He could not begin to comprehend what on earth was going on. One minute he was laying next to this beautiful blonde woman, who did not make him feel guilty for once in the last six months, and if he ever got back to New York City in one piece he would feel horrible about what he had done. Then the next moment he was being pushed through the hotel by a tall man in horn rimmed glasses and an even taller black man.

He questioned first, then offered them money, anything to let him go. Having a gun pointed at you was one thing he thought he'd never have to deal with after being done with the navy. Even through those years, there was only one gun that was pointed at him, and that was after he had crash landed in Bosnia. That was an experience he wanted to forget with all his heart and mind. The mere thought of it caused a chill to run down his spine.

Nathan saw the black SUV the two men seemed to be pushing him towards. He needed to get away, now. Then his opportunity came. The man holding the gun, his cell phone rang, causing him to look down.

Nathan quickly turned and kicked upward, knocking the man away from him, stunned. He then gave a push towards the haitian and started to run from the parking lot.

"Stop Mr. Petrelli!" HRG yelled, Nathan kept running as fast as he could.

Bang.

The man actually was shooting at him, and no less hit him. He felt the bullet drive into his right shoulder blade. He let out a cry as the force of it and his own momentum brought him to the ground. The bullet nearly got through the shoulderblade, and was now lodged between that bone and his right lung, making breathing rather difficult.

"I warned you." He heard the man growl, as Natahn gasped from suprise and agony. He could feel blood tricking down his back as he struggled to his feet.

"Take him out." The man said, presumably towards the accomplice. Nathan Petrelli though, was a man not to be dealt with. If they truely knew him well, they would have realized his naval training prepared him for situations much like this.

The congressman eyed up the tall black man as he advanced. That was when the congressman fought back, sending a hook with his left arm towards the Haitian. Square hit in the cheek. He smirked slightly as he sent one of the assailants backwards. He turned to the man in horn rimmed glasses, and saw the gun was once again trained on him.

He ran through his options, then finally decided on the one that would be best suited. He arched his knees, bending down slightly, exchanging eye contact between his kidnappers. He could not believe he was actually going to do this. Take off infront of two strangers! But then again his life was actually at stake here. Couldn't win an election while being dead.

He then mustered all the strength he could and launched himself into the air, rising to five hundred feet above the ground in merely seconds. He didn't pause at that, he merely turned towards New York City and jetisoned off towards it.

Peter. He would help. He was always there to back Nathan up when things got really tough. When the accident happened, He was there, helping the couple cope with Heidi's disability. He was going to help Nathan put Linderman away. He was there when dad died.

Flying was not the best idea though for someone with a bullet in them. He barely got to New York City, and that was with taking three pit stops to catch his breathe for a minute or two. The downside about flying with that type of injury was he could barely breath, that was why he had to stop three times in the first place. The upside though was at the speed he was going he seemed to momentarily put a stop to the bleeding which because of having to stopped now had covered half of his back in the sticky red liquid.

He finally found Peter's apartment, and quite literally dropped onto the roof. He landed with a hard thud on his butt which lead to him falling backwards onto his back. He cried in agony, wrapping his arm around himself to reach the wound he had acquired. He rolled onto his stomach and let the shock of his landing pass, and to regain a somewhat normal paced breathing pattern.

He coughed as he struggled to his feet and staggered to the door that led into the building. Thankfully Peter was only a level down from the roof, Nathan knew he would not be able to hold out much longer; It had been nearly two hours since he had been shot. Even though the flying did stunt his bleeding, it took alot of his strength.

After what seemed like an eternity he made it down the steps, into the empty hall, and was now standing infront of Peters' door. He knocked feverishly, feeling his legs starting to give way underneath him. Finally Peter answered, opening the door, and stopping in mid greeting to gap at his brother's condition.

Nathan gasped, but managed to smile weakly. His color was draining from him as quickly as the color from Peter's color was draining from him. What other reaction would Nathan expect from his little brother?

The elder one just showing up randomly, in nothing but a pair of blue pajama pants. And even worse, he looked worn tired, and specks of blood could be seen even from the frontal view. He looked deathly ill.

"Peter..." Nathan said with a raspy voice, his legs finally giving in on him and his eyes closed with them. The last thing he remembered was a pair of strong arms catching him, a peak shot of agony localizing where the bullet had entered his body, and his little brother calling out his name. How he'd love to answer, if he could, but the darkness was far to welcoming.