It's the sunlight that cuts through the bedroom window that wakes me. I listen to Peter's even breathing. Still sound asleep. Like many previous occasions, I carefully untangle myself from under him. Body's fuzzy, which is better than achy, but still not perfect. Mind's more than a bit fuzzy. It feels like it's too full with stuff like it's threatening to break my skull. But the pain isn't there, just the pressure. And it's not like the regular headache pressure I get, but different. Can't really define how...but I don't think the Aspirin is gonna even touch it. It doesn't feel like something that's easily corrected. Some kind of side effect, or something. I don't really know.

There's something that could make things better. Maybe.

And its name is caffeine.

I kiss Peter's forehead and then start heading for the door. I'm wearing the same rumpled clothes I had on last night and don't really feel inclined to change that. Not planning on going anywhere for a while yet. And maybe not even today. I do have a phone call to make, like the one I made yesterday. Owe my boys that. Am not going to add to the reason why we're still not ready for them yet. Tell them that there is another Uncle Peter with us, who is from a future where everything went wrong because of the speech I made in Odessa four months ago. Yeah. They're sharp, my boys, accept more than I ever did at their age, but this might be...traumatizing to say the least. It's just another one of those things on the pile of things we have to figure out. I can't keep them going this way forever. I don't want to. I miss my boys. But it still goes back to what Peter said: I'm not who I need to be for them yet. I can't...give them what they need yet. Not sure how far away I am from that point, either. Once we get this sorted out, maybe I'll have a better idea.

But I can think about all of this later. Right now, I need coffee. Open the door and I step out of the bedroom, carefully closing it behind me. I glance around Peter's living room and don't see him on the couch. I look up and beyond that, and, ahh, he's at the desk. Awake and writing something. Writing to us? Maybe he was planning on leaving after all. Before we woke up.

I stop a few feet behind him, giving him a safe distance away, and clear my throat. Probably best that I let him know I'm there instead of sneaking up on him. "Morning." Or afternoon. I don't really care: I just woke up and look like it. I can feel my hair standing a few inches higher than it normally does.

Date:	2008-08-08 23:24
Subject:	Remedies and Recuperation
Security:	Public
Mood:	gloomy

Last night had been rough, but that's nothing compared to the morning. Heidi was gone. Left behind was a note. She couldn't put up with us anymore, not without knowing who she was. This really should have been done all along, but not in such a dramatic way. After reading the note, I pocketed it and haven't looked at it since.

I had to tell my boys what had happened. This makes things incredibly more difficult for them. I'm honest with them: I don't know what we're going to do.

That's when Peter came to me. He's taking what happened yesterday with Simon and Monty very hard. I think the situation could have been worse, but Peter, putting himself in Monty's position, he feels horrible. He wants to become lost. I know how to fix him, but there are things that I must do and my sons cannot be around for this.

So, for the time being, the best place for them is with their grandparents. I tell them this, explain it as carefully as I can. They can tell I'm struggling. But I have good boys. Despite the anger and feelings of betrayal that brew between them, they are understanding to me. I promise again that I will be back as soon as possible. And it will be a shorter time this time. Peter and I need to figure out what to do for them. Despite how their mother isn't here right now, we are still a family.

When they're ready, I return to the room where I left Peter.

Date:	2008-08-07 10:03
Subject:	Long Time Coming
Security:	Public
Mood:	okay

Heidi hasn't taken well to coming here. She hasn't said anything to me, but I can feel it. The difficulty to approach her and talk with her is still there. Neither Peter nor I knew what was going to happen when he made his admission to her. It did seem like a good idea and he appeared to be in a good place to tell her. But we were both wrong. Instead, Peter suffered a set back, and, given the circumstances of where we are, I'm having difficulty becoming settled and certain about any further advancements. It was a critical set back for both of us.

I don't talk to her because I don't know what else to say to her. Sometimes things feel better with her, but I ultimately find myself back to where I am now: I'm not sure where we stand with one another. I'm not sure where things will get better with us. Things have stalled and remain to be in such a state until...and that's what I cannot accept anymore: not going somewhere, not progressing. I could for a time, but now all I crave is motion. I want to go someplace. I want things to be better. But I cannot continue with her if she persists to let things be as they are indefinitely. She doesn't know what she wants and doesn't know how to make things better. That's not giving me anything to work with. Peter's receptive to me; it doesn't take me very long to figure out what he wants and needs--and he doesn't even have to tell me. But I don't have this connection with Heidi. We've always been closed off to one another in some respect. There was a time when we were closer when we were working from the same place. I'm not there anymore. I'm no where near there anymore. I'm dragging my feet in this for her and my hope that we can have something, anything, to like how we had before.

But then I start thinking: is that really what I want? I love Heidi, I want to help her any way that I can, but I'm not certain if that means I want to continue being married to her. Perhaps pushing her away, while not in the manner I conducted myself in, was the right action to make. We're not fit for each other. She could do better without me. But if this is what we decide, the choice needs to be made now rather than later for both of our sakes.

Peter knows what I'm going to do so he takes my boys to the playground on the premises of where we're staying, the Villas Arqueologicas Teotihuacán. Let them have some fun while they are here and not worry about things. We have all put enough worries on them already.

I do not say anything at first when I approach her, but the look on my face, and the emotions that I'm broadcasting make it all crystal clear to her for what my intentions are. This is the last chance at understanding. If an agreement isn't made, decisions are not planned out, I have to leave her. Inevitably, that's what she's been telling me all along: that I would rather be with Peter. And when she's like this, when she's not receptive, not willing to go halfway to me, yes, she's right. My brother gives acceptance to me. He doesn't ask me to be anything but what I am. We have differences, but we work through them. Heidi is my stone wall. She leaves me dead in my tracks.

"This isn't fair to either of us," I say to her and inspect her face with my eyes.

Date:	2008-08-04 15:03
Subject:	[TMA] Prompt: 9.2 - Invisible
Security:	Public
Mood:	melancholy
Music:	Sounds of the early morning

Invisible. The action of not being seen. Being outside the field of visibility. This word takes on a number of different meanings in my life. The most obvious (...or not to someone else) is how Peter has the ability to make himself literally invisible. That's what I think about when I consider the word itself: my brother's ability. A few months ago, he made me a promise: he would not go invisible when he has the intent to flee from me. Instead, he would stay and face the sensations and circumstances which prompt him to flee in the first place. I keep him in plain sight. There may be times when he’ll disagree with me, but this is always the better way to be for him. I won’t let him hide anymore. Not from others and not from himself. I spent so much time pushing him toward this position before.

Date:	2008-07-06 23:16
Subject:	Running Things Over and Over
Security:	Public
Mood:	discontent

Peter said that he would wait for me forever. This being something I don't want to test. I don't want this to take forever. I don't want to deal with this right now, but it's going to hang over us until I do. I can't run away from it, I can't hide from it. Peter took us back and I couldn't deal with it then. Now he wants to see my thoughts, my experiences on that day.

It doesn't matter that things turned out as they do. We still went through that. After getting shot, I was certain I was going to die. I had just reunited with my brother only a few minutes before and someone had shot me. I couldn't speak to Peter. And he couldn't have heard anything of my thoughts; I was thinking many things simultaneously. It wasn't fair that I had been shot. Life had never been fair, but this was cruel. It wasn't right that we had just come back together. We didn't even get any time alone to talk, to really be around one another. We were on a time schedule and before I could say very much, I was being told by Parkman that the press was ready to hear what I had to say. I don't want to go back there, not as myself. And now Peter will be seeing that too.

What was so difficult about his experience was hearing him and seeing myself. He thought I blamed him for not having seen a way to stop the shooting before it took place. This thought never came to mind. But I do wish he hadn't seen me. I was beyond helpless. And thinking that I was going to die. I was certain of that. I was going to die and I wasn't going to be able to spend any more time with my brother who I had not seen in four months since he exploded over New York. My life had always been ruled by sacrifice, but this was something different. Not to say my life was ever simple, but my actions did not matter as much before. I wasn't aiming to saving the world. My interests were solely in my family, doing the best for them. But when I started looking at the bigger picture, my life suddenly became something more.

And that's why we were at the Odessa Police Department: to clean up the mess our parents had left behind for us. Attempting to heal the world but in the worst way possible. It was sickening what they had done. Someone trying to kill me was their way of stopping us before we could get to them. We still don't know all of the faces of our enemy. And at that point, it stopped mattering who they were, but what they had done in retaliation. It was a threat I had not immediately realized.

Living peacefully had never been something allowed to us. And even now, I feel like we are living on borrowed time. We've been keeping a low profile. I don't even know if they know I'm alive and out of the hospital, but they would probably have been watching us. There's gonna be a time when we go back to what we had started. Not quite returning from where we were, but close enough.

Upon facing this, maybe that's the only thing that is in our future. This unnerves me and I haven't mentioned this to Peter. Facing this memory, there's a lot more to it than acting through it. There's the thoughts, what I know now, the aftermath, what lies in our future. I'm not ready for all of that even though I feel ready to face the memory again. I'm not sure if Peter even knows what he's asking of me and of us in regards to what will come after. Things are going to change again.


I'm sure it's been a couple of hours since he told me he would wait. And in that time, we've gone back and forth a few times. I've cut him, hurt him as I worked some of these things out. But my preparations have not been in vein. Yes, we can go back now. And afterward, what we're gonna face next, we'll discuss that when we're there.

My back, shoulders, and spine are tingling from the massaging Peter has been doing. He's been back there for a while, without any words spoken between us. We've been using actions, emotions, and sensations to express ourselves. ~I'm ready to go back,~ I tell him and look at him.

I move myself around on the bed until I am facing him. Then I take his face into my hands. I've never brought us back into my memories. And we're coming from a dream place already; we're in Mexico, but we're not really in Mexico. Just our minds are here. I look at him intensely, waiting for him to do what he needs to do before I can proceed.

Date:	2008-07-03 02:22
Subject:	TMA: Prompt 8.15, Shot.
Security:	Public
Mood:	determined

( It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power. )

Date:	2008-06-30 21:49
Subject:	pull up, pull up from one extreme to another
Security:	Public
Mood:	lonely

Heidi brought the boys to school and then she's going to work, I'm assuming. We haven't talked about that. We haven't talked about very much except for what I have asked her. And things like work I don't really think about. I'm not there for myself and I still forget that through a lot of this past time Heidi's been working in order to keep the family going. Because that's true: I wasn't thinking about the situation back home when I was gone with Peter. I was thinking about where I was going. I'm still little use to them without knowing where I'm going. It's something like before, except there are more things to do, and Peter's here and safe. There's a lot of things to do and almost none of them directly relate to Heidi or the boys. There's still an intent to undo the work of our parents and their cohorts, but I don't think either of us are at a place where we can deal with that yet. Peter nor I can even deal with going to Kirby Plaza. We're going to have to go back there later. Claire's out there somewhere. Caitlin's in the future. If Heidi's any indication, neither of them are likely to wait, either. What is Claire thinking now? Did she know about what happened in Odessa? Did she see me with Peter? Heidi was at my bedside when I woke up. She had seen it.

I feel more confused now than I did before. Heidi got me thinking on things I wasn't considering. I had gotten too simplistic, was making assumptions. Things went very wrong. And now I have to wait on them. Wait for Heidi to make whatever her decision is going to be. She warned me about forcing her hand, and she's right. I'm not going to make that mistake again. She can do what she wants with herself. I can't just wait here to see what happens. I can't be idle; I must do something.

Right now, I know I'm alone with Peter. He's in the house, but I haven't gone to him. I don't want to be with him right now. I shouldn't be with him like this. It's past ten when I get up and get dressed. I let myself out of the house and onto the terrace. We're in the middle of Spring now. Summer's about a month away. The backyard is a carpet of green and a rainbow of colors. I'm not looking at it very long before I push off from the ground and shoot upward. Any fear I have of being seen is outweighed by the sheer need to get away from the ground, the house, the city itself. Just away. I do not cut my velocity until I have cut through the lower cloud layers. The air is thinner up here, but it's quiet and there's nothing to disturb me here.

Date:	2008-06-30 10:24
Subject:	The Truth About Matters That Are Best Left Unsaid
Security:	Public
Mood:	confused

I've already done (or rather continue the trend) something that Heidi told me not to do: worry about her well being. I've played our conversation back and forth in my mind all night long and into the morning. I'm still awake while she's fast asleep. I stayed in bed when she got up. The less I say to her right now the better. We confuse one another. I don't know what she wants or needs anymore. I need to listen more. I shouldn't force her. She told me what she was hiding from me and it wasn't, of course, very pleasant. The truth is hurtful. And there is no way for me to deny it, or hide from it anymore. I don't know her anymore, so I am right about us needing to get to know each other again.

I must accept the truth of this: we just might no longer be compatible. I am not going to guess where she's coming from because I don't know. A year has gone by. For three nights we have shared the same bed, but aren't we just strangers now? Things are awkward with her; nothing I tell her is the right thing, nor does it offer her any comfort. Maybe she doesn't want my comfort. I miss my wife. I miss how things used to be simple. Even after we started a family, things used to be easier than this. Things were even easier after the car accident. At least then I knew how to gauge her. I wasn't trying to please her any longer, but I knew how to keep an argument from happening. Now it's like I don't know how to censor myself any longer. Things are awkward with her because I've become awkward. At one point during our conversation last night, it felt like we were having two different conversations.

I hate this. I don't want to lose her this way. But it's possible from all of my actions against her that I have already lost her. Ten years of marriage, almost twenty years of knowing one another. And the thing is, I never fully realized it was over. I knew she could leave, thought it was likely, with the things I said, pushing her away, the restraining order, the separation, making her wait, making her feel the pain I went through in the explosion, but she didn't leave me. Things piled together, all giving her more reason why I shouldn't be in her life. I don't know if that's what she wants. When she thought I was telling her to leave, she acted negatively. It might not be that, or it could be. I don't like things in flux. They're uncertain and uncomfortable. I want to know what is going to happen next. What is the next course of action? How is life going to change further? It's been a never-ending change since last year. Things that were our of my control and cut me deeply. I couldn't be the husband she needed for those things. That's why I'm dealing with them now, to get better, to find peace, to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do with my life. I ask her what I can do for her, but maybe that's nothing. Maybe it's what she can do for herself, leaving me out of the picture. Maybe that's okay. I love her, I will always love her. But there's that saying about the things and people you love: sometimes you have to let them go.

Date:	2008-06-26 00:51
Subject:	Home Sweet Home
Security:	Public
Mood:	stressed

We're back in New York now and I still feel the weight there pressed against my chest and shoulders. Those lingering fears now can be realized: I still don't have my answer in regards to them. I don't know how we are going to handle things. The more I think about it, the more I know that this isn't about my decision; it's all about them and what they want to do. That means that they need to talk, without me there. It's something that happened before, but not in person. And in person is much different than any of the conversations that were conducted mentally. That's a very different space. A much safer space.

After dinner, for the first time in a long, long time, I find myself left to my own devices. Peter's settling in the guest room--which from tonight forward is going to be his room until further notice--and I'm reacquainting myself. I've started this process by entering my office. I don't know what I expected to find, but it isn't this. The room, it's perfectly as I left it the last time I was here, the evening after the election. I sigh and stop at my desk and lean onto the chair. She had no reason to do this. It's not like I was going to be using the room any time soon. But it was as neat and as kept as the rest of the house was. Maybe that should have been a reassurance, but it wasn't. It was a reminder of things I had left behind, things that weren't in my life now. The neatness is unsettling in a way. Everything has its place and it's in that place. I notice the old Yankees baseball I always kept here. Good luck charm and a memory of one of the best days of my life when I was a kid. I walk around the desk and open the holder and take the ball in my hand. I run my fingers over the laces and then curve my palm around the ball. The old and the familiar. I didn't expect to feel so unsettled in my own house like this. But I really should have because things haven't been settled yet. There's still so much to do about that. I move the ball again, pinching it between thumb and forefinger and begin tracing the hard laces again.

Date:	2008-06-25 12:08
Subject:	[ViMH] #10: "My life would be better if..."
Security:	Public
Mood:	contemplative
Music:	Coldplay - The Scientist

( To say “My life would be better if...” is to conceit that there is something lacking in one’s life already. This might not be the case with everyone. For me, this statement is true: there is something that would make my life better. )

Date:	2008-05-07 20:37
Subject:
Security:	Public
Mood:	thoughtful

I thought I was over the surprises from Peter, but that isn't the case. There were skills I taught him and hoped he had taken to heart, but I didn't know this to be one of them. My brother told me that he has always known what he wanted and went after it. I wouldn't say that about him, but I used to believe this about me. My brother was the dreamer. But if he knew his purpose, could he still be in the way I had believed? That's more me. And now I am the one who is trying to put the pieces together because I don't know and I don't know what feels right anymore. Actually what feels right and what doesn't. That used to be my brother's territory, but now look at me. And it matters.

He feels just as confused as I do and he can't understand why I am calm about what we're going through, what he went through. I can deal with the past and the present a hell of a lot better than I can deal with the future. Not knowing is just uneasy for me. I'm still wanting to know what will happen when Peter is wrapped into the past. I'm helping him out, but it's such a slow process. It isn't tedious, though. That is one thing it isn't. We are both getting something out of this trip. I also wish I could give Heidi a definitive date when we're going back to New York. But I won't push Peter--or myself. It is about me, too.

I don't know what I should do about last night...if I want to bring my thoughts to Peter's attention...but he has to already know. We're in each other's thoughts. It's a little weird to write that. Wouldn't have gone for that normally. But like I said, I go with what feels right and this does. The sensation isn't even that uncomfortable. In fact, it's reassuring. He can still hide from me if he really wants to, but that would be different. Everything is different. We know each other here, but we don't know each other back in New York. Mexico allows us to be relaxed, something neither of us could be in New York. There's many demands on me there that I haven't experienced here. And that's what worries me the most: how life will be when we're back to regular life. Because as much as I like what we have here, this isn't that. We're making things better for us, recuperating, but both of us are still searching for something more. I have no doubt the closeness between us won't diminish, but beyond that I don't know anything. We gotta get past that.

Date:	2008-05-06 12:05
Subject:	Just Let Me Hold You and We'll Both Fall Down
Security:	Public
Mood:	peaceful

Since the dream, we really haven't spoken about what happened. I confirmed to my brother that the dream had been real, that we really were speaking with Heidi--and, in that respect, that she did express her anger to me. Peter wanted to lash back at her, which I agreed was necessary, but not for his reasons. I'm approaching it similarly to how I want to be shown what he experienced: I want to understand exactly where my brother is coming from. He fears that it will hurt me. His feelings are more unsettling to me than his thoughts are. I hate seeing him experience these things. And the longer that I wait in approaching him, the longer he'll be suffering.

He did manage to find peace last night. We both did. It was a nice night that was lacking worry, or fear, or hatred. My brother is beginning to trust me again. I hope he remembers this. It might be too soon, but I get the sense that I have to ask him now. We've reached this point. Now it's time to cross that hurdle.

Being in the afternoon, we are back to the caves in the hills. I know Peter knows what is coming and not because it is in my thoughts. Which pretty much means that there is nothing that I can hide from him now. Not that I am hiding anything, but if I was in the position where that would be necessary....But that's not a matter right now. And if that time comes, it won't be then, either. He can tell because of how I've been acting today. I gave him time alone...at least physically speaking. I used the time away to make a survey of our provisions. When I'm finished, about an hour has past. I begin walking in a slowed pace deeper into the cave, where I had left Peter. This isn't something I want to go through, either, but that doesn't change it from being necessary. The decision came with a feeling, that settledness that I both knew was right and nobody would have the power to shake. I hadn't made a decision like that since Odessa, and then, before that, since Kirby Plaza. This will be another instance of where our lives will inevitably change.

If you could go back to being what you were, would you?

I at one time hated change. Change was something which shifts, ofttimes, to my thinking at that time, in unimaginable ways. I preferred consistence, reliability. What was normal could therefore be analyzed in comparison to past actions and behaviors, and further actions will be anticipated. I've always been excellent at that: judging how a person is going to act before he or she does.

People cannot accept what is different. The prefer sameness, words spoken in variations, but with repetition. We can accept these things. It is unexpected surprises that will cause both shock and alarm. The reason? The person who finds a particular way of being or circumstance foreign will not know how to respond. With most people, say, in the case of committing a crime, one is only going to find so many variations on one particular crime. In most cases, it will be X+Y=Z. This is simply how people work. When it is X+Y=W, or, to go further, X+Y=B, then you start having problems. Fear is created. This is why I am creating anxiety within not just Heidi, a person who's grounding originated from a similar place that mine formally did--built on logic, reliability, limited variation of themes--but Peter as well. I've changed so much that my own brother doesn't fully recognize me. And actually, I'm not surprised. I built my life on a certain idea. I've never deviated from that--except when I saved Peter. That is the action in my life that changed everything. With that action, admitting to the truth and what was happening around me, I couldn't be the person I had always been. That action defied that person. And truthfully, that wasn't really me. It was who people needed me to be, but it wasn't me.

The most important difference is that I'm not somebody who is going to get used. I still feel pressed to help people, to watch out for my brother, and to take care of my family. None of that has changed. But I am beginning to trust myself, my own sense of what action I should take. I did this before as well, but not in the same way. I had other people's ideas and plans for me to worry about.

I think the more I am with my brother and Heidi, they'll see that the core part of me is the same. Took me a little while to discover that, too. Right now, I'm going to say that I'm looking for how I fit in with people, and am finding what my life now is about. It isn't so much about finding the person I am because I know now.

Seeing the way I do now, there is no possibility for me to go back. I don't look at what is hypothetical when the chance isn't even possible. I like who I am now. I didn't like who I was before.

To be a Petrelli means to put your family first in front of your personal wants and needs. It is something I am never not thinking about. What can I do for my family? What should I have done (or could have done) for my family that I didn't? What I can/will do goes along with another trait that family means: legacy. It isn't enough to have progeny, but what can I impart or leave to them? What lesson do I think they should learn from me? If I died tomorrow, how do I want them to remember me? There's the family name; what does it say about us?

Don't let your children hate you. Not if you can help it.

It's one of the last things my mother said to me before I left for Odessa. There are things that I've done that weren't the most honest, noble, or sincere, but those things would not, couldn't, account for my children hating me. If they do or were to hate me, it would be for the wrong reason, but for the one which most struck at them: my abandoning them last November. I had a good reason. The best reason for my action. I had to save Peter. It was made clear by numerous people that the event camde down to my action. No one else could do what I did--not even Peter himself who was unable to stop the chain reaction he had found himself in. It would have been easier to let him go, to just let things run their course as my mother, Mr. Linderman, and Isaac Mendez's paintings said they would. Peter himself, too, in a way creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

When I was out of ideas for how to approach the situation, I looked at it objectively. Peter's part was sealed. There was no way to change his fate--a funny term and one I don't like using with regards to Peter. My brother was going to blow up. I am not superstitious, but there are some things that cannot be ignored and the painting I saw in Isaac Mendez's loft was one of them. My brother said he had dreamed of exploding and there in the loft was a painting of a glowing man. Peter hadn't told Mendez about the dream, or about anything else Mendez ended up painting of my brother--or of me.

My family is full of secrets. We're Italian; we have more than a few less-than-legal skeletons in the proverbial closet, but it seems my family has some real crazy family secrets. Like, for example, this pact my parents made with eleven other individuals, one being an insane man of innumerable age who used my brother to complete his goals. The man's primary goal was to unleash a virus that would have killed most of the human race--an idea similar, but by no means proportionate, to the plot my mother and Linderman had going. Destroy the world to save it? And this man, Adam Monroe, he was an associate of both of my parents. I'm not completely sure how to grasp what work my parents were a part of.

Dearest Heidi:

No more secrets. It is what we agreed and I am trying to adhere to this. But you are aware of my upbringing, some of the decisions I have made and sacrifices I have had to bear, so making this change in living is difficult. You have been on my mind a great deal since I have arrived here with Peter. You also seem to be in my dreams, as well. But that isn’t why I’m writing you.

In the hospital, I told you the truth about me and my brother and what we went through. What I didn’t get into were my reasons.

It connects to a year ago today, a day that will be forever burned into my memory as the day when everything changed. April 24th, 2006 was the day I stopped being the Nathan Petrelli I had always known myself to be. I’ve never been as powerless as I was in that moment when I found myself inexplicably moving skyward, Heidi. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, but the worst had happened. As much as I wanted and needed to help you, I couldn’t. If I was normal, if I had maintained control, I could have gotten out of the way. I had brought this upon our family. I was scared for a long time—both of myself and the route my life began taking. Things continued going out of control; I ended up pursuing politics due to my mother’s insistence, despite my own apprehension, which you are well aware about. We weren’t ready for that life and I regret taking you down that road with me. More than that, I regret that I failed to be the husband and father you needed me to be. It is still a great surprise to me that you’ve granted me forgiveness. I know I would not have been so accepting of my actions. But I am not trying to test that. You have always been strong, Hei, compassionate, forgiving. That accident, I wasn’t just afraid of myself, but I was afraid of how you were going to be changed by it. Your temperament, your humor, your strength, I feared I had taken it all away. I needed that person in my life. I knew you would have been able to help me in my crisis of self.

You make things simple to explain and comprehend. But I knew on that evening that I had finally gotten to you, squelching your unique and delicate spirit. It wasn’t by a conscious decision that I broke your heart, too; it was a consequence of my actions.

I know now that I can be the man you needed me to be then. There is nothing about what I can do that scares me anymore. What personal amends I needed to make with that I did so four months ago and then two weeks ago, in Texas. I am not afraid anymore. If I was, announcing to the public what I can do was a bad idea in more ways than one—which brings me to something else: while I wish you hadn’t gone through the trauma and heartache that I and the situation put you through, I don’t regret this road because of the outcome we have arrived to. I am going to be a whole man when all is said and done. I am going to cast light onto the sins of not just my parents, but the people they were in league with (and I’m sure it’ll be no surprise to you that Linderman had a very solid hand in their dealings—and one thing I hadn’t told you: while I did not take his life myself, I gave key information to a couple who did—a couple that, while I didn’t know well, I knew before in unusual ways—that explanation is too winded and overdrawn for this letter, but I will tell you later.) I don’t know how many other people like Peter and me have been scarred and used. But that couple I mentioned, Niki and DL Hawkins, and a New York cop, Matt Parkman, who originally is from California, and people who were held with Peter—one of the captors is a man named Bob Bishop. You might remember him as he was a friend of my parents’ too—I have a feeling that there are a lot of people out there like us. A lot of people who could still be getting used. This wasn’t some fly by night operation. Three states and thirteen different individuals—at least, Heidi. I want to help the people like me and Pete. I don’t know what I can do...at least help them get out of the situations they are in if they are under someone else’s control. I wonder how many of them heard my words and recognized what I was saying. You are the first to know about this, Heidi. I haven’t broached the topic to Peter. If you are willing, I want your support in this. I will understand if you decline, but I wish for your support and cooperation.

I am blessed to have an understanding wife. I should have told you sooner just how much that you mean to me. Thank you. When I return, Hei, I want to speak with you alone and then you with the boys. I want to know what is important to you in life and what you want. I’m confident in saying that we can find something that works for us all. I am learning things about my brother—and about me and my brother—that I didn’t know and it is something that should be part of our discussion. There are things concerning my brother that I cannot explain but...damn, I gotta say it...they feel right. It’s at the heart of this anniversary, too. Months before my brother told me he could fly, he told me something that still disturbed me when I told you what happened. Something that I blocked, or at least tried to block.

When you were in surgery, and I was waiting, Peter told me that he dreamt about the accident. He didn’t jut see the accident, but he saw the other car and he saw me fly. This became grounds to him for why I should have been accepting when he told me he could fly. He should have been right. In the same way that you should have been right about what version of your husband you were going to get after the accident, when I began reacting more to my fears. I’ve always admired that about you: you don’t run away from what fears you, but face it with open eyes and an open heart. You attempt to understand, even when nothing makes any sense. You adjust and make yourself accommodating to adversity. Those charities you work for, it is more out of your heart and kindness than it is to give some legitimacy to the Petrelli name. But you’ve made it work both ways: not just for your own desires, but for the family, too. It’s compromise, even if it makes you feel good. I want to do something good just for you and the boys. Too many times I am thinking about the Family rather than the individual people who make it up—or about everyone else. I want to learn how to compromise, like what comes naturally to you. I want to have both worlds.

I stop writing. Two different worlds. My ability allows me to become part of a different world, in a sense. Like what I showed Peter: no one else on the ground—unless they can fly, which I’m not gonna doubt is possible, but I haven’t met anybody else except my brother who can fly—will see the morning view we did. The temples my brother showed me. The Sun and the Moon. Doubles. Two worlds. Two halves. I need both Peter and Heidi to be happy, but I need my brother more. This is something Peter understands at the hospital. The jealously. But Heidi, she sees it as well, despite how we haven’t spoken about it. Things she said at her parents’ house leads me to believe that. And in my dreams, she understands and accepts that. But that’s in dreams. I don’t know how she will react in person. Things can be easier in dreams. Those were my haven during my drunken fugue. The nightmares came during my waking hours. But I learned, not too long ago, not all of those were manufacturings of my own depressed brain. A man who had completely submitted to defeat and his self-hatred and I was still being toyed with and used in somebody’s plot. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll really understand. I have never been that lucky, though, so I’m not expecting this to be a first time.

I pick up the pen and begin again.

I wish I could give you a definite time of when I’m coming home, but we aren’t to that point yet. If you need me for any reason, you can reach me by phone. I hope that my letter finds you well on this day. I wish I was well enough to be with you, Simon, and Monty now. I love you all. Please give the boys a hug and a kiss from me. Also tell them that I wish I was home now because I miss them and love them very much. I love you, too, very much, Hei. When I get back, I want to give you many things, but one particular thing is rather minimal and surprisingly normal in the scope of my life: I want to dance with you. A year ago today was our last dance. That is too long to go without when we are both able.

Your loving husband,

Nathan

For someone who has an immense dislike for journaling, someone who only did it in the past under a great deal of mental protest I'm going to say that I hated the paper (or virtual, as the case may be) trail even as a child. I've been doing a lot of thinking and writing lately. So much that I decided to wrangle my brother and my wife into doing it, too.

So one of the questions for this week is: Who are you?

( The whole is greater than the sum of its parts )

I awake a few hours after going to sleep with no outside alarm required. We are still cloaked in darkness. I glance at my wrist and confirm that there is roughly thirty minutes until sunrise. Enough time to wake Peter up. It doesn't even bother me that we are sleeping on the earth, with not even a blanket. Au natural. The usual Petrelli way of experiencing the outdoors is staying in the five-star hotel that stands just outside the wilderness. Even with Peter alone, we've never tried what we are doing now, but neither of us is bothered, or even think on it. I just became aware to it, briefly, when that place in my back gives a twinge of pain. Parkman, I still hate you, I think, and pinch the bridge of my nose. I then place a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Pete, it's time to wake up." There's a calmness in my voice that momentarily surprises me. I can feel that calm when I shift my shoulders. They don't feel as heavy as they did before.

When he awakens, I begin standing up. I still should be sleeping because I do need my rest, but this is more important than rest and recuperation. A part of me is briefly intrigued by how walking is still proving to be difficult, flying isn't. I think it's going to be useful in my recovery. In some ways, it already has. It has helped Peter as well. And last year. Flight was the only means of saving my brother and the city.

I look at my brother and smirk, giving him a challenging, perhaps even flirty, look. "Keep up with me." I tell him and push off the ground, heading straight up. I'm going at a speed that compares to the one I used at Kirby Plaza. I barely can feel the wet and cold from the moisture that I cut through. It doesn't last long before it dries away. When I reach the stratosphere, the sky further above us has begun turning the light pink. Beneath us, there is still
shadow. I glance at my brother and watch his reaction.

Date:	2008-04-21 03:10
Subject:	Weight of Words
Security:	Public
Mood:	contemplative

Very rarely, I'm going to say about five times in my entire life, I will say something that not only surprises Peter, but something that surprises me as well. I'm usually very keenly aware of what I tell him and already know how he will interpret it. This is the prerogative of the older brother who intends to know how to give salve to all of the little brother's hurts and worries, who will be in his corner even when he does something profoundly stupid. It is when Peter comes up with something I hadn't considered that I become disturbed.

This particular case hardly disturbs, but it surprises. He needed to make new memories. My comment was completely off-handed. Not something I had thought much on. I guess I still don't feel the weight my brother feels in this regard. How much he needs new memories and new beginnings. Forgiveness. Acceptance. He needed to be told that it was okay to find these things and break past that. That's my brother, I suppose. Looking back to what he could have done and could have been. What could have done differently. I still, however, do not see the full point of that. Yes, I have my own reflections, but past actions I dwell on, not particularly. Peter uses associations in his interactions. That's how his powers work, he said. It's odd for me, honestly. I try to make an impression upon my brother, to teach him, to show him what he should or shouldn't be doing. This time, I was only commenting without minding my thoughts, or having any intention of how he should take my words. I'm not sure if this is a new reflection of the man I've become, or something else. I am being more liberal about what I say, but I didn't think I would be so liberal to not realize the weight of my words.


( To prove I care )

When Peter was a kid, he was frequent to nightmares. Like many kids, my brother was afraid of the dark. Most of it is because they don't know about what lurks out there, but in my brother's case, I'm beginning to think he knew exactly what's out there. There's no doubt why a seven year old would find it frightening.

After a nightmare, Peter would always come to me. The first times I'd have to invite him under the flannel blankets, but then he would climb in without saying anything. The sounds were always the same. The creaking of bed springs, the sound of shuffling sock-clad feet on a hard wood floor, a brief interlude of silence, the squeaking of doors opening, more shuffling, heavy breathing, and then the shifting of weight next to me. At that point, I'd pull the blanket over both of our heads. It was such a thin means of protection against the horrors lurking outside, but it satisfied its purpose.

I wouldn't be able to rest until Peter's breath evened out--and it always did soon after he joined me. We would initially be separate, but I would always wake up with my arm around him and Peter snuggling against my side.

This was safety, this was love. I feel it still. My brother can leave, but he still needs me against the dark. As much as I still need him, really.

Mom wouldn't understand, he had said. And no, she wouldn't. She never did. It wasn't in Mom's nature to understand. It is her nature to pre-judge, to disregard the emotional, to not express her love, which I know she feels despite herself.

Even twenty years later, this is our safety net, our shelter against the dark and the things which mean us harm. Maybe mom wouldn't understand, or anybody else either. But then, they don't have to.