"Come on Claire, or we'll be late." Rosemary calls from the sofa, to Claire fixing her hair in the bathroom. She walks out and grabs her coat. Her hair is somehow perfect and Rosemary marvelled at the fact that perfect hair was actually possible.

They get a cab and head toward a nicer part of the city.

"What did Grandma say on the phone?" Claire asks.

"Just that she really wants to see you" Rosemary says with a smile. Claire eyes Rosemary unconvinced.

"You don't know the Petrellis. They always have a hidden agenda, especially when they call and invite you to brunch." Claire informs her.

"I know the Petrellis better than you think." Rosemary says.

"Really?" Claire asks surprised/

"Yeah, well..." Rosemaey begins, desperately attempting to recover the can of worms that had just burst open. "I'll tell you about it later." They arrive and the Petrellis' house and knock on the door, Mrs. Petrelli answers.

"It's so nice to see the two of you again" Angela says smiling widely. She turns to look at Claire. "Claire, I hope there's still a chance for us to grow closer, dear." Amgela says softly, expressing her grabdmotherly instinct.

"Of course." Claire says.

"I'm sorry to keep you out there, please, come in." Angela says, opening the door wider and stepping to the side.

"Thanks" Rosemary mumbles as she and Claire walk into the grandoise house. It is familiar scenery for both of them. Mrs. Petrelli leads the way through the house.

"I have coffee set up on the terrace, and the food should be done soon." Angela tells them.

"Sounds lovely" Claire says. They walk further into the house and through the corner of her eye, Rosemary notices something down an adjacent hall. She stops and looks closer.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Petrelli, if I could just excuse myself for a minute to use the bathroom." Rosemary implores.

"Of course" Angela responds. "I expect you still know your way around?" Rosemary nods. "Claire and I will see you on the terrace." Angela and Claire walk further on. The bathroom, Rosemary knew, was down the contingous hall on the right, but she instead she begins walking down the hall on the left. As she gets closer, she is able to positively identify the figure.

"Peter...? It's you isn't it?" she says. The person turns around and proves her right. Rosemary looks at him, noticing the torture behind his expression. "What are...where have yo ubeem? I haven't seen you since..." Rosemary stops herself, knowing the last place they met was Nathan's funeral.

"I need you." Peter says.

"What?" Rosemary asks, slightly puzzled.

"I need your help."

"Oh...um, with what?"

"I need an answer first. Yes or no?"

"I don't know Peter. I mean, what is it? Claire lives with me now for protection and I have to watch her all the time, Could she be included?"

"No. Absolutely not..." Peter pauses to think "What are you her guardian all of a sudden? She's not your responsibility, why should you cast those in your life aside for someone you barely know?" Despite his callous words, his quiet, hopeless voice did not shift.

"Don't be so cold Peter, she's your niece." Rosemary says. "And last I checked, you were not in my life anymore." Rosemary turns to leave, but Peter stops her.

"Wait," he says. "Please don't be mad. I'm sorry." Rosemary turn back around and looks at him forgivingly, but says:

"I'm not going to sit at home waiting anymore." And on the inside, she was smiling for all the valience of her words was worth. Her victory melted away swiftly, however, when Peter reached out and took her hand.

"So you don't have to. We had plans remember? It's not too late for that. Come help me, and we'll make the rest work after that. I promise." he sasys, and there is a hint of sincerety in the monotone.

"I can;t leave Claire." Rosemary says, though every cell swimming through her veins was begging for her to go with Peter. Peter was not satisfied with this answer, but was sure he saw uncertainty in Rosemary's expression, he decided to use this weakness.

"I'll call you in a few days. We'll talk then." he says, and Rosemary nods, eye fixed on the floor. Peter lets go of her hand, climbs out a nearby window and flys away.

- - - - - -

After the brunch, Claire, Rosemary and Angela begin to turn through the corridors of the house again. Following Angela to the door, Claire and Rosemary trail behind a bit.

"You see, Claire? Just a nice brunch with Grandma. No conspiracies." Rosemary whispers to Claire, glad to push Peter out of her brain.

"I guess so." Claire says, and she's somehow upset that there isn't anything odd or outlandish going on with her long-lost family. She was hungry for something more, something bigger to live for. Mrs. Petrelli reaches the door and opens it. Claire kisses her on the cheek, says goodbye and walks out. Rosemary walks up to Angela and starts to thank her when Angela stops her.

"I have to talk to you." she whispers to Rosemary. Claire turns around having noticed that Rosemary isn't beside her. She smiles seeing Mrs. Petrelli whispering to Rosemary. Just what she's wanted! She walks a bit closer, subtely trying to hear things but can't. She'll have to beg Rosemary for details later.

"I saw something in my dream last night. It was a maddening vision, I had to warn you." Mrs. Petrellis begins. "I don't why and and don't know when what I'm seeing happens, but you are in it. You're leaning over Claire, she's dead, Rosie, dead." Rosemary is warmed by hearign Mrs, Petrelli's petname for her, but the feeling is immediately replaced with an icy shiver when Mrs. Petrelli says that Claire was dead.

"After that, I see Peter. My son. He is standing there, staring at the two of you. He looks somehow...accomplished. It's hard to tell after that, but he starts to move clser to you and....Claire, but the dream ends as he is walking. I fear the worst from him, Rosemary." Angela finishes. Rosemary stares at her. Part of her wants to dismiss this as a mourning mother's nightmare, and the other half, the gut instinct, say it's more than just that. "The last I saw Peter was...was Nathan's funeral. I'm assuming it's the same for you?" Angela asks. What could Rosemary say to that? It was obvious her meeting with Peter was delibritely clandestine, was it wise to divulge the secret and risk making Peter upset?

"Yes." Rosemary muttered. Her lingering feelings for Peter were digging themselves up. Who knows how many lies sheould would tell for him.

"Alright. At this point then, I would advise you to casually avoid him if he tries to reach out. It's horrible, I know, but this seems to be the best way. But one thing you absolutely must do is keep your guardianship of Claire a secret. He can not know about this under any circumstances. Do you understand me, Rosemary Vane?" Angela eyes Rosemary. She is skeptical as Rosemary nods in agreement. The look on her face means something but Angela is too tangled in a web of her own problems to notice. "I've worried about him this past month. I've tried to callhim, go to his apartment, several times, but he is avoiding me. I don't know what state of mind he is presently in. You must do as I've said, and tell me if you meet him and what come of it, as I will do with you." Angela finishes. She's nearly frantic now.

"Don't worry so much, Mrs. Petrelli. I"m sure it was just a dream." Rosemary tries to reassure the poor, frail woman,

"That's what I tell myself about just about every single one that's ended up to be true." Angela says gravely. Rosemary and Angela linger in the doorway for a moment when Rosemary nitces Claire out of the corner of her eye.

"I've go to go." Rosemary says. "Please don't worry yourself mad. Remember what my power is. Nothing can touch me or Claire while I'm using it."

"True, yes. But last I heard you were still having trouble controlling it during time of distress." Angela says cynically.

"I'll do my best." Rosemary says after a short pause, a defiant twitch in her eye. "Now I have to go, Claire is waiting. Thank you for today." And she leaves without another word.

Mohinder is back at "Miserable" Bookcase, as he so fondly calls it in his head at times. No one has come all day. He is more alone than he's ever been ever. He reads the most interesting book in the store about black magic and alchemy. He's reread it time and again, but this is the one that never gets old. He is so absorbed in the sorcery on this Saturday afternoon that he's given a fright when the phone rings.

"Hello, Moving Bookcase." Mohinder says uninterested.

"Suresh!"" Comes the voice across the line. Mohinder rolls his eyes. It's Mr. Wilkes, the owner.

"Yes, sir?" Mohinder says trying to sound more lively, as well as sitting up straight as if Wilkes could see him from however many miles away he was in far off Italy.

"I'm glad I got you, Suresh. On top of your normal schedule and the two weeks of weekends you've volunteeered to work for me, I'm going to have to ask you for two more weeks of weekdays of presence at the shop. You see, I've booked two of the most demanded rooms in whta seems to be all of Italy and Switzerland. I couldn't pass up this opportunity so I'm extending my absecence to include a two week vacation with my daughters."

"With all do respect, sir" Mohinder says through his teeth. "But that's an entire month without a single day off! Surely I'll be getting a bonus of some sort?"

"No Suresh, haven't we already discussed this? I mean, I can bring you some biscotti home for you," he laughes. "But I haven't thta sort of funding at thte moment." Wilkes says. But Mohinder knows that the man's nose has just grown several feet. He had the money to send himself and his three daughters (Mohinder knew he had three because they were all in their local church's choir and Mohinder had to videotape the entire five hour concert, then make a montage of the best moments along with each girl's solo, to be presented to Wilkes to watch and seem as if he'd gone to the dreadfully boring event instead of clubbing with his 22 year old girlfriend. Mohinder only agreed to do it so he could escape another boring day at the shop), to Italy and have them stay at supposedly the nicest hotel in two countries, plus loads of other very probable frivolus spending in Milan. And yet, Mohinder was not going to get any extra numbers on his paycheck!

The thought brought Mohinder back about eleven monthes. He was still in India at the time, looking for work. He had an interview at the university tht would employ him intil he decided to move to America.

- - - - - -

"Mohinder Suresh! You're Shandra's son, correct?" the dean said, shaking Mohinder's suddenly limp hand.

"Yes, I am Mohinder."

"Very good. You know your father is a very good friend of mine." the deam began. "Tell him I'm still waiting for that cherry blossom from Japan." he chuckled.

"I'll be sure to give him the message. But sir, I have to ask one thing of you: Please do not trat me as my father's son. I am just another candidate being interviewed for the open teaching position in your school."

"I see." the dean said. "Well, Suresh, to be perfectly honest with you, if you were not your father's son, and, say, 'just another candidate', then I'm afraid you wouldn't have even gotten the interview." the dean informed him.

"Sorry?" Mohinder said, shocked.

"You're not at all experienced enough." the dean said.

"But if you were aware of who my father is?" Mohinder asked.

"Then I think I could give you the job." the deam smiled.

- - - - - -

"Suresh! You still there?" Wilkes calls through the phone.

"No." Mohinder said spimdly. "Imean yes...I mean...I quit."

"What?" Wilkes said, stunned.

"I quit." Mohinder said and hung up the phone. And for the first time in a long time, Mohinder felt happy. He looked around the store that, in all irony, he probably would have loved if it were not for such awful conotations to it. He grapped the dark magic book he'd been reading just before his momnet of liberation, and wrote a note reminding Wilkes not to forget his paycheck and the location of the key he was going to hide afer locking the door. He also wrote several less than moral parting words at the end of the note. Mohinder then walked out the door for the last time.