Review:

As the title suggests, "Nothing To Hide" is about secrets being revealed and truth coming to light. The neat part about that is the way it's two-fold: a bunch of these secrets surprise us, and it helps the show to sustain the level of intensity and drama which has been maintained from the start.

But the revelation of these secrets also promises a significant change in the dynamic between the characters. Niki's dual personality takes a step forward this week, but so does Micah's awareness of it, if only from our perspective.

Nathan's backstory with Heidi is established, but so is his reason for preventing Peter from developing his powers.

Matt again witnesses how his power can help him to save people, but at the same time it reveals to him - and to us - the state of his marriage.

Uh, yeah. That last one's the weakest part of the episode, and it's starting to seem like that'll be the case for Matt on a regular basis.

But the episode deserves praise for the sheer distance it covers within 40 minutes. There's no sign of Mohinder, Daddy Bennet or Isaac, but "Nothing to Hide" adapts the format it used last week to much greater effect: it concentrates on developing the story arcs of a few characters, but at the same time links these in with the other characters and offers the promise of enormous change to the dynamic between characters and story threads.

The opening sequence over the river and across the New York skyline is beautifully shot. It's a recycled shot, but it's still beautifully done.

Inside Charles Deveaux's apartment, Peter seems to have returned to his job as a hospice nurse. At this point, it's kind of a no-brainer that it's going to be one of two things: flashback or dream. Which kills part of the suspense, but still makes for an intriguing scene, if only for the symbolism and Freudian subtext.

Peter reads out changes on the stock market. Charles flips crap at Peter for being on a minimum wage and living in that apartment (well, hey, it's not a bad apartment to be living in) while Charles is living(/dying) in his penthouse.

Charles tells Peter that he loves him. Peter returns the sentiment. It's an "aww" kind of moment, but one that's not overly-saccharine so much as just plain bizarre. Charles points out that Peter speaks his mind; ironic, because it's what makes this episode remarkable, and largely something which no one did before this week. No one spoke their mind, no one said what they thought, and no one was direct about the way they felt.

Except maybe Hiro. And I think that's part of the reason why the character has become so popular. He doesn't bull%*@#. He doesn't approach anything with secrecy or a hidden angle. He cheats at cards, but he doesn't deceive anyone to hurt them or benefit himself unless it's essential for the sake of helping them.

Peter tells Charles that he has a secret and opens a window. My notes here read, "Oh crap, he's going to jump." Which could potentially lead to a number of outcomes: Peter flying, or (more likely) Peter plummeting seventy storeys and waking up from his dream before his brains are splattered across the sidewalk.

Or, we could just cut to the same Spider-Man homage CG sequence we saw in the premiere. Which, like the shot over the river, still looks cool. You just wish it wasn't cheapened by the fact that we'd already been seen it.

Peter wakes up to a ringing door buzzer in his apartment and gets a visit from Simone. Simone's looking mighty upset and, although Peter had been looking after her terminally ill dad until recently, he apparently can't fathom why she would be so upset. "It's my dad," Simone points out. Peter starts telling Simone about the dream he had. I get that he only just woke up from a nap, but would Peter really be this slow? Simone bursts into tears, and for the first time I actually feel a hint of sympathy for her. Not for the fact that the one person she turns to is an obnoxious, petulant kid (and, lord, doesn't that just make Peter perfect for Simone?), but because Tawny Cypress genuinely conveys Simone's grief at losing her father, and because her tears and distress in this scene ring resoundingly true.

At Dog Central, Zach visits Claire to tell her he's located her Jackass Mutilation tape. We know that Daddy Bennet either returned the tape himself or instructed the Haitian (which is apparently what even the people MAKING the show call him) to return it; but hey, imagine one of those two sneaking into Zach's bedroom and crawling under Zach's bed to put it back. That's a lawsuit against child-molestation waiting to happen.

Sandra appears with Mr. Muggles, dragging him along by a lead. For some reason, she doesn't seem to like "Zachary" much. Why? I mean, sure, she doesn't know that Brody was a rapist and the kind of %*@# on the football field who would smash into cheerleaders with enough force to send their heads spinning 180 degrees. But it's not like she couldn't prefer the kid who walks her daughter home from school and runs dollar-per-cupcake errands to the jock who drives Claire thirty miles into nowhere to get her soused.

Just saying. Nerds are cooler than jocks.

The Insufferable Little Brother this week gets a name. A lot of you thought it was Kyle, but it turns out to be Lyle. I guess it's a testament to his character if no one can get the kid's name right. Still, the implication after this episode is that he's going to play a more prominent role, if only as a foil to Claire's ongoing effort to hide her secret at the same time as filming it and leaving the tape lying on a table where anyone can find it.

Niki wakes up on her bedroom floor, surrounded by the fragments of furniture broken last week. Niki stumbles to a mirror and gasps "Help me!" to her reflection. It's a moment that establishes how broken Niki is after losing her son, but also that Niki is this week going to hand herself over to Jessica. Meaning the hero is effectively allowing herself to be submerged under a killer.

You could argue that Niki is desperate to retrieve her son, and that whatever means she uses are justifiable because it's a mother's obligation to do anything it takes to find her child. But within the context of a show about heroes using their abilities to help people, Niki's decision to intentionally bring her cartilage-ripping dual personality to the surface undoubtedly makes her the most questionable hero on the show. Previously, that switch was involuntary. This week, Niki actively wants to become Jessica. However you look at it, Niki this week hands herself over to the murderous side which she has no control over, thus making her directly responsible for all of the suffering which Jessica is undoubtedly going to inflict.

Tina shows up, for no real reason other than to act as a recipient to Niki's verbal exposition on what's happening and what she's feeling. Ali Larter gives another brief but subtle performance as she chokes back tears, telling Tina that D.L. took Micah and ran.

Tina's response? You'd think it would be something along the lines of, "Quick - call the cops!" or "That's terrible! You poor thing - come here, darling; sit down, breathe, let me give you a hug!" or "Where do you think he went? Let's hop into that gorgeous red convertible and chase his ass across America!" or "When did that heist-planning crew-killing stud show up and why didn't you call me sooner?"

Or even, "Are you OK?"

Nah, Tina's just gonna stand there and look a little concerned.

It's the Eden situation all over again. Nobody's really sure if it's a bad actress playing Texas Tina (sorry, Deirdre; it's part of my job to voice the general feeling here), or whether she's a spy. She seems so determined to NOT help Niki, and so determined to convince Niki that she doesn't have a split personality, that it seems like a concerted effort on her part to encourage inaction and indecision.

In the land of suburban mind-reading, Matt appears to have recovered from his collapse at the convenience store. It seems that the instance with the gun hasn't had repercussions. In fact, it's not even mentioned. We don't even find out if Matt paid for the melted tub of coffee ice cream. It's not like it was an important situation to resolve, but you'd figure it would warrant a mention given that it was the last situation we saw the character in two weeks ago.

Matt tells Janice that it's great how things have been "really good" lately, and how happy he is that they've been "really honest" with one another.

To which we collectively respond by screaming to our screens, "You %*@#ing liar!" Even before we know that Janice is having an affair, we know that Matt's not being honest with her. We know that he's invading her thoughts and just passing himself off as an intuitive guy. It's not that Greg Grunberg's failing in his role, or even that the character he's playing is unlikeable. It's just that the emphasis on the HONESTY and OPENNESS between these characters hits a nerve - even before we know that Janice is being unfaithful to Matt - precisely because we know the person delivering these lines is lying through his teeth. It doesn't make the character impossible to identify with, but it makes him disingenuous, and by extension almost impossible to relate to.

Couple that with the fact that the guy still isn't getting the amount of screen time he should be, and his story thread becomes as uncompelling this week as it was two (or even three or four) weeks ago.

So, with that in mind, when Matt is on the verge of revealing his power to Janice, it's not like we're rooting for the guy. It's more a faint hope that the dishonest relationship at the center of this story thread can be overcome in favor of a focus on Matt developing his ability.

And we're not even granted that much.

Instead, Matt learns that Janice has a secret, something she thought she'd been "so careful" about concealing. In a moment which encapsulates everything that's wrong with Matt's arc, the character finds himself in this week's Unsolvable Predicament: he can (1) sit down with his wife and ask her what she wants to tell him, (2) listen to his wife's thoughts until she inadvertently reveals the truth to him, (3) fetch coffee ice cream from the convenience store, give his wife what she really, really wants, and manipulate his way into finding out the truth, or (4) tell his wife that everything "can wait," make a hasty exit, and leave all of their problems unresolved.

You'll note that we've now witnessed Matt doing ALL OF THE ABOVE, with the notable exception of (1) - the one honest thing he COULD do.

I'm not saying that Janice's decision to cheat on Matt is justifiable. Just that, if we aren't remotely drawn to the character ourselves - if we don't trust Matt or even particularly like him based on his actions on the show - can we really expect the characters on the show to trust and like him? Should we really be surprised when Janice leaves the husband who - on the strength of what we've seen during his brief screen time, to say nothing of the backstory - has been dishonest, evasive, closed off, secretive and resentful?

We go from one issue to the next. In the midst of Simone's grief at losing her father, she and Peter visit Isaac.

Read that again. Seriously. I'm not going to make fun of the grieving daughter; it's one of those things which just shouldn't be made fun of; but I need to question the logic of a woman who accompanies her new boyfriend to the residence of her junkie ex-boyfriend after just learning of her father's death. It's given a slim pretext when Simone reveals that Isaac painted Charles and that she wanted to tell him in person, but that's not a motivation for her visit so much as a flimsy justification.

Anyway, we learn that Isaac is "gone." As in, he's disappeared, his apartment has been cleaned out, his paintings have been removed. Peter and Simone express confusion. We're not much further ahead of them, trying to grasp how sweet, petite Eden could somehow single-handedly overpower Isaac and "bring him in" the way Daddy Bennet instructed her to. It seems like we're expected to assume that Daddy Bennet's organization provided Eden with a team that could implement this clean-out without anyone noticing. But those are some darn big paintings to remove without anyone noticing.

Simone starts telling Peter how "it feels like everybody's leaving [her]." Under normal circumstances, I'd rip into this for affirming Simone's already typical tendency to make everything about herself. But given her father's death, I guess we're supposed to understand why Simone would be self-centered enough to turn Isaac's abrupt disappearance into a peripheral part of her own pain rather than (logically) a consequence of a heroin addiction and a strained financial situation.

She begins telling Peter about how Charles woke up to tell her that he had flown around the world and seen anguish and suffering. Peter, it seems, also flew. He told Charles that there were "people who cared," and that Peter "would make a difference," that he "would save the world." She credits Peter by telling him that, even if he never had that conversation with Charles, it sounds like something he would say.

Which jars rather horribly with the way Simone dismissed Isaac's hero complex in previous weeks as the ravings of a madman. Again, inconsistency or questionable behavior is written off as the result of grief rather than uncertain writing. Jesse Alexander writes a superbly well-crafted script this week, but it doesn't seem like he knows what to do with Simone's scenes any more than the other writers and producers do. Simone brands Isaac's words as delusional, but when those words are Peter's and relayed by her father, suddenly they're visionary.

Simone moves onto the topic of the painting which Peter is still trying to locate. She mentions the phone messages Peter left her (note the plural: Peter needed to call Simone several times before she got around to responding). It turns out that Linderman purchased Simone's paintings. Neat link to the Niki and Nathan story threads, but also throwing up several story possibilities. It means Linderman either has a bizarre taste in art (and that's between home videos of steamy liaisons at the Montecito), or he's aware of - and involved in - the race to save the world.

At the Petrelli residence, one which the caption tells us is in Hyde Park and inhabited by a Petrelli who's clearly not on the minimum wage. We meet Heidi Petrelli, the wife that Nathan mentioned at the fundraiser in "One Giant Leap". Heidi is wheelchair-bound, and apparently obliged to remain in this mansion-sized house while Nathan runs for congress because he's afraid she'll make him "look weak."

In one swift stroke, Nathan is made out to look like a %*@# for (1) forcing his wife into hiding because of a disability which might hurt his career, (2) being (at least indirectly) responsible for said disability, (3) sleeping with Niki while his wife was left at the house with their kids, (4) lying to his wife about his affair, (5) reaffirming what a hypocrite he is by claiming that he won't exploit his family for political gain immediately after humiliating his brother in public by branding him suicidal.

Somehow, in spite of this, Adrian Pasdar ends this episode as charming as he was at the start. It's partly thanks to the actor, and partly thanks to several aspects of his characterization. More on that later.

Matt's now in the male locker room at Cop Central changing into his uniform and about to engage in a heart-to-heart with his partner. Said partner looks like Greg Rusedski's stand-in when Greg's got a busted kneecap and doesn't want to pin a nation's hopes on Tim Henman. He's also one of the magic-handshake guys from the Smallville episode "Hug".

AudreyClea soaks up wolf whistles as she charges into the locker room to tell Matt that Sylar has struck again. For the sake of speeding up the pace in Matt's story thread, I really, really hope that's true.

At Dog Central, Lyle loads up Claire's tape of Jackass Mutilation, presumably hoping to score footage of cheerleader tryouts or pom-pom-themed pillow fights. Instead, he - and we - are treated to unseen footage of Zach driving a car into Claire and smashing her into the windshield. Now that's going to be fun explaining when the insurance rockets up.

Claire dismisses the tape as a special effects prank. Lyle, not the imbecile that Claire takes him for, isn't fooled. He decides to test his sister's ability by applying a staple gun to her hand. Which screams plot device requiring industrial tools that one wouldn't usually find in a study room, but when it leads to the blood from the wound being sucked back under Claire's skin before it insta-heals, I'm tempted to forgive implausibility for the sake of a neat effect.

Hilarity ensues as Claire and Zach pursue Lyle across their lawn and into Daddy Bennet's car, where he locks himself in and screams for help, to the bewilderment of a couple of neighbors.

Meanwhile, AudreyClea takes Matt to a medical center to see the body of an oncologist named Robert Fresco who has been burnt to a crisp. AudreyClea suspects that this is the work of Sylar, but asserts that Sylar has no MO.

It's not exactly a plothole, but it definitely contradicts AudreyClea's rather specific description in "One Giant Leap" of the MO that involved being impaled by household objects and bones being broken with no trace of physical contact.

But OK.

Burnt-to-a-Crisp Guy is giving out 1800 curies of radiation, but has a fingerprint singed onto his bone. AudreyClea acts as if this is nothing out of the ordinary.

Yeah, I know. Just stay with me here.

It seems that this radioactive fingerprint can be traced to an individual on CODIS named Theodore Sprague. The search for RadioTheo takes approximately 15 seconds.

Uh, OK. Moving on ...

AudreyClea has a match to the fingerprint on a burn victim emitting radiation and, despite the fact that none of Sylar's previous victims suffered similar radioactive attributes, AudreyClea confidently asserts that they've "got" him.

They can't seriously expect us to believe that an FBI agent would be this dumb. Can they? Clea DuVall's gorgeous and all, but she's trapped in a story thread which involves leaps of deduction over chasms so wide that it's going to take a superhero of epic proportions to get across them.

Somewhere in the Las Vegas desert ... another road trip! D.L. has acquired a wagoneer to take his son cross-country.

How did he score this ride?

Who knows?

Where is he going?

Who knows?

Why doesn't he tell Micah that his mom just smacked him across their bedroom and is obviously deranged?

Who knows?

Ultimately, though, who cares? The scenes with D.L. and Micah play out so brilliantly this week that the framework within the plot doesn't suffer from its lack of coherence.

Micah emerges from his sulk to point out that heroes "don't run away," and concludes that his father's "a bad guy." It's heartbreaking because, though the claim is proven wrong this week, you can see for a moment that Micah believes it, and that D.L. is genuinely hurt by it.

They come across two cars on the road which have crashed, and one of which has caught fire. The hood looks like it's been crushed, and there's gas leaking across the road. On initial viewing, it doesn't strike you as particularly strange that two cars in the middle of the desert would have been involved in a collision with no apparent catalyst to cause the crash. It could have been drunk driving, it could have been unresponsive brakes or a flimsy steering wheel, but should we need to make that kind of assumption? My point is, on second viewing, you definitely start to wonder whether this isn't some kind of a set-up to establish D.L.'s and Hiro's abilities.

Hiro and Ando show up in their [PRODUCT PLACEMENT] Nissan Versa. They've finally escaped the Montecito Car Park With No Escape.

D.L. phases his hand through the door of the crashed car to unlock it and remove the unconscious passenger. Hiro freezes time, stops to admire the tire stuck in mid-air, and carries D.L. and the unconscious passenger to a safe distance from the explosion.

I've read a ton of reactions from fans on message boards who thought this episode was the weakest of the run, but who thought this scene was the coolest of the series. I don't think this episode was the weakest (that would be "Better Halves"), and I don't think this scene was the coolest (that would be Future-Hiro on the subway), but it's definitely a remarkable moment. Visually stunning, but also a great moment for the characters. Two heroes come together and use their abilities to save a stranger's life. They take no credit for it, they get no thanks for it, but they walk away knowing they risked their lives to do good.

As predicted, Hiro's disillusionment at failing to save the Gambler's Club has evaporated. But his enthusiasm when he's showing Micah his copy of "9th Wonders" is as infectious as ever, particularly when he parodies himself with the "Yatta!"

The weird thing brought up with the "9th Wonders" comic is whether it'll now even be created. Given that the timeline has changed so drastically - with Hiro contacting Peter, Peter contacting Isaac, Mohinder relaying Peter's story to Eden and Daddy Bennet's organization capturing Isaac - it's difficult to imagine how Hiro's version of the comic will be drawn. Meaning it's now the relic of a timeline that no longer exists.

At Hyde Park, Nathan joins Heidi, Mommy Petrelli and the two kids (embodying the model progeny who can be seen and not heard) at an outdoor breakfast table. They're joined by Oliver Dennison, the guy who's made out to be a tactless and blunt-to-a-fault jackal, but who's really just doing his job. Moreover, you'll note that he's the only one there who seems to be enjoying the brunch which the cook spent the whole morning working on.

Peter shows up for brunch wearing the same hooded sports top he had on a few scenes earlier. Mommy Petrelli looks mortified. Nathan looks like he's about to pull out an M-16. Peter just smirks and asks everyone when they started having brunch at Hyde Park. Oliver realizes that it's all a big pretense, but continues munching away. Who can blame him?

Now, here's where the Peter's-a-hero/Nathan's-a-dirty-politician issue comes up. A lot of you took Peter's side this week. Honestly, if I wasn't looking for the counter-argument, I wouldn't have spotted it. But I tend to search for the alternative, controvertible angle, especially when it comes to characterization.

And boy, was there an angle here.

Here, in the first instance which lends credence to the theory that the influence of evil corrupts even the strongest of heroes, we see evidence that Peter is slowly turning into the person he cares about most. In a slow and agonizing process, Peter is becoming Simone.

So, it goes something like this:

Peter waltzes in and exposes Nathan as a fraud to the reporter writing a cover story. He does so inadvertently, but then recall that Peter has thus far been portrayed as the perceptive, sensitive one, as opposed to the tactless, thoughtless Alpha Male that Nathan's been depicted as on numerous occasions.

Why is Peter here? Because it involves himself, of course. Peter Becomes Simone, Part I.

Nathan excuses himself from the table and walks Peter indoors. Peter tells Nathan that Charles Deveaux is dead. Which is sad, to be sure; it affects Peter, it affects Simone, and it affects (at least on some level) us.

But why on earth would it affect Nathan? He's not exactly an unfeeling b*****d for struggling to work up grief over the death of someone who, as far as we know, he'd never met.

But, hey, Peter's crushed, and because HE'S upset, he automatically expects everyone else to be as well. Peter Becomes Simone, Part II.

Nathan explains to Peter that he can't get involved with the "I'm special" quest when his congressional candidacy is on the line. Peter ignores Nathan's attempt to reason with him and insists that Nathan help him. Because it goes without saying that nothing is more important to Peter than himself and his own concerns. Peter Becomes Simone, Part III.

Peter rhetorically asks Nathan whether he's implying that he's not "family enough" to sit through brunch. Nathan has the courage to tell him straight out that he isn't. Which is supposed to portray Nathan as the creep who's ashamed of his brother and who puts career aspirations ahead of filial ties. But when you bear in mind that Peter barged in not two minutes earlier and immediately damaged Nathan's chances for congress by hurting the cover story being written about him, you can understand why Nathan wouldn't want him around.

Peter half-realizes this, and skips to telling Nathan why he needs his help: he needs him to get in touch with Linderman to retrieve Isaac's painting. Like, stat. In front of the journalist, if possible, because it doesn't do any harm to demonstrate that a congressman can forge strong working relationships with mobsters. If it makes a bad impression, what's it to Peter? Peter needs Nathan to do this right away, so Nathan had better snap to it. Peter Becomes Simone, Part IV.

Nathan tells Peter to go. In a moment so reminiscent of Simone and Isaac two weeks ago that you wonder whether Tawny Cypress and Santiago Cabrera could have played it, Peter delivers an ultimatum: help me, or I'll jump off the terrace and either fly or break my neck; either way, it's bad publicity for you!

Boy, there's nothing that gets you what you want like an ultimatum. Peter Becomes Simone, Part V.

Actually, you know what? At this point, Peter's WORSE than Simone. I've read pages and pages of people vilifying Nathan when all he's guilty of is trying not to screw up his run for congress. By contrast, there's next to no one who's willing to take an objective look at the whiny, self-possessed, manipulative little tart that Peter proves himself to be in this scene.

Nathan hiding his ability to fly and preventing Peter from flying? That's another issue, and one I'll get to.

At Comedy Dog Central, Lyle's still cowering in Daddy Bennet's car, now beginning to wonder whether Claire might be an alien. Zach figures it'll be fun to climb on the fender and bounce the car up and down. Yeah, buddy, like that's gonna persuade the kid to unlock the door and expose himself to - ooh! - anal probing.

When did Zach - the sensible, level-headed nerd whose only idiocy was the Jackass Mutilation tape spurred on by his loyalty to Claire - become such a loser?

Claire gives a heartfelt account of how their parents would regret ever adopting her if they found out about her ability. "We wouldn't be a family anymore," she tells Lyle. The prospect of this scares Lyle even more than anal probing, so he complies by handing over the tape and getting out of the car. Claire gives Lyle a tearful embrace, and Lyle stops asking how his sister became invulnerable.

It's played for laughs, as the entire sketch with Lyle discovering Claire's ability is. But at the same time, it underlines what makes Claire's story so compelling: Claire's fear of losing the people she cares about, and her fear of being forced into running away. It's hilarious, but at the same time oddly poignant.

Matt and AudreyClea arrive at RadioTheo's radioactive abode. Matt prudently wonders whether they shouldn't call for back-up, but AudreyClea is "taking him down." Uh, yeah; as FBI agents go, this one's about as arrogant as they come. My guess is she'll be dead before the season is out.

They enter the house. Keyboards and door handles are burnt to ashes. Matt finds a bunch of photos with the faces all burnt off. Matt shows these photos to AudreyClea and tells her, "Their faces are all burnt off." Evidently, Matt assumes that AudreyClea - and the audience - are too dumb to figure that out for themselves.

They enter the bedroom, where the roof has caved in, where the furniture is tipped over, and where radioactive ash is falling amid the broken fan and the weak rays of sunlight streaming in. AudreyClea gets a spike on her Geiger meter and they retreat. I was waiting for Matt to go all sarcastic, like, "Wait - weren't you going to take Sylar down?" But it would only have led to AudreyClea knocking him into the middle of next week and forfeiting the entertaining banter between Matt and the one person whose mind he doesn't seem to be reading on a regular basis.

The tension at Hyde Park continues to build. Dennison notes that they seem like a "pretty special family." Peter enjoys laying on the pretense, to the point where Nathan gets an expression that says, "Peter? Brother? Could you ease off on this garbage? No one's falling for it."

The conversation turns to Nathan's visit to Vegas to meet with Linderman, and his encounter with "a blonde." Then - and color me stunned, because this demonstrated a level of selflessness which I never would have suspected Peter to be capable of - Peter spins a story involving a clinic to treat his depression.

Which doesn't make Peter's behavior three scenes earlier any less self-centered or obstinate, but it at least manages to balance out the overall impression the character is creating, emphasizing that he isn't a Simone-clone the entire time. In this instance, Peter gives Nathan exactly what he needs - a family situation that makes Nathan out to look like a caring and concerned brother.

Matt and AudreyClea discover that RadioTheo has a wife being treated for cancer, and that Robert Fresco died while he and RadioTheo argued about how to treat Karen Sprague. They arrive at the hospital where Karen's being treated, find Theo, and begin calling him Ted. RadioTheo becomes RadioTed.

What follows is the equivalent of Matt's story thread two weeks ago: several scenes of slow-paced exposition redeemed by one scene which demonstrates what Matt's arc COULD consist of if only the emphasis was in the right place: Matt using his power to help people.

So Matt discovers that his ability to read minds extends to people in a coma, and grabs RadioTed's attention to the point where he releases the nurse whose arm he's burning. Matt churns out a few of Karen's thoughts - the kind which anyone could have invented, except for the memory of the picnic in the rain. This is enough to convince RadioTed that Matt can communicate with his comatose wife. RadioTed becomes subdued, and an individual with no control over his ability is now brought to justice.

Speaking of individuals with no control over their abilities: we cut to Niki, who's now on the phone to Nathan begging him to help her track down her son. Nathan tells her she shouldn't have called, tells her she has the wrong number, and hangs up.

Again, a lot of you pinned that down to Nathan behaving like an unfeeling b*****d. But when you remember that Niki unwittingly cooperated with Linderman to seduce Nathan and lure him into sex which was recorded to blackmail him and sabotage his run for congress, can you seriously blame Nathan for refusing to help Niki?

The only thing Nathan is unequivocally guilty of is being unfaithful to his wife, and lying to her about it for the sake of giving her a false sense of hope that they'll one day be the same happy family they once were.

The scene with Jessica reemerging was nicely done; the implication seems to be that smashing the reflection in the mirror has permanently brought Jessica to the surface, which at least means fewer scenes in which Ali Larter will be running away in terror and more in which she'll be playing the confident, devious character from the end of "Better Halves".

After RadioTed is removed to a "special holding tank" where his radiation won't poison the other murderers, Matt and AudreyClea pat themselves on the back for a job well done. This leads to Matt calling his wife to address their issues. Oh, joy.

Matt mentions that he thought Janice might be home by now. As opposed to, say, doing Rusedski.

"I'm calling just to ... talk."

About that secret she's been keeping from him? But perhaps also about the way he's been fooling her into thinking he's a terrific guy who's in touch with his wife's feelings?

"I have this stupid idea in my head that I'm losing you."

Now, what could possibly have given you that impression? Oh, could it possibly be the fact that you're READING YOUR WIFE’S EVERY THOUGHT WHEN YOU COULD JUST TALK TO THE WOMAN?

"I can't help but get the feeling that there's something you're not telling me ..."

Wow, this guy's so perceptive. It must come with a lifetime of experience.

"I don't want to live with regret or blame ... I'm just afraid of things going unsaid."

Unsaid, but not UNTHOUGHT?

"I love you."

Well, finally. It's the one good, honest thing he's told her since he discovered his power, and it's the one line which hasn't been part of an intention to get into her pants and make her think he's amazing.

The Matt story thread? Parts of it are working. The parts which involve Matt using his ability to solve crimes and help people.

The part involving his personal life? Could this show please, PLEASE ditch it. It makes Matt look like he's devoid of ethics or scruples. It makes him look like the guy who'll read the mind of the woman he loves to do whatever pleases her. And, perhaps fittingly, it's now leading him to the conclusion that even telepathy won't fix his marriage.

More importantly, it just slows every episode down. We should be seeing more of Greg Grunberg each week, only with less of the soap-opera B-plot material. We've established that Rusedski is Janice's big secret. Can that portion of the story thread now just be relegated to a couple of lines so that Matt can actually begin demonstrating that he's one of the heroes?

Nathan retrieves the painting from Linderman, but conceals it from Peter, most likely to gain control of the situation without enabling Peter to explore his power any further.

We cut to the scene which, at least for Nathan, is the centerpiece of the episode. Here, for the first time, a logical rationale for Nathan's determination to run for congress is provided; it's the best way he can think of to make a difference, more so than soaring across the sky or floating above buildings.

All good points, and evidence that Nathan isn't ignoring his power, but accepting that without the additional power it would require - a gun, a badge, some karate skills - the flight alone would be worthless.

The reference to pulling cats out of trees might also be a reference to one scene in Superman: The Movie. Might just be me, but given the number of superhero allusions worked in so far, I think it's a subtle nod.

So Peter now knows about the guy with "horn-rimmed glasses" and the "spooky Euro dude." Meaning when he gets to the place where locker doors are flying at him, he'll at least be able to identify the people who held a gun to his brother's head.

Nathan continues to justify his position: "What would people do if they knew what we were capable of? They'd lock us up and they'd throw away the key." Finally, Nathan's motivation for hindering Peter's search for the truth is established: it's not just that he's trying to prevent Peter from getting closer to whatever caused their father's death, but also that he's trying to prevent Peter from coming any closer to his own death.

In a development to the recurring image of the frilly 'S', we now see a double-lined imprint on both RadioTed and Matt's shoulder. One theory put forward is that RadioTed was another of Daddy Bennet's lab rats, and that this is the tag to document that they've been tested. It's a neat theory, and it'll be interesting to see how it plays out.

Mohinder, dismayed at having been absent for an entire episode, channels his Voice-over self to accompany this week's Big Twist. As Micah approaches a payphone outside of a motel, Mohinder tells us that we do not choose our destiny - it chooses us. "Those who knew you before fate took you by the hand cannot understand the depth of the changes inside."

Meaning, what, that we won't get what the heck is going on with these characters if we knew them before they developed their powers? If that's true, we're not entirely screwed, because Micah's ability seems to go way back before he was introduced on the show, even before he was building logic boards for his computer in the pilot episode. The implication here, when he places his hand on the out-of-order payphone and magically repairs it, is that he's been using his ability for a while. Certainly long enough to look a lot more comfortable using it than Hiro.

What we long suspected is now clarified in dialogue: Micah knows that there's an alternate personality to the person he thinks of as his mom. It's liberating for the actor, because it means Noah Gray-Cabey will now have a chance to play not only the "boy genius," but also the super-kid who's fully aware of what's going on around him. It means he won't just be the kid in the next room with no clue, or the kid who sleeps in the back of the car while his mom buries corpses. Micah now has a chance to become a fully-realized character.

And that's really what makes this episode outstanding. "Nothing To Hide" succeeds where "Better Halves" failed: it concentrates on developing three characters - Nathan, Matt, and Micah - but more importantly, these story threads are entwined with the others, allowing for development to Peter's story, to Hiro's, to Claire's, and to Niki's.

Peter finally learns why Nathan's so reluctant to fly, or for Peter to fly.

Hiro saves D.L.'s life, and gets to be a part of one of the show's defining superhero moments.

Claire's brother finds out her secret, but also why Claire was so scared about him finding out.

Niki vanishes within Jessica, a clear sign that her story thread could now push beyond the tedium of Niki constantly panicking, running away or trying to explain herself to an incredulous Tina.

Bottom line: the plot and the characters this week moved inexorably forward.

Along with everything else, it's a spectacular episode for its pace, its dialogue, and the skill with which it continues to tie the separate parts of the plot together.

4.5 out of 5