Owl to Nathan

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

(Needless to say, Peter's usual nurse-scrawl is nearly impossible to read, and anything crossed out has been done so heavily that it's ripped the parchment in a few places.)

Nathan,

Not that I care or anything but

Are you still here?

So. When are you leaving?

I really don't want you to leave this quick, I ...does being around me suck that much?

I just want my brother around, and you're talking about leaving. I don't

I'm sure New York must be falling to pieces without you there -Go on, just leave, see if I care

Can you at least give me notice? Maybe I'll arrange a farewell party. You like red and blue, right?

Your BROTHER
Peter

Comments

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

"You know, I think Hitler's still got a little bit of a one-up on them, yeah," Nathan prompted right back, and resisted the world record of eye-rolling for the past five minutes, rubbing at his face with a hand. This was just... so not going the way he imagined. This whole school wasn't going the way he'd imagined. Nathan had shown up here, three weeks ago, expecting to get in and out and on with life, Peter dragged by the hair behind him out of this Godforsaken place. Maybe kicking and screaming. Who knew? But, yeah, out of this school.

Three weeks later, and here Nathan still was. Thousands of miles from home. Thousands of miles from his family, in this stupid school, with its goddamn broomsticks and spells and whatever the hell else. It was absolutely unbelievable, and Peter was buying every last second of it.

"Wouldn't have to pay, sure, but what about everything else?" Nathan asked, a bit dryly, raising his eyebrows at Peter again. "Okay, my job is back in New York. My family's back in New York. EVERYTHING is back there, and I'm here, in Scotland. What about that little mishap, Pete? I'm not you. I can't just up and leave and get on with things without telling anyone. I've got... obligations." He paused, furrowing his brows. "I've gotta be a damn politician - little hard, way over in Europe."

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Peter tried not to look too miserable at Nathan's words, but he'd always worn his heart on his sleeve, he couldn't help it. He took his hand from Nathan's shoulder and started fiddling with a loose thread at the edge of his sleeve, hair falling to half-cover his mildly upset expression.

He got that Nathan had to leave. He really did understand. Like Nathan said, everything in his brothers life was back in New York - his important political position, his wife, his children, their family. The only thing that wasn't there was his brother. As far as importance went, Peter knew he didn't exactly tip the scales in his favor.

"I got a job as a nurse in the Hospital Wing," he said abruptly, smiling faintly at Nathan. "Just walked in and got it. I'm... trying not to use my abilities so much." Which was kind of hard, when he couldn't stop picking them up. "Getting back into the swing of being normal again. Here's a good place to do it, I think."

Peter tried to turn his smile into something encouraging - he wasn't entirely sure if it worked. He didn't want Nathan to go, but he also wanted what was best for his brother. At the moment, what was best for Nathan probably wasn't staying here. With him. "So I don't need you to protect me anymore, Nathan. You can go. Give everyone my love."

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

Which... was basically exactly what Nathan needed to hear. Even if it was said in passing, or without earnest, as long as Peter said something about his being okay... that was satisfying enough for Nathan, for the most part. It was some weird kind of discrepancy with him, that he had to hear Peter say it before he could be content. Hell, Peter had told him that, shortly following a second right hook to Nathan's freaking jaw, and Nathan had given him a thumbs up. And... that was how the Petrellis roll worked. Or something.

Still. This school, and Peter and his freaking dreaming. Drawing the future. Nathan didn't think he was ever going to get that mental image of Peter dead on the floor of the dungeon out of his head, no matter how short of a time he'd had to live that. It had still happened, and for all his pessimism was worth, he couldn't help imagining that one time when, like he said, Claire's power just wasn't going to work. And Peter wasn't going to bounce back like something out of an X-Men movie. This was real life, not a comic book anymore.

"Normal. Right. Because that's the best way to achieve, in... a magic school. In the furthest possible thing from normal to exist on this planet. Right?" He sighed, leaning forward onto his knees and letting his hands dangle uselessly towards the floor, eyebrows furrowing downward as if he wasn't even registering Peter's words.

"Hospital wing, huh?" Some of it had, apparently, at the very least. Going back to the nurse thing. Going back to not feeling a need to save the entire world by himself. But how long was that going to last? "So... I'm staying for a couple more days, probably." Tops. "But then I gotta go back, Pete." He couldn't look after Peter forever, even though he was probably going to end up having to do so.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Admittedly, trying to achieve normal in a magic was - as Nathan implied - probably the most un-normal place that he could try to do it in. But Peter had long accepted the fact that he wasn't normal. Even among freaks, he was a freak. Normal people could probably, eventually, accept that people could heal, or use telekinesis - but somebody that could do all of those things was just off the charts of weirdness.

But the people here were used to weird. They accepted it as a daily fact, almost nothing was too weird for them. Here, maybe Peter could find someone that would be able to help him control his abilities. Another Claude, so to speak.

But he still wasn't prepared to hear Nathan say that he was leaving in so many words. Immediately, Peter's mind clouded over with deja vu - Nathan coming home for Christmas when Peter was six, and having to leave the next day. Nathan on his all-too-short 'holidays' from the military. For most of his life, Nathan had been some kind of unreachable figure for Peter, and he never got used to it when Nathan left again. Despite his will to stay in control, Peter felt panic and misery rising. He didn't want to be here without his brother.

"I lied," Peter replied eventually, hating the fact that his voice was shaking. He ducked his head again and sniffed. God, this was pathetic. "I'm not fine. I can't control any of this, Nathan. When Sylar was... when he got free, he dislocated my shoulder and it didn't heal. Sometimes I think about something and tables go flying across the room." There was just dust in his eye, he'd swear. But that didn't help the fact that when he looked at Nathan pleadingly, his eyes were a little red. "I need help, Nathan. I can't do any of this without you. Please, just... stay?"

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

Oh, for fuck's sake.

So much for being what he needed and leaving an open window for Nathan to take off within the next week or so. Their mother was right: Peter WAS Nathan's soft spot - Christ, he'd do anything for the kid, he really would, even if it was masked to the point where it looked like Nathan didn't bother with half a thought towards Peter's well-being - and that was... just... he totally could not deal with this right now.

He didn't heal? He didn't heal? Nathan was fixing Peter with a look of disbelief for a few long seconds, brows slowly furrowing at the younger Petrelli before he wrapped a hand around Peter's shoulder. With a bit of a squeeze and a jostle that was probably supposed to be reassuring, Nathan suppressed the sigh, gritting his teeth in hopes of answering something coherent.

"All right, all right." Fucking hell, this kid was going to be the end of him. "Why the hell didn't you say something about that before, Pete? Jesus." And Nathan would have taken off, Peter would have ended up with some sharp, inanimate object jarred into his brain, and wouldn't that be another fat slice of guilt pie for Nathan's conscience to dig into?

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Hanging his head miserably, Peter bit at his lip and stared at the floor. He knew he'd never get emotional reassurance from Nathan; he'd stopped looking for it years ago. Fortunately, Peter had trained himself to be thankful for what he could get - namely, a hand on the shoulder, or a hug, and some stern words if he was lucky.

"The healing thing... it was just for a few minutes, I mean, I hadn't slept in five days so I couldn't concentrate," he continued, voice pitched lowly. "I lost my control and I came close to blowing up the whole school, as well." Apparently, it was Confession Time. "I just... I don't know what to do."

Not that Nathan would have any sort of great wisdom on controlling powers, really. He probably knew about as much as Peter did, which, in the end, was not much. Nathan at least had the advantage of apparently knowing how to use his power right away - most people with singular abilities did - while Peter was still stuck on the side-lines. But, like all younger brothers that hero-worshiped their older brothers, Peter assumed Nathan had to have some kind of answer.

And this was more than he could handle alone. "How am I supposed to help people when I'm the thing they're in danger from?" At least Sylar wasn't in danger of blowing up the school just from getting angry. Peter sniffed again, attempting to surreptitiously scrub at his eyes with the ends of his sleeves. His emotions had been going overboard, lately.

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

And he almost exploded? Oh, fucking... fuckity fuck fuck and other expletives.

Just when he'd gotten used to the idea of leaving, too, and Peter would go ahead and say the one thing that would not only make him stay, but if he was going, damn, it would have brought him back in a heart beat. Because what it really boiled down to, after the end of anything, was that this was Peter. And Peter was most definitely in trouble here. Too many abilities for him to focus on. Nathan was surprised the guy hadn't conked out yet or something. God forbid he played a repeat of post-Odessa. He'd gone into a freaking coma, he'd absorbed so much energy. Nathan couldn't deal with that.

He wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders - damn touchy Petrelli habits - and tugged Peter in, a bit roughly, eyes cast towards the floor as his mouth drew itself into a frown. What the hell did he even say here? That he understood? He knew what Peter was going through with this? Because why bullshit the fact that he didn't? "You gotta calm down, Pete," was all he said, in a hardened voice, glancing up to look to his brother as he squeezed his fingers into the younger Petrelli's shoulder a bit. "You're not... the enemy here. I mean, what the hell, man, you're not Sylar. You're not the guy cutting open people's heads and... munching on brains or whatever the hell that whack-job's doing. Just... calm the fuck down, all right?"

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

For some odd, inexplicable reason, Peter suddenly felt the need to clarify that Sylar probably didn't munch on brains. Likely it was because Peter had come close to a brainless fate himself, and the thought of his brains being eaten just made him queasy. It was really something he didn't want to think about.

God, he felt pathetic. All he wanted was to talk with Nathan, and here he was, breaking down on his poor brother. It had probably been a long time coming, between the last few months and what had happened here. Emotions were likely to go haywire, and Peter's tended to do so more often than not. Still, Nathan's rather unique of comfort - arms around shoulders and no-nonsense words bordering on insulting - were calming his nerves.

"Thanks," Peter whispered, attempting to summon up a smile. It came out rather tremulous. He wasn't holding out hope that Nathan would stay just for him, but maybe for a minute he could pretend, and ignore everything else pressing on his mind. ...Had he ever thanked Nathan for finding him here? Or flying him up when he was exploding? He really should. Because that had been amazing. "Sometimes I have these dreams," Peter continued, apropos of absolutely nothing, "Nightmares, I guess. Where you leave, but the last thing we ever said to each other was an argument. Not the future kind of dreams, but... they really suck," he said miserably. "I don't want that to happen."

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

Whatever the hell he did with them... The guy took people's brains. Nathan didn't care if he was frying them up with basil or just adding them to some sick kind of shrine he kept in his dormitory or if he freaking... flushed them down the toilet or something. He was taking brains. Something about that wasn't right no matter what he did with them afterwards. And, quite frankly, Nathan would feel much better if he didn't know the details of what came afterward.

God, why the hell was he speculating as to the habits of a serial killer? He... really should not have been.

At least Peter had stopped crying. Still, what he was talking about was just... Nathan frowned again, listening to Peter speak with a weird, acute level of attention. He was usually waving Peter off by this point, telling him he's crazy, but, right now, he wasn't. For whatever reason. "Funny, I have dreams about talking dogs," he offered, halfway weakly. And... no? Okay, maybe not that funny. Nathan, you're so random.

He shifted a bit in his seat, clearing his throat and smashing Peter into his shoulder a bit more. "Okay, look. I get it, man, You don't want me taking off while we're arguing or something. God forbid whatever the hell could happen, knowing..." Well, between explosions and near kidnappings and comas and... The Petrellis were their own soap opera, really. With more action. "Just... I get it. But it's not gonna happen."

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Despite his mood, Peter snorted quietly at Nathan's reply. Trust Nathan to immediately say the one thing that simultaneously attempted to diffuse the situation and please the masses. The masses, in this case, being Peter, but the analogy was there. "And you say that I have weird dreams," he smirked briefly. "Mine don't have anything on talking dogs."

When Nathan pulled him closer, Peter let out a slight sigh, dropping his head to rest on Nathan's shoulder. It was an awkward angle, but Peter could care less. Maybe he was acting a bit clingy right now, but that was another thing he could care less about. His brother still didn't sound happy about the fact that Peter wanted him around, but when had Nathan last sounded genuinely happy about anything? Seriously. Peter almost couldn't remember.

"Yeah, I know," he agreed. "You're too stubborn to let that happen, anyway." They were just dreams. But Peter had always paid too much heed to his dreams.

Frowning suddenly, Peter lifted his head off Nathan's shoulder and tried to twist around slightly to stare at him. "When was the last time you smiled? I mean, actually genuinely enjoyed yourself, not that fake politician thing you wear?" That question had a thought process, he swore. It was just that Nathan hadn't heard Part One.

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

Too bad it hadn't worked on Peter. This conversation would just be so much easier if they were discussing something like... freaking talking dogs, and very much not the topic of when Nathan was going to leave, or Sylar or anything. This had all been easier before these damn powers. Heidi wouldn't have ended up in that wheelchair, Peter wouldn't have been bound and determined to save the world. Claire wouldn't have survived that fire. But, damn, cruel and cold-hearted as it was to admit to himself, weren't things a lot simpler when she wasn't around too? Imagine trying to explain an illegitimate daughter to your wife and your two boys.

"Yeah, but mine aren't about blowing myself up all over New York," Nathan muttered back under his breath, and sighed. Dreams. Just dreams. That came true, in the long run, usually, when Peter had them. He'd said something about seeing Nathan fly, six months ago when he and Heidi had had their accident. The dreams about Peter exploding. God only knew what else he had up his sleeves.

And... where the hell had that come from? Peter was twisting his head and Nathan glanced to him right back, eyebrows furrowed and mouth crinkling into a mockery of a laugh that never seemed to quite reach his eyes. "Where the hell did that come from? Jesus, Pete, I swear, you're so random sometimes." Said, of course, in that way that sounded joshing but was really threatening to beat Peter into submission if he didn't stow it, and fast.

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Fair point, blowing up New York did trump talking dogs. Peter would take dreaming about talking dogs any day over those dreams - the only good thing about them was that he wasn't having them anymore. He supposed dreams like that stopped as soon as you averted it. Thankfully.

He'd been almost eagerly awaiting Nathan's answer, hoping for some kind of confirmation that Nathan had been happy lately. Maybe a story about how one of his children learned to play a song on a new instrument, or a particularly meaningful and touching encounter with a dedicated voter. Hell, Peter would have been satisfied with something so simple as Nathan laughing at a movie, not... his actual reply.

Peter's expression twisted in disappointment, and he shrugged Nathan's arm off his shoulders. "I hate that politician smile," he muttered darkly, shifting off the couch. He grabbed his sketchbook and tossed it onto a nearby table, making an extremely pathetic attempt to look busy. The newspapers needed sorting, he'd swear. Seriously.

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

Nathan watched Peter shrug him off and stand, a slightly irritated expression drawing his eyebrows downward into a slanted furrow. Great. Just what he needed. "You're kidding, right?" he prompted right back in turn, eyes riveting onto the papers Peter was mindless sorting and sounding vaguely pissed off out of nowhere. "You're mad because I smiled." He could have admitted that, yeah, he knew what Peter was talking about. It had been a while since he'd genuinely smiled, not his plastic politician one that showed off all three hundred and forty-seven teeth. He could've. But... didn't.

"When am I supposed to be laughing, again?" he asked instead, squaring his jaw. "Should I be when I'm taking off for Scotland when my brother disappears off the place of the planet? No, wait, maybe when a brain-eating freaking serial killer's going after him, out for his powers. You know, you exploding was pretty goddamn hilarious. Why didn't I crack a smile then? Or when I was pulling an IV pole out of your forehead?"

Nathan rubbed at his forehead, frustrated, and God help him before he was sharing something that he shouldn't have been. "It's not like I don't smile, Pete. I do." Oh, that was a lame argument. "Just... you know, there hasn't been much to lately, if you've been paying attention." And then paused for a few long seconds, rubbing at his knee. Don't do it, Nathan. Don't.

"Heidi walked."

[likeabadpenny.livejournal.com]

Okay, maybe Peter could understand where Nathan was coming from. Lately, there really hadn't been much cause to genuinely enjoy anything. Even Peter, who liked to consider himself an optimist, hadn't found many reasons.

But for some reason he expected Nathan to be... above that, somehow. Maybe he was just thinking years back to a more carefree Nathan, or maybe Peter had just conjured up some sort of idealized memory. It was a bit like wearing rose-coloured glasses with only one lens in; seeing the best and the worst in Nathan was kind of disturbing sometimes.

Then again, he should probably go easy on Nathan. The guy had been running for Congress and trying to keep their family together for months now, he was allowed to be a little stressed out. Peter almost went to reply, when... well.

...That was a fairly random statement about Heidi.

Baffled, Peter finally turned around to look at Nathan, dropping all pretense that he was actually doing something. It's not like Nathan believed it, anyway. "She... what? I thought the doctors estimated years, not months?"

[soopernathan.livejournal.com]

And with everything weighing on his shoulders... from everything he'd babbled about to Heidi's accident, to the election and... their father's death. To say these hadn't been an easy six months on Nathan would be a little bit of an understatement. Pressure from Peter. From his wife and his kids. From... Meredith. And Claire. And... three hundred million people all across America suddenly counting on what decisions he made. Just... pressure, and building up on him slowly and steadily until the one day when you knew Nathan was going to snap. And fire shots off the clock tower or something. Hmm, that would probably be best to avoid.

"Yeah, I know what the doctors said," Nathan replied, quietly, nails digging into the material of his slacks, on his knee, as he looked... at the floor. At his shoes, at his nails skritching away at his pants. Anywhere very much not Peter. "They also said that was going to be a three percent chance. Three percent. And she... moved her foot." But finally did glance up, then, slightly cautiously. "I mean, you're a nurse. What are the odds of that? Three trillion to one or something? She WALKED, Pete. She's WALKING. She's... okay."