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It started with a funeral. That's how everything started. With death. Not birth, not life. Everyone thought that it was the birth that started it all. But for Peter it had always been death. When he was born, before death had touched any one in his family he had been nothing. Just small. Nothing much to anyone, especially not his family. He was 13 years Nathan's junior. So when he had come into the world his brother had been prepped and had convinced everyone he was ready for the road that their dad had laid out before them. Their dad had a habit of carving out roads, lives for everyone. Even him, though he wasn't important enough for the leading role. His dad prepared him to be an understudy of sorts. Nothing important. Nathan was prepared. His dad died. And his funeral kicked started a change in the family.

And now Nathan. Another change. This time a lot bigger for him. This time it was his change. And he knew that it was for the better. Even if there was a part of him that was slowly fading out because of the lost. A lost to him, personally. But business was never personal, it couldn't be. His mom said to think of it as an opportunity. There was something in her eyes he didn't like when she said that. He knew it was. Silent and never confessed. He knew. It was easy to know your family. You had to know your family. Maybe he had less objections about what she did than he would've liked. Whatever it was that she had done.

The funeral wasn't much of anything. Any popularity Nathan had had before had faded once he took reigns of the family. He had nearly ran them into the ground. He had nearly killed them. But here they were, standing. His mom said she had faith in him. And he liked the sound of that. When was the last time anyone had? There was twenty people there. Heidi and the boys crying. But he'd take care of them, he'd take care of everything.

They expected him to say something nice at the wake. But he had nothing to say. He had nothing at all. He had sat in his dads office, his dads still, never Nathan's, watching the clock. His dad had brought that clock from Italy. A relic of the past. Something to never be forgotten, how the great Arthur Petrelli built himself up. The god among men as the story goes. What his story was going to be he didn't know. He didn't have the godly gift of mapping out lives. His dad would have said he was going to fail. Funny, he had failed in that prediction, hadn't he? Peter had always paid far more attention to their 'lessons' than Nathan had.

There would be a few people after the wake. Sympathies. Maybe even questions. They always wanted something. Sympathy was hardly important. No in the business. Sympathy was hard bought and hardly truthful. But he'd hear it all. Every story, every condolence. There was more people at the wake than at the funeral. Another joke on his brother. He wondered if he should cry for him. Maybe he already had. 

Send me “♫”, I’ll put my iPod on shuffle and then tell you our song.

safetysuit- stay

"Something must have made you say that, what did I do to make you say that to meSomething must have made you so mad, what can I do to make you say come back to me”