September, 2006
He was standing on a rooftop, near the edge, looking down at the streets and alleys some fifteen floors below him.
The wind lifted his hair and the back of his coat as he watched the tiny dots of cars down in the streets, mostly dark ones with bright yellow cabs dotted between them. The people looked like ants. He suddenly wondered, if the city had a mind to think and eyes to see, if this was what it saw, or what it thought. Millions of people, all living their own little lives, all with their own little worries. It felt comfortingly inconsequential from up here. Lost keys, lost jobs. Troubles with bosses, arguments with spouses, with parents, with children. Anger at the football team for losing the last match. Worries about grades or careers. About money. About sick or dying relatives. There must be tens of thousands of lost keys down there, and hundreds of dying relatives. But it all looked so small. Insignificant.
He knew, with a conviction that is rarely found in the waking world, that if he made a step forward right then, he wouldn't fall. He didn't hesitate to find out. He took that step, and there was no falling, no plunging sensation that so often causes us to wake up from sleep. He was floating, and then he was flying. He flew over rooftops and through alleyways, over parks and between high-rise buildings, the East River and Long Island. The city remained far below. He would have been content to keep going for hours.
Peter jerked awake with a start, sitting up in bed and taking several minutes to get his bearings. He was almost surprised to find himself in bed. He still felt as if, just a moment ago, he'd been flying.
Only once in his life had he had a dream that had been as vivid, and that was when Nathan had had his accident, six months ago.
He rubbed his face and looked at the alarm clock beside his bed. 7:23. He grabbed the phone, to call the only person in the world whom he knew he could tell.
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(... the beginning.)
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Author's notes
On Petrelli family dynamics: I tried to keep his believable and tragic-free at the same time. I had real-life references for the behaviours of most of the people I write about, including Arthur Petrelli (although I would never want that particular person to find out…). I tried to avoid too much of "you're no son of mine" with Arthur and too much fluff where Peter and Nathan are concerned – I see their relationship as a very complicated one throughout season 1.
On research: I researched a ridiculous number of areas for this, including but not limited to elections into congress, the US educational system, the Summer Olympics 1984, Box office hits of 1979, US fishing resorts and duties of a hospice nurse. There are bound to be things that don't work – if you spot one, let me know!
Thank you for reading! :)
