"What the hell was that good for?" Claude asked as he covered the lower half of his face with his hand and thereby making himself even less audible. He moved his hand away to look at it for a moment before placing it back on his face again. "Bloody idiot..."

"It's not even broken." Peter walked onto the porch and chose to sit down on a spot that gave him direct view of Nathan's house. The police had already arrived and he needed to keep an eye on them as they were busy securing the area around the house. "I told you not to follow me, but you wouldn't listen."

Claude strode past the windows and glanced through them to make sure no one was inside. "Oh, so it's my fault now?" he sputtered aggressively. His face was a mess. There was blood everywhere. Under his nose, in his beard, on his chin, his neck, his hands, his coat. All due to the nosebleed caused by Peter's fist. "You have some serious anger-issues, Petrelli. And if you're looking for a way to vent that anger at someone, then by all means, go ahead. But leave me out of it."

"All I want is for you to stay away." Peter placed his fingertips gently on his face, palpating the spot where Claude had hit him, just below his left eye. He never even knew Claude could throw a punch like that, and with such swiftness too. But as he thought about it, it did make sense. Claude had worked for the Company for quite some time, so it was no big surprise that he still had some skills left from his time there.

"Nobody tells me what to do." Claude went to stand before Peter and looked down at him. "Not you, not the Company, not the Government, nobody."

"So, you're just gonna follow me around for no reason?" Peter looked up at Claude and narrowed his eyes. He felt like a child being lectured by its father as he sat there with his back against the wooden balustrade. "I've said it before and I will say it again. I don't need your help, so go find someone else to throw your insults at. I've had enough."

"Oh, you've had enough? What's wrong, Peter? Don't like being confronted with the truth?" Claude gave a derisive chuckle and pointed his finger down at Peter. "You need to grow up, mate."

"That's funny. I can't tell you what to do, but you can?"

"I'm not telling you what to do. I am giving you a free bit of advice. If you're so determined to be part of this rotten world, you better get used to people treating you like shit. It doesn't matter who you are or how many times you claim to have saved the world. People will always treat you like shit. That's just what they do. Deal with it."

"I know." But that doesn't mean I have to take their shit. Not without a fight. Peter sighed and stared down at the hand he had used to hit Claude. He never wanted to do that. It was just a reflex. He was still raging with anger when Claude had gone after him to tell him again how stupid he had been for yelling at Heidi. Like once wasn't enough. "If I'm such a disappointment, then why don't you just leave me alone? I'm not your responsibility, Claude. There's no reason for you to hang around."

Claude coughed up some phlegm with blood and spat it out. He held the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb and tilted his head back, hoping to stop the bleeding that way. "If there's one thing I can't stand it's people who think they can play God. It ain't up to them to decide what punishment you deserve. If you deserve any at all."

Peter hadn't even thought about that yet. The thing that crossed his mind first was how someone found out about the truth in the first place. There were only a few people who knew the truth and it was highly unlikely that one of those people would betray him like that. Unlikely indeed, but it happened nevertheless. One of them slipped. The only question was: who?

"Look, if it was me who got framed for something I didn't do, I could live with that. I could just move on and pretend it never even happened. That's the beauty of having nothing to lose. But this is not about me, Peter. It's about you. And it's obviously a big deal to you, otherwise you wouldn't have made such a big scene in front of your brother's ex just now."

"It is." They had done their research, whoever 'they' were. They knew about the set-up, probably picked the right moment to enter that police station and made sure they didn't leave anything behind that could lead to them. They didn't just choose Peter as a random victim. It was personal and that's why it was such a big deal to him. "So, you think someone wants to punish me?"

"Can you think of another reason why anyone would go that far to get you in trouble?"

"No. I just don't see what I did was so wrong to make someone hate me that much."

"Oh, no? You're telling me that you, Peter Petrelli, after years of risking your life to fight the bad guys, you haven't pissed off a single one of them?" Claude raised an eyebrow at Peter. "Sorry, but I find that very hard to believe. Everybody's got enemies."

"Not anymore." Most of them are dead, Peter thought as images of his father, Adam, Samuel and even his brother flashed before his eyes. "What if it's someone I don't know?"

"That would make your case a lot more difficult, but not impossible. Now, I can't be one hundred percent sure about this, but I think we're dealing with a shape-shifter here. The thing is... I've never seen or met one of those during my time at the Company. But," there was a long pause, followed by a heavy sigh before Claude resumed, "I think I know someone who might have." He wiped his bloodied hand on his coat and used his other hand to check if his nose was still bleeding. When that turned out to be the case he cussed and looked back down at Peter accusingly. "Stay put."

"What are you doing?" Peter asked when Claude suddenly turned around and walked away without any explanation at all. What the hell? "Where are you going? Claude?" He seemed to be heading towards the back of the house. Why? Peter decided he didn't care. He was already trying to get up from the floor, seeing as it was his only chance to get as far away from Claude as possible.

He placed his left hand on the floor boards for support, but groaned and fell back against the railing when that turned out to be too much of an effort. He didn't realize up until now how tired he actually was. Too tired to stand, too tired to argue with Claude, too tired to think about how to find a shape-shifter without any lead at all.

All he wanted to do at that moment was to close his eyes and sleep. It didn't even matter how long. Just long enough to lose consciousness, even if it was just for a couple of minutes. Maybe even long enough to have one of those amazing dreams he used to have back in the day. The ones in which he had flown.

He missed having those dreams. Flying over and between the buildings of the city he grew up in. Floating in mid-air, hovering inches above the ground, soaring through the sky with incredible speed, not having to worry about saving the world, being hunted by serial killers, running from secret organizations and fighting bad guys.

There was a time when nothing else mattered, when he even chose to quit his job in order to find out what was happening to him. He knew it was his chance to be somebody. He knew he was meant for something bigger. Then Hiro came with his 'message' and confirmed all that. He had felt important, like he was actually making a difference.

He hadn't felt like that in a long time.

"Hey. Wake up."

Peter kept his eyes closed. "What do you want?"

"I've got something for you."

"I'm not interested." Peter turned his head to the other side to get more comfortable, but wasn't prepared for the amount of pain that came with doing something as simple as that. "Shit..." He didn't know whether it was because of Claude's fist or the whiskey he had been drinking earlier that day, but he was having a major headache. It was insanely painful. It felt like someone was performing a drum solo, using his head as a drum kit. "Unless you got me some painkillers..."

"I couldn't find any." Claude sounded disappointed. "You'd think rich people have pain too... Or not. Never mind. But look, I got you something else."

Peter opened his eyes and saw Claude (who looked like a giant, towering over him like that), holding an ice pack in one hand. It surprised him that Claude had taken the effort to find one for him. He had probably broken in somewhere to find it, but Peter couldn't care less at that point. "Thank you," he said as he held out his hand.

"Wait." Claude held it up and away from Peter's greedy hands. "First I want you to say that you will accept my help."

"I don't need..." Peter sighed and dropped his hand to his side again. "Fine. If you think you can help me, then help." He grasped the ice pack from Claude's hand and held it against his face. That feels good, he thought as the throbbing pain began to subdue after a few seconds. "Where do I start?"

"You can start by telling me everything I need to know about your brother's death. I need to know that I'm not wasting my time here. I need to know your part in all this."

"I didn't do it."

Claude chuckled and sat down against the outer wall of the house, just below one of the windows as he held a white piece of cloth under his nose. It seemed like he had cleaned most part of his face while he was away. "Two things I've learned in all those years working for the Company. One," he said as he held up his index finger, "you can't trust anybody. Not your friends, not your colleagues, not even your own fucking family."

Peter rolled his eyes, but didn't interrupt.

"Two," Claude held up an extra finger and looked at Peter with nothing but seriousness in his eyes. "Everybody's got a weak-spot. Some are able to hide them better than others, but they all got one. Yours, my friend, is that egocentric, manipulative brother of yours."

"Hey!"

"What? Did I say something wrong? Your brother was an arsehole, Peter. A complete replica of his father and you know it. But even after all the shit he pulled, the drama he caused, you're still defending him, which can only mean one thing. That bastard is your weak-spot. He's the one you care about more than anyone else in the world. That's how I know you didn't kill him."

Enough with the insults, Peter thought with gritted teeth. Claude didn't know anything about Nathan and thereby had no right to judge him. The two them had never even met. "I'm glad that that's sorted."

Claude shook his head. "You didn't kill him, but someone else did and I've got a feeling that you know who and that's why you're so full of hatred. The person who has killed your brother is walking around somewhere, fully aware of what they did, laughing at you as you try so desperately to move on, but you can't. Not while they are still out there."

Peter glared at Claude. "You don't know half of it."

"Then tell me what I need to know."

"It's a long story." He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see two more cars pulling in on the driveway on the other side of the road. Black vehicles with tinted windows. FBI. People in black suits were stepping out of their vehicles and were moving towards the house. It bothered Peter that they were there in the first place, that Heidi had called the cops, even after he begged her not to.

"Does it look like I've got better things to do?"

"Alright." Peter turned his head back to look at Claude. "But if it turns out that you have been bluffing about being able to help me with this thing, you'll have much worse things to worry about than just a simple nosebleed." Trust nobody? Yeah, including yourself. "Got it?"

"There's no reason why I should be lying to you, but okay. If it'll make you feel better, I promise I will keep my word and help you in the best way I can."

Peter took that as a 'yes' and started talking. He began with telling Claude why they had to go to the Stanton Hotel, that the President's life was in danger and how they had to save him and stop Sylar. He didn't say that Nathan had already been killed by that point, but saved it for later, just to give Claude an idea of how confusing it had been for him when he found out himself.

Next were the months of isolating himself from his family, working non-stop, getting used to his new ability. He didn't waste too much time on the details. Claude only needed to see the bigger picture, which was how Nathan died and why he didn't really die at the same time. The rest was either too personal or simply not important to the story.

Peter's mouth had gone dry by the time he got to the point where he had the dream about Samuel's plan to kill thousands of people, but he didn't stop. He kept going. But talking about it wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. It was pretty hard. It was as if he had to relive all of it.

The ice pack was no longer cold by the time Peter was finished. He was even more tired than he was when he had started and he was all out of breath. Claude had kept quiet throughout the story, which Peter was grateful for, but it left him wondering what the man's thoughts were on the whole thing.

"This fella, this Sylar. He's the guy you took TK from, right? The one who tried to kill you?"

"Yes."

"And you're telling me that he was brainwashed into thinking that he was your brother for a while..."

"Yes."

"And you didn't know?"

"No."

"He shape-shifted into your brother, because that's who he thought he was at the time?"

Peter wasn't going to repeat himself again. He had just told Claude the whole story, from beginning to end and there was no way that he was going to do it again.

"Do you really not get where I'm going with this?" Claude asked with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"No, you don't. I know what you're trying to say, but you're wrong. He is not the one we're looking for. No way." Peter shook his head. He knew for certain that Sylar didn't have anything to do with it. It wouldn't make any sense. Sylar was locked up in some facility, probably some place in the middle of nowhere. Even if he managed to escape somehow, there was no logical explanation why he should go walking around in Peter's body, proclaiming to be the cause of Nathan's death. That just made no sense at all. Certainly not after everything that Peter had done for him. "It's gotta be someone else."

"If you say so." Claude stood when the front door of Nathan's house opened and the group of FBI agents emerged. He walked past Peter and leaned on the balustrade with one arm, the other still holding the cloth under his nose. "But you have to admit that I was right."

Peter frowned and looked up. "About what?"

"The fact that you almost broke my nose just now has got nothing to do with me. It has nothing to do with what I said. You're just looking for a way to blow off steam and since you can't use yourself as a punching bag, you'll just have to do with the next best thing. Which is me." Claude turned around and narrowed his eyes. "You know, you were kind of harsh on that barman earlier. There was no need for you to yell at him like that."

"That didn't have anything to do w-,"

"And Bennet. You didn't give him much credit, did you? I don't blame you. I mean, I would love to give him a piece of my mind, but only because he tried to get rid of me. He didn't do anything like that to you as far as I know."

"No, he didn't. But-,"

"Let's see who else we've got... Ah, of course. Dear old Angela Petrelli. The woman is worried about you, Peter. Isn't that sweet? I never even knew she had it in her to care about anyone other than herself. But you don't give a shit about that either, do you?"

Peter got to his feet and grabbed Claude by the collar of his coat with one hand and had the other hovering in mid-air, all in one quick motion. He balled his fist, ready to beat the crap out of Claude, but hesitated when the man started laughing. I hate it when he does that. "What's so funny?!" he asked as his hand shifted and curled around the man's throat.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"You..." Peter paused and looked away for a moment. Wait... He suddenly remembered something that Claude had said, something that got him thinking. "I can't use myself as a punching bag… What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're not angry with me, Peter." Claude tilted his head a bit to the side, trying to loosen Peter's grip. "You're not angry with Bennet, or your mother, or that poor barman. We didn't do anything wrong. We are just punching bags, temporary solutions to your self-loathing." His nostrils flared and he regarded Peter with something that looked a lot like pity in his eyes. "God... You must really hate yourself."

"How d'you...?"

"You know I'm right." Claude lifted his chin and raised an eyebrow. "Instead of seeking vengeance for the loss of your brother, you went on a mission to save the guy who took him away from you in the first place. Yes, you had your reasons. 'Saving the world' was one of them, no doubt. But even after that you still didn't have the guts to do what you were supposed to do."

"Stop it."

"You know him like no other, Peter. You know how he feels about these type of things. So tell me, how would Nathan Petrelli feel if he found out that his little brother has been sharing meals, thoughts and even memories with the bastard that killed him?"

"I said stop."

"You've let him down, Peter."

"You think I don't know that?!" Peter still had a hold on Claude's neck, but his grip loosened and he let go when he decided that fighting was pointless. "You're right, okay? Everything you just said is true." All of it. He stepped away and left the porch, not because he was trying to get away from Claude, but because he needed a change of scenery. He needed to get away from Nathan's house.

Claude caught up with him and started walking by his side. "If you know why you're acting like this, then why don't you just stop?"

"Because I don't know how, Claude. I wish I knew how to get rid of all this... hate, but I don't." Maybe he just needed more time. Maybe he just needed more time to accept the fact that Nathan was really gone and that he wasn't coming back. Or maybe he just needed a real punching bag to vent his anger at. "And I'm not going to kill Sylar. I can't and I won't. It's not what I want." Even it was what Nathan would have wanted him to do, he just couldn't. Not now, not ever.

"Then what do you want?"

That, for once, was an easy question to answer. "I want to find the son of a bitch that stole my identity. I want to know who this person is and you are going to help me." Peter glanced at Claude and noticed that man's nose was still bleeding. His way of treating a nosebleed obviously wasn't the right one and Peter had been fighting the urge to tell him that the whole time, just because he didn't feel like it, but enough was enough. "You shouldn't tilt your head back like that. Lean forward and move your fingers a little lower, just below the bony part."

"And you're telling me this now?" Claude asked as he bowed his head a little. He grimaced a little when he pinched his nose in the right place. "You're sure it's not broken?"

"I don't see any signs of swelling…" Peter paused and turned his head when he saw someone walking towards them. It was just a woman walking her dog, but he stopped anyway. So did Claude. They both knew they had to be more cautious, certainly now it was common knowledge that Peter had invisibility as an ability. They couldn't take any more risks. Peter even tried to focus a little more on his ability. He was still able to see Claude, which meant he was still invisible, but he did it anyway. Just to be sure.

The woman got closer and closer and when they thought they were safe to go, she suddenly lifted her head and nodded. She nodded her head and looked directly at Claude.

Peter frowned and stared at the woman as she continued her way. What was that? He slowly turned his head to Claude and saw that the man looked just about as confused as he was. He couldn't remember ever seeing Claude off his guard like that. He didn't just look confused either. He looked very angry as well. He looked like he was about to explode.

And just when Peter decided he didn't feel comfortable with the distance between the two of them, Claude suddenly reached out and tried to grab him by his neck, or face. It was something in between. He failed though, because Peter had stepped back just in time to dodge the sudden attack. "What the hell?"

"What did you do to me?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Peter stepped sideways when Claude tried to hit him again and missed. "What's gotten into you?" Claude wasn't even looking at him. He kept looking straight ahead for some reason.

"Petrelli! What the hell did you to me?"

"I…" And that's when it dawned on Peter that the reason why Claude was no longer able to see him, was because Claude himself was no longer invisible.

Next chapter: Father's Legacy