Thanks so much to everyone who reads and everyone who both reads and reviews! I always enjoy feedback from readers, and I got some awesome feedback on chapter one, which encouraged me to definitely keep going with this story.

Chapter Two

Phoebe glanced over her shoulder at the suitcases in the backseat of the car the Company had provided. They were striped blue and green, of course--her favorite colors. She was sure that every article of clothing in the bags was suited to her taste, to her style. Of course.

She turned to face forward, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. So here she was, back with the Primatech people. Fantastic.

There was a sudden tap on her window, and Phoebe jumped. She sighed with relief to see Matt Parkman bending down to look inside the car. Phoebe quickly rolled down the window. "What is it?"

"I brought you something I thought you might need," said Matt. He glanced over his shoulder, a conspirator's look on his face.

"What is it?" Phoebe asked curiously.

"Here." Matt reached into the car and pressed something cold and heavy into Phoebe's hand.

A gun.

"Uhm… Thanks," said Phoebe, looking down at the weapon, then back up at Matt. She was sure there was already one in her bag, but… She certainly appreciated the gesture. Slipping the gun into the glove compartment, she smiled warmly at Matt. "Thanks a lot. It's nice to know that someone cares."Matt grinned back at her. "I do care. You seem like a nice girl. And Peter… Peter is a great guy."

They were both quiet for a moment, and neither of them had to state the obvious--that they were both unsure of Gabriel Gray… Gabriel Petrelli.

"Well, best of luck to you," said Matt, backing away from the car and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Thanks. You, too." I mean it, Matt. Phoebe shifted the gear stick into reverse and looked over her shoulder, pressing her foot to the gas pedal. Best of luck to you… Especially with Daphne. I wish she would get over whatever it is that's bothering her, whatever it is that she's lying about…

The inside of the train car was becoming stifling. Gabriel paced.

At the forefront of his memory was his last communication with his mother, a communication that had taken place in his dreams. She had impressed upon him the importance of getting to Westbrook, the importance of meeting someone there. She had not said whom they were to meet. He glanced at Peter, who slept fitfully wrapped in blankets. He hoped whoever it was could heal others…

Peter's eyes opened then, as if he had sensed his brother's gaze. "My turn to keep watch," he muttered, sitting up slowly. He turned his face from Gabriel, but it was a poor cover. Gabriel knew his brother was hurting.

"Peter, as soon as we meet whoever it is we're meeting in Maryland, we're getting you to a hospital," Gabriel insisted, ceasing his pace across the floor.

"No. I told you--"

"Don't argue with me, Peter. You know you need help."

Peter glared at Gabriel for a moment, lips pressed tightly together, hazel eyes narrowed. Then he burst into a fit of coughing, his eyes suddenly sheepish and pained.

"Think, Peter. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take you to a hospital," Gabriel demanded, kneeling beside Peter with a worried heart. A heart… And here he hadn't thought he owned one of those.

Peter stopped coughing. His hands were shaking as he met Gabriel's gaze. His eyes were large, touched by fear and pain. "I think you're right," he panted. "I'm pretty messed up."

Gabriel gently patted his brother's shoulder. "Well we'll get you to a--"

The train's whistle suddenly sounded, sharp and shrill, cutting off Gabriel's words.

Peter clutched his brother's arm excitedly, convulsively. "We're almost there!" he exclaimed in a breathless voice.

Gabriel looked askance at him, taking in the paleness of his face, the feverish brightness of his eyes. And we couldn't get there soon enough.

Nathan glanced at Tracy as he made his way outside of the Company's facility. He was impressed by her determination to go with him to Pinehearst. He had been equally impressed by her calmness when confronted by Meredith. Nathan winced inwardly. His past was coming back to haunt him in so many ways--the strange apparitions of Linderman (explained away by Matt and Daphne), then the arrival of Meredith, and now the revelation that his father was alive. It was almost too much for a man to handle without going insane.

There was suddenly a third rhythm of footsteps in the hall, and Nathan looked to his other side to see Matt walking up beside him. Before Nathan could greet his friend, Matt spoke up.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Matt said quickly, a worried look in his eyes. "You should wait."

"Arthur Petrelli is my father, Matt," said Nathan firmly.

"And Maury Parkman was mine," said Matt, his voice equally resolute. "Your father killed him. That's how powerful he is. He could kill you like that." He snapped his fingers.

"But he won't," Nathan replied assuredly. "I know it. Maybe I can talk sense into the old man."

Matt sighed agitatedly. "I don't think that's going to work. You should wait. Maybe we can all do something together, like--"

"Like storm the gates of Pinehearst with torches and pitchforks?" Nathan suggested with a raised eyebrow.

"Haha. Very funny," Matt replied dryly. "You know what I mean."

"Yes. I do. But I'm still going to do this. For one thing, this is my father we're talking about. And for another…" He sighed, and his voice tightened. "Claire's there--at Pinehearst."

"Claire's at Pinehearst?" Matt asked, eyes wide.

"Yes. So that's where we're going." Nathan turned his eyes straight ahead and lifted his chin.

Tracy spoke up then, glancing across Nathan at Matt as they walked, nearing the parked cars. "Come with us, Matt."

Matt shook his head. "I can't do that. Won't you just listen to me and stay and wait this out for awhile? We have to have a plan."

Nathan reached the driver's side door of his car and swiftly unlocked it. "I have to do this, Matt. I have to face him."

"And I'm going with him," Tracy said determinedly.

And with that, the two of them slid into the car. Nathan waved once to Matt, then they sped away, leaving Matt alone in the parking lot, shaking his head.

Phoebe took a deep breath as she pulled into the parking lot of Westbrook's train station. The sun was just beginning to rise over the eastern horizon, bits of its rays shattering through the weaker parts of the heavy fog that settled over the station.

Phoebe was still unsure of herself. She had no clue why Angela had chosen her as a bodyguard for Angela's sons. Her power was non-combative, passive even, and Phoebe, despite months of training in the Company, had little real experience with weapons. Briefly, her mind took her back to the day when she had decided to get out, to leave the Company for good, that day when she had been forced to use a weapon, to hurt someone… She shuddered, shaking off the memory, then reached into the glove compartment for the pistol Matt Parkman had given her.

Automatically, she checked the cartridge, then flipped on the safety. The cold hardness of gunmetal was familiar, recalling memories of being trained in the use of firearms by none other than Noah Bennet. She wondered momentarily what he thought of everything that was going on…

Then the whistle of a nearing train brought her distinctly back to the present. Quickly, she unbuckled and turned off the car. She opened the door and stepped out into the chilly fog, taking only the car keys and the gun. She locked the car and slipped the keys into her jacket pocket, then quickly tucked the gun into the waistband of her pants, arranging her jacket so that the bulge of the weapon was hidden.

She straightened her shoulders as she faced the railroad tracks, glancing around in a manner which she hoped was inconspicuous. She could hear Noah's voice in her memory: "Confidence is the key, Phoebe. If you act as if you believe you have everything under control, others will believe that you do. Don't sell yourself short by appearing insecure, even when you are."

"Confidence. Composure. Got it." She waited quietly in the fog until the train came to a stop, metal wheels screeching. Looking around to make sure none of the train or station workers saw her, she began making her way alongside the tracks, peering through the fog to read the numbers on the train cars.

"…6, 7, 8..." She nearly tripped over a railroad tie. Rolling her eyes at her own clumsiness, she righted herself and continued along the tracks. "9, 10... Aha! Eleven!"

Phoebe paused for a moment before the big metal door of boxcar 11. She cast a glance to her left, then to her right. Satisfied that no one was watching (and that they probably could not see her through the fog anyway, even if they were looking), she stepped forward and placed her hand on the cold metal door handle. She placed one foot on the metal step just under the door and pulled herself up by the handle, then started to slide the door open. To her pleasant surprise, the door slid open quietly and easily.

Shivering in anticipation, she stepped into the darkness of the train car. The only sign to indicate the presence of other human beings in the car was the sound of two sets of breathing. One person's breathing was steady and calm, while the other sounded ragged and rapid.

"Hello?" Phoebe called softly into the darkness. "Gabriel Gray? Peter Petrelli?"

"We're here," came a hoarse voice from the corner to her left.

She started to move toward the corner, but stopped when the second voice hissed, "Don't tell her that! We don't know if we can trust her!"

"You can trust me," Phoebe assured them, hands going to her hips. "And I'm pretty sure at least one of you can probably shine some light in this place."

There was quiet, save for the sound of breathing.

Phoebe began to be impatient. "Angela sent me here to be your bodyguard."

"You?" came the second voice. "You're the bodyguard?"

"That's me," said Phoebe, wincing. She probably sounded nothing like a bodyguard.

"We can trust her, Gabriel. I know it," came the first voice.

"No, Peter! Wait!" exclaimed the second.

There were footsteps, and suddenly, a shape appeared before Phoebe in the darkness. Her eyes were adjusting to the light, and she could just make out the slim form of a young man holding out his hand to her. She could barely make out his crooked smile in the dark, but the sight of it eased her nerves and strengthened her confidence.

"I'm Peter Petrelli," the young man said quietly.

Phoebe took his hand and shook it firmly. "Phoebe Agnew," she said warmly. By now, she could make out Peter's dark, intense eyes. "Nice to meet you."

Peter's face was pale in the dark, and he clung tightly to Phoebe's hand. He glanced over his shoulder to where a very vague dark form waited in the shadows. "It's okay, Gabriel. She's--she's--" His hand tightened convulsively on Phoebe's hand, and suddenly, his knees buckled, and he pitched forward.

"Whoa!" Phoebe exclaimed, moving quickly to catch Peter before he hit the floor of the train car. She managed to catch him, but his weight threw her off balance, and she stumbled, falling to the floor in a sitting position with her new acquaintance in her arms.

"What did you do to him?" Gabriel exclaimed, bursting from the shadows with a frightening look of rage on his face, his hands glowing and illuminating the boxcar and his anger.

"Nothing! I didn't do anything to him!" Phoebe cried frantically. "What's wrong with him? Is he okay?" She shifted her charge in her arms so that she could see his face in the pale glow of Gabriel's hands. Peter's eyes were closed, his mouth slightly opened as he continued to breathe heavily and with apparent effort. It was then that Phoebe saw the dark bruise on his jaw, the cut running along his cheekbone. "What happened to him?"

Gabriel knelt by his brother and Phoebe, his brown eyes wide with concern. "That same thing that happened to me. Only… he can't heal himself anymore, and I can."

Phoebe and Gabriel looked up from Peter's face at the same time, their eyes meeting.

"We need to get him to a hospital," Phoebe said quietly. "Just listen to the way he's breathing."

Gabriel nodded slowly. "He does need a hospital, but…" His face darkened. "Our father has spies everywhere."

Phoebe shivered involuntarily. The warmth emanating from Gabriel's hands did nothing to combat the chill that crept its way up her spine. "Look, let's just get you guys to my car, and we'll come up with something there, okay?" she suggested, the shakiness of her voice embarrassing her.

"Fine."

The light from Gabriel's hands went out, and the blackness of the train car was almost painful to Phoebe's eyes. The memory of Peter's handsome face--pale and bruised--remained imprinted on her psyche.

"Let me take him," came the gentle voice of Peter's brother.

Phoebe nodded, then, remembering that it was dark, said, "Alright. Go ahead."

Gabriel bent down and lifted Peter from Phoebe's lap. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you at first," he told her quietly.

Phoebe stood slowly, feeling a bit sore. "That's fine," she said succinctly, not really sure what else to say.

They made their way to the door of the train car, where Gabriel hesitated, glancing down at the ground, then at Peter, who hung limply in his arms.

"Do you want me to--?" Phoebe started.

"No," Gabriel cut her off sharply. "I don't need your help. I doubt you can do this." That said, he stepped back from the door--but Peter remained where he was, hovering in the air. Gabriel lifted a hand toward Peter, and the younger brother drifted out of the train car. Gabriel slowly lowered his hand, and Peter was gently lowered to the ground.

Phoebe raised her eyebrows. "Nice."

"You haven't seen anything yet," Gabriel said. He hopped down to the ground, swiftly kneeling beside Peter. Glancing back up at Phoebe, he said solemnly, "And Peter could do even more. He could do everything."

"What happened?" Phoebe asked, frowning in curiosity.

"No time for that now." Gabriel scooped up Peter in his arms and stood. "Come on."

Phoebe jumped down out of the boxcar. The force of her landing sent a sharp pain up her right foot, and she staggered slightly, grimacing.

"And you're our bodyguard?" Gabriel remarked, looking at her with disdain.

Phoebe narrowed her eyes at him, shaking her stinging foot. "That's right. I'm your bodyguard. Looks like you need a little help. I mean, with all your special powers, you weren't even able to keep Peter safe?"

That stung, Phoebe could tell, and she regretted saying it the instant the words were out of her mouth.

"I got him out of there alive," he told her, his voice lowered almost to a growl, making her remember that he this man had killed people. Lots of them. "What have you ever done? Do you even do anything?"

Phoebe lifted her chin, forcing herself to at least act confident. "I do. I can sense the truth. And I can reveal it to others. And right now, the truth is that we're standing here arguing while your brother needs a hospital. So I suggest you refrain from being rude to me long enough for us to save his life."

Gabriel inclined his head to her, but she fancied there was a glint of sarcasm in his eyes. "Yes, ma'am."

Peter could feel motion. For a moment, he wondered if they were back on the train. Then he remembered the girl. He liked that memory. She was pretty, he thought, at least from what he had seen of her in the darkness of train car number 11. And she was kind. There was a warmth and compassion to her that he had needed no powers to sense. He wondered what her ability was, for surely she had an ability.

He could hear her voice right now, vaguely, as if from a distance.

"…Didn't tell me about any healers around here… Make any sense… If she knew he was injured…"

Then he heard Gabriel's voice, the voice he was coming to think of as his brother's. The thought of a brother reminded him sharply of Nathan, and he wondered where Nathan was, if Nathan was alright…

"…Wanted us to go to a hospital," came Gabriel's voice, also distant and unclear. "…Is the plan… If they say… Tell if it's truth or…"

"… Work like that… Can try, but I can't guarantee…"

"…Keep him safe at all costs…"

"…My priority, too…"

Then Peter's lungs constricted, and he coughed. And the cough sent pain stabbing through his chest and stomach. The pain sharpened his perception, and he was suddenly free from the haziness. Now he could clearly hear the voices of Phoebe and Gabriel.

"Peter, we're taking you to a hospital," Gabriel told him quietly.

Peter slowly opened his eyes. He could see that he was in the backseat of a car, and Gabriel was peering worriedly at him from the front passenger's seat. "Hospital? That's too dangerous. What if dad has spies there?"

"We've got our bodyguard, remember?" said Gabriel with a swift glance at Phoebe. "And she actually has an ability that might be helpful to us when it comes to spies."

"Shockingly," Phoebe muttered, but Peter detected a grin in her eyes.

"What is it?" asked Peter, looking at her curiously. "What can you do?"

"I have an affinity for truth," Phoebe told him.

Peter smiled, then. He thought that suited her.