12. Discoveries

Peter opened his eyes and instantly recognized the dimly lit room to which Hiro had transported him, Claire, and her father.

"Isaac's loft…" he said softly, looking all around at the barren steel and concrete walls once adorned with chilling and prophetic images. It felt like he was in a robbed tomb, barely feeling Simone and Isaac's specters in the empty space. His eyes instinctively dropped down; the floor mural of the explosion had been painted over.

"It's now a realtor's nightmare, as I understand," said Bennet, walking around and inspecting the cleared out workbenches and leftover chairs. Two flashlights aimed upward from tables on different sides of the room. "New York properties sell faster than any other, but no one wants one previously inhabited by uh, 'a clumsy Van Gogh.'"

"Mistah Esack did not try to cut off his ear," said Hiro, surprising Bennet for actually understanding the reference. "Sylar did that. He murdered him, took his power for his own."

"Even if the FBI knows that, it doesn't stop the media from embellishing. The less people understand about something, the more prone they are to-" He halted mid-sentence, looking away from the boarded windows to see Claire in the corner, trying to coax a still downcast Peter into a comforting hug.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

Peter didn't meet her eyes, but returned the hug all the same while continuing to look around. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

"Really?"

He finally looked directly at her, putting a lot of effort into displaying a half-smile. "I'm not really in the mood for a cheer right now, Claire. But don't worry about it, I'm alright."

Persistent, she shook her head. "If you let it keep bothering you, it's just going to make things worse. Believe me, I know."

Peter didn't reply, choosing to distract himself with the emptiness of the loft again.

By nature, he was not an evasive person. He loved people and always drew so much energy from interacting them, and he especially loved hanging out with Claire, now that they were closer friends than ever. But his pain at his mistake in the park was so intense right now that all he wanted to do was fly off or sit on a roof somewhere and be all alone. Alone to marvel in horror at how he could forget all about his responsibility, forget about his pledge to go after Sylar when the time came, forget about everything except what was going on in his own world…

They all wanted to tell him it was an illusion, that it wasn't real and therefore he shouldn't contribute any more energy to thinking about it. He knew that was exactly what they were going to say. But he knew for a fact that it was real because it was true. He had really thought his brother was dead, so Peter did what he would've naturally done, illusion or not: he cowered and withdrew. That was all him, every second of it, and it was all truth.

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. "Oh, everyone's here!" said a very relieved Sandra, hurrying in from a back room. "Rodrigo's asleep again on a couch in the bedroom, and Lyle went out with Claude to get groceries. Hello, Peter!"

His craving for solitude intensifying, Peter greeted her with a nod and the same half-smile as she came over, took her daughter in open arms, and hugged her gratefully.

"Honey, when did you call Claude?" she asked, turning to her husband. "He said he'd barely moved back from Europe a week ago, I had no idea you were still in touch with him!"

"Oh, you know dear, there's certain people you know we can trust," Bennet covered, imperceptibly startled. "I'd…called him about something else the other day, and-"

The front door opened. "Really lovely place you picked out, Hiro," came Claude's sarcastic voice as he entered with Lyle, both carrying grocery bags. "Even better, it's in the middle of the arts district, there'll be art school twats running around outside during the day, damn them all. You lot had better like glazed donuts, cause it was…" He cut off, finally aware of Bennet's presence.

There were a few silent, betraying moments before Bennet spoke up to cover the rift. "Claude." He began, "Thank you. For coming when I called." He came forward and extended his arm, feeling strangely awkward and uncertain, and now very much hoping against hope that the man could please still be professional and hold in his rage and just play along -

"Put your hand down, mate, you know it's been too long for just that." And in less than a second the man he'd tried to murder seven years ago was embracing him like a brother.

This wasn't exactly how he'd pictured this in his nightmares.

He wondered if the machete was still sheathed…

Fortunately, he'd caught onto Claude's enthusiasm almost instantly (picking up on each others' cues was a habit that hadn't faded) and made an appropriately relieved grin, watching as Sandra reacted with a smile.

"You all took awhile," said Claude, withdrawing and going over to the groceries, taking out the donuts. "Was the illusionist any trouble?"

"No, but she can be," said Bennet. "And the fact that the Company pulled similar attacks on our other friends means that we're going to need a lot of intel before we counter-strike."

"What about Sylar?" Hiro asked eagerly. "He is back, we must stop him!"

"Sylar isn't a priority right now."

Hiro was aghast. "A killer is always a priority! He almost blew up New York!"

Peter snorted, but Claire was the only one who noticed. You mean I almost blew up New York, he thought gloomily, and the significant look Claude threw at him didn't help to lighten his mood.

"If the Company captures you, you'll never have a chance to go after him. But if he does do anything, both the FBI and the Company will make him the most wanted man in America. They've tracked him before, so he won't be on the run for long."

"That is only if he kills again!" Hiro insisted. "You think it is okay if another person dies before anyone does something about him?!"

Bennet suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable having this argument in front of his wife and kids. But Claude, uncharacteristically generous tonight, went ahead and took up the abandoned 'lesser of two evils' stand.

"Sylar's one man," he told Hiro. "The Company's an organization, and they can take more than just your brain. Besides, we don't have a clue where the man is now, do we?" he offered him a donut. "Just sit tight, friend, take things a step at a time. In fact," he caught Peter's somber gaze, "we probably all need to take a breather for the time being. We'll have time for planning in the morning."

Claude sounded sympathetic, but the disdainful look he directed at Peter was anything but.

The floor was moving below Mohinder.

And as his eyelids forced themselves open, he noticed: so was the ceiling.

His eyes received an uncomfortable flash of florescent light at a rate roughly relative to the speed of the floor sliding below his back. He also realized that those were hands pulling on his ankles. He concluded that he was being dragged along a hallway somewhere.

It was nice that he could employ the scientific method in such appropriate circumstances.

The person pulling him around looked very tall, and had dark, curly hair. He wasn't sure if the man looked so tall just because he was looking up at him from the floor, but he eventually decided that the man's imposing stature, and the fact that Mohinder was supposed to be unconscious, meant that he wasn't going to give any pleasant answers if he asked him anything. Mohinder kept his mouth shut.

Dizzy, he turned his head just when it passed over one of those metallic floor panels, scraping his ear. He winced, hating the fact that you couldn't really time these things when you had no control over your own motion.

He was able to notice, though, that the environment had changed. When he'd woken up, he was in a grey brick corridor, like a maintenance tunnel underground. Once he'd injured his ear, Mohinder found himself being dragged through a very bright and clean tiled hallway. Every door they passed seemed to be closed, but one was wide open, and he saw something very familiar.

Tilting his head up, Mohinder struggled to read what was on the huge projector screen in the conference room they passed, but he only got the picture and first two lines. It was scant information, but it was enough for someone as informed on the subject as he was.

The projector image was discussing Molly's illness…

The man stopped dragging Mohinder. "Must you haul Dr. Suresh through the lab corridor?" asked an irritated voice. He spoke with a French accent. "This is a workplace!"

"And yet you want to keep him here," said the deep voice from before; Portuguese, Mohinder recognized.

"At least put him in a wheelchair or something, don't act like a salvage!"

After a few moments, Mohinder felt himself being picked up and plopped into a wheelchair. He perceived the curly haired man smiling at him, but could barely see it through the abstract white flash and nausea that had overcome him with the change in position. "Awake, are you? Well, you are going to have to wait a bit; Dr. Miliken is on his way here, he'd like to ask you a few things."

He didn't answer, and soon he was being pushed down the hallway. They got to a dark lab room, he was left inside, and he heard the door shut and lock behind him.

Mohinder fought to stay conscious, but soon the stinging on his ear was gone as he slipped away again.

The next morning, Nathan found a note on his door from Candice, telling him to meet her in the conference room in at the entrance of the east wing by the gymnasium. The note was short and hastily written, and judging by the fact that he'd just walked by the gymnasium for the seventh time and still hadn't found the conference room, he realized she wasn't exactly overjoyed about having him come along on the mission.

It didn't aggravate Nathan much. He and Candice shared a mutual, very grade school dislike of each other, so not seeing her was perfectly fine by him. Anyway, he knew that with further posturing on Aster, he was going to end up going with her anyway, briefed on the details or not. Until then, he was content wandering the Primatech hallways on his own for a few hours.

He took the elevator to a lower floor, finding himself in another blandly unappealing hallway. This one though, had an anxious security guard walking around.

"Can I help you, Mr. Petrelli?" he asked. He looked like he was barely out of college.

"Is your superior here?" Nathan questioned.

"Uh, he's on his lunch break, I'm in charge of the cell block right now…can I help you with something?"

A cell block? Nathan was unaware that those in the paper racket were in the business of taking prisoners. "As a matter of fact, you can," he answered, feeling curious. "Mr. Aster sent me down here to have a talk with the newest detainee; you want to show me where I'm supposed to go?"

The guard blinked. "Mr. Aster sent you? I…I haven't received any instructions about that-"

"—You just did. You are aware that I'm one of your bosses now, son?"

"You are? Um, I mean, I don't-I don't remember Dawson saying anything about-"

"—Dawson shouldn't have to be the one holding your hand everyday. The memo's been out for at least 48 hours."

Nathan initial assumptions about the kid were right; he was probably brand new to Primatech, and unfamiliar with most of the protocol. He was completely pale and squirming very badly under his questioning right now.

"Oh god, I'm…I'm so sorry, Mr. Petrelli…" he stuttered. "I was in training the past few days, and I guess I'm just not caught up on everything yet…"

"Hey, it's an honest mistake," Nathan smiled, patting his shoulder. "You're the new guy, it happens. Tell you what though, lead me to that cell, and I won't mention any of this to Dawson."

The young guard followed Nathan's instruction immediately, leading him down the hall. They stopped at a door, and after swiping his card, he let Nathan in, an exceedingly grateful look on his face.

Nathan was now in an empty dim room, its only feature being an observation window looking out into another dark room. There was a light switch next to the window; he flicked it on.

Floodlights lit up the room on the other side, stirring the blond form sleeping on the bed in the corner. Slowly she rolled over towards him, one hand on her brow as she looked towards the window irritably.

"Niki?" Nathan uttered softly, recognizing the disheveled face at once.

"Nathan Petrelli," she said, getting up and walking to the window. A furious look passed over her face. "You're behind this?"

"No!" he answered at once. "Jesus, no, I'm not…I just woke up here a few days ago. Just like you."

She crossed her arms, annoyed at being condescended to. "I'm supposed to believe that?"

"Yeah, you are," he said defensively. "Four months after the explosion I woke up here, okay? I don't know what happened, or what they did, but believe me, I am not involved with these people."

"You have some damn nerve, saying that to me while you're behind that window in slacks and a polo." She paused, a bit of Jessica clearly peeking out from her critical stare. "I think you're back to being a bought politician again. What kind of deal did Linderman's people offer you this time, Nathan?"

"I have not been bought," he insisted, but immediately he dropped his eyes and conceded, "they did offer me a job, though."

Niki shook her head at him disdainfully. "In exchange for what?"

"My family's safety and livelihood," he said adamantly. "Nothing you wouldn't do anything for."

"Yeah, but I learned my lesson afterwards; don't that anything for anyone as powerful as Linderman."

It was weird having this conversation via microphone and through an observation glass; for all the impersonal aspects of the situation, somehow it didn't seem to elevate Nathan's position in the dialogue any more than it degraded Niki's. He knew that this was because he whole-heartedly agreed with what she just said. It was acting on that agreement that was the trouble, especially with Niki staring disapprovingly in response to his barely justified attitude.

"So what are you doing here, anyway?" he asked finally.

"…You seriously don't know?"

He snorted. "Hey, I barely found out that Aster had cells in this damn place. If there's a meth lab upstairs then I wouldn't have a clue."

Niki shut her eyes. "They tried to take us," she explained. "I got caught so DL could get Micah out."

"So where are they now?"

"I don't know. And I'm glad I don't. At least that son of a bitch Aster has one less resource for finding them." Niki came closer to the window now. "But that isn't going to make them safe, Nathan. Aster trusts you, doesn't he?"

"It appears that way, yeah, why does that-"

"—If he mentions anything about DL or Micah," her voice was now higher, breaking and straining with emotion but remaining unyielding, "you have to tell me. I need to know that they're safe, if you're going to be too much of a coward to do anything about Aster, you can at least-"

The door opening interrupted her. John Aster strode into the doorway, looking as pleasant as ever. "You get lost, Nathan?" he asked casually.

Niki made no effort to hide the angry defiance in her stare, but Nathan remained perfectly cool as he addressed Aster. "Just catching up with a friend."

"I thought you were going to meet with Candice?"

"Well, you know men like me," he said sardonically, "given the choice between two women, we'll always go for the blonde…For the record though, the jail cell kinkiness had nothing to do with it-"

"—You'll be a fun addition to my staff, Nathan," Aster interrupted, now openly staring and smiling at Niki. "Have to love that dry humor of yours. Shall we go see Candice, then?"

"Sure," he answered immediately. "Uh…lead the way."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Sanders, I'm making it a point to chat with you later," Aster said affably, walking out. He added an edge to his last farewell: "You won't remain lonely for long."

Nathan took one last look at the cell before exiting. Niki looked on after them, keeping an unfazed face even though she and Nathan mutually knew what kind of conversation she and Aster were going to have later on.

Nathan watched her sympathetically right until the young guard shut the door, pulling him back into the taupe reality of the hallway outside. That's when he realized what that whole scene had just been. It was supposed to be just another day at the office.

About an hour later, Lyle was napping on a yard sale couch Hiro had teleported in from somewhere and Sandra and Claire were busy guarding Rodrigo, who still had not—or probably hadn't dared—woken up. Whichever it was, when he did come around he was scheduled for a little questioning conducted personally by Mr. Bennet.

Hiro teleported out again, but this time to "get the early newspaper." Claude didn't believe a word of this, especially since he just answered Hiro's question on where he'd encountered Sylar, but he silently let the Japanese man on his merry way to investigate whatever crazed whims he had at 4:30 in the morning. He figured he could look after himself.

Peter watched from the loft as Claire sat in the back room, not saying much and simply resting her head tiredly on her mother's shoulder. Bennet had just told him what had happened with Rodrigo, and feeling a little guilty for brooding so much, Peter was about to come over and console her, just as she'd tried to do for him.

Claude, however, had different plans. He set up a planning meeting with Bennet in another empty room, and motioned for Peter to follow them as he crossed the room. Peter tried to decline but Claude gave him that insistent, annoyed teacher look again, and reluctant, he had to obey.

As soon as Peter had locked the door, he heard a muffled crack and a short groan, turning around to find Bennet staggered against a counter, rubbing his newly bruised jaw and glaring at Claude, who had apparently just slugged him.

"Probably should've seen that one coming," Bennet muttered, flexing his jaw back and forth.

"Ah, great," yelled Claude, "then it wouldn't be a waste if I aimed for those stupid glasses next time!"

"Drop it," said Peter firmly, quickly sidling in between the two, "you're not going to break his glasses."

Claude rolled his eyes, ever derisive. "That was a threat. If I was gonna do that, why d'you think I went to the trouble of hugging the bastard?"

"But…" he broke off, confused. "Why did you then?"

"Oh, you aren't that thick, you were able to figure out the brilliance in not telling me who your niece really was. Did you see out there? Claire's found out that her boyfriend's a pill and everyone's barely escaped the Company. They don't need to know that daddy decided to shoot Uncle Claude off a bridge as a going away present seven years ago."

Bennet cut in immediately. "I didn't just decide-"

"—You shot him off a bridge?" Peter asked, staring at Bennet with a wide-eyed look of naïve horror and disbelief. Having never seen Peter so repulsed before, Bennet confirmed with a slow nod.

"Yeah," Claude continued. "Y'didn't think I just resigned, did you Petrelli? They gave me a fine severance package before I could do that." He glared at Bennet again. "Shame they didn't give the same to you."

"They were going to take Claire," he justified.

"They were always going to take Claire! You only wised up when the threat was imminent!"

"Don't run to the moral high ground just because you suddenly found a goddamn conscience seven years ago-"

"—Enough!" Peter cut in. "Jeez, was I brought in here just to make sure you guys wouldn't kill each other?"

"No," Claude said, his angry tone unaffected by Peter's attempt at refereeing, "you were brought in here so you wouldn't sit outside slitting your wrists and brooding over what that illusionist showed you."

Peter was speechless, absolutely reeled by what had to be Claude's highest potency of blunt and concise affronts. Agitated, he looked over at Bennet; even though Claude was now throwing punches left and right, the man didn't look any more sympathetic to Peter's present state than Claude was.

"Hiro told me," said Claude at last. "Look, mate, it was just a trick, okay? She read you too easily, that's all it was."

"I had the feeling you were going to say that," Peter told him irritably.

"That's because you need to hear it. Now," he strode over to him, right up in his breathing space now, "you can either actively participate in our plans, or you can go home and cry, but you can't do that here. Make a fucking choice."

"I'm staying here," he answered immediately, angry and suddenly unwilling to allow insecurity to show when Claude was this close to him.

"Good," said Claude, now impossibly casual, "then you can help me pick up some reconnaissance supplies. Go and check if Hiro's back, and if he's not, leave a note."

Peter looked to be all kinds of pissed off. Not wanting Claude to provoke him further, he left the room right away.

"You are aware that he's not going to be able to just ignore it?" asked Bennet from across the room. "He's a sensitive kid."

Claude was staring off after Peter. "He needs to learn to cope sooner or later. He's the one who wants to save the world."

"And if he doesn't? He's going to compromise this whole plan."

"He won't." He faced Bennet. "But I'll watch him. If I think he's going to be a problem, I'll say so." Claude sighed grimly as he started to leave. "At any rate, I'm glad Hiro doesn't have much angst."

"Claude." He stopped at the sound of Bennet's voice. "How did you survive?"

Not turning around, he replied bitterly, "I think I've answered enough questions from you for a lifetime."

"My family is going to notice this bruise, you know."

Claude walked out into the main loft and came back with one of the grocery bags. He reached in and tossed a package of frozen peas at him. "You're not the only one who's good at making plans." He turned back to the loft. "There's some make up in the bag if it doesn't go away."

He smirked slightly at the look on Bennet's face as he shut the door behind him.