2007-03-16: The World's Finest


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Summary: Hiro Nakamura and Peter Petrelli finally meet, and the former gets a little encouragement from the latter when he needs it most.

Date It Happened: March 16, 2007

The World's Finest

Petrelli Mansion

Ding-dong. It's early morning, and the bell of the Petrelli Townhouse goes buzz, buzz, buzz. Outside, once the door opens, is a small but vaguely familiar Japanese man, looking concerned, curious, and sort of downcast as he looks up at the massive house. Snazzy. It's about as big as his father's place.

Hiro wasn't expecting Peter Petrelli to show up, and when his eyes open up very wide, it's obvious that he's shocked. But his downcast face quickly cracks open into a broad smile. Does this mean that the other team succeeded? "Peter Petrelli!" he says, his face lighting up like a solar flare. "You are free! And not exploding! No big baboom! Did Flying Man, er, Nathan, save you?"

It's almost difficult to retain a serious expression upon hearing those excited exclaimations. Especially that last. "Did you just call my brother flying man?" Peter asks with a hint of a smile breaking through. Opening the door enough, he motions inside. "Come on in. How— how I got out is a long story. But— your distraction made it so I could escape on my own. How did you get out? I was thinking I'd have to go in there after you."

Hiro stops to think. He'll tell most of the truth. He promised to protect Kaito's secret, so he will. "Every minute, I tried to teleport away. Eventually it worked. I thought that if I kept trying I would eventually be able to, and I was." Hiro is ushered inside, and as soon as he does, he stops, and turns around, holding a hand out robotically. That's how people meet. Properly-like. "Hiro Nakamura," he says, before anything else can proceed.

Closing the door first, the corner of Peter's mouth twitches into that smile again. Reaching out to accept the hand in a firm handshake. "Peter Petrelli," he says his own name, even if they've already exchanged names a few times in the past. "Guess this is the first time we've properly met. I'm glad you escaped." And he'll have to call Elena and let her know, at least.
"Is anyone… missing, still?" Hiro asks. It's his first priority. Because if not, he has places to go and things to do and they need to be done right now. Alone, this time. "Nathan, anyone?" he responds, with another question. His handshake is not so firm. But to each their own.

"Nathan's fine," Peter responds quickly, though where his brother might be at this exact moment isn't known to him. Releasing the shorter man's hand, he begins to fidget slightly at the cuff of his coat. "I met Elena Gomez, and she told me that the second group made it out all right. Only— a dog died." The details of which he's unsure of. Why they had a dog at all, even. "And— Nathan introduced me to Jane. She— her memory has been messed with. She doesn't remember Nathan at all, and thinks she's a recovering drug addict. You were the only one still unaccounted for."

"This is my fault," Hiro says, "But at least no one is left," he says. "I guess we succeeded after all, even though we paid a price," he says, clearly carrying to eburden of guilt. "We stopped the explosion, but the world is still in danger. I guess some things never really change," Hiro says. "I was wrong. It was unfair to make so many people risk so much. What will… you do? Go someplace far away?"

"No, it's my fault," Peter says, shaking his head and avoiding eye contact for a few moments. "I could have escaped days before you tried to rescue me. Most of them knew what they were getting into. And I'm staying here to help you. If I start losing control— there's more than a few people around who I trust to kill me if it's needed." That's a very odd contenency plan, but it's the best one he's got. He'd been willing to die to save people and the world more than once in the past. "With Sylar on the lose, and the paintings Elena mentioned to me… I can't just leave."

Hiro looks away when Peter mentions killing him. His expression is shame, and it's shame that he's trying to conceal. Or, at least, chase back into that shame-y place into that little box in the back of his head. "Then I should show you these," Hiro says, and holds out an envelope, about the size of a sheet of paper. Inside are thirteen pictures, of the thirteen Mendez paintings. "This is what we must stop. I thought we had to unite and fight together… I was wrong. But if we each fight to stop it on our own, maybe we can, like we stopped the explosion."

Knowing full well what shame looks feels like, and how it causes him to look, Peter recognizes it in the young Japanese man. Accepting the envelope so he can see the pictures of the paintings, he says, "It wasn't your fault, Hiro. Sylar threw you away from me. And New York wasn't destroyed, Nathan stopped that." Getting the envelope open, he starts looking at them, pausing at the ones showing obvious Sylar-esque scenes, and then, finally, the tornado. At least none of him being dead this time… "Any evindence on how these are connected?"

"No. We know very little, but unless we do something to stop the future, Sylar will get his powers back, a poison will be released, and New York will be destroyed by a tornado," Hiro says. "And many people will die. Peter," Hiro says, with a pause. "I think one of the pictures shows your mother being killed by Sylar."

"We can stop it," Peter says softly, expression serious, and with a lot of determination. Flipping back to the older woman with the line of blood across her forehead, he stares down at it for a long moment. Continuing in a rasped voice, Peter says, "When I got home after breaking out— Sylar was here. He'd already attacked my mother, and he was going after Claire again— the Cheerleader?" He's not sure how much Hiro knows about that. "He got away, but he didn't get Claire. I don't understand what you mean, though— get his powers back?"

Hiro meets Peter's eye contact, and nods once. "Yes. We must stop it. The future is not set in stone. We know this, now," he adds, with a note of confidence. They stopped the future once. They can do it again. News of Sylar takes a visible toll on him. "I met the cheerleader! She is very nice," Hiro says, temporarily chipper. "I don't think Sylar has his powers. When we faced him at Mr. Isaac's lab, he only used a gun. Dr. Suresh says he tried to force him to cure him. We think that his sword wound took away his powers somehow."

That surprises Peter quite a bit, looking up towards the the heroic Japanese man, before dropping the pictures back inside the envelope. "If I'd known he didn't have powers…" Well, the past is past. "I won't be as cautious next time. I just couldn't risk him killing me and taking Claire with him." There's that guilty tick again, a twitch of his eyebrow, really. "If it's possible, I'd like copies of these. Maybe we can figure them out— find out how they're connected."

"I brought these for you," Hiro says. "I just wasn't sure if I was gonna give them to you." Hiro sort of walks in a circle, a nervous, pacing, sort of circle. "I… was going to kill him. While he was in prison. I decided that I would try the night he escaped. If I had decided sooner, all this would not have to happen."

"Just… be careful. We have friends, but we cannot… /I/ cannot ever again do what I did. It was a fool's charge," Hiro says, "And not everyone is our friend." It's a sad revelation, but Hiro seems to be… accepting it, bit by bit. "I should go. I am trying to… keep my head low. Down. Keep my head down."
All Peter can really do is nod at the mention of not everyone being their friend, though if he had more time, he'd probably be defending Noah's actions. "Be careful. Since my mom might be in danger, I'll probably be staying here," he adds, so that the young Japanese man has an idea where to find him.

Hiro nods. "I have a place in the city. But… you know how to reach me. My phone number is in the envelope," Hiro says, and gives an earnest grin, a rarity in troubling times. A little burst of confidence, perhaps, was just what he needed. He nods, once, to Peter; a very Japanese sort of body language, before he shuts his eyes. "You look different, without your scar," he adds, and then disappears.

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