A Note From Lara: So I was just thinking about how incredibly weird it's going to be for Peter, trying to explain the last year of his life to Emma. I think it'll probably be easier if somebody who ISN'T Peter tell her about it. Hence this. It's not my best, and it morphed into something completely different than what it started out as while I was writing it, and for some reason it feels ever so slightly OOC in the dialogue at the end, but here it is.

It was Hiro who first tried to explain it to me, before he disappeared off to god-knows-where. He told me about what happened on Kirby Plaza, about a terrifying shadow man named Sylar, and their race the whole month before to try to stop a nuclear man. He told me about Peter's out-of-control power, and his brother's heroism.

That explained a lot. Everyone remembers the mystery of newly-elected Nathan Petrelli's inexplicable radiation burns. It shocked me to know that I was one of a privileged few who knew that it wasn't a sabotaged towncar.

I think Hiro meant it as a comfort, to let me know that my power wasn't as dangerous as I thought. Instead, it had the opposite effect. I couldn't get that image out of my head. Peter as the fallen hero, struggling to contain a power he couldn't control, desperately trying to quench the fire inside himself, lighting up Kirby Plaza like a miniature sun and fearing what he was about to become, terrified, alone...

Maybe that was why I set about digging up information about everything that had happened in between that night Hiro described to me and the present. One afternoon, Angela Petrelli came to meet her son after his shift, and while she was waiting I introduced myself as a friend of Peter's and asked her about it. She gave me a few details, but she was haughty and mostly uninformative. But that gave me starting place.

A few weeks later, the immortal Claire I'd heard so much about came to visit her uncle, and I was able to learn a lot more from her without even trying. She told me about Peter as she'd first met him- idealistic, a dreamer who wanted nothing more than to save the world. Then she explained what had happened to turn him into the withdrawn man he'd become. She told me about her grandfather's resurrection and Peter's power loss and restoration, and about her own father's subsequent betrayal.

She was worried about Peter, she told me. It wasn't good for him to be so disconnected. That was when I first made the connection to myself. How many times had I heard those exact words from my mother's mouth?

But he'd been better lately, she confided. He came to visit, and she said that in the whole time she'd known him, she'd never seen him smile as much as he did now. Then she asked a strange question. She asked how long I'd known him. When I told her, she gave a self-satisfied smile, and that was the end of that conversation.

The next week, the Elevator Event happened. Peter and I were in the elevator together, going up to the pediatric ward to visit a boy Peter claimed could talk to machines who had nearly drowned two days before. Suddenly the thing just... stopped. There was no unexpected lurch or jolt. We just stopped.

We were stuck in there for four hours. We spent the entire time talking. I asked him more about his life, and he asked me about mine. By the time they figured out how to get the thing working again, I think I knew more about Peter than I knew about my own mother. My throat was sore- I hadn't spent that long talking to anyone in years. When we finally walked out of the elevator, there was something more than friendship between us, and both of us knew it, though we hadn't spoken a word about it.

When we entered Micah Sanders' room, Claire was sitting with him, much to our surprise. They stopped talking very quickly when we walked through the door. The visit went very pleasantly, and I discovered to my delight that Micah was a highly intelligent boy and shared my interest in thought experiments, and we spent a good half an hour discussing Schroedinger's Cat. Throughout the entire conversation, I was sharply aware of Peter's eyes fixed on me.

I spent the last few days systematically avoiding him, avoiding the subject of my growing feelings for him. But today, he cornered me in the file room.

"You've been avoiding me," he said.

Lying to him seemed cruel, after everything he'd been through.

"Yes," I admitted.

"Why?"

No! Don't ask that! I didn't want to lie to him, but I also really didn't want to tell him the truth. It wasn't that I thought he didn't return my feelings- after my first conversation with Claire, I'd started to notice the way his face lit up whenever he saw me, so it wasn't that. But I was afraid. I was afraid of letting someone in so completely. Isolation was my status quo, and it made me nervous to let that go.

But he was waiting for an answer. "Because I'm afraid," I said. Let him make of that what he would. It was easier to admit than the whole truth.

"Of what?"

Again with the pressing questions. Ordinarily, I ran away from uncomfortable situations, but the door was shut and I didn't want to damage our friendship by leaving. I was briefly tempted to just say it and get it over with, but my stubborn streak won through.

"Of you."

It was the wrong thing to say. His normally warm, friendly eyes walled off and he took a step back from me as if I'd struck him. Too late, I remembered how so many of the people he knew half-feared him for what he'd become after taking on the radiation ability. Horrified, I tried to rectify my mistake.

"It's not that!" I exclaimed. "It's not because of what happened on Kirby Plaza."

He didn't look hurt anymore, but now he wasn't going to back off either.

"How do you know about that?" he asked.

"Hiro told me," I said.

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. I couldn't help but think that he looked very cute when he was flustered, but I tamped down on the idea quickly. It wasn't going to help if I spent my thoughts on admiring him rather than on dodging his questions.

"So why are you avoiding me, then?" he asked. "I don't understand. If I've done something wrong, just tell me what it is. I don't want you to be afraid of me; Emma, I care about you."

And that was all there was to it. There was no way to put this off any longer. "Exactly," I said. "I care about you, too. And that's the problem."

For a moment, he looked adorably confused. Then understanding bloomed on his face. He crossed the space between us in a few quick strides, stopping very suddenly right in front of me, staring into my eyes. Hesitantly, he reached up and brushed a lock of my hair away from my face, then left his hand there, gently caressing my cheek. "Emma," he said slowly, "what are you saying?"

I didn't know how to answer, so I just smiled. Very hesitantly, he lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me briefly.

"Was that okay?" he asked when he pulled back. I nodded, a little shocked despite having known it was coming. "I've had feelings for you for awhile," he said self-consciously, as if he felt the need to explain himself.

"You're not the only one," I said.

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Then why didn't you just say so instead of--?"

I shrugged. "I'm... afraid. Of not being alone anymore," I said by way of explanation.

Maybe he understood, because he nodded. But then he said, "Emma, you haven't been alone since the day we became friends. And trust me, I'm afraid too. I've been isolating myself too. Ignoring my family, burying myself in my job...." He sighed. "I guess we'll just have to figure this out together."

A slightly sheepish smile crossed my lips. He had a good point. I still wasn't sure I was ready for anything like this, but after everything he'd been through, Peter deserved a little happiness. And perhaps I did, too.