Nathan blinks at his brother like he's seen a ghost. "Peter," he rasps wanting to make sure it isn't Sylar just jerking him around again. "What did I say to you before Kirby Plaza?" The question is important one he'd asked Sylar's "Peter" over and over again in the early days when he had hope of being rescued. It had yet to be answered in the right way.

Nathan's own walls are strong, built up over five years of pain and suffering. He stares at his brother his eyes dead and set in a sunken face that hasn't seen the sun in a long damm time.