A/N: Alright, I've been an obsessive Peter/Emma shipper all summer, but now that we've actually seen her, I'm even MORE obsessed. Bet nobody thought THAT was possible lol. Anyway, after the awesomeness of the Cello Thing, I just needed to write something on the subject. Also, Mendelssohn, for those of you who do not know, was essentially the greatest composer of love songs from the romantic period. I couldn't quite tell, but I thought it was something of his that Emma was playing.

Peter Petrelli liked music as much as the next person. It was an intrinsic part of what it meant to be human, after all. And music wasn't hard to find in New York City. Nearly every block housed a man or woman tooting away on some beat-up old saxophone. Car stereos pumped overloud music across the pavement through open windows. The city was home to dozens of opera companies and even more orchestras. No, music of one kind or another wasn't that hard to find.

And that was precisely why what he was doing made no sense.

The sound of the cello floated down the tree-lined walk and caught his attention. Ordinarily, he would have ignored it. There were probably a dozen street musicians scattered through the park. But something about the haunting song of the unknown musician had prompted him to his feet. He couldn't control himself- he just had to know who was playing, as if he instinctually knew it was important. He looked around wildly to try and spot the cellist.

That was about the point when he realized he wasn't the only one drawn out of his way by the musician's enchantment. A dozen or so people had gathered around a blonde woman seated on a park bench. Peter pushed to the front of the crowd, inordinately anxious to see her face.

He was amazed to realize that he recognized her. It was the reticent records secretary from that morning.

But that wasn't what shocked him the most. At every hum of the bow, a burst of opalescent, multicolored light shivered across the strings. For a moment, he was under the impression that this was what had drawn the crowd. But he quickly realized that they couldn't even see the lights, and he returned his gaze to the woman.

She was staring down at the glistening lights beneath the bow as the slender fingers of her left hand shifted against the strings to adjust the pitches. Her face was illuminated by the lights, and there was such a look of stunned joy on her face, Peter couldn't help but think she was beautiful. The tiniest smile curled across her lips and gray-green eyes held wonder and terror in equal parts. The bow ran across the strings in a beautiful legato melody he thought he recognized as Mendelssohn. She seemed to be playing almost by feel, and the deep-throated voice of the cello soared through the still air. Despite himself, he took a step forward, separating himself from the crowd to stand before her, laid bare by the heartrending power of her music.

At that moment, she looked up. Her eyes met his and he could see a flicker of recognition there. The bow produced one last, low tremolo, and was still. For the briefest of moments, they were frozen like that, staring at each other. And then she leapt to her feet, leaving the cello leaning against the bench. She handed the bow to a man in the crowd and dashed away.

It hadn't even been her instrument? Peter was floored. He'd never heard anyone play like that; not someone he actually knew, anyway. And it was obvious that it wasn't just hours of practice that had taught her to play. The lights were a testament to that. She had a power.

He made to follow her, pushing back through the crowd after her. But she was already gone, taking her light with her.