Chapter Two:

Landing at LAX Nathan fought hard to keep his excitement under control. For fourteen years he had been meeting dead-ends as he tried to track his father. In the early years Angela had spent a great deal of money trying to find her husband and her son, but somehow Arthur had organised a divorce settlement that left Angela in a motel and the trail ran very cold after that.

This was the first lead in years, and Nathan was trying not to picture emotional reunions. He had wondered, in the darker moments, why Peter hadn't come to find them. Nathan had worried that Peter had died and he would never know. After he had started working at the DA's office he had employed a private investigator to try and find Peter but to no avail.

His mother had given up after a few years. Nathan believed that ending up in a motel had completely devastated his mother, even more than Peter being taken. Only three months after the divorce was finalised Angela was planning her wedding to Daniel Linderman. Nathan hadn't approved, but he couldn't voice his concerns, because his mother had finally come out of her depression.

"But Linderman could give us money to help us find Peter," Nathan had said. "The police might not be able to help us, but we now have the funds to find him."

Angela had refused. "We'll never find him, not while your father can hide him."

Nathan couldn't understand it, couldn't believe it. "But it's Peter, your son. He needs to home with us!"

Angela had taken Nathan by the shoulders, met his eye and spoke very clearly. "Your father has means beyond imagining of keeping your brother hidden. We will never find him while he's in your father's care."

Nathan's heart had begun to race. "Why did Pop take him Ma?"

Angela's gaze dropped. "To keep him safe."

"From who?" Nathan's hands were shaking.

There were tears slipping down her cheeks. "From me."

The heat in LA was enough to make Nathan wish he was back in New York. He took a taxi to the office of Matthey, Hill and Armitage and asked for Gregory Harrod. The lawyer in question was a man about ten years older than Nathan and shook his hand firmly. "Mr Petrelli, good to meet you."

"I wish I wasn't here," Nathan said, honestly. The other lawyer gave a laugh and said, "Lets go up to my office. I have some paperwork you might find interesting."

The paperwork was more than interesting. The estate of Arthur Marcus Petrelli was split 60:40 between 'Peter Anthony Petrelli' and 'Nathan Joseph Petrelli'. Nathan's address was listed as the old house in Manhattan, now owned by the Linderman group. Peter's address was listed as a house on the outskirts of LA. It was also to be left to Peter in the event of Arthur's death.

"Is this all the contact information you have for him?" Nathan asked and Harrod nodded. "From what I understand, the house is to be sold as soon as possible."

Nathan took note of the address and said, "I think I might go and have a look around the house."

Harrod nodded and shook his hand. "Good luck Mr Petrelli."

When Nathan found the house he was surprised at the size. It made him realise that may be his mother had always been the parent with the expensive taste. The house Peter had grown up in was small, comfortable looking home. The garden was a little overgrown and the paint on the front door was peeling. Nathan followed the estate agent through into the hallway.

Clearly the house was already ready to be sold. There were no photos on the wall and the sofas were covered in white sheets. The estate agent was waxing lyrical about the size of the rooms and the quality of the architecture. The master bedroom felt like Nathan's parents' bedroom back in the Manhattan house, but the other bedroom was what captured Nathan's interest. It must have been Peter's.

The room was small, with a large bay window taking up almost all of one wall. The bed was low and springy, a floorboard near the door creaked. The estate agent had the sense to give Nathan some space, so he sat down on the bed, listening to the strain as his weight landed on the mattress. The sun was pouring in the room, flooding the space with light and if Nathan shut his eyes he could almost feel Peter there with him, almost.

Nathan's next stop was the local police station. Having fobbed off the estate agent with promises to consider the property he had decided to investigate his father's life in California, especially as he had hidden himself so well for so many years. Arthur Petrelli had been listed as a lawyer in his will, so Nathan decided it was safe to assume that the local police would have some information.

The headquarters of the LAPD was abuzz with activity, but Nathan was yet to visit one that hadn't been. He strolled up to the front desk and flashed his best smile. The receptionist smiled back shyly and said, "Can I help you sir?"

"I hope so," Nathan grinned a little wider. "My name is Nathan Petrelli, I'm hoping to speak to someone who knew my father."

"Was your father a cop?" she asked, her fingers poised over the keyboard of her computer.

"A lawyer," Nathan said, making sure to maintain good eye contact with her. She typed out the name slower than Nathan expected, her fingernails clacking on the keys. "I'm sorry, there's no Petrelli listed."

Nathan stared at her blankly and asked, "Is that in the entire LA area or…?"

She blinked at him and then smiled sweetly. "What's the first name? I can run it district-wide."

"Arthur Marcus Petrelli," Nathan said, seething inwardly at her incompetence, but maintaining an outward persona of cool. There was a bit more clacking, and then she gave Nathan another big smile. "There's no Arthur Marcus Petrelli, but there is Arthur Marcus Anthony. Could you have got the surname wrong?"

Nathan was about to deliver a scathing reply when he caught himself and said, "May be. Was there anyone here he worked particularly closely with?"

She tossed her hair over her shoulder in a frankly disgusting display of flirting and Nathan kept his smile taut. "Detective Parkman. I remember Mr Anthony working with Matt a fair few times."

"Can I speak with Detective Parkman?" Nathan asked, flashing his shark smile.

"Of course," she said, picking up a phone and saying, "I'm Alicia by the way."

Nathan smiled blandly as she spoke to Detective Parkman before saying, "He's on his way."

At that point Nathan decided to head to the seats and ignore the sultry glances Alicia was sending his way. A few moments later a rather rotund police officer came out of a back office and spoke briefly to Alicia, who pointed at Nathan.

"Mr Petrelli?"

Nathan nodded.

"Detective Matt Parkman. I didn't know Arthur had any more kids," the police officer smiled affably. "Nice to meet you, your father was a great man."

Nathan gave him a tight smile. "I'm sorry to say I didn't know him very well. Is it possible for me to talk to you about my father?"

"Sure," Parkman said. "You look a lot like him. A lot more like him than Peter does, anyway."

At the mention of his brother's name Nathan's heart started pounding. "You know Peter?"

"Sure," Parkman said with a grin. "Saw him at your father's funeral. I think he's back in New York now. Him and his wife."

14 years earlier

Peter received a kiss on the forehead from his mother as she headed out of the front door, dressed immaculately. She took his chin between her thumb and forefinger and said, "You'll be a good boy for your father and Mr Linderman, won't you darling?"

"Yes Mom," Peter said obediently, giving her a shy smile.

"I'll bring Nathan home with me," Angela said, brushing lint off his sweater. "And you can stop acting like the world has ended. Is that a deal?"

Peter continued to smile dutifully. "Yes Mom."

She matched his smile, her eyes sparkling and Peter felt a rush of warmth for her. He instinctively reached out and hugged her. She gave a soft laugh and pressed a kiss to the top of his mess of dark hair.

"The car is ready Mrs Petrelli," the driver said, coming through the door.

"Thank you," Peter's mother said, releasing her son. She picked up her purse and said, "I'll be home in a few hours and Mr Linderman will be here shortly. Why don't you go and find your father? I think he's sulking in the garden."

Peter nodded. "Bye."

"Goodbye darling, see you soon." And she was gone.

Peter headed out into the garden, finding his father on the terrace, peering over a book. He sat down opposite Arthur and said, "Mom's gone to pick up Nathan."

His father lifted his head slowly, placing the book carefully on the table in front of him. He stood up and looked Peter straight in the eyes. "Peter, I want you to go and pack a bag."

Peter blinked at him. "Are we going somewhere?"

Arthur placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Just a little trip."

His father started to steer him back towards the house but Peter resisted. He wasn't a little kid any more and something didn't add up. "But Nathan's coming home."

"I know Peter," his father said, testily. "You've got to trust me champ."

Peter was feeling incredibly doubtful. But he did trust his father and so he followed him back into the house. Waiting in the hallway was a tall man who looked like he was from Haiti. Peter felt a ripple of concern rush through him and he took a step back as his father started speaking rapid French. The instinct to run was too strong for Peter and he started off towards the stairs but the Haitian caught his arm.

"Let me go!" Peter cried, kicking out and catching the man on the knee. Then he felt his father's hand on his shoulder. "Pete, calm down."

Peter stopped struggling and his father bent down next to him, pulling him into a tight hug. "You've got to trust me Pete. I'm trying to help."

Peter slowly realised that his father was crying, so he clutched him harder, trying to comfort him. Suddenly a hand covered his eyes and Peter began to panic. But then everything went black.