Thanks to everyone who is reading, and especially to everyone who is reviewing!
Previously on Heroes (Home Fires Burning): Phoebe Agnew suspects that she has the ability of telekinesis. She has also been having dreams involving an abandoned mall, an evil stalker, and a slim, dark haired young man who can save her, the man she needs to find (guess who!). She dreams about her friend Sasha from New York City, then receives a phone call from her friend. As her friend is inviting her to stay in New York for a while, she suddenly feels as if she will find the man she keeps dreaming about in New York City...
Chapter Two (Find Him)
I'm here. So where are you?
Phoebe stood looking out the window of her hotel room, watching the streets of New York, almost expecting the man from her dreams to appear. She sighed and stepped back from the window, closing the blinds. This is going to be harder than you thought, Phoebe.
Her cell phone rang, and she hurriedly answered it.
"So you made it to the hotel alive?" Sasha asked.
"I did," Phoebe replied, plopping on the edge of the bed.
"I still don't understand why you won't stay here with me," Sasha said. From the sound of her voice, Phoebe could tell she was pouting.
"You know me." Phoebe laid back on the bed, looking up at the fancy light fixture. "Independent." She rolled over onto her stomach. And plus--I have another mission here.
"Well, don't be a stranger. You're coming with me to meet Brad at Michelle's tonight," Sasha insisted.
"Michelle's?"
"It's a really nice restaurant--"
"Sasha." Phoebe pressed her lips tightly together. She knew what was coming. "I'll not have you spending hundreds on me."
Sasha laughed. "My apartment. Tonight. 7:30. Be there. And be ready to eat Italian food!" And she hung up.
Phoebe sighed. She loved her friend, but Sasha had never understood Phoebe's need to do things on her own. She smiled, laying down her cell phone, getting up from the bed and crossing the room. Despite her feelings of guilt, Italian sounded good…
Italian.
Phoebe stopped walking. A name… An Italian name…
Petrelli. That was it. Why was she thinking of it?
"Phoebe, you're crazy," she told herself, looking at her reflection in the floor-length mirror. Suddenly she realized that she was not.
Nathan Petrelli was a congressman from New York. What was it her mother had said? "…the brother of a politician from New York…They found out that he was a hero." The one who had saved the cheerleader…
A chill ran up Phoebe's spine. This could not be a coincidence.
She thought hard about the young man from her dreams, the one she knew she needed, the one who was in danger from the man who was chasing her in the mall. He was dark-haired, dark-eyed, pale-skinned, slim… Possibly of Italian descent. She thought hard about Nathan Petrelli. Had she ever seen a picture of him? Indeed she had, in a magazine. Was there any resemblance between him and the man from her dreams? There was!
"They could be… brothers," she whispered to her reflection. It only took her a moment to decide what to do.
"I really appreciate this, Sasha," Phoebe said, fingers flying over the keyboard of her friend's old computer. The newer, Braille model was sitting beside it, pushed aside for the older one.
"No problem, Phoebs." Sasha reached behind herself to feel for the seat of the recliner across the room from her friend. "I'm just glad you're letting me help you with something."
"This means I'm paying for my own meal tonight," Phoebe remarked with a crooked grin.
Sasha could not see the grin, but she could hear it. "Phoebe!" she cried with mock anguish. She sniffed, lifting her chin, pale brown eyes unseeing, but twinkling. "In that case, you'll have to let me help you with that search of yours." She stood and carefully crossed the room.
Phoebe glanced over her shoulder at her friend. "I don't know, Sasha. You might think I'm crazy."
Sasha laid a hand on the other girl's shoulder. She was quiet for a moment, her delicate features pinched in concentration. "Hmm… You're looking for something… someone."
Phoebe's green eyes widened. "How do you know?"
Sasha smiled slowly, brushing her wavy, light brown hair back from her shoulders with petite hands. "I've heard that some blind people acquire extra skills once they lose their sight." She shrugged. "MaybeI'm one of them."
"That's--that's awesome." Phoebe turned back to the computer screen, wondering whether or not to tell her friend about her own strange abilities. "Ah! I've found it!"
"What?" asked Sasha. With her head tilted to the side, she looked like an exquisite little bird.
"I've found the address I was searching for," Phoebe explained. "This is great." She sat back in the desk chair, crossing her arms.
"But you're not looking for an address," Sasha said quietly. "You're looking for a person."
Phoebe glanced sharply at the blind girl. "How do you know that, Sasha?"
Sasha shrugged again and returned to the recliner. "Tell me who you're looking for."
Phoebe scribbled down the address on a note card. "His name is Peter Petrelli. His brother is one of your congressmen."
"Uhm, Phoebe--"
"His address isn't on here, but I found his brother's." Phoebe stood, cramming the card into her jeans pocket. "I'll just go ask Congressman Petrelli where Peter is. His place is right down the road from my hotel."
"Phoebe, Peter Petrelli disappeared a couple of weeks ago," Sasha said quietly. She frowned. "And why are you looking for him, anyway?"
"He… disappeared?" Phoebe swallowed, suddenly overcome by a feeling of profound loss, as if someone she had known all her life was gone.
"Yes. That was a weird night. Lots of bad things happened in this city." Sasha's frown deepened. "Why do you want to find Peter Petrelli? What's going on, Phoebe?"
"I just…" Phoebe bit her lip and closed her eyes, feeling lost. "I need to see him. There's something I think he can explain to me. It's weird. I don't know if you'd believe me if I told you."
Sasha crossed her slender arms. "Well you seemed to take it rather well when I told you how I can sense things. Is that why, Phoebe? Has something happened to you, too?"
"Sasha, I've been having dreams--bad dreams. And in the dreams, I know I have to find this Peter Petrelli. There's someone chasing me, chasing you…" She winced, remembering the shadowed dream figure snatching Sasha back from the gate in the mall. "I think he's not even after us. He's after Peter."
"Peter? So you're on a first name basis with this man you've only dreamed about?" Sasha raised one delicate brow.
"Sasha, I swear to you--I've seen him." She thought for a moment. "Brad's involved in politics, so I'm sure he's seen Nathan Petrelli. So did you ever see Peter--or a picture of him--before you… well, you know."
Sasha nodded slowly. "Yes. I remember what he looks like."
"Well, let me describe him to you, and you tell me if I've seen him or not," Phoebe suggested.
"Alright. Fair enough."
"He's handsome. He's slim, has dark hair, big brown eyes, a crooked mouth. His face is very expressive, and he has a nice voice. His hair tends to fall in his eyes, and--"
"Alright." Sasha held up a hand, blind eyes wide. "I believe you. You've seen Peter Petrelli. Maybe you saw him somewhere else before you dreamed about him."
"Where would I have seen him?" Phoebe exclaimed.
Sasha's delicate features wore a troubled look. "In your dreams," she admitted.
"Sasha, I have to go talk to his brother," Phoebe insisted. "Maybe he knows where Peter is, or at least has an idea."
"I think that's a good plan." Sasha nodded. Then she smiled. "But you're not leaving this house until you hook my new computer back up."
Phoebe stared up at the Petrelli mansion, daunted. Who was she compared to these people? Nothing. A nobody. She was suddenly sure that she would not be allowed to enter the huge house…
"Miss? Can I help you?"
Phoebe looked around, green eyes soon settling on an elderly black man trimming the bushes. "Uhm, I was just… looking." She smiled weakly. "So… You work for the Petrellis?"
"I do." The old man smiled at her. "And you are?"
"Phoebe. Phoebe Agnew." She held out a hand to shake the man's, then laughed when she realized she was holding out a paper bag. "Sorry." She quickly shoved the bag under her arm and shook the man's hand.
"Nice to meet you, Phoebe," he said. "I'm Wyatt." He nodded toward the white paper bag. "If you don't mind me asking, what have you got there?"
"It's a cheeseburger, actually," Phoebe explained. "I bought it for lunch. But…" She glanced up at the mansion. "I don't think I'm hungry now."
"Smells mighty good," Wyatt said.
"Here." Phoebe once again held out the bag. "Do you want it?"
Wyatt laughed. "I don't think I could take it from you. That wouldn't be--"
"No, really," Phoebe insisted. "I hope you like pickles."
Wyatt grinned. "Love 'em." He took the bag. "You're a generous one, Phoebe." His smile suddenly turned sad. "Remind me of someone I used to know."
"Really?" Phoebe glanced nervously up at the doors of the mansion. She could hear movement from within the house. "Well, uhm… I'd better be going. I'm meeting a friend of mine and her fiancé for dinner."
"Have fun, Phoebe," said Wyatt with a nod. He raised an eyebrow. "If you walk this way again, stop by and talk to me. Now that he's gone, I don't get talked to much."
Phoebe smiled at the older man. "I'll talk to you, Wyatt. And bring you cheeseburgers." Her smile faded as she heard the doors of the mansion swing open. "Well, see you later!" And with that, she took off running down the sidewalk, forgetting to wonder who "he" was.
Hedge clippers in one hand, fast food bag in the other, Wyatt stood watching her.
"Who was that, Wyatt?"
The old man looked up at the man coming down the steps, eyes wide. "A very nice young lady, sir. She gave me a cheeseburger, and I don't even know her."
"That's sounds like something--" The younger man shook his head. "Have a good day, Wyatt." He kept walking.
"If you don't mind me asking, Phoebe, what are you doing walking by this house everyday?" Wyatt asked between bites of cheeseburger.
"What do you mean?" Phoebe asked, mouth full of chicken sandwich.
"I mean the only reason you walk down this street is to walk by this mansion." Wyatt's dark eyes were steady. "First time I saw you here, three days ago, I thought you might be a reporter or something."
"Oh no! I'm not!" Phoebe swallowed. "I just…" She sighed.
"What's the matter, girl?" Wyatt asked, peering closely at her.
"I'm trying to get up my courage," she told him quietly.
"To do what?" he asked, one brow raised.
"I need to speak with the congressman," Phoebe said, brushing a strand of reddish blond hair behind her ear.
"About what?" Wyatt asked.
"It's complicated." Phoebe stuffed her sandwich wrapper in the paper bag and reached out for Wyatt's. As she crumpled up the trash, she met his eyes. "It's about Peter."
Wyatt stared at her. "Peter."
"Yes," Phoebe whispered.
Wyatt took a step closer to her, wagging one big finger in her face. "If you know where he is and haven't told me--"
Phoebe shook her head violently. "I have no clue where he is. But I need to find out!"
Wyatt stepped back from her, his heavy features grave. "Come with me, Phoebe." He started up the steps to the mansion.
"Where are we going?" Phoebe exclaimed.
"To speak with Mr. Petrelli. Now hand me that bag and follow me."
"I can't!" Phoebe cried, panicking. "He'll think I'm crazy! He won't talk to me!"
"Phoebe." Wyatt turned to look at her, eyes narrowed. "This is about Peter. Peter's special. Don't you know that?"
Phoebe looked down at her booted feet. "Yes."
"Then come on. And for heaven's sake, hand me that bag!"
Phoebe walked slowly up the steps, her insides knotting. She handed the bag to Wyatt and met his eyes. "What are you going to tell him?"
"That you need to speak to him about his brother."
"And what am I going to say?"
They stopped at the door, and Wyatt turned to her. "Now that one's up to you, Miss Agnew." He opened the door.
Phoebe took a deep breath and followed him into the exquisitely decorated foyer.
"This way, Miss Agnew," Wyatt said, suddenly formal. He handed off the bag of trash to a woman standing in the hall, striding with purpose toward the door at the end.
Phoebe followed with her hands clenched at her sides, biting her lip. This was insane, she decided. It should not be happening.
Then Wyatt stepped aside, and Phoebe was face to face with Congressman Nathan Petrelli.
"Uhm, hello," she said awkwardly, wishing that her hair was not in such a mess. She was surely making a bad impression. And I probably have pickles stuck between my teeth…
"Wyatt says you're here about my brother," the politician said, his expression impassive.
"I am," said Phoebe. She thought frantically for something more to say.
"Come with me," said Nathan Petrelli, brushing past her.
Phoebe glanced at Wyatt.
"GO!" he mouthed, nodding toward the younger man.
Phoebe nodded, then hurried to catch up with Petrelli, wincing at the loud sound of her heeled boots tapping against the expensive floors.
Petrelli led her into a vast living room, closing the doors behind her. He moved to stand by the fireplace, crossing his arms and staring down into the flames. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. Then, the congressman drew in a ragged breath and turned to Phoebe. "Where is he?"
Phoebe winced again. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I was hoping you could tell me, Mr.--I mean Congressman--"
"You mean Nathan." He turned once again to the fire. "Why are you looking for my brother? How do you know him?"
"I don't really know him." Phoebe took a step further into the room. "It's just that--" Her eyes were caught by a picture on the mantle, a picture of both Petrelli brothers. "Oh!" She gasped, one hand flying to her mouth.
"What is it?" Nathan asked, turning once again to her.
"There he is…" She pointed to the picture. "Peter." Seeing his face affected her strongly, and she had to fight to keep her composure.
"Yes." Nathan cleared his throat. Perhaps he was fighting himself, too…
They were both quiet for a moment.
"So… You don't know where he is, either?" Phoebe finally asked, feeling utterly awkward.
"No." Nathan shook his head. "And if you don't…" He shook his head again.
She walked closer to him, staring at the picture on the mantle. "So… I was right."
Nathan frowned at her. "What do you mean?"
"I was right about how he looks," Phoebe said, fighting not to flinch from his gaze. "You see, I've never met your brother, but I've seen him."
"From a distance?" Nathan's voice sounded as if it were coming from a distance.
"Not really." Phoebe shook her head. "I'm sorry… I should go." She turned and started walking toward the door, praying that she would be able to find her way out of this house.
"Wait."
She stopped, not sure what to expect.
"How did you see Peter if you never met him, yet you've never seen him from a distance?" Nathan asked.
Phoebe turned to face him. "I--I saw him in a dream." She blushed as Nathan's eyes widened. "I know I must sound crazy--"
"No." He shook his head. "You don't." He took a few steps toward her, hands on his hips. "You sound like Peter."
Phoebe blinked. "Like Peter?"
"He had these dreams…" Nathan ran a hand down his face, laughing grimly. "He was always telling me about these dreams, where he could…fly…"
"Did they come true?" Phoebe asked quietly. "Because I think mine might."
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Yes. They came true."
Phoebe drew in a deep breath. "Then I have to find him."
Nathan held out his hand. "I'll help you."
Phoebe smiled weakly and shook his hand. "Good." She released his hand and stood there awkwardly. "So… I'm going back to my hotel. Just… let me know what you find out, and I'll let you know what I find out."
"Where are you going to look first?" Nathan asked.
Phoebe smiled slowly. "My dreams."