"Show me a Hero and I'll write you a tragedy." - F. Scott Fitzgerald
"Good afternoon. Most of you have no idea who I am. My name is Nathan Petrelli, and I was elected to Congress in the State of New York. Seems like a long time ago. I lost my position. I lost my brother. I lost my family. I'm sad to say that I lost my way. But while I was gone, I had the chance to see the world through newly-humbled eyes. Witnessed amazing things. I've seen ordinary people among us, trying their best each day to be heroes. These ordinary people... like you, like me, are capable of extraordinary things. You have no idea... how extraordinary. But there are other people, organizations, who don't want you to know the truth. I, myself, kept secrets. But last year... something incredible happened to me. And it changed my life. At first, I was afraid. But I'm... I'm not afraid anymore. I'm here to tell you the truth. I have the ability to fly." He looked around as everything fell silent, safe for flashing cameras. A quick glance over to his brother and new found partner in crime, showed him that he wasn't the only one waiting the judgement.
"Prove it!" One reporter boldly broke the silence. Nathan looked to his direction and splastered on a well rehearsed smirk. He knew that would come next. The rest of the reporters soon followed with the insisting on the show us trend.
"Okay, Just follow me outside." Nathan said calmly, heading towards the entrance to the outside realm. Both Peter and Matt fell in step with the ex-congressman as they lead the whole crowd of reporters and others outside so Nathan could show them.
He would prove to them all that he was for once telling the truth. It was such a liberating feeling to actually be out in the open with it. Before hand only ones that had known this to be true were everyone at Kirby Plaza, and his mother. He had tried to tell Heidi, but that was the reason she had left him. Maybe if she saw this press conference, she would finally understand and come back to him.
He stopped in the middle of the parking lot, the crowd stopping ten feet infront of him to give him the distance he needed, but ready to take pictures and capture on camera the possibility of seeing first hand the laws of physics thrown out the window, or simply to prove the ex-congressman had lost his mind.
Nathan bent his knees a little and tried. He closed his eyes and tried to fly.
Nothing.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
He opened his eyes and looked behind him to the expecting crowd, all eyes glued on him. He glanced over to his brother who was looking at him, silently telling him to show them all and end the lies.
He turned around and closed his eyes again, willing himself to show them. Show them all that he could take flight and make a mockery of the laws of gravity and Isaac Newton.
Nothing still.
He opened his eyes again to find both Matt and Peter by his side.
"It's not working, I can't fly." He said quietly with such defeat in his tone. His face fell as he stared at the ground. He had never known such humiliation.
"The Haitian's here." Peter said suddenly, looking around. The former congressman looked up to his brothers' face.
"Who's that?" He asked.
"He can supress the abilities of the people around him. It explains why you can't fly right now." Peter said quickly, still looking around for any sign of the tall black man.
It didn't take them long after the little press conference and humiliation of not being able to prove he could fly, to commit him to a psychiatric ward. They said it was for his own good. They made him have daily one hour sessions with a therapist, begrudgingly take anti-depressant pills. The nerve of them thinking he was depressed.
He tried to talk rationally with the therapist, explain things. He flat out spilled his guts from the car accident to the bomb to the virus. He didn't want to lie anymore, and he wasn't either. That was the problem though, the more truth he told the less they doubted their judgement of him being insane.
Again and again he would try with the therapist, but was denied each time. Doomed to remained locked up until he lied and admitted he couldn't fly, and he was just delusional. After a year, he even tried that, tired of fighting with them, tired of being angry, tired of being locked up. Sadly, it was beyond the point of saving him. He was condemned to walk these white halls, sleep in a room with just a doorway and no door, with a window that had iron cast bars on both sides of it, and family days every other Saturday.
"Peter, You can travel time right?" He whispered to his brother who was sitting across from him. He looked a little worse for wear, but at this point Nathan was glad to see anyone.
"I think so." He shrugged. He had been discouraged of using his powers by their mother who had a powerful influence over the youngest Petrelli. Even though He knew that she had her hands dirty with these plans to 'heal' the world, he still came running back to her.
"I've been thinking about this for awhile now." Nathan began, edging his plastic chair around the circular table to be side by side with Peter. It was easier to whisper this way so the orderlies and nurses wouldn't hear him and cart him off in a straight jacket saying family time was over for him.
"About what?" Peter asked, running his hand through his long hair. He had grown it back to what length it was before the entire mess. Though he greased it back now so it resembled a greasy helmet. It gave him a tougher look, especially with the small goatee and mustache he had going.
"Can you go back to the press conference?" Nathan asked him.
"Why?" He was always asking questions.
"I want you to go back and shoot me before I can say I have the ability to fly." Nathan stated firmly, wrapping a shoulder around Peter's back and hand gripping his shoulder tightly so the reaction would be calmed slightly. Peter looked at him with big shocked eyes.
"What?!" His voice was raised as Nathan would expect. Nathan glared at him, shushing him expectantly.
"Think about it. If I was shot instead, it would make them anxious to know what I was going to say. It would cause a media circus to fall in our favor to destroy the company. I wouldn't end up here either." Nathan explained, putting a hand to his face and rubbing his unshaved stubble. He no longer cared for his appearance these days.
"Yea, because you'd be dead!" Peter fired back.
"I didn't say shoot to kill, just shoot me so it looks like I could die." Nathan replied.
"Nathan..." Peter sighed, putting his head in his hands.
"Peter, please. For both our sakes. The company needs to be destroyed." He pulled his big brother card on Peter, knowing when push came to shoove, Peter would do exactly what Nathan told him to do.
"Fine..." The youngest Petrelli sighed heavily as he took on a new weight on his shoulders.
"Good, Oh. One more thing. Go back and tell Bob about this conversation. Set him up so he calls mom and tells her what happened." Nathan said quickly as Peter began standing up. He lowered himself again.
"...This place has done things to you're mind, Nathan." He said shaking his head.
"Well, You try spending two years here with the insane, knowing you're not insane." Nathan shot back. "Promise me, You'll do this." Nathan begged.
"I will." Peter sighed.
"Promise Me!" Nathan growled this time.
"Okay Okay, I promise I will." Peter said.
"Time's up, Nathan." The orderly said. Nathan smiled weakly, giving Peter a hug.
"You can do this, Peter. I love you." Nathan gave him a quick peck on the cheek then pulled away. He looked to the orderly with a sad soft smile and followed her as she lead him back to his room.