Title: Forget Me Not

Disclaimer: I own none of the familiar characters; they belong to NBC & the show's creators etc. Anything else might just be of my own creation.

Important Author's Note: Apologies for any inconsistencies with either the timeline of existing events or American stuff (I tried).

Forget Me Not - Part One.

Peter Petrelli adjusted his grip on the steering wheel as he accelerated through the curve. The rental car surged forward in the blistering heat. Peter tilted his head towards the AC control. It was cranked up to High. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rear vision mirror. Small beads of sweat clung to his forehead. His soft brown eyes strained to refocus on the road. He was not used to this. He was from New York. Even the car appeared to despise the Texan heat. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, shirt and pants clinging to his lean muscular body. Suddenly, he reached up and touched the designer sunglasses that curled around his face. Smiling, he remembered the face of the cheerleader who convinced him to buy them. They were the only thing 'designer' that he had ever owned. He slowed and turned off the main highway. Soon, a trail of dust was snaking its way from out behind the car. He pulled into the trailer park and took a deep breath. A strange feeling crept over him, it was the same feeling he'd had the night he walked into Union Wells High School. The rush of emotion surprised him. " The last time I was in Texas . . . "

He shook his head and reminded himself what he was here for. He was here because Nathan asked him to. Why couldn't you come yourself, Nate?

Peter glanced over at the empty passenger seat. His eyes fell on a crinkled brown envelope. "Time to get this over and done with." He thought to himself as he scooped up the envelope and made his way to the front door. He knocked twice, gingerly and first, and then with more confidence. He heard movement inside. Then a shadow behind the door. It opened to reveal the face of beautiful blonde woman. "Those eyes . . ." Peter swallowed hard. She was older than him, but he instantly realised why his brother had fallen for her all those years ago,

"Can I help you?" Her accent was soft.

"Mer . . . Meredith Gordon?"

"Yes." A quizzical look crossed her face.

"I'm Peter. Peter Petrelli." His accent was dull.

A faint look of recognition was present in her eyes. It was followed by a look of quiet acceptance. "Well, you'd better come in then."

Peter followed her through the house into the sitting room.

"Please, make yourself comfortable, Mr Petrelli."

"Please . . . call me Peter."

Meredith just nodded. "This heat is just somethin'." She waved a well manicured hand in front of her face. "Please, sit."

"I'd prefer to stand." His voice sounded harsh to his own ears. "What I mean is . . . it was a long drive."

Meredith's mouth curled into a 'O' shape. "You've grown up so nice."

Peter wordlessly shifted his weight from one leg to another and then back again.

Meredith smiled. "Oh, well, we never did meet. He talked about you a lot . . . Can I get you anything to drink, Peter?" she carried on without waiting for an answer. "I've got some wonderful ice tea in the fridge."

"Thank-you."

"Okay. " She smiled softly. "I take it you've met her then? My daughter I mean."

Peter smiled at the memory again. "Yes, I have."

Peter watched her disappear into the kitchen before letting his eyes survey the room around him. She continued to talk from the other room.

"It's strange, you know . . ."

Peter's eyes focused on a group of photos resting on a bookshelf in the corner of the living room. He moved closer.

" . . . Never in the world did I think she was alive. Didn't think anyone could survive a fire like that."

Peter's eyes roved the cherished collection of photographs. Black and white. Colour. Old mixed in with the new. His eyes finally settled on a photo with a woman and a small boy. The woman had an joyful smile on her face.

Meredith continued. ". . . She's a true miracle . . . An angel on her shoulder."

Peter felt a strange tingle in his spine as he picked up the photograph for a better look. There was something in the picture that triggered a distant memory in the far recesses of his mind. The way she held her arms around the boy. The way the floral dress clung to her shapely body. The way her dark hair curled around her face. The way she smiled. "They're almost identical . . . "

"Not much like her Father, I suspect." Meredeth returned with two large glasses of ice tea.

"He would have come himself . . . if he was able too." Peter cringed on the inside. "I shouldn't have to make excuses for you, Nate."

She nodded and took the opportunity to change the subject. "My grandmother," she explained, setting the glasses down on a table next to the brown paper envelope.

Peter finally drew his eyes away from the photograph, relief washing over him. "Oh."

Meredith continued. "The boy is my father. The photo must have been taken a few years after the end of the War. Strange . . . you're not the only one interested in my family history today. Got a call from some reporter this morning. Doing an article on families who emigrated to the states after the War or somethin' . . . I-" She was cut off by an ominous knock at the door. "Fancy that. Excuse me a moment." She hurried away to the door.

Meredith opened the door. "You must be from The Post."

"Yes Ma'am. We spoke on the phone." He grinned widely to show a mouthful of perfectly manicured white teeth.

Meredith was suddenly speechless.

"You have a lovely home . . . Mrs Gordon," he purred.

"It's Ms." She corrected him and flashed a big smile in return.

"Of course."

"Please do come in . . . Mr . . ." she waited for him to fill in the blank.

"Gray. Gabriel Gray." He followed her inside, pausing only briefly to see if there was anyone else around.

Peter, meanwhile, was still holding on to the photo of Meredeth's Grandmother, as if unable to put it down. Another tingle shimmied down his spine as he heard footsteps echoing in the small trailer. A distant panic made his heart grow cold as his eyes returned to the photograph. Something strange was happening. The photograph had changed, almost before his eyes. The boy was gone, and the woman no longer smiling. He watched in awe as she too started fading before his eyes. "What the?"

"You'll have to excuse me for just a few moments, Mr Gray, I have another guest to attend to. But, I shan't be long and then you will have my undivided attention," Merideth was explaining as she entered the room.

Peter turned quickly upon hearing her voice behind him. He was pale and the sight made his pulse quicken. Everything around him seemed to slow down as he watched her step aside and make way for Sylar to enter the room. Peter's eyes grew wide and his grip on the photo tightened. "Sylar!" He gasped.

Sylar was equally as shocked to find his rival standing before him. The sly smile on his face faded as he watched Peter disappear in front of his eyes. Into thin air the photograph plummeted to the floor, leaving only the sound of breaking glass echoing throughout the small house.