Well, here we are in AU land again. This one gets a little silly at points, but hey, I had fun. Please enjoy, thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through the YEAR (what the heck?!) that I've been writing this AU. It's insane, thanks so much guys. Like always, I recommend that you read the back stories, starting with 8th Grade History. I think you'd be a bit lost if you continue reading this story without knowledge of the others (but hey, give it a shot if you want). They're all on my profile and I also set up a community to keep track of this growing serial. Enjoy!

Summary: A disturbing visit from Mohinder forces Nathan into turmoil over the future of his family's safety as the government begins the encroachment upon advanced people's rights. Meanwhile, an interaction on the street leaves Peter with more than he expected.


It would be difficult to argue that there is any place more enchanting than New York City in the fall. Certainly, Asia offers an exotic and spiritually fulfilling atmosphere incomparable to any other area of the world. Europe tempts the curious traveler with centuries upon centuries of history to unravel. The western US is teeming with the adventures of yesteryear's rough riding cowboys from the Black Hills of South Dakota to Northern California and it's lingering air of frenzied expectation left by broken hearted sixty-niners.

Still, there is no place like New York for sightseeing, shopping, and an unending supply of hotdogs amidst an urban chic yet historically bountiful metropolis. Peter, the NY native, never wondered that the sprawling municipality attracted such a devoted mass of followers, especially during that interim period after the sweltering heat of summer had faded but before Jack Frost fully captured the city in his icy grasp. Unlike other fulltime New Yorkers, who would scoff at the naïve country bumpkins up for a day in the big city, Peter understood the allure of the fast paced city life. His lifetime spent as part of the inside crowd hadn't robbed him of the ability to see his hometown through the eyes of an entranced first time visitor marveling at Times Square and Central Park. He didn't roll his eyes at the crowd watching the employees at FAO Schwartz bang out chopsticks on the floor length keyboard or joke at the expense of the couples posing in front of the Empire State Building. In fact, he took every opportunity to play the foil of the jaded, brusque and generally unwelcoming denizen of the Big Apple. As often as possible he would offer his expert advice and direction to the confused looking neophyte with the fanny-pack and the camera around his neck. Generally the now grateful visitor would offer hearty thanks and continue on his way to the Museum of Natural History or Broadway, arguing children and harried wife in tow. One day, however, the grateful tourist left Peter with something entirely unexpected.

That day, Peter walked home from the Academy as he always did, walking most of the way in the company of his friend Gabriel before saying good bye a few blocks down from Nathan's office. The pair had just separated when Peter, waiting at an intersection, espied a sight which was indeed glorious to behold.

A blonde young woman about five or six years his senior; tall, leggy and buxom with full red lips and sparkling cornflower blue eyes. Peter, ever the hormonally driven Petrelli, sighed aloud as he watched the living vision of teenage fantasy straighten her low cut blouse, flip long sun catching hair over her delicate shoulder, bend all the way from the waist to…offer a cookie to an infant in a stroller. When the mother stood upright she honored the man beside her, a dark skinned man with a shaved head who was desperately trying to make head or tails of a well worn map, with a brilliant smile obviously meant to offer encouragement.

'Oh well,' the 15 year old thought resignedly upon noticing the blonde woman's familial companions. 'Guess it wasn't meant to be. I wonder if she'll smile at me like that if I help them out…' With this reward in mind, Peter crossed the short distance between himself and the couple, fingering the straps of his backpack nervously and hoping that his open smile conveyed a friendly greeting rather than the youthful appreciation for the feminine form that he so keenly felt.

"Excuse me," he walked up to the young family, attracting their attention. "Hi, sorry to intrude, but it looks like you could maybe use some help."

The frustrated father and husband sighed dejectedly. "Is it that obvious?" he drawled, crushing his abused map in exasperation.

Peter grinned impishly, saying, "Well, no offense, but…yeah. Don't worry, though. I can probably get you wherever you need to go. I'm Peter by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Peter. I'm DL," he put an arm around the blonde woman, pulling her to his side, "and this is my wife Nikki."

"Hi," Peter smiled crookedly at the object of his affection, a creeping blush tinting his ears a bright pink. 'Stay cool, Pete,' he coached himself in vain.

"Hi Peter," she returned with a wide, pleasant smile, sneaking a knowing glance with her equally amused husband at Peter's fruitless efforts to appear dispassionate.

"So…" Peter rubbed at his arm, fully aware that the growing heat in his neck and cheeks very capably communicated his infatuation to the world, much to the unpalatable degradation of his adolescent pride.

"Oh, right," DL whipped out his handy map, pointing to an area that had clearly received a wealth of attention. He jabbed at the area, which had been so smudged, circled and pondered upon that it was quite difficult to read. "We're trying to get here but we just seem to be walking in circles for hours."

Peter bent over the map, trying not to focus on the fact that Nikki's full lips loomed a mere matter of inches from his own. "There?" he asked incredulously. "But you're practically there now. Just keep going straight for two blocks and that's it."

He received blank stares in response. "You've gotta be kidding me," DL finally managed to stutter, simultaneously sharing aggravated looks with his grimacing young wife.

"It's New York," Peter consoled, trying to lessen to impact of the devastating blow to the stranger's manly navigational prowess, "getting lost is part of the experience."

"Thanks all the same," Nikki expressed her appreciation with a well-received refulgent smile, resting a manicured hand on the boy's left bicep and inwardly rejoicing when a drop of sweat rolled down the teenager's smooth brow as a result. 'Wife and mother, but I've still got it.'

"That goes for both of us," DL extended his hand, offering Peter a hand shake which he only accepted absentmindedly, lost as he was in his newfound monomania. When an unseasonable warmth suddenly stole through his body he attributed it, naturally, to the close proximity of the svelte feminine form beside him without a second thought about the convivial handshake.

The group waved their farewells, repeating thanks and protestations against the unnecessary effusion of gratitude. In Peter's defense, he only lingered back to cast a discreet appreciative glance over Nikki's retreating hips for a second or two. Others would have done worse, to be sure; blame his raging hormones and her dangerously short skirt. Peter sighed as he watched DL twine a sinewy arm around the slim waist beside him, wondering why there weren't any girls like that in his school. He huffed; full of pubescent despair as he compared the plaid skirt clad Academy girls to the mature woman he had just met. "I can't wait for college," he moaned under his breath, leaning heavily against the pole behind him. At least…he meant to lean against the pole. It had been there, solid and made of unforgiving steel, just a second before. Then how, Peter marveled, did he find himself stumbling into the middle of the busy street? How was it possible that he seemed to have fallen through an object which, according to all properties of physics and rational though in general, should have held his weight with ease? If Peter was shocked by the improbability of the situation, then how to explain the state of the bus driver who, plowing down the street at a respectable speed, found his path instantly occupied by a staggering pedestrian. Neither driver nor soon-to-be Road Kill Peter had time to react or even think in the second before impact, but if Peter had been granted the luxury of a thought before experiencing heights of physical pain that he could never have imagined to be possible, it probably would have been along the lines of 'Nathan is gonna kill me.'


A block away, completely oblivious to the danger in which his troublesome little brother was currently entangled, the recently appointed ADA was offering his longtime friend Mohinder Suresh a drink and a seat.

Mohinder declined the first but accepted the latter, though shifting anxiously as he did so, a tell tale indication to his perceptive friend that he was not visiting Nathan's office on a friendly pretext.

"I'm afraid this isn't a social call, Nathan," Mohinder began with the bluntness only acceptable between those who have been friends from their early years. Though Mohinder was Indian by birth, his family soon after emigrated to the US at the behest of Suresh Sr.'s research, and as the son of the leading genetic expert in the country it was a matter of course that his path would often cross with the Petrellis. Having memories of powerful men during their formative, awkward, bed-wetting years makes it much easier to skip otherwise necessary pleasantries. "Is it possible that anyone is listening? Is the door locked?"

"Geeze, Mo," Nathan settled into his impressive leather chair, "What's with the cloak and dagger act?"

"I'm serious, Nathan." He leaned forward, accentuating the urgency of his words with his strained, rigid body language. "Is there any chance of us being overheard?"

"No," Nathan assured his friend, attempting to deny his growing anxiety that the man who was privy to personal and confidential Petrelli family information was so unequivocally distressed. Had he discovered a problem in Claire or Peter's recent abilities work up? "I told my secretary to hold all calls and visitors. The door is locked. Talk to me, man. What's going on?"

Mohinder sat with his elbows resting atop his knees, propping up his hands to cover his mouth. His eyes were leveled at the edge of the massive desk in front of him.

"Mohinder?"

"I don't really know how to say this," he admitted, pulling his hands away from his face to push them through his thick wavy hair.

"Take your time," Nathan said, leaning back into the plush comfort of his chair to watch the play of his friend's inner struggle.

"I had a visit yesterday from a government agent," he locked eyes with his lawyer friend. "He informed me that by the end of the week I need to be prepared to hand over to the government copies of all records regarding AP cases."

"What?" Nathan exploded, literally and figuratively, his previously sanguine mood soaring into the uppermost heights of dudgeon while he burst out of his chair, moving forward to lean across the desk and meet his friend's gaze more closely. "Don't you dare, Mohinder, you cannot do that! Dammit, why didn't you call me as soon as that guy showed up?"

"That's just it, Nathan," Mohinder also rose to his feet, pacing the space in front of the desk. "He can. They can. Things have changed."

"Stop moving!" Nathan growled, rubbing a trembling hand across his already furrowed brow. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You heard about the health care reform and regulation bill congress recently passed?" Mohinder asked, deciding that he did indeed need that offered drink and walked across the room to help himself.

"Of course I have, who hasn't?" Nathan responded dismissively as he perched on the corner of his desk.

His considerate friend handed Nathan a glass of his own, understanding when he downed the potent contents in one mouthful. He took his seat once more, glad to have his hands occupied. "The very clever authors of that bill included an extremely well hidden piggy back clause. Apparently," he paused to sip from his weeping glass, continuing with sarcasm resonant in his every syllable, "the government is highly concerned over the welfare of its advanced citizenry. They're worried that most AP's aren't receiving the specialized health care that they need and deserve, so, naturally, the government has taken it upon itself to review all AP medical records and determine who needs further 'attention'."

" 'Attention'." Nathan echoed, allowing his suddenly too heavy head to fall backwards onto his shoulders, his expression unreadable as he stared at the ceiling.

Mohinder nodded with a scowl. "That's the language they used, yes. Just vague enough to mean anything."

An uneasy silence reigned for several tense moments, the air thick and suffocating, oppressing the two men with the knowledge of their powerlessness. Unable to handle the pregnancy of the atmosphere for a second longer, Nathan hurled his fine crystal glass against the nearby wall, lending his own violent curses to the brilliantly strident clash of crystal meeting wood paneling. "How did I miss this?" he demanded, both of himself and of his startled friend. "How? Damn!" He paused to cast his gaze over the stunning view from his large window, hands planted at his hips. "Ever since Congressman Leeds stepped down last year no one in CAP knows what the hell is going on. He was the only man left in Washington who was openly sympathetic to us."

"You and I both know that isn't true," Mohinder scolded mildly. "There are plenty of good men in DC, they're just afraid to make a stand. The anti-abilities faction is growing so strong."

Nathan barked a sardonic laugh as he reached into a drawer and pulled out a newspaper. "Stuff like this doesn't do us much good either. Most of us spend our lives trying to convince the world that we're normal, just like everybody else. Then people like this guy come along." He thrust the week old paper into his friend's hands, taking his empty glass for a refill.

"Yeah, I heard about this," the doctor muttered. "Linderman."

"And his freak show circus act. On tour. Some people have no self respect."

"People will do anything for a buck," Mohinder muttered.

Nathan returned the freshened glass to his seated friend, shaking his head when the other man offered him the newspaper. "Keep it, I've got copies." Both once again seated, the two men eyed each other from across the desk.

"So…"

"So what do we do now?" Nathan asked.

"Well," Mohinder sighed contemplatively, raising his eyebrows as his eyes sharpened intelligently. "There's no use in trying to hide your family's files. Everyone knows that Petrelli means advanced. You're too high profile for your own good."

Nathan shrugged and nodded in agreement, but remained silent, urging Mohinder to continue.

"That being said, most of your abilities wouldn't warrant too much concern; flight, regeneration…not really tools for world domination." He cleared his throat loudly. "I think we both know who causes the most worry."

"Peter," Nathan returned blankly, swiveling his chair around to survey the bustling city below.

"Peter," Mohinder repeated. "He's exactly what they're looking for, Nathan. The latent danger threatening all we hold dear."

Nathan scoffed at the application of that title to his kind hearted sibling, "Please…"

"That's how they're going to see it Nathan," Mohinder replied defensively, "and you know it's true."

"Of course I do!" Nathan exclaimed with disgust. "He's a freakin' saint in a war machine wrapper." He stepped away from the window and picked up the recently developed family portrait that he kept on his desk. "He's certainly going to warrant a lot of 'attention'. And what am I supposed to do about it? He asked, an uncharacteristically defeated droop of his shoulders accenting the dullness of his eyes. He hesitated. "I know I can't ask you to falsify any of his files…"

Mohinder eyed his friend steadily. "That would be a serious breach of ethics, not to mention the law. You can't ask me to do that."

"I said I know that I can't," Nathan scowled, the last miniscule ember of hope warming his quickly chilling heart effectively smothered.

"I could face serious charges if someone was to find out…" Monhinder continued.

"I'm the lawyer here, remember?" Nathan interjected emphatically. "I know. Drop it."

"You can't ask that of me," Nathan tensed at the other man's continued harangue, clenching his fist tightly and reminding himself that punching Mohinder would be bad, "that's why I did it already, without your knowledge or permission."

Perhaps that tiny ember hadn't been extinguished altogether. Mohinder's words served as an effective bellows, coaxing an optimistic flame, small though it was, to reluctantly emerge. "What are you saying?" Nathan asked in his trademark slow, careful tone as he walked around his desk to grasp his friend by the shoulder.

Mohinder smiled, though the grin was restrained at best. "You know I've always thought of Pete as the younger brother I've always wanted. As long as it's in my power to do so, I'm going to protect him."

"You said it yourself, you can get into major trouble for this," Nathan cautioned, though secretly he wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around the younger man in gratitude.

"Then lets both hope no one finds out, shall we?"

"Thank you, Mohinder," Nathan offered solemnly, fully aware that his words couldn't convey the depths of his appreciation for Suresh's selfless act and, unwilling to sully their friendly camaraderie with gratuitous peroration, he simply allowed his eyes to speak for him.

"All that aside, we're not in the clear. Not by a long shot. Now that they have their foot in the door, we can only imagine where this will lead," Mohinder warned unnecessarily.

Nathan crossed his arms, resting his head upon his chest, troubled by the unavoidable truth in his friend's statement. "Yeah. This is bad. We'll have to be more vigilant than ever before."

"What you need," Mohinder advanced toward his contemplative companion, a telling gleam in his eye, "is someone advanced actually inside the government."

"Don't start again…" Nathan was interrupted mid-sentence, and mid-argument as it was obvious that the pair was picking up an old, familiar quarrel.

"Mr. Petrelli," a nasal voice cracked over the intercom.

Nathan shared an irritated look with the other man before leaning into the speaker, "Ms. Delaney, I asked that I not be interrupted."

"Yes, sir," she returned anxiously, "but your brother is here…"

"Tell him to wait," he impatiently interjected.

"Mr. Petrelli," her voiced dropped to a whisper, "he's absolutely covered in blood."

Panic flashed across Nathan's face, though it only enjoyed a brief stay before he schooled his features back into the noncommittal equanimity expected of him. "Let him in," he bellowed into the speaker with false bravado. He muttered "What now?" at Mohinder, who responded with a shrug, before the door burst open to reveal not only a thoroughly blood soaked Peter but also an unknown couple with an infant.

"Peter," Nathan barked, his heart palpitating in his throat to an impossible beat. As he forced his protesting kid brother across the room so that he could inspect him in the brighter light by the window, he vaguely speculated why the knowledge that his brother would heal never lessened the anxiety of seeing him hurt. Would there ever come a time when he could view Peter's momentary wounds with the nonchalance that Peter could so easily manifest? Then he wondered, did he really want that?

He ran his eyes over his brother's form. No existing contusions, protrusions or abrasions, as expected. Clothes were ripped, torn and stained scarlet. Teenaged scowl was firmly in place. He was fine. Nathan was inexpressibly relieved; not only because his brother was unharmed, but also because Nathan now had license to be fully incensed without guilt. "What the hell, Peter?" The anger in the elder Petrelli's voice was belied by the crushing embrace he had forced upon the younger. Only allowing himself the briefest of moments to indulge in such sentimentality, Nathan soon held his brother at arm's length and demanded an explanation.

"Honestly, Nate, I dunno what happened."

"We saw it," the man who had accompanied Peter spoke up from across the room, a comforting arm wound tightly around his visible upset wife. "He helped us with some directions and we had just walked away when he fell off the sidewalk and into the street. He was hit by a bus," DL marveled, "he should be dead."

"It was horrible," the trembling woman murmured into her husband's side.

"I didn't fall off the side walk," Peter protested, casting a furtive glance at the beautiful woman. He continued, flush with mortification that Nikki would think him capable of so foolish an action, "I'm not an imbecile. I can walk."

"Then what did happen, Peter?" asked Mohinder, the peacemaker.

"Well," Peter rubbed his arm, a subconscious contemplative tic. "I went to lean against this pole. I know it was there," he swore with asseveration. "but it was like I…fell through it or something."

"Through it?" DL asked excitedly, taking a step toward the brothers. "Like phasing?"

"Phasing?" Peter and Nathan repeated simultaneously.

"We're AP's," DL drawled proudly, gesturing to his wife and himself. "That's what I do, I phase through things. Watch," he demonstrated by immersing his hand in the middle of Nathan's very solid desk as easily as if he was testing the temperature of his bath water. "Cool, huh? Maybe you're advanced too."

Peter laughed, thoroughly enchanted by DL's display and recognizing that he now boasted the fairly impressive ability. "Yeah, no kidding, maybe I am, huh Nate?" he joked.

Nathan and Mohinder looked sharply at each other, communicating without words the need to shut up Peter, especially when DL asked what he meant by "No kidding".

"He just meant that abilities run in our family, and he already has one," Nathan spoke up before his brother could divulge his now confidential ability. "He can heal. That's how he survived the accident."

"Well, yeah," Peter added, miffed at being spoken for by his often over bearing brother. "but…"

"Obviously," Nathan continued as if he hadn't heard his brother, "you miss stepped. It happens, Pete, nothing to be embarrassed about." He ruffled Peter's hair condescendingly, to the younger boy's extreme displeasure. "Just thank God you can heal."

"Nathan," Peter balked, horrified that not only did Nikki think that he fell off a five inch sidewalk, but now she was witness to the degradation of his being on the receiving end of Nathan's righteous big brother mode. He wished the bus had taken him out when it had the opportunity. Darn Claire and her regeneration.

"Say thank you to this nice couple for taking time to walk you up here," Nathan instructed.

Peter clenched his jaw, sending Nathan a murderous glare from under hooded lids.

"Say thank you," Nathan repeated, trying desperate to communicate his desire to be rid of the strangers. 'I'll explain everything when they're gone, just listen for once.'

Whether Peter was tuned into his brother's mental wavelength or simply correctly interpreted the warning in his brother's expressively raised eyebrows, the younger boy turned from his brother with an almost inaudible long suffering groan. "Thank you," he said, sincerely grateful for their, albeit unnecessary, help and concern.

"Don't mention it," DL assured him, saying farewell with hearty pounding on the younger boy's back. "Glad you're not dead, kid."

Nikki bade adieu with a highly appreciated hug, though Peter could have done without her motherly admonishment to "Be more careful". As soon as the door shut behind Peter's new acquaintances he turned on his brother, demanding to know why he had been made a fool of in front of possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Despite the tension of the situation, Nathan still had it in him to laugh. "Oh, so is that why you were all hot and bothered?"

"Help me out here, Mohinder," Peter turned to their mutual friend. "Was the patting on the head really necessary?"

Mohinder held up his hands. "I'm not getting in the middle of this," he replied neutrally. "I'll let your brother explain his good reason for acting like a jerk. I have to get back to my work. You both take care, give the family my best."

"Well…?" Peter asked expectantly when the Petrelli brothers were left alone. Rather than answer, Nathan walked to a closet and rummaged for a few moments. "Nate?"

Nathan returned with a damp white cloth and a plain white undershirt. "Wipe off as much blood as you can and put this on. You can't go home like that."

"Fine," Peter assented, accepting the objects his brother hurled into his chest. He peeled off his crusted school uniform, depositing it on the floor before scrubbing his chest and face with the provided cloth. "So?" he asked, looking askance at his brother. "What are those good reasons Mohinder was talking about?"

Nathan watched his brother perform the necessary ablutions upon his miraculously unblemished skin, knowing full and well that he had once again come dangerously close to losing his brother. Instead of dwelling on the morbid situation, Nathan picked up the ruined shirt and tossed it into the trash can. "You're gonna have to be a lot more careful from now on, Peter."

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling the fresh shirt over his head. "Geeze, Nathan, I can't get hurt. It doesn't matter how careful I am."

"That's not what I'm talking about Pete," Nathan steered his brother into the seat in front of the desk. "You were going to tell those people about your ability, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Peter shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

Nathan paused, gathering his scattered thoughts. "Things aren't going so well for AP's right now, Pete. The government's stepping in where it doesn't belong, asking for information that it has no right having."

From the emergence of his ability, Peter had known that people considered his ability dangerous. He had been warned that there were people who didn't understand APs and who, furthermore, had no desire to understand APs. He knew that CAP was often at variance with the government. None of this bode well with the vibe of apprehension currently radiating from Nathan. "What does that mean?"

"They want to know who we are," Nathan replied honestly. "What we can do. In itself it's nothing terrible but it's certainly not a portent of good things to come. We have to guard ourselves Pete."

"Meaning I shouldn't tell people about my ability," Peter correctly inferred.

"Yeah, for the time being. It's for the best," Nathan moved behind his seated brother to grip his shoulders. "You get that, right?"

"Got it," Peter said, craning his neck to look at his brother. "But what about the long run? What are we gonna do?"

"You let me worry about that," Nathan said dismissively. "For now, we watch each other's backs and show the world that we're normal people, just a little special."

Peter squinted, quirking his face to the side. "Normal? Nate, I'm not normal. You're not normal. Is that so bad?"

Nathan dashed around the chair to perch atop the desk facing his brother. He placed his hands on both sides of his brother's neck, locking their gazes intently. "We are normal Peter. We're people, just like everyone else. Never, ever forget that."

The brothers sat in silence, though telepathy was unnecessary to recognize that thoughts were racing on both sides of the emptiness. How long can the bonds of love and familial affection unite two paths that are led by utterly contradictory philosophies? Neither brother could say, but they would continue to hold on to each other and pray against the arrival of the fateful day that held the potential to tear them apart.


Well, there ya go. Drop me a line, let me know what you thought, I love to hear your opinions. To put it simply: reviews make my day.

One more thing: thanks to you anonymous reviewers! I don't really get a chance to reply personally, but I appreciate them so much. :)