Upstairs, Nathan's room at Milliways
Nathan still dreamed of fire. That ongoing nightmare, of standing in a burning building. A baby crying in the background, and trying to get to his brother, Heidi, or more recently, Claire. And always he couldn't do it, or there would be an explosion, and the sky would pull him away. Helpless in the air, like the night of the accident.
But tonight, he was back home. And the familiar back of his father was standing over by the window.
Nathan slowly approached him, "Dad?"
His father turned around, but he didn't look like he did before he died. Before he got tired of his life. He looked as he did when Nathan was a boy, even before Peter was born.
"Nathan, you're running out of time." Behind him, in the window, he could make out a devastated Manhattan landscape.
"I know. The election's almost here."
He shook his head, "Election got nothing to do with it. He's already fixed it for you, just like how he fixed things for me long ago. I'm talking about the legacy, your real inheritance. The mistakes we made. And what you're looking to make. Don't follow so close in my footsteps, son. You'll fall, just like I did."
He slowly walked over to his dad, "I know about Linderman's plans. I'm going to stop him. I don't understand how you could have worked for him, trusted him."
"No, you don't understand, Nathan. Not really. I had to do what I had to for my family. He gave me my life back, I owed him."
"Why, Dad? He's a criminal, and he's planning on mass murder. Why the hell did you work for him?" As he asked this, their surroundings shifted. Green overtaking the red walls.
A jungle. The heat made sweat drip from his skin, and stain his shirt at the chest, back and armpits. And his father was now dressed in combat fatigues.
"Son, it's time you heard a story. About two men. They had other names, but at the time, they call each other Dallas, and Austin."