Well, I've said I was going to do this, and here it is. Things I should mention at the beginning: this probably will not be a complete rewrite or alternative version of Resurgence. It's just a side project I came up with in case anyone was interested in the stuff I couldn't fit into the main story. Because of that, you still need to read Resurgence to understand what's going on after the second chapter, and it won't be updated as frequently.

POV: 3rd person all the way through. It's been suggested that I do something from Peter or Claire's POV, but I can't get into their heads like I can Bella's since I had four books to show me how she thinks.

Rating: is M for a reason. There will be blood. There will be cutting – even if the fact that it's Claire and she heals right away makes it less disturbing, it still might bother some people. There will be non- or semi-graphic mentions of sex, but no smut. And there'll be a bit of messy character death which will be graphic. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Disclaimer: Tim Kring and Stephenie Meyer don't shy away from bloody scenes either (as proven by Sylar and Breaking Dawn) but I'm not them. So Heroes and Twilight aren't mine.

Part I: What We've Come To

Peter and Arthur Petrelli – Pinehearst, New Jersey

Peter didn't even notice three of the people in the office he'd stormed into seconds ago; his mind was completely occupied by the fact that his father – who was supposed to have been dead for no small amount of time by now – was standing there, very much alive.

"Dad?" The question was almost rhetorical, an instinctive reaction to seek confirmation that he wasn't hallucinating.

Arthur nodded. "Come here, son – give your father a hug."

Peter stepped forward to do as the man who appeared to be his father asked but also scanned his mind; there was undoubtedly something funny going on here, and he had no intention of walking into a trap. This guy could be an impostor with the ability to make Peter's skin melt off for all he knew.

Just a little closer and his powers are all mine…

The younger Petrelli recoiled as if a snake had lashed out at him. "What?"

Arthur's face darkened as suddenly as storm clouds blotting out the sun. "Grab him!" he instructed his flunkies, drawing Peter's attention to them for the first time.

Knox and Flint rushed to obey their boss, blue flames kindling on Flint's fingertips, but Peter was too fast for them and next thing they knew Knox was in the air, flying across the room and smashing into Arthur's desk. Flint got electrocuted, the pain messing up his aim so badly that the jet of fire released from his hand missed Peter completely and set the carpet blazing instead.

Daphne, who'd hung back from the fray, shot off down the hall in search of a fire extinguisher.

Arthur watched the unfolding chaos with total astonishment. His youngest son had never fit into the Petrelli mold, but this…was just outrageous. Not only had Peter stopped him from acquiring whatever powers he'd managed to pick up, he was also trashing Arthur's office!

He had to be ejected from the building, and fast; there was no way he would let Arthur close enough to take his powers now and besides, if he stayed there much longer he might destroy something more valuable than the furniture. Arthur raised his hand, directing a burst of telekinetic energy at Peter…

Claire Bennet and Elle Bishop – outside Pinehearst

"Thanks, Claire."

"For what?"

Elle shifted uncomfortably but continued, "Pretty much everything. You've been nothing but sweet and I've been nothing but a bitch-"

Her awkward admission of gratitude was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass from somewhere above; both girls looked up just in time to see someone crash through a seventh-story window. They jumped apart, and the glass rain – as well as the falling body – hit the sidewalk between them.

"Peter!" Claire exclaimed, hurrying to his side. "What happened to you?"

He took her outstretched hand so she could help him up, pushed some broken bones back into place, spat out a mouthful of blood and teeth that had been chipped or knocked out altogether by his face-first fall onto the sidewalk, and muttered something that sounded like 'Dad'.

Elle crossed her arms. "Your father's dead, Peter," she countered.

"No, he's alive – I don't know how, but he's alive and he just tried to take my powers. We have to get out of here."

Claire nodded in agreement; having her ability removed might be a relief, but if the people in there had tossed Peter out of a window she was willing to take his advice and leave. She just wasn't willing to leave someone else behind. "Elle?" She looked around for her adversary-turned-ally, only to see the other girl backing away. "Elle?" she repeated uncertainly.

"We came here to have our powers taken away, and Peter says they can do that." Elle edged closer to Pinehearst's entrance.

"Yeah, they just tried to take his even though he didn't want them removed, then tried to kill him! Elle, they're dangerous!" She took a step toward the girl she was beginning to feel an unexpected bond with, holding out her hand. "Come with us."

Elle shook her head. "I'm sorry, Claire!" With that she turned her back on Claire and Peter and ran inside Pinehearst.

Claire's hand dropped to her side, an unpleasant combination of regret and betrayal twisting her stomach. "Just when I was starting to think someday I might like her…" she muttered.

Peter gave her a skeptical frown; this short encounter was all it took to bring back memories of his time in Primatech's long-term detention area, during which Elle zapping him had been a daily occurrence. Call him petty, but he couldn't imagine ever liking her after that. "Forget about it. If Pinehearst taking her power is what she wants, that's her choice. Let's get going before dear old Dad decides to send someone out after me."

"Great idea."

Scooping up his niece, Peter took off into the sky. He never gave a backward glance to the building where he'd gone for answers and found just another strand in the tangled web that marked relationships in the Petrelli family. Just one more skeleton in their already overstuffed closet. Now he couldn't decide which disturbed him more: that his father's supposed death from a heart attack or suicide or whatever the final story of what had killed him was had all been a lie, or that this discovery didn't come as that big a shock. Since his ability first manifested Peter had uncovered so many things his parents had kept from him, he was beginning to think nothing would surprise him anymore.

Peter's apartment – Manhattan

Claire stood over the sink, watching her blood drip from where she traced lines down her forearm with a knife she'd found in one of the drawers and borrowed. No matter how deep she cut, she never felt more than a vague sense of pressure on her arm. She dug the blade in deeper until she heard it scraping bone – still nothing remotely approaching pain.

Disappointment registered faintly in the back of her mind, but she didn't show it. Her face remained blank and impassive; unfeeling, just like me, she reflected.

"What're you doing?"

When she heard her uncle's voice from the kitchen doorway Claire tried to hide the knife and her slashed arm behind her back, but Peter saw a few telltale red drops hit the floor and pulled her arms out in front of her in time to catch the last of her self-inflicted wounds healing. His eyes stayed there even after no trace of damage remained, then slowly travelled to the bloody knife in her other hand and finally up to the stricken expression on her face.

"Something you want to talk about?" he asked, his tone one of forced calm.

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm fine." She tried to pull out of his grip.

He didn't let go. "Claire, you're cutting yourself! When people do that, they're not fine."

"Well I'm not most people," she said defiantly, digging her nails into the backs of his hands to make him let go of her wrists. "I wasn't hurting myself. I can't hurt anymore." Walking quickly away, she stopped after crossing to his bedroom and noticing that he seemed to be in the middle of packing. "Are you going somewhere?"

Peter didn't answer right away; Claire turned back to him, biting her lip. "Yeah, I… I'm leaving." The words came out like he could hardly believe them. "I don't know for sure if Dad plans to come after me, but I'm not hanging around to find out."

"Where will you go?"

"Not sure yet," he admitted with a shrug. "Out of New York. I hear Siberia's nice this time of year."

Claire ignored this slightly lame bit of humor. "Take me with you." Peter's expression told her he was less than enthusiastic about that idea, but she pushed on. "My dad's working with Sylar now – I can't live with that when it's his fault I can't feel anymore! If you don't let me go with you I'll just run away on my own!"

"Uh-huh. Where would you go?"

"Anywhere. I'm not staying in the same house as Sylar's new partner after what he did to me," she insisted.

Peter stared down at her, considering his next move carefully. It was clear that she meant every word about not going back home, and there were any number of things that could happen to teenage runaways…things maybe even Claire Bennet couldn't recover from… "Okay," he agreed, forcing his mind off that track. "I'll take you to get your stuff, and then we'll figure out where to go from there."