Some nights he woke up unable to breathe, even now, from missing Nathan so badly, and he had to stop the words that reverberated in his brain, wanting to spill out to the man he'd come to call friend with a child's cry, begging, "Just for a little while, be him."

He'd spent the last couple of years in deep denial, but with forgiveness came a flood of emotion pressing for release, and admitting what he'd always felt about what sizzled between them was the most freeing feeling Mohinder had ever known.

Peter, the world at his feet ready to be reshaped in his image, his son beside him, Angela behind the throne, Sylar at his right hand, the child Elle carried, and no consequences: gods deserved it all, and Adam intended to have it.