd been dangerously foolish.
Who was he kidding? Even if he supplied her with his antibodies every week, she reverted to her old state within five days, every single time. And now, as he inserted the needle into his own skin again, he looked over worriedly at Molly, feverish and shivering in her bed.
It's only been three days.
He knew that her pneumonia was aggravating her condition, but he was fully aware that even if she recovered, she couldn't go on like that. Truthfully, neither could he. He needed a permanent solution.
Mohinder withdrew more blood, pulled out the needle, and, now light-headed, he sat back, staring fixedly at the cooler full of blood packets—his own blood, sitting by the desk. On top of the desk were two plane tickets peeking out of an express mail envelope.
Molly would be leaving for safety, while he would be leaving for a cure.
The infamous locks were no longer hiding his eyes. Those were shorn in favor of spiky, unkempt hair. And it wasn't even a stylish sort of unkempt, unless one was trying to win a homeless bum fashion show. He also had a respectable goatee growing, thankfully it was comparatively cleaner than his hair, as well as the long, ragged jacket he had on. To top off the look, his eyes were noticeably bloodshot.
But without a doubt in either Matt's nor Audrey's mind, it was Peter Petrelli.
"You're alive," Matt gasped in disbelief.
"Yeah, guess I am," said Peter. "Hi, Agent Hansen." He said both sentences very naturally. As if he'd been asked, 'Hey, you're back from Europe already?' 'Oh, you know, I couldn't quite stomach the Hungarian cuisine, I spent all my money shopping in Italy, you know how it goes.'
Audrey wasn't about to respond coherently, so Matt did so, as best as he could. "Everyone's said you were dead for the last four months. You survived the explosion?"
"I regenerated. Woke up on the beach a week and a half later. I've been uh, traveling since, you could say."
"And your brother?"
Peter shook his head sadly, looking away in that anguished way of his. "I don't know. Right before I blew up…I shoved him off, trying to save him, you know? But the flash was so bright, I couldn't see where he'd gone…"
"Peter, I'm sorry.," said Matt consolingly, "…But, well, I mean, you're alive now…and I just can't believe that you…well, I mean you…"
"You look like hell," Audrey blurted out suddenly. She received stares from both men.
Peter managed a laugh. "Guess I sorta need cleaning up, eh?"
"You look like a damn addict, Petrelli." Even with dead men, Audrey never changed her charming demeanor.
He smiled slightly. "Unfortunately, you're not that far off the mark, Agent Hansen." He looked over at Matt. "Look, I know you guys are busy, but I'm looking for Nathan." Noticing the exchange of skeptical, grim glances, Peter replied accordingly. "Dead or alive, I have to find him. I have to know what happened. I need your help."
Matt was skeptical, certain he knew how Peter's journey would eventually end. Still, he always supported his better instincts when it came to helping friends. "Sure, what is it?" he asked.
"You seen Claire and her dad?"