"What good?" Peter put his hand against Claude's forehead, using the contact as a guide. "Maybe it could have prevented some of this."
And memory after memory was poured into Claude's mind. The confrontation with Sylar in Kirby Plaza. The explosion. The way the city burned and toppled. His quick capture by Homeland Security. The week he had spent under the Haitian's power restrictions. The scar. Long nights while the survivors spoke about the dead. The Linderman Act. The testing facilities. Camps. Victims. The shelters that had been so painsakingly guarded by the Underground. He showed Claude what the world had become. What he had become.
Until finally, he staggered back, spent and shaking from revisiting that nightmare, even for only a moment.