Nathan Petrelli

"Good afternoon. Most of you have no idea who I am. My name is Nathan Petrelli, and I was elected to Congress in the State of New York. Seems like a long time ago. I lost my position."

It seemed so long ago. Campaigning for Congress. Hiding the fact his brother didn't completely fall. Hiding the fact he can't fall. Or except that one time over Kirby Plaza. Been hiding for too long, and look what came of it.

"I lost my brother."

Those long months, not knowing where Peter was. Not seeing him in the bar, not at home. Just little hints. Red herrings, nothing.

" I lost my family."

He wondered if Heidi was watching. If the boys were. If they would be shocked, angry... Or maybe even proud. Wondered if Claire was watching him. If she forgave him for all those curt and dropped calls.

"I'm sad to say that I lost my way."

Lost inside himself, lost in the bottle. The arguments with friends, family. Luz and Doc pulling him out after unsucessfully trying to wake him back out of his depression. Didn't realize it had to be more gradual.

"But while I was gone, I had the chance to see the world through newly humbled eyes."

The people he's since met. Others with abilities. Powers beyond anything he could imagine both home and at Milliways.

"Witnessed amazing things."

Seeing dragons, angels, the time he spend as a falcon and other times soaring over the lake. The flights he's since taken over parts of America, not caring who sees now. Seeing others standing up for themselves.

"I've seen ordinary people among us, trying their best each day to be heroes."

Claire. Peter. Matt. Hiro. Luz. Bill. Doc.

"These ordinary people -- like you, like me -- are capable of extraordinary things."

So much he's seen since the night of the accident. Since the day Peter took a chance. Since the day his footsteps first entered a strange interdimensional bar at the end of the universe.

"You have no idea ... how extraordinary."

What the people there can do. What we can do. We can change the world.

"But there are other people, organizations, who don't want you to know the truth."

The damn Company. The Founders, people like Ma and Dad. Bob. Linderman. Adam. Even Kaito. Too many secrets. Too many damn secrets and secrets have nearly destroyed the world twice. Can't happen again.

"I, myself, kept secrets."

The day after in the hospital and Peter being so insistent that he flew. And how did he respond? That his brother jumped. That he tried to kill himself. When they both knew the real answer was something far more important and life changing. All that time denying his very self. His nature. That he could fly.

"But last year ... something incredible happened to me..."

Baptized by fire, and carried by his brother. The distant memories of an inbetween time.

" ... and it changed my life. At first, I was afraid. But I'm -- I'm not afraid anymore. I'm here to tell you the truth. I have the ability --"

He never got a chance to finish his statement as the sound of gunshots and then screams overtook the sheriff's office.

(Dialogue from Powerless transcript)

After his mother's attack in the police station, and she had been released, Nathan saw about getting her to a hospital so her cuts could be looked at. Still wondering what the hell could have attacked her. There was nothing in the room with her, so what did that leave? Somebody invisible? The only one who could maybe would be Peter, and he couldn't see him attacking Ma like that. He loved her, and wouldn't have known about her betrayal anyway.

And never would because he's dead.

Bullshit, he had to be out there somewhere. But in the meantime, while he and Heidi was still on the outs, he had to tell them. The boys should know about their grandmother, and at least, he could see Simon and Monty again. So he headed outside, not far from Central Park. Good, the trees can hide his departure.

Moments later, there was a fast moving streak over Manhattan, and heading southward. To Washington, where two boys were. Should be around recess soon.

He was briefly surprised when one of the guards said he was meeting Linderman downstairs, and not in his office. Well, he knows, and wants to put him off guard by changing the venue obviously. He knew how the man operated, and how well he could manipulate people and situations for what he wanted.

Instead, they headed into the kitchens where he could see the back of him, hunched over, and chopping something on a wooden block while his staff bustled around with orders for the customers of the casinos.

He walked over toward him, "Mr. Linderman." He watched the older man place the knife down, and turn around to face him. An apron tied over his suit.

"Do you enjoy vegetables, Mr. Petrelli?" Typical seemingly odd question from him. Around them, the guards started to urge the cooks to leave the two men to their discussion.

"I've been known to eat zucchini when the mood strikes, but not as a rule," He added, "You know, you can probably hire someone to do that for you."

"Oh yeah?" Even his voice hid an inward smirk, a seemingly knowing snideness, "I like to cook. It's my meditation. One aims for perfection in one's life, but doesn't find it very often. For me this is as close as it gets." He chuckled, feigning friendliness clearly as he held up the dough covered dish.

"Voila, a pot pie. Wholesome, warm, healthy. That is, of course, if you can live without the cream sauce. Personally, I can't. I mean what's the point?"
He turned around to place the pan in the oven. They were all alone now. A good opportunity to strike, and end this.

Linderman continued to prattle on, "You know, people can sleep, or they can gamble. Or they can even make love when they're miserable." He closed the oven door, and turned to face Nathan again. "But I think most people eat when they're happy. I like to see people happy. Are you happy, Nathan?"

You know damn well I'm not. But Nathan just replied, "Not especially. I guess I have a few issues that plague me." Like the fact the man in front of him continued to do what he pleased, while escaping jail time, or death.

"Oh dear," came a veiled sneer in reply, "I'm sorry to hear that. You see, I think there comes a time in a man's life where he decides if he wants a life of happiness, or a life of meaning."

"I'd like to have both," Nathan said, and received a chuckle and a head shake for his response.

Linderman replied, "Can't be done. Two very different paths. I mean, to be truly happy, a man must live in the absolute present, with no thoughts to where he comes from, or where he's going. But a life of meaning, a man is forced to wallow in the past, and obsess about the future. My guess is that you've done quite a bit of obsessing about yours these days."

Damn right. Stop the explosion, and been wanting to stop you for months now. Now's my chance. Nathan took the gun out of his pocket.

The white haired man seemed untroubled, and he just remarked, "Hmm. Now you can't have any of my pot pie. I won't hold it against you. Lots of men have tried to kill me."

Nathan calmly cocked the gun, and aimed it for him, "Then I'll be the last."

Still unruffled. "I suppose you can pull that trigger, Nathan. You'd be taking both of our lives. You'll be dead in moments. Or I could offer you something."

But Nathan was tired of his deals, his arrangements, "I'm not interested in anything you have to offer me."

"I think you are. I think there are things you need to hear. Things that I know about."

"Too late for that."

Linderman seemed to smirk again, "That you can fly, for instance?" Nathan froze in position as the man continued, "Or about your brother Peter? Hmm? And his small problem?" Ohshitohshitohshit...you stay the hell away from him. "Your daughter, even?" Even her? Dammit, no. "And all those others out there like you."

Linderman started to walk toward him, still calm and confident. Knowing that he was getting to him. Had to know, because Nathan's determination wavered as he stepped back. The gun was still aimed, but his will was draining.

Then the devil in human form sweetened the pot further by saying, "I can offer you more than just information, Nathan. You're gonna win your election. I'll see to that. And two years from now, in a series of fluke circumstances, you'll find yourself in the White House. A heartbeat away from the Presidency. A life of meaning, Nathan. Think about it. The choice is yours." He then turned around again to focus on chopping vegetables again.

Damn him. Damn him to hell for putting him into a corner. The temptation was too great, and furthermore, Linderman knew too much for him to do anything about it now. He could jeopardize all of them.

Nathan lowered the gun to his side.

No choice at all really, Nathan decided as he finally

Nathan certainly didn't expect to be seeing the two FBI agents making a visit to his office. He made some general comments, and them as well so as to not let on what was really going on.

It was only after they made sure the room was secure that the front could be lowered.

"You agreed there would be no face to face," Nathan sternly told them.

"And you agreed to deliver Linderman."

Dammit, he was working on that, and he then reminded them, "I'm the one who brought you in on this, remember? I'd appreciate a little discretion as opposed to a surprise office visit."

"No one outside this office knows you're working with us. Linderman's requested a meeting with you at his casino in Vegas, any ideas why?"

He put his hands on his hips, and replied, "I'm still four points behind. He's gonna tell me how he's going to put me ahead, and what's expected of me after I win."

"Yeah, we're thinking the same thing, and we want you to record it."

He frowned at that. Risky proposition, "You want me to wear a wire?" This was his neck on the line if found out.

"You're the only one on our side who can get enough incriminating evidence to put him behind bars. You need this as much as we do, Mr. Petrelli. Otherwise he walks. We'll contact you when you land in Vegas." He watched the two agents leave, and the door shut behind him.

He then went to turn around, and was briefly surprised to see Peter standing there.

They had thought the cure was the solution. But it only lasted a few days. He didn't understand why, and it was heartbreaking to Heidi. So, it was forgotten, and they moved on.

Easy when there was so much else to worry about. His brother's coma, and then disappearance from the hospital. Meredith's phone call, and the troubled visit to Texas.

And the election looming over it all.

That last one, he found himself setting aside more often. He was still down in the polls, there was no way he was going to win at this rate.

Nathan sat in his office, glancing at the latest poll data. Also checking over the issues that voters were concerned with.

Then his phone rang, and as soon as he lifted up the receiver to say hello, and heard that voice that seemed like steel wrapped in velvet, he knew. Should almost be expected.

I will bring you down, I swear. He thought as he spoke with him. Yes, he knew he was down in the polls. And then the request that coming from him was practically an order. He finished the conversation, and hung up.

He had to go back to Vegas.

To deal with the devil again.

As he thought. Expected.

Nathan came back out of the rest room, clearly rattled some. At least in his eyes, and it took him a moment to force a confident smile on his face. He didn't understand why he saw that. Stress was getting to him. Only explanation. Peter claimed there was a bond, and that he had dreams and visions, but that was just talk, right? So why did he briefly felt this overwhelming sense of emptiness, of loss?

Heidi came over to him, rolling her wheelchair with a concerned expression on her face. He gave her another reassuring smile.

After this... he had to tell her. He had wanted to wait for them to get away from the fundraiser. He didn't know if it would work, but he already made the deal. Needed to see if the price was worth it.

There was some quiet conversations on the drive home to their estate in Hyde Park. The boys had already gone to bed.

When it was quiet again, Nathan went over to where he had hid the vial in a container in a secret safe. He briefly glanced down at the blue contents thoughtfully, before palming it. Now to convince her to take it.

He walked into the bedroom where she had propped herself into bed. Trying to stay as active and moving as much she could. All those months of the physical therapy, where he used the beginning of the campaign to avoid her from guilt.

Nathan sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Heidi, there's some things I need to tell you. Where I've been at times, and something I've recently found out. And I want to make up to you. For the accident." He then held up the vial with the blue liquid as his wife stared at him and it with surprise.

Simone gave him a call when the painting arrived, and Nathan agreed to meet. Continuing to keep it quiet. He wanted to see why Peter seemed so desperate to see the painting. Why he was so obsessed with saving some damn cheerleader. It took a lot of money to convince Linderman, and the man was probably amused that Nathan was paying him after asking for 4 million from him.

No matter. He had to get to the bottom of this.

He knocked on the door to the loft.

The trip was supposed to mostly uneventful. Except for his meeting with Linderman to get money for his campaign.

It was anything but. He should have suspected something was up when somebody came up claiming to be Suresh. Didn't look exactly like the picture, but not like he really looked at it. What was worse was what he was yelling, and warning him. He had security on that guy in a heartbeat, and Ian reassured him that the problem would be dealt with. Good man, Ian. Hiring him as his campaign manager was a wise move.

The flight over to Vegas was quiet, and Nathan watched the view below. Part of him couldn't help picturing what it would be like. Flying overheard.

Without being in an airplane. But he gently pushed the thought aside. Peter's the daydreamer. Not him.

Vegas itself was something else. After landing, Linderman seemed to be enjoying foisting his help on Nathan's staff. Keep him from meeting. But he wasn't going to give up on speaking with him about the campaign funding.

But then he met Niki. Amazing, beautiful, aggressive Niki. He felt like he could talk to her about everything, and he had the feeling she felt the same. She left, and he could understand why.

But then she came back, stronger than before. And it was just the beginning of the most incredible night of his life. A night of bliss, and no guilt.

Been two days since he spoke to Peter. Two days since that moment in the alley. He had called 911 after his brother had fell, and he helped get him to the hospital. Then the phone call to Mom, having to explain what happened, carefully worded.

He thought he could get Peter to believe it. That the jump had been a suicide attempt. That the whole flying business was a bunch of nonsense. It didn't work, not even after Mom told him the truth about Dad.

Nathan had gone to check up on him later, only to find him missing. He scoured any likely place, only to find Peter sitting on another building's ledge. He thought his brother was going to try something crazy again, and he was partially right.

Only this time, Peter wanted to know what really happened. Dammit, this campaign was wrecking him, giving him a cold, and now his brother wanted him to tell him a story? Peter didn't give him much choice in the matter though.

"All right, you want to hear the truth?" Upon getting a nod, Nathan added, "We both flew...Pete. I caught you, and I lost control. You were too heavy, and we both started falling. Just before we hit the ground, you flew. You."

And this time it was his brother who was the skeptic, calling him a liar. He had lied before, but much as he didn't want to admit this... It was true.

...Especially after his brother started walking towards him, not even realizing that he left the ledge behind him a foot back. He couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it. His brother's joyful, smiling face was burned into his memory as Peter hugged him. But all Nathan could wonder was... what now? What if somebody finds out about this? About us? Forget the campaign, hell, what will they do to us?
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After they came back inside, he had gone downstairs and out, figuring to catch a cab. Even though the conversation with Peter was still going around in his head. He didn't care how it happened, he wished it never did. Was having a hard enough time getting elected without getting this added on his plate. Now his brother was stuck on this hero obsession of his. Flying's never helped anybody. Every time he flew, somebody got hurt. Yeah, some gift.

He was so focused on his thoughts that he almost stepped out in front of the fire truck as it was flying around the corner, sirens blaring. He turned, and noticed the bright light of flames coming from a nearby apartment building. These older housing complexes seemed to be giant rattraps and tinderboxes really. Amazing that people lived there. He walked over for a closer look, watching the NY Fire Department guys race around, pulling people out. Was that everybody?

But even as he wondered, a woman was screaming at them, and pointing upward, "PLEASE! My daughter's on the fourth floor!" His eyes flickered upward. Not enough time. Not the way that fire was going. She'd be dead from smoke inhalation before then. Nothing to be done...except...

"Somebody help!" From that same floor. That's crazy. He can't just go charging in like this. This was more Peter's thing, not his. And yet, he ran toward the back. And once again, he felt his feet lift off the ground.

Felt easier this time, in control. Almost something right about it. Being in the air like this.
Dreaming? No, he was definitely awake, the heat and smoke as he flew in through the window proved it. Didn't take long to find the young woman, coughing.

"Don't worry, ma'am. I got you," he reassured, putting his coat over her to shield her from the fire and smoke. Just like Bosnia, just act, don't think. Get your people out of danger. He lifted her up as she covered her face, still hacking and coughing. Then, out into the fresh air, and back down on the ground. Too easy. Nobody hurt this time. Eat your heart out, Peter. Part of his mind chuckled internally.

Their feet touched the ground, and he figured to get out of there before anybody came aroun asking questions.

"You all right?" He asked as he glanced back, already eager to get moving again.

"Yes, thank you," she gasped out, her eyes still shut for the moment. Good, all the better. Time to go.

He faintly heard another woman call out Sheila, but he was already taking to the air to get over the high fence. Then hurrying away. He'll have to replace the coat, but he can afford it. He belatedly remembered his campaign button was still on that one. Well, hopefully they don't make too many connections, or well, maybe it'll mean a vote or two in a few weeks.

Yet despite the cold, and still vaguely smelling of smoke, he felt surprisingly good. Maybe...

Nah, that's for dreamers like Pete to wonder. He had to live in the real world, and focus on the election.