Author's Note: Okay, after this chapter I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with this. Originally I just wanted to try and finish how I thought the Peter vs. Sylar incident would go, but the silly fangirl part of me demands I continue. Once I think up a good plot I will continue. Don't worry, I'll try not to keep you waiting for long.

Once more, thanks so much to all my wonderful reviewers.

"Wait, Suresh... Mohinder Suresh?" Nathan asked.

Angela shrugged, and sighed, looking as if she was beginning to lose her patience. "I don't know the man's first name. I'd assume it was him, how many 'Suresh's are there in New York?" She paused upon seeing Nathan's face. "Why?"

Nathan looked back to the phone Claire was clutching. "Hiro told me... Mohinder was there too, that he was in danger as well..." He whispered, and realization sank in. "Shit, it's happening right now!"

"Are you sure this is the right address?" Nathan demanded. His mother, sitting in the back of the car, nodded, and the passengers lapsed into tense silence once more. The Haitian took the paper from Nathan, his eyes sweeping over the letters scrawled upon it, and turned the wheel.

In the backseat next to Angela, Claire couldn't keep her eyes off the image in Nathan's phone. She felt tears threatening to well up in her eyes. This man was her hero, her savior, but now she realized he was even more than that. He was her uncle. He was family.

After about ten minutes they pulled up to a large, somewhat shoddy, building. Nathan turned around in the seat to look back at Claire. "Listen... it could be dangerous in there. You might want to wait-"

Claire cut him off. "I'm coming." She said sternly. That finished, she followed the adults up to the building's entrance, ducking into the shadowy, grubby interior hallway, flinching at every noise.

Slowly they crept up the stairs, the Haitian and Nathan in the lead. Upon reaching the correct apartment, they could all hear the sounds of vicious fighting taking place within. Angela nodded to the Haitian, and he burst the door open.

Now Claire wished she hadn't looked at the picture so long. The apartment was exactly as it appeared in the painting - dark, dejected, furniture strewn about and broken. There was no one in the first room, but the sounds of a struggle had grown louder. This at least assured Claire that Peter was still alive.

Quickly following the sounds to their source, Claire gasped at the sight that met them. The room was trashed, broken shelves and appliances strewn everywhere. The one small window was shattered, and the light swung wildly on it's chain. Blood was splattered on the walls and floor. As soon as the group entered the threshold Sylar and Peter both paused their battle to look. Sylar's eyes narrowed angrily. The man had a large cut on the side of his face, bloody rips all over his shirt, and he was limping slightly, but Peter was a mess. His face was covered in blood, and his side was soaked as well. He was panting, pale, and looked shocked to see his mother, brother, Claire, and the Haitian appear in the doorway.

Sylar's lip curled, and he used the distraction to pick up large bits of splintered wood and metal from the floor and send them careening about the room. Claire screamed and Nathan pulled her out of the doorway in time to save her being impaled by a wood pole. Claire looked up at him in shock, but suddenly she heard the horrible sound of Peter crying out in pain. "Peter!" She screamed, fighting to get back to the doorway.

On the other side of the entryway, Angela nodded to the Haitian. He dipped his head in acknowledgment, and in an instant all the lurching objects fell to the floor. Sylar let out a shout of disbelief, and Nathan led the way back into the room. The Haitian leapt upon Sylar, who was still in a state of shock at his powers dissapearing, and tackled him to the ground.

Nathan rushed to Peter's side almost immediately after Sylar was down, trailed by Claire. He dropped to his knees, pulling his brother's crumpled form into his arms. "Peter... C'mon Peter talk to me..."

"N-Nathan...?" Peter coughed weakly, blood dripping out of his mouth. His eyes cracked open, dazed, as blood continued running down his chin.

"Jesus Peter what did he do to you?" Nathan asked sadly, his composed facade cracking in an instant.

"His head..." Claire reached out a trembling hand to brush Peter's bangs from his face, getting blood on her fingertips, but saw that there was no wound, only a thin scar. He healed again. She thought, a small smile barely tugging at the corner of her lips. "Nathan... Nathan he's going to be okay." She said, looking up at him. "He can heal."


"He can heal himself, I've seen him do it before." Claire leaned closer, though doubt was already nagging at her mind as she remembered what he had said to her in the police station.

"I'm not like you, Claire."

Pushing these thoughts from her mind, Claire took hold of Peter's hand, staring down at him. "Come on Peter... You'll be okay..." She whispered. As she watched him, he groaned, coughing painfully as his damaged insides stitched themselves back together. Finally he reached up a shaking hand, wiping the blood off his chin, and looking up at them with clear, if frightened, eyes.

"Oh Peter thank God." Nathan pulled his brother into an enormous hug.