"What the hell am I talking about?" he says, pulling up a painting of a bus on fire and throwing it onto a table. "You see this? Suicide bombing in Israel. I painted it. Three weeks ago." Simone's all, uh-huh. So? Isaac picks up a newspaper and tells her to look at the number of the bus in the featured story. It's the same as the one on the bus he painted. "This happened yesterday," he says, laughing crazily. "There's something... wrong with me." Simone tells him they can get him some help and he says there's only one-way to handle this: he's going cold turkey. Simone wants to help him go through it, because she loves him. Isaac just thinks he'll drag her down with him and he doesn't want to be a party to that. She tries to comfort him, but he just hollers at her to get the hell outta there. She steps back and runs out of the office. The TV across the room is showing the train wreck with Claire running out of it. Isaac stops hyperventilating for a minute and looks over to a nearby canvas. It's a painting of the exact same train wreckage. I can't tell if Claire's there or not, though.
We check in with Nathan at his senate campaign headquarters. Peter walks in and Nathan beckons him over as he ends a phone call. Nathan says that Mother Petrelli's rap sheet is officially buried. Peter tries to get Nathan to understand that their parents were married for forty-one years and all this crap is just a plea for attention. Nathan just ignores this statement and offers Peter a job; he says he trusts him and he's good with people. He needs someone to coordinate the volunteers. Yes, because coordinating volunteers is so much more worthwhile than easing the pain of dying people. "I'm a shark, Pete," says Nathan. "Everybody knows it. And now it's starting to show up in the polls. I bring you on, it kind of reflects well on me... " Pete's all, oh, dude. That is low. I make you look good so now you want to bring me on to watch your back, huh? Nate's all, yeah, duh. Also? This makes me look like I put family first, which I so clearly don't, but the average dumb voter doesn't know that, right? "You didn't hear anything I said earlier today, did you?" asks Peter. "What, about how you can 'fly'?" snits Nathan, lazily flapping his hands in the air like a diseased bird. "Yeah, I'm going to pretend for both our sakes you didn't say anything like that." Peter doesn't dignify this with a response and Nathan just says he's offering the coordinator job for Pete's own good. Pete says he already has a job. "Yeah, watching old people die? There's a career," says Nathan. "It's not cute anymore, man." Okay, since when did caring for dying people become A) a slacker job and B) something unworthy of respect and admiration? Because I tell you what, my dad had a hospice worker with him when he died and she rocked the house. Right there in our damn den, Alice made everything okay with my dying father. And you will never convince me that hospice workers aren't the complete and total shit.