AN: Wooohoo the last chapter! dances I finished the whole story monday morning, I really wanted to have this up before heroes but I didn't get the chance to edit it and no body wants to read my unedited versions LOL. Ok enough rambling...enjoy! (Oh and come back next time for the Epilog)

Special Note: This chapter is dedicated to Greenleofiend for her helping me with the French. You're the best Stef!

Chapter 6: English?

Peter leaned his head back against the over stuffed couch. Claire's regenerative power had long since healed his wounds, but it could do nothing for the exhaustion that came from over using his ability. He drifted between conscious and asleep.

The soft murmur of conversation played out in the background. Noah's strong voice, Heidi's soft comments, Mohinder's Indian accent, Claire's occasional statements, and Angela's sassy retorts became like a melody to Peter's tired mind. His thoughts began to drift on their own accord.

He remembered standing on the roof of a seventeen story building and looking down.

Nathan…

He remembered appearing in the campaign office after Simone died, seeking the comfort that only one person could offer.

Nathan…

He remembered driving into an abandoned parking garage, as Claire looked at him in shock and anger.

"Why do you keep running back to him?"

"I'm scared! I'm afraid and I need my brother."

He remembered standing in Kirby Plaza, heat radiating from his being along with an unearthly glow.

"I took his power Nathan…I can't control it."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Nathan," Peter muttered in his sleep.

Monty looked up from where he was perched on the arm of the couch at Peter's feet. The kid barely understood what was going on, but he knew one thing for sure. Peter saved his life from the "boogieman"—as Molly kept calling him—and that made Peter a super hero in Monty's book. So the youngest of Nathan's sons was perfectly contented to sit by his uncle's side, and apparently he wasn't the only one feeling protective.

The hobo looking fluffy bearded man had been hovering near Peter also. He did not join the others in their conversation. In fact, the others didn't acknowledge him at all. Monty wondered why everyone ignored him…like he was invisible or something.

Monty turned to him and smiled. The man looked utterly perplexed, but Monty had already turned his attention to the rooms only other occupant.

Molly Walker sat in the arm chair, drawing with the crayons and paper she brought with her. She rested these on top of a leather bound book that was also hers.

All three of them looked up as Peter muttered something again. Suddenly Peter sat straight up, his breath coming in quick gasps.

"Pa…paper," he stuttered reaching out for Molly. The young girl quickly recovered from her shock and handed him a blank piece of paper and a black crayon. Before the paper was even in his hand his eyes turned milky white.

He began sketching quickly. His hands moving like a man possessed, and his eyes looking very much the part.

"Uncle Peter?" Monty asked rocking forward a little, unafraid but curious. It was several minutes before Peter put down the crayon and his eyes returned to normal. The hobo man walked over and looked down at the drawing. Despite the crayon quality it was easy to distinguish. It was a sketch of what looked like a bookstore or a library of sorts. In the corner was a man.

Despite the lack of artistic genius in the hastily made sketch, Peter realized there was only one person this man could be.

"I found him…" he breathed.

"Hate to burst your bubble there, Peter," hobo man chimed in. "But where is that?" Peter's big brown eyes looked up at his mentor desperately, and for once Claude almost regretted his words.

"I don't know…"

"You need to find someone?" Molly asked, smiling at him. "I can do that." Peter turned to her.

"You can find people…just like that?" Peter asked, hope filling his tone once again. Molly nodded.

"All I have to do is think about them…and I can see where they are," she replied confidently. Peter held the drawing up for her to see and pointed to the man.

"Can you think about him? Can you find him for me?"

"That's a person?" Molly asked squinting at the picture. Peter leapt from the couch and ran out of the room. Their eyes followed him as he quickly ran back. He held out a picture frame. It was his favorite picture, Nathan with his arm around Peter at his wedding.

Molly studied the picture. She grabbed her leather bound book and opened it. Peter leaned forward and saw it was an atlas. The young girl began flipping quickly through the pages, her eyes clamped shut. She pulled a push pin from her bag and stuck it into the map. She handed the book to Peter.

" Paris," Peter breathed, looking into Molly's eyes. "This is where he is?"

"Yes, I haven't been wrong yet," she promised. Peter's eyes rolled from the map, to the drawing, then up to Claude.

"We found him," Peter said with more confidence.

"Looks like you did," Claude replied, pulling Peter up to his feet. "Alright sponge-boy…let's go get him." Placing his hands on Claude's shoulders, Peter shut his eyes and focused his mind on Paris.

It was a strange sensation, being in one place and suddenly being thrust into another. Peter felt exhaustion sweep back over him from his many excretions that day, but he held himself steady.

"Did we make it? Are we there?" He asked. Claude clasped his arm and turned Peter around. The young Petrelli's eyes landed on a huge, well lit, strong but graceful monument…the Eifel Tower.

"That answer your question?" Claude quipped. A smile of hope and a look of determination colored Peter's face as he looked down at the drawing.

"Now we just need to find this bookstore," the former hospice nurse replied. He began looking around frantically as if expecting it to fall in his lap.

"Sometimes I hate being the logical one," Claude muttered. "Don't you think…maybe we should have brought the girl along or at least a map so you could perform her little trick? This is a big city." Peter looked at him for a second but seemed to brush the comment off.

"We just need to find someone who's heard of…um," Peter looked back at the drawing. There was a sign on the wall, probably the bookstore's name. "What do you think that says?" he asked pointing to the sign.

"I don't speak French," Claude replied with a shrug. Peter looked at him helplessly. "And apparently you don't either. Fantastic." The mentor ran a hand across his face. "Why don't we come back a little later…when you are actually prepared?"

"We can't leave yet…we're close. I can feel it."

"Oh yes right…you're connected," Claude rolled his eyes. "Do you think you can 'connect' yourself with the French langue in the next few minutes?" Peter regarded him for a second and suddenly disappeared. "Oh come on…you can't be that touchy. I've said worse before."

"Yes you have." Claude whirled around and glared at Peter.

"You got back quick," he muttered in annoyance. "Where'd you go anyway?" Peter held up a book. Claude gave a long suffering sigh. "Peter…that's a French-English dictionary. It will take you longer to find what you need to say in that than it would for us to catch a plane back to the states and get some help from someone who actually knows what they're doing."

"Can you quiet your cynicism for five seconds please?" Peter retorted, his eyes tracing across the pages.

"This is a waste of time," Claude rolled his eyes in annoyance. A strange look passed across Peter's face. The younger man began flipping quickly through the pages. He suddenly shut the book and handed it to Claude. "I told you it was useless…"

Peter turned and looked around as someone passed by.

"Pardonez – Moi," Peter suddenly addressed the man. "Aidez-Moi?" He held up the drawing and pointed to the sign. The Frenchman nodded and pointed. "Merci." Claude blinked in shock.

"Pas problème," replied the man as he walked off.

"…You learned all that from a dictionary in less than a minute?" The mentor gapped. Peter shrugged.

"I'm surprised too. It was like…my mind just clicked," he replied gesturing with his hands to emphasis the point.

"Which one of your friends did you get that from?" Claude asked giving him a knowing smile.

"I don't know…Sylar maybe?" Peter suggested thoughtfully. "I seemed to have gotten a lot of abilities from him." With that he started off down the street.

"Maintenant," Peter called over his shoulder.

"What?"

Peter stopped and turned around, looking slightly annoyed.

"Hurry up."

Claude rolled his eyes, cursing the existence of Empaths as he followed. They walked down the indicated street. Suddenly Peter stopped dead.

"What now?" Claude grumbled as he followed Peter's gaze. Without answering the young Petrelli held up the picture next to the building in front of them. The sign matched perfectly. Peter beamed with joy as he took off running into the bookstore. With another sigh Claude followed slowly behind.

Peter pushed open the door and looked quickly around the store. It was much more detailed but still very obviously the place he had drawn. He looked but Nathan was no where to be seen. Undiscouraged the young hospice nurse walked over the counter.

"Excusez-Moi. Parlez-vous anglais?" Peter questioned.

"Oui…I speak English," The woman behind the counter replied with a smile.

"Merci, I was at the end of my knowledge there," he said with a relieved sigh. She chuckled.

"How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a man. He's tall, broad shoulders…dark hair," Peter described. "I know he's been here at least once. He's American. Speaks some broken French I think."

"The storyteller," she said with a smile. Peter cocked his head to the side.

"I'm sorry?"

"The storyteller," she repeated. "He came here a few weeks ago. He helps me out with the shop sometimes, and in turn I let him stay in the spare room behind the store. Sometimes when he gets lonely he'll tell me these amazing stories. They're always about this man who can do impossible things, and all his adventures with his talented friends. When he starts talking about the Boogieman though…" she shuddered. Peter's eyes widened.

"Where is he?"

"In the spare room…" The words barely left her lips before Peter darted to the door, leaping over the counter carelessly. He threw open the door and looked in.

A man rested in the wooden chair, writing something in a notebook. He turned slowly and met Peter's gaze. An untamed beard covered his chin and his hair was long, but the face…the face was the same.

Peter dropped to his knees, the energy suddenly completely gone from his limbs. Nathan rose from the chair and hurried to Peter, dropping down beside him.

"You…alive?" Nathan gasped, tears welling up in his dark eyes. He placed his hand against Peter's face, as if to assure himself this was no dreamed up image.

"Ya…" was all Peter managed to breath out, his eyes staring up at Nathan desperately. "Is…is it really you Nathan? Is it really you?" The older brother wrapped Peter in his arms, holding on tightly.

"It's me," Nathan said tearfully. "I thought you were dead…I saw….I saw you…" Nathan pulled back enough to look into his brother's eyes. "I couldn't go back thinking I'd lost you…" he looked down unable to take the intense gaze any longer. "I thought I…I thought I killed you…"

"Nathan…I'm fine," Peter replied, tears streaking down his face also. "I'm here…I'm fine…"

"If I'd known you were alive…"

"I know Nathan, I know." Peter pulled his brother close.

AT: I had so much fun writting this chapter, I think the best part was writting from Monty's point of view. Writting through the eyes of children is great, thier view on the world is so inocent and yet suprisingly observent. Geez I feel chatty tonight.

Review Replies:

Greenleofiend: Thank you very much! Yes she does..bwahaha. -shakes head- You aren't going to let this drop are you? LOL

sudoku: I think I can clear up the confusion here. Peter has the power to heal from the man named Austin (go read the graphic novel 'War buddies' to see what I mean) so he healed Claude. And don't worry about the Chinese, without the map Sylar can't find anyone. So unless there are some asians walking around with PDP (public displays of power) then I think thier ok. I'm glad you like my fight scenes! They were the hardest thing to write but it's always fun.

Padfoot-rawr: Thank you, mate! I'm so glad you like the story. You're reviews always put a smile on my face. -hugs- It's always good to hear my stories are well recieved, hope you enjoy this chapter also

RBDFAN: Thank you! Glad you like it also Maria, hmmm I'm guessing you haven't read War Buddies either? Go read it! It's the very best Graphic novel. It can be found at NBC's heroes site. If you have the time I would read it...it's absolutely fantastic!