A/N: Warning! – This chapter contains mild Nathan/Niki shipping.

5 – First Sketch of Two Equivocal Faces

To begin with, his father had committed suicide. His mother, upon finding the body, had gone into shock, leaving her incapacitated for the next four days. On top of that, his girlfriend had left him for a junkie, and his first hospice patient (the woman's father) had died.

Peter Petrelli was about ready to throw in the towel himself.

Loosening his tie, Peter sat down on his bed and looked down out the window on his fellow citizens of NYC, all blissfully unaware of his suffering. They lead their own lives like on any other Sunday afternoon.

His spirits lifted minimally as he picked up the phone, his fingers dialing the number he knew by heart. He prayed the person on the other end would pick up for once.

Damn you, Nathan, Peter swore as he was once again routed to his brother's voice mail. Surely he knew by now that his father – their father – was dead and buried. Hell, even Heidi and the kids had been there and they'd been divorced… how many years now?

Sighing, Peter got up, hoping to change his mood, along with the deathly black suit he only wore to funerals. He would need it two days in a row now.

--

At first the doctors thought it was cancer or asymptomatic tuberculosis. Niki was convinced it was neither. Her family had no history of cancer, and she rarely heard of anyone getting TB anymore, let alone anyone she would have come in contact with.

Her headaches were splitting, like two people were trying to control one brain.

Of course she was sick - things had been going too well. For once, it seemed like she had her life on track, and now a doctor was telling her she possibly had a brain tumor.

Sitting behind the wheel of her parked car in the lot of a diner near the Landing Strip, Niki meditated. Her job certainly wasn't that bad – she'd had worse. She was making good money and had really hit it off with her coworkers, not to mention her employers.

As a matter of fact, she was meeting a particular employer at that very diner in a few minutes. Not that either one of them could call it a date, but her time spent with this certain gentleman felt very… promising.

Running a hand through her hair, Niki put on a brave face for what felt like the millionth time in her disastrous life and opened the door.

--

Someone is always watching. He used to assume it was just a saying, but now he knew better.

Now he was the one watching.

Up until now, The Painter had been too high to notice the potential danger he had painted around himself. But now here it was, mocking him, proof that he was no longer ordinary.

Over the course of nine hours, Isaac Mendez had surrounded himself with paintings; dazzling, abstract masterworks that begged for him to remember painting them, yet he had no recollection.

He scanned his loft. No one could ever see these. The acts that they depicted could turn people against him, incriminate him. There was one in particular that haunted him… he shuddered, glimpsing the fear and anguish in his unknown subjects' eyes.

Now where in God's hell am I going to hide all of these paintings?

--

At the Petrelli mansion, Peter started going through things in his father's office. He had brushed off help from any of the maids, insisting he do it himself. Actually, he felt it would have been more Nathan's job than his, but he wasn't about to try calling his brother for the fourth time that day.

There was not a lot for Peter to do around the place – the study was already part of the library, so the majority of the furniture, files and books weren't going anywhere. He set to work clearing out some of his dad's papers.

It wasn't until Peter (in a fit of ripped-garbage-bag rage) knocked a paperweight into the box of papers to be shredded that he found the envelope with his name on it.

Curiously, he plucked the envelope out to study. Peter sighed. It was just like his family to hide things like this from him, things that might upset him. His father had clearly wanted to have the final word, and even in death, Angela wouldn't let him have it. Peter smiled at the thought, then picked a letter opener up off the desk.

Dear Peter, it began:

Your mother probably hasn't told you, but I felt that you needed to know. Both of us are involved in a secret organization known simply as The Company. As founding members, our goal was to unite and help evolved humans, like us… and, if genetics are any indication, you.

Peter stopped reading. Evolved humans… it was impossible. Sure, they existed, but those were random people in the streets, not him and his family. Then again, who was he to say they weren't? Aside from the whole being-rich business, Peter had always felt like there was something namelessly special about his family.

He resumed:

Though he has never said anything directly to me, I suspect your brother has already developed his powers, which is why I'm addressing this letter solely to you.

You see, a while back, I met with a geneticist from India by the name of Chandra Suresh. Before he died, he informed me that the power you possess will most likely be empathetic mimicry – essentially, the ability to absorb powers from any other evolved human. He even told me of a possible second human who shares, or at least understands, your power – a man by the name of Gabriel Gray. When Suresh met him, he resided in Queens. However, since Dr. Suresh's passing, I'm afraid The Company has lost track of Mr. Gray.

Peter lowered the letter, already forming a plan to find this elusive Gabriel Gray.

He reached for the phone.

--

"I'm quitting."

"What?" Nathan dropped his toast.

Niki shifted in her seat, causing the vinyl to squeak. "I'm quitting my job at the casino. And it has nothing to do with… this," she amended, gesturing around the booth they were currently sharing.

"So, what's wrong?" her boss asked, concern darkening his features.

She sighed, toying with the napkin in her lap. "Where do I begin?"

Nathan reached across the table, taking one of her hands and bringing it to rest on the table interlocked with his.

She smiled tiredly up at him. "I've been keeping so many secrets, John."

Nathan almost did a double take before remembering Niki still knew him only by his pseudonym. He mentally kicked himself for picking such a boring name.

"So have I," he replied, his voice sounding a little cracked.

Biting her lip, Niki looked out the window, unable to make eye contact.

"I'm sick," she said, "and what's worse is that I have a daughter I've secretly been supporting."

"You have a daughter? Here?" Nathan inquired, his eyebrows reaching his forehead.

Niki shook her head. "No, she's staying with a couple a few miles south of here."

"What about her father?" he asked, grasping her hand tighter. Niki felt a tiny sliver of relief – she had been worried about how he would react towards her daughter, and here he was, showing genuine concern for a girl that he had never even met.

"Dead," she replied a little harshly.

"I'm sorry," Nathan said. Niki nodded in acknowledgment and took a drink of her coffee.

"You said you were sick?" Nathan asked after a moment's silence. She nodded again. "What's the prognosis?"

"What's with the fancy medical terminology?" Niki asked, looked slightly impressed.

Nathan laughed a little. "Sorry, I have a brother in med. school." He looked up into Niki's warm eyes, still waiting for a reply.

Suddenly, the warmth was gone, replaced with a skittish look of pure, strung-out nervousness.

"Oh shit," she swore, craning her neck to look over Nathan's head.

Crouching in an attempt to stay close to the booth and remain unseen, Nathan ventured a glance.

Coming in the main (and only) door of the restaurant were a group of employees from the Landing Strip. The party appeared to consist of mainly floor workers: dealers, a few bartenders, and (worst of all for the duo) waitresses.

Nathan returned to his seat, slouching slightly to remain hidden.

"They can't see us," Niki pleaded. Nathan nodded. She didn't need to explain – getting caught outside of your workplace with your boss (especially by your coworkers) never had good end results. He was already imagining the kind of results people would jump to.

"I have to go." Niki's curt tone sliced through his current thoughts. She was already halfway out of the booth. He caught her eye as she reached for her purse. Nathan had to almost literally bite his tongue to keep from calling out to, telling her wait.

She looked away first, guilt clear in her features. Nathan stared straight ahead, across the booth to where she had been sitting. He heard her heels clicking, followed her path to the door mentally, accounting for the time she spent stopping to greet her friends. When he pictured her at the door, crossing the threshold, he Nathan dared to look out the window.

--

Niki smiled and waved to the group from the casino one last time, then turned to face the door. She was in the clear.

If I'm in the clear, then why do I feel like I might cry at any moment?

Her vision started to blur, filled with tears.

Or so she hoped, because at that moment, she felt her blood start to boil. It felt like an entirely new entity was inside of her body, forcing her to turn around and attempt to reenter the diner.

As her fingers slipped around the knob, Niki slipped away from her body, falling down the stairs and into the darkness.

And somewhere in all the darkness, she swore she saw Johnathan Gray's face, and heard his voice, begging her to come back.