Author's Note: Heroes does not belong to me.

Chapter One:

The weather was beginning to turn as September came to a close. Assistant District Attorney Nathan Petrelli was striding along the sidewalk not far from his office in step with his personal assistant, Gail. They were having a good day, and the gaggle of press gathered around the entrance to the District Attorney's building was not entirely unsurprising.

Nathan pulled off his sunglasses and showed the crowd his best grin. He was about to start talking when he saw a familiar figure standing at the edge of the crowd. Nathan turned, his mouth dropping open. It was his father, his father standing next to a boy of about 12. Nathan stepped forward, pushing past the people between them, but Arthur and the boy began to run. Nathan broke away from the crowd and dashed after them.

Nathan wove in and out of traffic as he fought to keep the two figures in sight. They reached the end of the block and disappeared into the subway. Nathan ran down the stairs and found he was standing on the edge of a building. Standing in front of him was a young man in his twenties, staring over the edge. Nathan moved forward, his hand reaching out to grasp the young man's shoulder. A fierce wind whipped about them, sending their hair in all directions. The other man began to turn…

"Nathan?"

Gail was shaking his shoulder. Nathan realised that he had fallen asleep in the back of the car. He gave his assistant a half smile as she said, "Your mother said that you are to change before going to the party tonight. She doesn't want you smelling like an office."

Nathan ran a hand across his face and said, "Right. Thank you."

He stumbled out of the car, trying to grasp at the last remnants of his dream. It wasn't an unusual occurrence; generally he had a dream about his father or his brother about once a week. If it weren't them, it would be of a blonde haired woman and a baby, burning. His mother had recommended he see a sleep doctor, or some sort of psychiatrist, but Nathan had refused. He didn't want to rationalise them, he wanted to remember his brother and his daughter, but particularly he wanted to know his father's face so he knew what to aim his fist at when they met again.

He made his way through his apartment. He paid for it by the money he earned as an assistant district attorney, unlike the enormous house his mother lived in, which was owned by his stepfather. He shrugged off his work shirt and pulled out his tuxedo from the wardrobe. After struggling with his bowtie he stared at the picture on his desk. It was of his family, before his father ripped it apart. He scowled for a few moments before the shrill ring of the telephone woke him from his thoughts.

"Nathan Petrelli."

"Mr Petrelli, I am Gregory Harrod, calling from Matthey, Hill and Armitage. I am calling on behalf of the estate of Arthur Petrelli."

Nathan froze. For the first time in 14 years he had confirmation of his father's continuing existence. "Ok. What's the message?"

"Your father has left you 40 of his estate, with the other 60 going to your brother," the lawyer said. "I am faxing the information to your office as we speak."

"I'm sorry," Nathan said, trying to keep the terseness out of his voice. "Did you say my father has left me something? Why would he have done that?"

"You are down here as one of the recipients of his will," Harrod said. "I'm sorry, were you expected a larger percentage? I was led to understand that this was all cleared."

Nathan bit hard on his lower lip. "Mr Harrod, is my father dead?"

There was a silence at the other end of the phone. "I'm terribly sorry Mr Petrelli, I thought that you were aware. Your father passed two weeks ago."

The whole world tipped on its axis. Nathan slid down the wall, the back of his head falling back against it with a dull thud.

"Mr Petrelli?"

Taking a heaving breath, Nathan pulled himself together. "Right. I see. I wasn't aware. How did he die?"

"I understand it was a heart attack," Mr Harrod said quietly. Nathan ran a hand over his face. "Right."

The phone line went quiet again and Nathan stared back at the picture on his desk. A cold numbness had taken over his mind, which was why it took him a moment to realise the true consequences of his father's death. In the photograph sixteen-year-old Nathan had his arm around his four-year-old brother, his hidden brother, the brother whose shield was gone. Nathan sat bolt upright and said, "Mr Harrod, do you have a contact number for my brother?"

The lawyer hesitated before answering. "Mr Petrelli, I was only given your contact information."

Nathan sighed in frustration. "Fine, when is the funeral?"

"I understand it was last week," Mr Harrod said. "Mr Petrelli, I'm sorry. I was led to believe that you were aware of the circumstances around the will. This was supposed to be merely a courtesy call to inform you of the transfer of funds to your account."

Nathan gave a mirthless laugh. "Mr Harrod, I have had no contact with my father in nearly 14 years. I'd really appreciate you giving me a number for my brother."

"I don't have that information," Mr Harrod said. Nathan jumped as his apartment buzzer sounded through the room. "Excuse me for a moment Mr Harrod."

He opened his door to reveal his mother looking displeased. He sighed and let her into the room, saying, "Ma, there's something I need to tell you."

Angela Petrelli stared levelly at him. "I hope there is a good reason why you are nearly two hours late for my party Nathan."

"Dad's dead," Nathan said calmly, watching his mother's face carefully. Her expression didn't change. Nathan glared at her and picked up the phone again. "Mr Harrod, where is your firm? I'd like to come and speak to you in person."

"We are based in Los Angeles," Mr Harrod said, sounding slightly bemused. "The address is on the paperwork I have faxed across to your office."

"Thank you Mr Harrod," Nathan said. "I'll arrange to fly out tomorrow."

He put down the phone and turned to his mother, who was looking a lot less composed. She looked up at him and said, "I assume that was a discussion about the funeral?"

Nathan shook his head. "Apparently it's already happened. That was Dad's lawyer telling me how much money I should expect to end up in my account."

Angela was silent, absently turning her wedding band on her finger. Nathan sat down beside her on the sofa and said, "Ma, I'm going out there tomorrow. I need to find out what's going on."

"I doubt there is much to discover," Angela said sullenly. "Nathan, your father destroyed this family in one moment, I don't think his death will miraculously put it together again."

"I don't care," Nathan said, a resolve pooling within him. "I'm going to find Peter."

14 years earlier

Peter Petrelli sat in the den of the Petrelli mansion attempting to give the appearance of a son dutifully absorbed in their homework, when in reality he was trying desperately to overhear the dramatic conversation going on in the adjoining room. Nathan had fled the house in the early hours of the morning, stumbling past Peter's bedroom in a state that the younger brother had never seen before.

"Nathan?"

The elder brother's eyes were haunted, pained. Peter reached out to hold onto Nathan's arm, who instantly relaxed at his brother's touch. "Hey Pete, you should be asleep, school tomorrow."

"What's going on?" Peter asked, noting Nathan's dishevelled but fully dressed appearance.

"I've got to go to Texas for a bit," Nathan said, curling his hand around Peter's shoulder. "Don't know how long I'll be, but don't worry about it, ok?"

Peter blinked up at him. "But…"

"I know," Nathan said with a sigh. "I know I promised to spend time with you this holiday, but this really can't be helped."

"Ok," Peter said, his gaze dropping. He was being selfish and knew it, but he had so few opportunities to spend with Nathan since he had started in the Navy.

"When I get back we'll go and watch the Yankees," Nathan promised, pulling Peter tight to his chest. "Ok?"

Peter nodded against Nathan's suit jacket. Nathan pulled away and said, "Be good for Ma and Pop, ok?"

Peter smiled. "Aren't I always?"

Nathan grinned and patted his cheek. "See you soon."

Peter watched him head down the stairs before going back to bed. The following day both of the parents were anxious and snippy, so Peter decided to hide and play the perfect son. Nathan had taught him early that not aggravating the parents when times were tense led to a much easier day for the sons.

"I don't care Angela!" the thundering voice of Arthur Petrelli made Peter knock his schoolbooks on the floor in surprise. He scrambled to pick them up when he heard his mother say, "Its for the best Arthur."

"She is Nathan's daughter, our granddaughter, we can't just send her away!"

Peter's eyes widened as he was on his haunches scooping up the books. Nathan's daughter? He made to stand up and smacked his head on the underside of the table. He gave out a shout of pain and rubbed at his head as the door opened. His parents were standing on the threshold wearing matching expressions of surprise.

"Peter, how long have you been standing there?" Mrs Petrelli asked and Peter, blinking the tears of pain out of his eyes, said, "Uh…"

"Peter." His father took a step forward and his hand landed on Peter's shoulder. "How much did you hear?"

Peter stopped rubbing his head and said, "Nathan has a daughter?"

His parents shared a look of concern and Angela said, "I'm going to make the call."

Arthur looked panicked. "No! We should tell him the truth!"

Angela's expression darkened. "What happened to protecting our children?"

The look on his father's face shook Peter to the core. "You lecture me about protecting our children? I heard what you and Daniel were talking about! I know about the bomb!"

Peter's mother's nostrils flared as she glared at her husband and she said, "Then I will be making two calls."

She stormed out of the room and Arthur released the grip on Peter's shoulder. He cupped Peter's face in his hand and said, "You have to trust me Pete, ok?"

Peter glanced across at where his mother had disappeared to and then nodded.