Restart My Life

Chapter One

Sometimes Peter forgot. Not like he did in Ireland, but more like the small stuff. Where he was when he woke up, what he was doing, how to do certain things. He didn't think much of it. He didn't see it as a big deal after losing his whole life.

It got worse after a few months. He would wake up and blank on things. His name, the other man in the picture on his bedside table, the fact that superpowers were real.

Some things were easier to remember than others, and some he had to relearn the hard way. He hurt himself twice due to powers, only to heal shortly after.

Sometimes he would be talking to someone on the phone, only to forget who he was talking to and why. He was getting better at hiding the fact that he forgot, but Nathan always caught on. Maybe it was the fact that he hesitated before talking, or how he barely said anything until he remembered. It could also be that Nathan rarely called Peter, and that the latter couldn't remember why he called in the first place.

Peter's brother kept asking if he could do anything so Peter wouldn't forget, or to help him remember. He once offered to help Peter make a journal about his whole life and everything he knew so he could have easy access to things he's forgotten. Peter would keep insisting that he's fine, it barely happens. It was a lie, of course. The worse it got, the more frequent he forgot.

After about a year, he woke up to nothing. Not his name, age, birthday. Nothing. He cautiously wandered around his apartment that day, not even knowing if it was his. Around the time that the alarm clock by the bed said ten, he found a phone. It wasn't locked, which surprised him. He went to the phone app, and the first contact on the speed dial said 'Nathan'. He called.

"Hello?" came a familiar, yet foreign, voice.

"Is this Nathan?" he asked, hesitantly. He knew the contact said it was, but he didn't know what 'Nathan' sounded like.

There was a lengthy pause. He held his breath. "Of course it's me, Pete. Who else would it be?"

"Pete," he said, voice no louder than a whisper. "Is that my name?"

Another pause. "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right there." The call disconnected.

He sat on the couch, knees held against his chest, for what felt like hours. My name is Pete, he kept saying to himself. When he heard a knock on the door, he jumped up and hurried to the door. Looking through the peephole, he recognized the man as the other person in the picture beside the bed. He unlocked and opened the door.

"Nathan?" he asked, his voice weak.

His shoulders were grabbed by the other man, who nodded. "I'm going to help you, Peter. We'll sort this out." Nathan pulled him — Peter, he told himself. I'm Peter — into a hug. "It'll be okay."

After Nathan helped Peter remember, the younger Petrelli decided it was best if he followed Nathan's advice and made a journal. It took hours of work to fill out one journal, and that wasn't even the full story. Nathan stayed at Peter's apartment so they could work more efficiently, and for the fact that it was possible Peter could forget everything again.

Peter avoided the topic of his amnesia as much as he could. It was torture for him to try to write about his time in Ireland, as Nathan couldn't help him with that. When they were done, after three days, Nathan wrote 'In case you forget' on a piece of paper, the words big and bold. After Nathan left, Peter labeled the different parts of the journals, in case he only forgot some parts of his life and not the whole thing. He piled the journals on his dining table, where it was noticeable. He spent a little time each day adding to them.

***

He got better after he lost his powers. Before that, he would forget something every other day. Nothing major, just the small stuff. He was lucky if he forgot a big chunk of his life once every few months. Most of the time, it was more often than that.

After losing his powers, though, he didn't forget. He was happy, ecstatic, even, at that fact. He thought maybe it had something to do with his powers. But Peter wasn't thinking about that when he injected himself with the formula for powers. He was thinking about saving his brother.

He was relieved when his amnesia didn't come back after he regained his powers. He considered the thought that maybe it was because it wasn't his original power, but he couldn't prove whether that was true or not.

***

He started to forget again after Nathan's death, the death of his soul. Hours after he watched Sylar crash into the car, Peter forgot why he was crying. He remembered minutes later, and, in his grief, he decided to write in the latest journal. His handwriting was shaky, barely legible. He put the journal back, and placed the piece of paper back in its place. Peter stared at the words Nathan imprinted onto the white surface.

He wiped away his tears and slowly walked to his bedroom. Choking back a sob, he punched the wall. And then again. And again. And again. He kept punching until his knuckles bled. Until he almost broke a hole through the wall. He looked at the ruined area of the wall. The paint that was chipping off the wood. He laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. "Guess that's another thing I need to remember."

He didn't sleep much that night.

***

After gaining his mother's ability, he bought another journal to keep track of his dreams. His amnesiac periods have gotten worse, and prophetic dreams were too important to forget. He wanted to know what his mother's dreams had revealed about Emma, and he didn't want to forget them.

***

When he had arrived at Matt's house, looking for Sylar, he forgot why he came in the first place. He paced back and forth, trying to remember. He hadn't brought any of his journals with him, an action he regretted deeply. Peter wondered if he even put the reason in one of his journals.

He didn't waste any time after he remembered. He didn't want to risk forgetting again. He knocked and took Matt's power. Peter needed to get to Sylar before he forgot. He vaguely wondered what would happen if he forgot anything when he was in Sylar's head. He put his hand to Sylar's forhead and dived in, not looking back.