(Untitled)

[morelikeasponge]

Plunk.

Plunk.

Splorch.

Plunk-unk.

Peter Petrelli is standing by the edge of the lake, half-heartedly attempting to skip stones.

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[lilmsmiraclegro]

"Peter?"

Claire is standing some distance behind him, wanting to make sure it is him before she stops pretending she's perfectly fine no really

[morelikeasponge]

Peter glances over his shoulder, reaching up automatically to push his bangs away and letting his hand drift to his neck when he doesn't find any. He's still got a rock clasped loosely in his other hand.

"Hey," he says, with the start of a puzzled smile. It fades when he gets a better look at the expression on the kid's face.

"Is something wrong?"

[lilmsmiraclegro]

"Apart from everything?"

Well, not everything. It's been worse. She thought Peter was dead, once.

Still, it's confirmed that's him, so she draws closer, looking past him to the lake. "You hear about West?" The sign's up, after all.

[morelikeasponge]

He winces, and lets the stone drop to the grass. "Yeah."

She knew West? Which --

"Do you know, uh. Do you know me?"