In Sheep's Clothing

Rating: T (PG-13) for violence, non-graphic sexual situations and profanity.
Characters: Sylar!Nathan, Peter, Angela, Noah, Danko, Claire, Heidi, Simon, Monty, Matt, Janice.
Pairings: Sylar/Heidi, Matt/Janice
Summary: Nathan Petrelli: Son, brother, father, Senator… Impostor. The lies that bind him to a broken life may not survive his attempts to repair it. What will remain when illusions shatter? Follows volume four's "An Invisible Thread".

Chapter One: Make the Man

In the bedroom of his apartment in Washington DC, Senator Nathan Petrelli sat silently, half dressed on the bench at the foot of his bed. It was early in the morning still, the sun not yet risen over the horizon and it wouldn't be for another two hours. He could feel the chill of predawn through the thin fabric of his shirt. It had to be the cool air that explained the prickle, the raise of flesh as the hair along his arms stood on end. An uncomfortable sensation that nonetheless did nothing to divert his attention from the object that had so captivated his interest.

He was staring at a watch.

Heidi had given him the watch for his birthday. He'd stopped wearing it after they separated, after the confusion and Peter's apparent death, but he'd left his other behind in Mexico, giving it up to return Claire her necklace. Now, he found himself thinking about his wife—his ex-wife, he reminded himself—for the first time in months.

Playing his fingers over the cold silver just then, he could see it with a strange sort of clarity… As though at a remove he was watching them, the two of them, sitting on the couch in the den. Her, swollen pregnant, curled up awkwardly with her head in his lap. Him, with his hand on her shoulder as they watched the news that evening. His tie loose, his sleeves rolled up. Her shoes are off, her dark blue coat draped over her legs like a blanket. Her hand moving slowly, slyly to draw the small box from her coat pocket. His soft kiss against her hair as he murmurs his thanks. But for all its vividness and complexity of detail, the memory was strangely…flat. Incomplete. He felt he should remember the warm weight of her against his leg. He should remember the scent of her hair. He should be able to remember which of his sons she had been carrying at the time.

A distracted frown worked its way across his features as he broke himself free of the reminiscence, tugging the watch onto his wrist with a slowness that was almost hesitant. The metal bit slightly, cold against his skin. He'd been having several of these lapses, lately. When he'd first noticed them, those first weeks after the business with Sylar, they'd been far more common, and most distressing. His mother had said that he'd more than likely hit his head in the fight. A minor concussion that left him rattled, a little…disjointed. But the effects would wear off with time. She'd been quite confident about that.

She had seemed to be right. Over the next few days he'd spent time with all the familiar strangers around him, and slowly things started to fill in around the edges. As time went by, in his daily routine he encountered fewer of those alien things or people that were supposed to be a part of his life. He'd thought—he'd hoped it had been the end to it. Only now, thinking of Heidi had brought it back. That faint sense of apprehension that something wasn't right, which grew into true concern. And now fear.

Reaching back into his memory for the years they spent together, he came back with a handful of dull fragments. He found himself missing them, suddenly and sharply, these shadows that used to be a wife and sons. There was a possessiveness to the feeling of which he found himself briefly shocked and unable to fathom. It wasn't like him, he could barely recognize himself in it. The abyss of early morning darkness shown through the windows, yawning black and vacant like an open maw. The feeling of emptiness seemed to echo what he was feeling inside.

In the oppressive silence of the room in which he sat, the faint ticking of the watch on his wrist expanded to fill all available space. It was almost painfully that he tore himself free of the mood that had threatened to consume him. Blandly, he scolded himself.

Keep up with this nonsense, and you'll be late.

Running a tired hand over his face, Nathan stood slowly, walking to the closet. He tried to put the troubled thoughts behind him, but the brush of skin against fabric constantly called his attention to articles attached to half-formed wisps of memory: rows of shirts recalling successes and losses, ties recalling dinners and anniversaries, candles, and red wine. For all the details sharply pressed into his memory, the sensations, emotions, associations that should go with them were dingy, and ragged at the edges.

His eyes squeezed shut as he pulled out a jacket, one that seemed to resonate with the memory of her smile, images of hugging his boys close. His fingers clenched, cloth balled in his fists as anger began to well up in him. It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough of them. He didn't feel like he really remembered them...knew them. He wanted them where he could see them, touch them, have them in front of him, and maybe he could hold on to them tightly enough that they couldn't be taken away.

He had to be with them.

He tried to reason with himself, that he had a busy day ahead of him, a full day, one that didn't have room for this sort of sentimental indulgence. The sort of irresponsibility for which he used to mock Peter mercilessly. On the coattails of the thought, his mouth pulled into a smirk.

Peter…

And Nathan's argument with himself was decided solidly. He slid into the jacket, taking a moment to smooth out the wrinkles he'd caused with his earlier abuse before he reached for his phone.

"Shannon? Yes, I need you to clear out the day for me. I know. It's a family emergency. I'm heading back to New York for a couple of days. " Stepping into the closet, he ran an indecisive eye along the ties on the rack. His mouth turned down in a pensive frown as he considered his choices. "Whatever you can do. No, that won't be necessary. I've already arranged an early flight."

He snapped the phone shut, the sharp click ringing out loudly in the stillness. Already the looming unease that had been overhanging his morning had begun to wane. He credited it the new sense of purpose he felt. The sound of ticking receded from his awareness as he finished the task of preparing for his day. It was already a very different day than he had anticipated on waking up, one he hoped would mean opportunities to make up for the mistakes he had made, to repair some of those things he had broken.

In the mirror, he straightened his tie. He searched his reflection closely. He wasn't sure what flaw he expected to find, but it was a while before he was satisfied, content that the man in the mirror was who Heidi needed to see: a man aware of his sins, and willing to try and atone for them. It was an image he held hope he could match with his actions. Shrugging into a heavy coat, he gave himself a final glance as he headed toward the window.

Well, he thought with a faint, strange smile, they say clothes make the man, after all.