Nathan Petrelli

Toronto, Canada

He landed softly under the cover of night. This was it; the address Molly had given him. Peter was here. Nathan took a deep breath, and tried to figure out what he would say, to Peter and Claire both. After all, Claire had been right; Peter survived, against all odds.

He stepped up to the door, feeling more than a little light headed. His brother was alive! He wanted to scream it as loud as he could. He wanted to fly.

As he raised his hand to ring the bell, the first shadows of doubt crossed his mind. What if Molly had gotten wrong? What if Peter was here, but left? What if Peter didn't want to see him? What if…?

There were too many questions, he told himself, and not enough answers. If Peter didn't want to see him, let Peter tell him so. He pushed the bell. For the first time that night, he dealt with the possibility that his brother might not open the door. What was he going to tell a stranger? A nine-year old girl in New York told him his brother was here, and he flew right out? How would he explain that?

For just one second, Nathan planned on flying away, to never darken this doorstep again, and the door opened. Peter stood there, a shocked expression on his face. Nathan was sure Peter felt like he was looking in a mirror and that he bore the same expression. Then, Peter's face cracked into a large smile. "Nathan," he said, quietly.

"Peter," Nathan said, trying desperately to keep his composure. But, when Peter threw his arms around him, Nathan couldn't help but cry.

"How did you find me?" Peter whispered in Nathan's ear.

"I took the long way around." Nathan braced himself against losing complete control. "Pete, I'm home now."

Matt Parkman

New York, New York

"Nikki, I need to know everything about where you've been, and I need to know it now," he said, a clear determination in his voice. Ridge was in the hospital, being tended to by the best doctors around. He would have been here now, if Arianna wasn't on a trip to the Caribbean, but his wounds weren't life-threatening, and she wouldn't treat him if she were here, anyway.

Nikki frowned, staring back across at Matt. The interrogation room smelled like urine, and wasn't the nicest place she could think of to hold a conversation. "I don't remember anything, though. I couldn't tell you anything that could be of help."

"Right," Matt said. "Which is why I'm asking for your permission to read your thoughts? It will be invasive, and more than likely uncomfortable, but a young girl's life is at stake."

He could see her thoughts being broadcast from her eyes. He knew what she was thinking without the link he could've forced. She was thinking about what her son Micah would do, if it were him asked. Finally, she nodded.

"Good. Now, just lay back and try not to think about anything in particular." Matt laid his hands on her forehead, a comforting technique he'd learned from Ridge. If he used contact in as many of his interrogations as he could, people would think he required it.

He pushed the link, and fell into darkness.

The first image to spring forth was that of a man, tall, dressed in a black leather coat and gloves. He couldn't see his face, which wasn't very good, but he could hear his voice and he would be able to recognize it later. The man identified himself as Legion. Matt pushed farther. He felt the man's hand on Nikki's cool skin, then the tug as he pulled her essence into his own. Matt would follow this up with a call to Mohinder; maybe he could tell what kind of ability this was.

It was followed by even more darkness, and was continued with the empty black for a long time. Finally, he could hear voices, whispering in the background, but the only one he could make out was that of Nikki, talking to herself. Then, she was up in the air in the arms of another man, this one much younger, with sandy blonde hair and steel-blue eyes.

Then, the Kirby Plaza interrogation room. It all went nowhere. Matt broke the link with a sigh. "Thank you anyway, Nikki."

He left the room, angry at everything he put himself through. First, Janice left, taking her unborn son with her, and now he lost Molly. If anything happened to her, Matt would chase this Legion to the ends of the earth and unload his pistol into his head. But first, there was Mohinder. He dialed as he entered the elevator.

"Yes, Agent Parkman? What can I do for you?" Mohinder asked, speaking clearly despite his accent.

"I need to know about an ability, and you're the closet thing to an expert we have." He described what he saw to the Indian man, and waited while Mohinder searched something on his laptop.

Five minutes later, Mohinder came back. "It sounds to me like the man you're searching for has the ability to merge other beings into himself." Mohinder cleared his throat. "What are we looking at, Agent Parkman? Is this man another Sylar?"

Matt sighed again. He hated having to explain everything to everyone. It was growing old. He wished they would gain his ability so they could see what he saw in the field. "No, I don't think so, but I can't be sure without some more investigation. If you must tell Mr. Bennet anything, tell him I plan to have a report on his desk by the end of the week, and, hopefully, a collar on the man."

"Good luck, Agent Parkman."

Matt hung up without another word, and went back out onto the street.

Will Stone

Seattle, Washington

He sat, waiting for Dr. Suresh to finish with his call. The Indian specialist had flown out to Seattle for the upcoming rally of what he called "Evolutionarily Advanced People". He had no idea what they were calling themselves. Mutants, was the term most widely accepted. Sometimes, Will felt like he should have been an X-Man.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stone," Mohinder said, hanging the phone up. "A small business matter that needed my attention. Where were we?"

"I asked you just what the hell you meant by Sonic Manipulation? It sounds like I control hedgehogs."

Mohinder laughed a little at that. "It means that you can manipulate sound. The sonic waves you been spitting out are merely sound, even though they can decimate buildings if you put enough power behind it. With practice, you should be able to generate tones from nothing. Imagine playing air guitar, and actually playing one!"

Will frowned; he didn't like the sound of it. It sounded as he was dangerous. So, he flung a dog three feet with a sonic boom. The dog wasn't hurt, except for his pride, and maybe his dignity. "What you're saying is that I'm a reject from The Sound of Music?"

Mohinder shook his head. "That's not it at all."

"Look, doc, no offense, but I really should be going." Will stepped out his chair and hurried out of the small doctor's office Mohinder had set-up for visits like these. He had other problems to deal with. Mackenzie, for one. How was she going to take what he'd become. There go his plans.

He exited the building and faded into the crowd of mutants.

Smokey

Outside of Toronto

Claire thought he was sleeping, but he was really watching the car behind them. It had been there since the border, and everything all of his bosses taught said that this car was following them.

The car itself was unremarkable, but it was the fact that he couldn't see the driver that worried him. It could be anyone. The name Sylar sprang to mind. Smokey wouldn't let harm come to Claire; his bosses would kill him. However, he didn't think he could make a stand against a killer like Sylar. He hoped for someone less dangerous, like the thugs that beat them up the other night. They could be dealt with.

"Don't look now, but we're being followed," he said calmly. He knew Claire's first impulse was to look, but he silently applauded her when she didn't. They might just be able to get away from the other person easily.

"They probably work for one of my dads," Claire said. "Both of them are rather over-protective."

Poor, naïve Claire, Smokey thought. The person they hired to follow you is in the car right now, sitting next to you, telling you about the people following us. He let out a sigh. The lie was starting to kill him, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep it up.

He was about to spill the beans when his cell phone rang. When he saw the number, he nearly panicked. Swan. Why was his contact with them calling him? Something must have gone wrong.

He answered it with another lie. "Hey, sis."

"Where are you, Smokey?" Swan asked.

"Look, I'm busy right now. Can this wait?" Claire looked over at him, and he shrugged. Damn lies.

"You know who I have with me, Smokey. Well, it's just hit the fan. Who else was told about the package?"

"I don't know where your shoes are. How would I know, what with me in New York? Did you ask Mom?"

"Is Claire with you right now?"

"Yeah," Smokey said with mock exasperation.

There was a pause. Then, "Get here as fast as you can."

"I told you, I don't…." Swan hung up, "where you are." He hung his own phone up with a curse word. "We have to ditch this guy before we get there. Speaking of which, Where in Toronto is Peter?"

"You know, I didn't think to ask," Claire said, and from the look on her face, he could tell she felt a little stupid right now, so he didn't push it.

As they entered downtown, Smokey led them down an alley, where they ditched the car, and went on foot.

Samael

Toronto, Canada

He stood in the alley, staring at the abandoned car. Damn it! Where the hell did they go? He thought to himself. Three people, three demons, now off the streets. The blonde was the next in the rise of the Angel of Death, followed quickly by anyone else he could his hands on that happened to be with her at the time.

He stuffed his pistol in his coat pocked, and continued pursuit on foot. They couldn't have gotten far.

Claire Bennet

Toronto, Canada

It was getting close to midnight, and they were running out of alleys to hide in. Smokey had confirmed the guy wasn't Sylar, but he didn't think it was just some guy looking to beat them up. Worst of all, they were no closer to finding Peter. Peter could help them, would help them, if only they could find him.

Running down yet another alley, Smokey grabbed Claire's arm and pulled her into a dark niche between two dumpsters. He put a finger to his lips, and huddled them deep into the darkness.

Footsteps echoed as their pursuer entered the alley. She could hear the gun clink against the man's belt buckle. She knew it would take a lot to do serious damage to her, but this guy seemed determined enough to try as long as it would take. As the footsteps approached, fear began to take over, not just for her own safety, but Smoke's as well.

The man stopped right in front of them, and she started sweating. The man starred directly at them for at least a minute, and she got a good look at him. blonde, blue eyed, and he had a scar on his lower lip. Fear turned to terror when she realized that she heard this man described over the Agency radio. A killer, like Sylar, targeting people with abilities by the name Samael.

Finally, he started off, leaving them alone. Smokey went to get out of the niche, but Claire pulled him back. "Just a minute," she whispered. She didn't want him to see how bad her knees shook or the fear in her eyes.

It started as a light floating towards them from a perpendicular alley, but when it entered their niche, Claire almost screamed. It took everything she had not to faint. It landed neatly on her knees, stretching truly like a very little person. The only word that she could think of to describe it was fairy.

The tiny woman was no bigger than Claire's middle finger, with two very gauzy wings poking out from her back. She stuck her arms way up in the air, twisting this way and that, while Claire and Smokey starred at it like a couple of morons.

Then, it motioned for them to follow her before taking flight once more and heading back down the other alley. Claire did the only thing she could think of and stood, despite Smokey grabbing her arm. She looked down at him and said, "What other choice do we have? We don't know where Peter is, and I don't think we're going to find out hiding between two of the smellyist dumpsters, do you?'

She followed the little glowing fairy down the darkening alley, with Smokey right behind her, breathing hard at the sight of two-inch high woman flying. It led them to a door, and the fairy went right through it. Claire reached out, her hand trembling. She felt like she was on the verge of complete breakdown. She twisted the knob and pushed open the door, just in time to see the fairy meet the bare chest of a man and become a tattoo. One of many, it would seem.

"He won't give up," the stranger said, his voice incredibly vacant. He didn't seem to see Claire or Smokey. "You can stay here, if you want."
Claire entered the tiny room, and Smokey followed.

Matt Parkman

New York, New York

As Matt exited the Agency HQ, his phone rang. He answered without thinking, believing it to be Mohinder with more information. It wasn't. "Parkman, we need to talk," the cold, empty voice of Sylar said.

"What could we possibly have to talk about?" Matt asked.

"Legion, for one thing," Sylar said., "and then there's the story of how you apprehended me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I told you I'd be in touch, didn't I? I keep my promises." Sylar took a deep breath. "As a show of good faith, I have a bit of information for you. Molly isn't a part of Legion. She's being held at a facility in Nome, Alaska. Call me when you get there, and I'll tell you more."

The line went dead, and Matt stood there, staring at his phone as if it were poisonous.

A/N: When those speaking Japanese speak, and it's in parenthesis, it means they're speaking Japanese. I wouldn't attempt at writing the language even if I knew how. It just wouldn't seem right.)

Ando Masahashi

Hart Center, Tokyo, Japan

How could such a thing happen? Ando sat at his new desk as Director of the Tokyo Branch of the Agency, but he was deeply depressed over the murder of Kaito Nakamura. What was he going to do?

It was at that moment that Sakura entered his office. She'd come to join him breakfast. (Director, good morning) she said, offering him a smile that on any other day would melt his woes away. She was just beautiful.

He was about to return the greeting when her face changed from one of sympathy to one of shock, and when the hand fell on his shoulder, Ando jumped. He turned around and gazed into the sweet, good-natured face of Hiro Nakamura. (Hiro!) he shouted, throwing his arms around his once-lost friend.

(Did we do it?) Hiro asked. (Did we save the world?)

Ando nodded enthusiastically. (We stopped the explosion, but where have you been?)

(I'll tell you all about it, but first I must speak with…) Hiro said, trailing off, his eyes falling on Sakura. (Who is this?)

(Allow me to introduce you,) Ando said, getting up and leading Hiro around to her. (This is Sakura Miyamoto. She's special, like you.) They bowed to each other, slightly. (Sakura, this Hiro Nakamura.)

Her jaw fell open, leaving her mouth even wider than before when she saw him appear in thin air. (You're kidding!) she squealed. She bowed again. (It is an honor to meet you, sir!)

Ando could feel the hero worship, and it upset him greatly. He was slowly falling in love with Sakura, and now that Hiro was here, how could he expect her to fall for someone as ordinary as him.

Hiro turned to him, speaking English a thousand times better than before. "I need to speak with my father," he said. "I have to tell him everything." When Ando's face fell, Hiro knew that something bad had happened. "What happened"

Claire Bennet

Toronto, Canada

The man called himself Michael, but he wouldn't give a last name. He walked around his apartment shirtless, giving Claire and Smokey a little too good a view of his tattoos. Many of them made little sense, like the one a bone sword going down his spine, or the compass over his heart, but hey, who was she too judge.

He showed Smokey where he could sleep first, leaving Claire and Michael alone. She didn't feel afraid of this man as she did of Samael, even though Michael was ten times stranger than the killer. He opened a door that led into a small room with a cot and a few personal affects. "You can take Elle's room, but don't touch her things. She'll want them right where she left them."
He left her alone then, and she entered Elle's room. She couldn't help but look at a picture of Michael and a pretty blonde woman. Claire wondered if she was special, too.

The door opened again, and Michael entered. He clearly wasn't used to guest; either that or he didn't understand privacy. He held his hand out, clearly meaning to give her something, but she didn't move, suddenly afraid of what he might give to her. "I searched for my nearest damnation, and it was you. I searched for my nearest salvation, and it was you. If you're looking for something, use this. It will take you where ever you want. What ever you want to find, it will show the path. It will take you to him."

Trembling, she held her hand out, and felt the weight as he dropped something into. She looked into her palm, and there sat a compass, its needle spinning madly. It stopped, pointing south. She looked up to thank him, but Michael was gone.

When Smokey woke her up the next morning, Michael was nowhere to be found. Claire gathered the few things she had, and let Smokey led her out into the alley. Using Michael's compass, she thought of Peter. The needle still pointed south, so they headed that way.

Michael

Toronto, Canada

He stood on the roof, watching as Smokey and Claire left the building. Elle Bishop held his hand. "I know you liked them, but we can do nothing more for them."

Michael nodded, knowing he lied to them, and to Elle. He didn't necessarily like them, but he was linked to them, as they were linked to him. He had a famous relative, one which they pressed him for last night. All he had to do was give his last name, and they would have fled into the night, into the arms of another killer. It's never been easy being a Gray, but it got even worse when the world found out that Sylar was Gabriel Gray. Who could like a man whose cousin was a murderous sociopath? They would led him to his errant family member, and when Michael came across Gabriel, he would end Sylar, once and for all.