Sylar had stayed in the city. It wasn't as if he had anything else to do back in Eden itself, and even with the Sanders boy running around loose, there was no point in trailing him. He'd either find his mother and have that reunion, or he'd end up back with Adam. To Sylar either one was fine with him. He was helpful, providing useful things to the city, but he could easily just leave and stay wherever his mother wanted him to go. Adam wouldn't be pleased, but they had already accomplished a lot.

Even now, Sylar walked the streets of a city that once wouldn't have welcomed Adam and his beliefs. They would've sooner run the town into the ground, than accept his help. It was amusing to think that they could all be so easily bent around the demands of the stronger power. Holding all the cards did seem to work out to their advantage.

The hours wound down though, and after he'd stalked through most of the buildings trying to get a feel for something he couldn't quite pin down, he opted to return to familiar ground. Pushing beyond eleven at night, it was nearly the dawn of a new day. Nearly a time when whatever ground work had been, if any, would be tested. The first day of a new beginning, and Sylar almost didn't want to be there to watch that hour tick past. Cutting through the empty alleyways, he managed to find himself where he assumed he would've ended up earlier.

Mohinder's lab was dark, though Sylar doubted the man was actually asleep. Everything had tilted, up on axis, and it wasn't quite enough for Sylar to understand yet. He wanted to though, wanted to figure it out, to sort out the reasons behind Mohinder's ability. There had been words, reasons given but that all lay into the reasons behind the choice, not the method behind the change itself. Even the science wasn't what he was looking for, it was something else, something that allowed the ability to manifest, a choice that Mohinder's body made... and Sylar wanted to understand that.

His hand ran down across the door frame for a moment, the rough grating feel of wood splintering beneath his fingertips, before he turned the knob and walked in. It was poorly lit, mostly by table lamps that were clamped to the edges of tables. Clearly not fit to be lived in, but Mohinder never was one to take notice of the fact that a lab is not a home at all.

A wicked smirk curved up onto his features as he stalked through the room, a slip of words ghosted from him, quiet enough for himself, but unsure if Mohinder's new attentive sense of hearing would pick up on it, "Where are you?"

By the time Hiro drags himself to the diner, it's already noon, but Hiro's stomach is stuck on pancakes, so it's what he orders. His hands cradle the coffee mug as soon as it arrives. He'd slept like crap.

Dreams are never "typical" for him. This morning's dream had no desire to let him go. He was running around Tokyo, trying to find a book that he had to bring back to Eden or the world would completely end. However, he couldn't find it anywhere.

He'd woken up feeling confused, finding the room empty, except for Bear dozing at the foot of the bed. Probably went to chat up that girl he met yesterday, he sighed. He misses waking up in someone else's bed. Waking up curled up around someone. Adam is too occupied with Elle and Peter. He could always...

No, not until... He bobs his head in a bow when the pancakes are put in front of him, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes and he thanks her in a quiet voice. Pouring syrup onto the stack, Hiro grabs his fork and begins cutting into them...

She'd been mulling over Hiro's offer since she'd parted with the man a few hours ago. She still wasn't sure what to think; it was, of course, really flattering that he thought enough of her skills to want her to help train his people, but on the other hand... they weren't her people, and in this day and age, you never knew who might one day turn from friend to enemy. But either way, she couldn't do anything without talking to Petrelli, and so she found herself leaning against his doorjamb, knocking softly as she gazed in at him. "Can I speak to you for a moment, sir?"

His head felt ten times bigger than it should have been, listing to one side, trying to park itself on his shoulder so he wouldn't have to hold it up. However, the human neck wasn't exactly built to sustain that kind of position, so not only was his head naming him all kinds of fool, but his neck was aching. He slumped into the diner - his stomach was letting him know that if he didn't put something into it, he was going to seriously lose the rising acid.

As he looked over the rather small menu, he noted there were waffles. Waffles with blueberries, even better. His fellow countrymen always looked askance at him when he turned his nose up at the typical Japanese breakfast of rice and fish. His father had long ago stopped asking him what he wanted for breakfast; he was that predictable. Although he would dutifully finish whatever he was given, it was not done happily.

The waitress took his order and headed to the back. A few moments later she reappeared with a coffee pot and poured him a steaming cup which he sipped. It was surprisingly rich. He wondered where they'd gotten it.

Then he wondered how he was going to pay for it...

Peter had been looking for a while to find a place of his own in town, if for no other reason than to get a little distance between himself and his brother, and give Melissa a little more room to breathe. He didn't want to be a third wheel, and despite protests to the contrary that was exactly how he felt most of the time.

Then, of course, there were also the looks he sometimes got from Melissa, and he had a pretty good idea of what she was seeing if what he felt was any indication: the dismal gray clouds that were constantly darkening his moods, especially when he thought about Adam. He couldn't hide from her...he didn't want to, but he also didn't want to wear his pain on his sleeve.

There was a house, just a few blocks away, that was far enough from Nathan and Melissa to give him a sense of privacy, but not so far he couldn't walk over if he wanted.

What little he'd accumulated since arriving in town, he was already quietly moving...he'd even procured some furniture he liked, but hadn't announced his plans to move out just yet. He thought Melissa might suspect, but even when he stayed away a night or two, just for a little time to himself, nobody missed him, not even the kids.

He was grateful he'd started pulling the place together the day after Adam's arrival, when he took off first thing in the morning. It was stupid, but he wanted time with Adam if he could get it, maybe work some stuff out. In his heart of hearts, Peter had to admit he missed Eden...but he still couldn't bring himself to go back home.

Even if that's what it was starting to feel like again: home.

By the early afternoon, Peter was happy with what he had: a few dishes he'd been looking around for and some odds and ends to entertain, including some tea and even a bottle of whiskey. He wasn't hoping for some kind of perfect moment or (come on, Petrelli, you know it's true) romantic evening...but maybe he could have something back of the stuff he'd lost by leaving Eden.

More than just the man he loved, Peter missed his friend.

Finally venturing out of the house, Peter opted for walking instead of flying, casting his thoughts out in search of Adam's. When he sensed the other man, he sent his thoughts to him, and hoped for the best.

//Hey...if you have some free time today, I thought we could get together. Interested?//

Following this...

Machines were rational. In proper working order, they were inherently deterministic. They obeyed the rules. They behaved. Even the most complicated machine could be broken down into simple, if numerous, instructions, and walked through to determine the line between input and output. A lever here moves a crank there. A pointer here addresses memory there. All logical, structured, constrained, controlled. When computers got viruses, you could just wipe them and reload from backups. It was an inconvenience, nothing more.

People were messy. You couldn't just delete things, or lock them in directories. You could build walls, if you were careful, if you were attentive. You could make a list of things and not think about them, distract yourself or other people every time they came up (which was all the time, because Shanti had changed the world beyond recognition and they were all living with it, he wasn't special or unique and if everybody else was coping, he had to too) and it was almost the same, but only almost. People couldn't be machines. They weren't controlled, constrained, logical or rational. The structure was weak, an unstable equilibrium, a straw house full of clever, hungry rats determined to get out. One wrong step, and they'd eat you alive.

When people got viruses, sometimes they died.

For every part that wanted to throw his arms around his mother and never let go, a thousand parts were screaming, and he ran so they couldn't keep up, so he wouldn't have to think about them, about all those things that filled the gap between his mother leaving and Adam taking him in, so he wouldn't have to think at all. Acid in his throat, breath burning in his chest, heart pounding in his ears, alive and running, not going anywhere, just going, he ran.

He did not look back.

There was little to dissuade him from attending the meeting, but even his own paranoia of the events couldn't help but hide him from the entire event. He'd left the morning before they had planned to attend. Slipping out of the city limits before dawn taking the vehicle that he'd trusted through further distances out onto the well worn routes that connected the two cities. He stopped in the middle, a familiar resting point letting a floodgate of memories and emotions ground him once more to the truth of why he was doing this. Despite the trust he had earned from Adam, he knew that he'd earned more than that with Mohinder. The fleeting thought that the two cities could find common ground had settled in the back of his mind giving him a small amount of comfort that couldn't be denied.

By early evening he'd left the empty house the way he'd left it and made it the rest of the way toward Corvallis. The car was parked on the opposite end of the city, winding around through the back roads before he finally parked along the back of an empty warehouse too far from the center of the city for anyone to want to pay attention to. He hadn't crossed into the city yet, and the likelihood of someone coming across the car was slim to none. He slept in the car and when the sun rose he woke with it, slipping into the city using an ability he had gotten quite fond of. It was a shame that he hadn't managed to track down a few others thus far, but he had gained something slightly more of value than the abilities -- an identity that he had shaped himself. He'd become a person that some even trusted, and that fact alone gave him a thrill that was hardly just simple pride.

He had positioned himself outside the main center of town. Keeping close to the buildings, allowing his surroundings to become his identity for the moment watching the movement as they all prepared for the arrival of what he was positive some assumed was going to be their downfall. To trust the man that had possibly started this whole thing... Sylar was sure it was leaving a bitter taste in the back of their throat. Their hushed tones didn't express too much concern at the moment and Sylar could still hear them even as they were a distance away.

His head turned to see the group of them heading toward what would be a convergence of sorts. The meeting, the moment when the truth would be pushed from all of them and it would either work out, or it would collapse on them. If he was honest with himself he wasn't sure which one he wanted more. It would be nice to have the freedom to move between the cities, but there was an advantage to his position firmly within the one.

Watching the crowds meet up, grouping into their respective pairings was curious at the very least, seeing how they found each other, how they managed to divide themselves even while still trying to give off some sort of effort of togetherness. Sylar snorted lightly to himself, amused at the event, still watching. He saw Sarah arrive later, and watched her eyes look through the group of them. He knew she was looking for him, seeing if the Big Bad Wolf had opted to slink into the group while she wasn't watching. His fingernails pull at his lip casually watching the group discuss and try to find some even ground before all of it even starts to get down to the real discussions. This visit, this pre-arranged meeting was going to take much longer than he'd anticipated.

The journey from Eden hadn't taken that long, really. Adam had ensured that they had the best of the vehicles with 4WD for any problems on the road and they'd been blessed with sunshine that had melted most of the snow, though they still hit patches of it on the roads, slowing them down a bit. In the days when the I-5 would have been plowed and salted, they would have made it in under 3 hours, but he felt that making it in under 6 was still pretty good.

Even though they were expected, he couldn't help tensing a bit as they drove into town. Too much seemed to be riding on this visit, personally and professionally, and he needed to separate them. He wanted, no, needed, there to be some sort of peace, for the prosperity and security of his kingdom, as it were. Their best bet for building a strong foundation to move forward from was to work together, to forge some sort of an alliance. He couldn't be watching his back all of the time, and with Peter gone, he had to worry about the power Nathan could wield if the boy really shifted allegiance. His visits back to Eden aside, Adam had no real feel about where Peter stood on things, or if he would or wouldn't turn more on him in the end.

Which led to the personal. He wanted a relationship with his son, with his grandsons. He wanted his family together, something he'd never had. He wanted to get to know Claire. He wanted a chance to know the child Melissa was carrying. He wanted Peter in his life. He wanted his child with Elle to be safe. It was quite possible, he realized, that he wanted far too much, but that had always been the way, and he'd done all of this to rebuild the world he wanted in his image, for his life, so.

He needed this to go well.

Parking the car he'd insisted on driving he glanced at his passengers, then checked his rearview mirror to make sure the other vehicles were parking as well. He hadn't meant to bring a full entourage, but a lot of people had wanted to come, in the end.

"Here we go," he murmured, shutting off the engine, then stepped out of the car onto the streets of Corvallis.

[ooc: Mea culpa for taking so long to get this up! Figure whoever was going that's awesome, however many cars needed or whatever, and if it breaks off into smaller threads of people talking even better--feel free to do your own posts of folks interacting so it's not all off of this one, too. Let the massive plot begin!]

Victor sat in the entryway with a brand new sketchpad on her knees, hunched over it, drawing generic faces to get herself back in the groove. She was worried that it wouldn't feel the same, and even though a few lines went sour it was as natural as tying a knot, and she was in the zone.

Even the shadows in the hall didn't bother her, because she was full of the idealistic feeling of safety that made her squirmy with glee. And it made her too wired to sleep.

Victor scritched her pencil across the page, glorying in the texture of the paper, it was all luxury for her. She was without shoes, without a jacket, and without a care in the world. She didn't even have her knife, which she will discover sometime in the near future.

Claire's curiosity had finally gotten the better of her.

She had heard stories of Adam Monroe, had met him briefly when her family first arrived in Eden but she still didn't know him.  Not really.  What she knew was that they supposedly had a similar ability, that he was probably responsible for the virus being released and he was the one in charge of Eden but she didn't know much else about him.  Their first and only meeting so far had been strange, the way that he looked at her and the sudden possessiveness of her father; Claire had learned to determine when something was going on and her father was leery about her knowing.

Leaving the house by herself wasn't an easy feat and she couldn't be sure that Claude wasn't following her since he could turn invisible at will  but she had to believe that he wasn't.

Still, she chose to walk around for awhile, probably to also build courage, before heading to the building that had been her original destination.  She hugged her jacket tighter around her as she walked into the building, taking the same path that her father had lead her on before and eventually found herself in front of Adam Monroe's office.

She looked quietly at the girl for a moment before she tilted her head, "I'd like to see Mr. Monroe, please." 

Sandra'd been trying to mentally rearrange the house for the past day, with limited success. It was hard to get past the fact that, with the two new kids--who weren't moving out, whatever they thought--she was trying to fit seven people into a four bedroom house. It had pretty much been the biggest available, and she'd felt slightly guilty at the time for claiming it.

( Planning )

"There seem to be some...side effects I did not count on, or expect. Not that I was certain what to expect, of course, but these seem to be...mood related, or...personality, even. Everything else is just as it was the first night. All of my senses are heightened, to a near painful degree though as Sy...as was suggested, it is getting easier to control them, to adjust to the new sensory input. I'm faster. Stronger. More agile. My balance is perfect. There doesn't seem to be one sort of ability associated with it necessarily. My hearing is far superior to a normal hearing, but it isn't the super-hearing that Dale Smithers spoke of. I can nearly see in the dark, and at greater distances, but not some miniscule speck or telescopically. My sense of smell is stronger, and I find myself able to...there's really no other word for it, but to track others through town, to recognize them by scent, but not at great distances. Food and drink...everything tastes more complex, better--or worse as the case may be. And touch..." Mohinder paused, closing his eyes for a moment and curled his fingers against the metal of his lab table and tried very hard not to think of certain touches, before speaking back into the recorder. "Touch is possibly one of the most distracting things in the world. I can feel every fiber of my clothes, and the touch of another on my skin can be exquisite or agony or exquisite agony as the case may be. In testing it, I've found I can leap great distances, but no 'tall buildings in a single bound.' A second story window perhaps, from the ground, though dropping down from the roof was easy. I landed on my feet and barely felt it. My speed is impressive, but it's not super-speed--faster than an elite athlete, yes, but not...sonic? Not anything that would make me a blur running past someone. My strength, on the other hand...is far more than that of a normal human being, but I'm still not sure I would want to go up against Niki or Peter. Perhaps I should put that to the test, except I really do like my nose not broken, actually. It's all of this combined, however, that puzzles me. Everyone has one ability. Even Peter and Sylar have their original ability which allows them to take or mimic others, but they were given only one, so all of my seeming plethora must come back to one, and it seems...perhaps...in the side effects I was not counting on that there may lie the answer."

He closed his eyes for a moment, and tried not to think of the other night, of the look in Molly's eyes when he'd turned on her with a near snarl on his lips for squealing too loudly at something Matt had done. It had hurt his ears, but that was no excuse. He'd never lost his temper with her, even, and he'd made her start back, retreat from him--him--in fear.

( 'My mood is becoming more and more unstable.' )

[OOC: Co-written in AIM with mapetrelli last night and log cleaned up and posted here]

Adam stayed outside for a few minutes after Nathan flew off with his grandsons, watching the sky, even though he was gone. The final bits of the conversation, about Niki, and a fear of losing Micah as well, held him there, but it was cold and staring at the sky was hardly going to keep people from leaving. And Nathan had just flown off and left Angela behind, which...posed its own sort of...she was here. She'd brought his grandsons, and now Nathan had taken them, and left them with the shambles of what little trust there had been. Or so it felt, with the knowledge of what she'd told him to do, the weakness she'd exposed. With a scowl, and a fresh flash of betrayal, he went back into the house, leaning in the door of the kitchen watching her silently.

In the time Adam and her son had been outside, Angela had returned to her seat at the table, and begun picking at her waffle. She hadn't exactly eaten any of it, sure her stomach would rebel if she did, but still. She had appearances to keep up, after all, and it was best that she did something with her hands while she waited for her composure and Adam to return. Assuming the immortal came back in the first place, and didn't immediately storm upstairs, rip her clothing out of the closet in the room he'd so graciously allowed her use of, and throw it on the front lawn, in hopes she'd get the hint and go.

The fact that she suddenly felt eyes on her from the kitchen doorway seemed to dismiss this notion, however vaguely, though she didn't look up. The waffles were far more interesting than his rage. "I suppose you'd like me to collect my things and go."

( 'The thought occurred to me...' )

After poking around her new apartment for as long as that could possibly keep her entertained, Meredith decided to hit the town, so to speak. She remembered Nathan telling her that there was a diner, at least, and hell, a little exploration couldn't hurt. If she got lost, she could always use the ole puppy eyes on a guy to get directions. She didn't need to worry about being attacked, after all. And, hey, there was always a chance that people here were just generally nice. Wishful thinking, but... Nathan seemed to run a pretty tight ship. He'd always been a bit controlling. She gave a rueful smile as she made her way down the stairs. She needed to stop thinking about him like that. Whatever had been between them was long over and done, and friendship... she'd probably have to earn that, after all she'd done.

She'd only made a few wrong turns when she stumbled over the diner and slipped inside. She looked around, making a show of nervous curiousity--it never hurt to put people of their guards--and slid towards a table.

Hooking up with Victor had slowed his travel time somewhat, but that was ok. The more time he spent with her--her!--the more he liked her. She was pretty cool.

He was walking his bike beside her cart as they started seeing signs of civilization: smoke from distant chimneys, tire tracks, plots of garden. Another hour's walk had them in the outskirts of town. It didn't look too populous, but they probably just had to go farther in. "I think we've made it," he said softly to his comrade.

The sun was lowering when Zach decided to stop. He needed to set up camp before it got dark. He leaned the mountain bike he'd, uh, "found" before leaving Texas against a tree and quickly made a fire, wishing for a moment that he'd stayed closer to the road and found some shelter. It was cold.

Shelter meant being easy to find, though, and other people were dangerous outside of towns. In them, too, sometimes.

And he had his tent, so it wouldn't be too bad. He unstrapped it from the bike and got it up. Soon he was huddled in front of the fire, wrapped in his blanket and watching a pot of soup starting to simmer. His cans were starting to run out. Hopefully he'd be there soon...

The nice thing about all these cold cities was that most of the houses had fireplaces to help keep them warm. Hiro had gotten used to making and keeping fires going. He'd even learned how to cook on them, but only the most simple of dishes. The new world has taught him a lot of things he'd never thought he'd ever learn. The house in which they'd been quartered was owned by a very nice middle-aged man who told them they could cook in their room.

The stables for the horses were very nice. Hiro was glad that the woman in charge seemed very knowledgable about them. Kuro had taken an instant shine to her when she produced a carrot from her coat pocket. Beggar, Hiro thought.

Bear curled up on Hiro's sleeping bag. The house had real beds, which Hiro was looking forward to. It was one of the few things he didn't like about the road, sleeping on the ground. He liked beds.

"You promised me sake," Ando muttered behind him.

"I have to make the fire first so we can warm it up."

Ando groaned. "It'll take too long."

Hiro lit the kindling and set it ablaze, waiting for the logs to catch. "It's not cold sake. I thought about making some sweet sake, but I didn't bring any of the bags with us when we came back from Kaneyama." He pulls out one of the pots and an honest-to-goodness old-fashioned gourd, along with a pair of square wood cups. When the fire finally took a hold, he poured half of the gourd into the convenient pot that he'd already scrubbed clean.

"You'll be happier for hot sake. It'll warm you up inside."

Nathan left the house and made his way to Mohinder's lab, praying that the man would be there. He didn't want to go anywhere near Matt at the moment, considering how his thoughts were flying. After all, it would give Parkman a headache.

The fact that he didn't want to talk about it played a big part, of course.

He vaulted up the steps and knocked on the door. "Mohinder?" he called, letting himself in. "You here?"

Lt. Natalie Richmond of the Corvallis Militia parked the jeep they had been granted use of for this mission in front of the office building she'd been assured was Adam Monroe's headquarters and climbed out. She was young, and excited to be trusted with something so important. Carefully tucked inside her jacket was a letter given to her by Mr. Petrelli himself. Even if he didn't call himself President, they all knew that that was what he was. It was an honor to serve him.

Young as Natalie was, the two privates accompanying her (in the unlikely chance of danger on the road--unlikely, since the Captain had only just came off a patrol in that direction) were even younger. They fell in behind her as she made her way towards the door. The door was unlocked and unguarded, so she entered confidently. Inside she found what appeared to be a secretary's desk. She walked up to it and saluted to the woman behind it--after all, it never hurt to be polite. "Message for Mr. Monroe," she said calmly.

She would never think to open the envelope, but the message read as follows:

Mr. Monroe... Adam.

I would like to extend an invitation for you to make, shall we say a state visit, to Corvallis. I would like to discuss your plans for the California farming idea and see if we can come to any agreement. I will have an embassy set up for your use in town.

My mother is welcome to join you, if she wishes. The boys would, I'm sure, like to see you both.

Nathan Petrelli
City of Corvallis

They were adjusting, the three--four--of them. It was a beautiful day, and Melissa had woken up feeling not sick, and there was new snow on the ground which Monty had informed them of when he'd come flying in to their room to wake them up by bouncing on the bed, which was, at least, giving Melissa a taste of what parenthood might hold. She'd sort of hoped to get a feel for what coupledom might hold, but when the children moved in two weeks after the man moved in...what were you going to do?

She found the answer to that was that you adjusted.

Of course, it was a few awkward days of everyone getting used to each other, and a few awkward stutters over just what to call people--she'd settled that question by just insisting that Simon and Monty call her Melissa because, honestly, if they started calling her "Mom" she might've run away or something and for God's sake, she and Nathan weren't even married, which was also a bit awkward with the whole living together thing and no, she wasn't their new mommmy but, hi, yes, she could make waffles and why, exactly, were they obsessed with them--oh, okay, grandpa made them, and who was--oh. Yeah. Right. That cleared up a few questions lingering from her time in Eden. Nathan seemed to vacillate between far too many emotions for her to catalog, which she thought was natural, but with her own hormones flying everywhere, she felt like she wasn't nearly as much help as she could be, and Peter kept disappearing and seemed torn about something, and Mohinder had gone and experimented on himself and now was snapping at everyone and so, fresh fallen snow?

Good fucking excuse to get outside, in her opinion.

The one good thing in all of this seemed to be the boys. Once the awkwardness passed, she found that they liked her, and she liked them, and that apparently she did have a maternal instinct, and that somehow getting them fed and off to the school they'd set up in town, and getting Nathan fed and off to work, and making sure Peter ate before he went to brood wherever he brooded and herself off to work actually came fairly easy. It helped that she was organized, and if some part of her muttered about traditional gender roles, well. Honestly, look at the lot of them. They'd probably starve.

But for today, she had the boys bundled up in coats and bright scarves and hats, over their protests and they were headed to one of the parks, a sled trailing behind them. For one day, at least, maybe they could put the emotional roller coaster behind them and just have some fun, remember what it was like to be kids. It wasn't like she was that far from it herself. Or it would be good mom-practice. One of the two, and maybe both. Something. She sipped at her travel mug of hot chocolate, and trailed along behind them as they ran ahead, Simon teasing Monty, but pulling the sled himself, she noted, and she felt a faint flickering of hope that things really were going to be okay.