Brother's Keeper

Another note: A reviewer brought it to my attention concerning Angela's power. This fanfiction was started a LONG time ago compared to when Angela's powers were revealed, so AmandaLee and I decided to be cryptic about what her power really was.

Good? Good. On we go...


Chapter 12

The next time Nathan awoke, he instantly realized that Peter had crawled over to his side of the improvised double bed. A quick look at the wall clock told him that it was 6:30 AM, and in just half an hour, a nurse would come by for the routine morning check up.

The lawyer gently disengaged from his slumbering baby brother and left the bed. Peter objected by mumbling something in his sleep, but he did not awaken. If he was careful, Nathan presumed, he could move Peter back to the original bed. Hands gentle and caring, he combed his fingers through long oily threads of dark hair. A soft moan sounded as Peter was distracted by the contact, and he reached up for the hand. Nathan took the opportunity to nudge at the young man’s side while one hand still remained sweetly petting the dirty hair. Sighing, Peter turned over and was guided back to his bed.

Nathan smiled. “Good boy.”

In his half conscious state, Peter heard the familiar, comforting voice, and opened his eyes, blinking in the growing light of the sunrise.

“Morning,” Nathan said.

“Morning,” Peter replied, though he did not sound very optimistic.

He watched as Nathan moved his bunk aside and pulled up a chair. Resting his elbows against the mattress edge, he took one of his little brother’s hands. Peter managed a small smile in response to the touch.

About ten minutes later, a nurse entered the room. A male nurse. Nathan actually blinked as though he were seeing things.

“Good morning,” the man said with a friendly smile. “How are we today?”

Peter did not reply but glanced apprehensively at the stranger, unconsciously moving closer to his brother.

“We just woke up, thanks,” Nathan replied in the boy’s place. He tried to catch a glimpse of the staff member’s name tag to find out if their new acquaintance was really a nurse.

“My name is Andrew, and I’ll be your nurse today,” the man said as if on cue. “You must be Peter, right?”

Peter still did not answer but kept staring Andrew with eyes that betrayed one emotion – fear.

“My brother has been through something very traumatic,” Nathan felt the need to explain. “He’s not very talkative right now…”

“I understand,” Andrew replied, still smiling kindly. “I won’t be long.”

Nathan felt that he liked this man better than any of the female nurses he had encountered so far. Perhaps because he was reminded once again of Peter, age eight or nine, watching TV and stating that he would become a nurse when he grew up.

Nathan had not noticed that Andrew had brought in a wheeled table with two large bowls of water and a stack of towels until the nurse approached Peter’s bed with his supplies.

“Alright then, it’s time for your body wash,” the man said cheerfully, putting on a plastic apron and vinyl gloves. “Can you take off the robe, please?”

“Why?” Peter automatically asked, his fear doing the talking instead of him.

Andrew chuckled in response, but soon looked apologetic.

“It’s just to get you washed up. We have to make sure you’re squeaky and clean so that your wounds can heal faster. You understand, kiddo?”

Peter’s mind told him not to trust this man, but he reminded himself that he was in a hospital. Memories were strong, but common sense was desperate to flutter past the haze of fear. He regarded his brother’s face.

“It’s alright,” Nathan said.

Not speaking, Peter watched uneasily as the nurse came closer with his supplies. This man was friendly, polite, and patient, but so were Jeff and Mick on first meeting. The stranger who was a little similar in dialogue to Nathan slowed his movements, reached for the few clothes Peter wore. When he saw the fear in the boy’s eyes, his expression softened and he tried some cajoling words, but the moment he began to pull up the hem, Peter jolted as though he had been bitten. His grip on Nathan’s arm was painful to both brothers.

“No, please, no!” he shrieked, curling his body into a ball and pressing up against the cold metal headboard of his bed. “Don’t hurt me, no, I don’t want to!”

Nathan said something, but Peter could not discern the words spoken by his brother. Terror had a death grip on him, and all rational thoughts were banned from his mind. All he could see, hear and smell were Jeff and Mick, beating and prodding him with their foul body parts.

“Jesus, kiddo, I’m not going to hurt you!” Andrew called out, seemingly shocked at his young patient’s reaction. “I was just going to help you get cleaned, that’s all.”

“Nathan…” Peter whimpered, unable to rid himself of the panic induced by the idea of a man touching him down there. “Nathan, I don’t want to…”

Arms around his trembling baby brother, Nathan ruefully gazed up at the male nurse. “Please bring a female nurse for this,” he requested. “I think that will be best.”

“But, I…”

“My brother was sexually assaulted not long ago. He’s afraid of men he doesn’t know. It’s not your fault, and I appreciate your efforts, but he’s terrified. Maybe a woman will be less threatening.”

Peter still continued to shake like a leaf, even when Andrew apologized and left. The boy became apologetic himself, but Nathan only hugged him and said he understood.

Minutes later, in came Hannah, the pleasant nurse whom Nathan had first spoken with when the Petrelli brothers had arrived at the hospital.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked Peter when she came in. “I was asked to come and help clean you up. Is everything alright?”

“He was scared of being around another man, that’s all,” Nathan replied, glancing at the face hidden in his chest. Hannah laughed, and oddly enough, the lawyer felt some of the tenseness in Peter go away in response to the amused sound.

“Andrew couldn’t hurt anyone, darling. He looked sad when he told me you asked for someone else to come in.”

“I’m sorry,” a muffled voice said. Nathan hugged his brother a little tighter.

“Oh, it’s fine, sweetheart,” Hannah said with a wave of her hand. “He wasn’t too hurt by it. Now let’s try and clean you up, alright?”

Hannah put on the same kind of protective clothing Andrew had used earlier; a plastic apron and tight-fitting vinyl gloves. She also put her long auburn locks in a hair net before approaching Peter.

“Alright, little darling,” she said, wetting a baby wipe in the smaller of the two water-filled bowls. “I’m afraid your brother has to remove himself from the bed for just a short while, alright?”

Nathan tried to withdraw, but Peter clung to him.

“Can’t Nathan do it…? Clean me up, I mean?”

Hannah opened her mouth to respond, but the lawyer beat her to it. “I really think it’s best if it’s done by a professional. I don’t know anything about this hospital’s hygienic standards, or…”

“I won’t hurt you, little one,” Hannah assured gently. “And your brother is welcome to stay, as long as he’s not in the bed with you. Alright?”

Peter reluctantly let go and Nathan took a seat in the chair a few feet from the bed to give Hannah enough work space. Peter tried not to shy away when the young woman carefully removed his gown and told him to lean back and relax.

“We’ll start with your face and upper body,” Hannah explained to her patient. Peter was visibly uncomfortable being splayed out on the bed fully naked, and she did not want this to take longer than necessary.

“What about his hair?” Nathan asked suddenly. “No one’s washed his hair since he arrived here.”

“It’ll have to wait, I’m afraid,” she replied, beginning with Peter’s neck. “Close your eyes, darling, I’ll do your face. Until you’re strong enough to be taken to the shower room, you’re going to have to tough out the oily hair. I’d go crazy in your position.” She gave a short chuckle.

When Peter was asked to lift an arm during the wash, Nathan stood and took his brother’s hand, support for him as he endured the contact on his exposed, skinny chest. Then the other arm, and a minute later, his stomach was smoothly scrubbed. Hannah was surprisingly thorough and gentle at the same time when negotiating the stitches of the young man’s surgical wound.

“Now the legs, sweetie.”

Peter gulped at the words, but slowly obeyed. The squeeze of big fingers around his trembling hand kept him from resisting the procedure.

Despite her young age, Hannah seemed to be very experienced in the procedure of washing a bed-bound patient. If all nurses were like her, the stay at the hospital might not be so unpleasant, Nathan thought.

Hannah changed baby wipes when she finally moved on to deal with Peter’s groin-area. The boy remained surprisingly calm and unfazed while the nurse’s slender, gloved fingers wiped his penis and scrotum, first with soap and then with water.

“Alright, sweetheart, now we’re almost done,” Hannah announced, drying Peter off with a white towel. “Now lie on your side and pull up your knees so I can wash your bottom, as well, okay?”

Peter’s body tensed at once, and Nathan instinctively moved closer, ready to embrace his brother again in case Peter had another panic attack.

“I know you’re hurting down there, baby,” Hannah said with surprising compassion. “But I’ll be very gentle, and it will be over in less than a minute. Okay? Your brother can hold you now, if you want to.”

“I can’t…” Peter softly objected, feeling far too small and helpless. “I can’t forget… what happened…”

“I know, buddy, but you can’t stay filthy like this forever,” Nathan responded. “I’ll hold onto you if you like.”

“Just think about your big brother and how good he is to you, sweetheart,” Hannah added. “Think about him and not about the pain. I’ll be as gentle and quick as possible.”

Nathan took a seat on the mattress and put his arms around his little brother’s shoulders.
“Here I am, little guy,” he said sweetly. “Hold onto me and don’t let go. It’ll be over quick and then you’ll be all clean.”

Peter held onto his big brother’s body tightly and shut his eyes, but he still trembled when he felt hands against his rump. A damp cloth quickly but gently wiped the whole length of his butt crack, from the tailbone all the way down to his perineum. It wasn’t painful at all, and Hannah had kept her promise to be careful. Yet memories of how Jeff and Mick’s touch had felt prevented Peter from relaxing, and he could only wish that the procedure would be over and done with as soon as possible.

“How does it look down there?” Nathan asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

“He’s healing up very nicely,” Hannah replied, drying off the boy’s small, pale bottom with a towel. “The doctors did a good job stitching him up. There will most likely be no permanent damage at all.”

Peter remained passive and quiet as Nathan spoke with the nurse, and Nathan was not sure if he was listening or if he was simply zoning out and distancing himself from his own body. He hoped for the former.

“Alright, sweetheart, that was it for now,” Hannah announced, holding out the gown for her patient. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I’m hungry…” Peter murmured, and the muffled nature of his voice caused Nathan to notice something.

Peter was sucking on his thumb.

Nathan bit the inside of his cheek at the sight. Hannah could not see it from where she stood, and Nathan was uncertain that his brother would want anyone to see the act in the first place. It must have been the only way that Peter could endure the wash.

“Someone should be up shortly to give you something to eat,” the nurse said, gathering her things. “Until everything heals up downstairs, you’ll be given a liquid diet: fruit juices, soup, that sort of thing… But it means you get to be spoiled with ice cream. Doesn’t that sound great?”

Peter did not speak, but he shyly nodded and carefully turned onto his back. Nathan patted his shoulder. “For a little guy, this one puts away plenty of ice cream.”

Peter blushed and leant his head against his brother’s shoulder.

“He needs to put some weight back on, too,” the lawyer continued. “My Pete has gotten way too skinny!” To lighten up the situation, Nathan tickled his brother’s now very prominent ribs, hoping it would make Peter laugh or at least smile a little. The boy did neither but simply squirmed a little.

“Yeah, a diet consisting of glucose drip does not make you fat,” Hannah said with a chuckle. “Since Peter has not eaten anything in over a week, we’ll start off with something easy. Do you like blueberry soup, Peter? Or would you prefer raspberry?”

“I like strawberry…” Peter said quietly.

The nurse smiled. “Then strawberry is it, sweetheart. Would your brother like something as well?”

“Oh, I’m not a patient here, so I can’t…-”

Hannah’s smile because a mischievous grin. “As long as no one finds out.”

*

Two days later, Peter was able to walk. His health continued to improve within the next few days, and his wounds were healing well. Only one problem dwelled on the minds of not only Nathan but the medical staff as well.

“He needs to put on some weight,” Doctor Ryder stated as he looked over his notes. “The poor kid’s still pretty scrawny, and if he continues like he does, his mental state may go in reverse.”

Nathan nodded, listening to the doctor’s words gravely. Peter had only been on a liquid diet for five days, but from his appearance one might guess it was a diet he was still following.

“He’s probably homesick,” Nathan offered. “The hospital scares him and he keeps saying he wants to go home.”

“I understand completely,” Ryder replied, “but he also needs to understand how important it is to eat the food we give him… lousy as it may be,” he added in an attempt to be light hearted.

“I’ll try to think of something,” the lawyer said with a sigh.

*

Every night, Nathan stayed in his little brother’s hospital room at the ward, and every night their beds were moved together to form a double bed, or Peter refused to go to sleep. Consequently, Nathan awoke almost every morning to find his brother cuddled up against him even though Peter had promised to stay on his own side the previous night.

“Eat some more, Petey,” Nathan tried one morning after Peter had set aside his breakfast tray of oatmeal porridge and a fried egg almost without touching it.

“I’m not hungry…” Peter murmured from behind his long bangs that hid most of his face. After finding out about his badly mangled right ear, he rarely ever moved them back.

“Just a little bit more?” Nathan pleaded. “You have to eat to regain your strength.” He gently caressed the boy’s soft cheek – still as smooth as a girl’s – and simultaneously brushed his hair back from Peter’s face.

“I don’t like the food here. I just wanna go home… When can we go home, Nathan?”

Nathan could tell from his brother’s voice and from the way his body twitched that Peter was close to crying again. “Soon, sweetheart, I promise.”

“But you keep saying that,” Peter argued, his voice broken. “How soon is soon? I miss sleeping in my own bed and living in my own house! I want to see Mom and Dad again. I want to be home.”

“We can go home as soon as you get your strength back,” Nathan answered. He was amazed that he had patience with Peter, since he wanted badly to go home himself. He too missed sleeping in a familiar place, the sights and sounds of his home, friends and family, Heidi…

“You can’t be moved without proof that you’re putting on the weight that you lost from your injuries. If you don’t gain anything, you might get worse.”

Though his answer was not of a harsh tone, Peter reacted as though he had been yelled at. His head lowered and he looked at Nathan with wide, frightened eyes. “Get worse how?”

Nathan sighed sadly. “I don’t want to worry you, but you might get too weak to get any better. You might just get too weak to even eat at all. And then…” At Peter’s terrified expression he said, “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m just so worried. I want to go home as much as you do. But I want to see you get better first.”

Peter tried to blink away from tears, but a few escaped his lids and landed on his gown. Nathan pulled him into a protective embrace.

“I’ll try.”

“Good, baby. Good.”

*

Nathan had to give his brother credit for trying, but the next time he was weighed, the 102 lbs that the scale showed impressed neither the doctors nor Nathan.

Ryder asked to consult Nathan in private, and once alone with the lawyer in his office, the doctor asked, “Have you ever seen your brother throw up food or noticed anything else that might suggest that he does?”

The question took Nathan aback. “No,” he said immediately. “I’m with him pretty much at all times. He doesn’t have bulimia.”

“Well, something has to be amiss. He keeps losing weight and his mental condition is deteriorating, as well. I’ve seen cases of PTSD before, but this… It’s as if he’s regressing.”

“What are you saying?” Nathan asked and felt his chest tighten. “That Peter has become retarded, or what?”

“No, I’m saying that he shows clear signs of regression. He’s eighteen years old but behaves like a baby,” Ryder said.

Nathan felt anger flare up within him at the seemingly absurd statement. “How dare you, doctor? My brother went through something terrible and you say he’s being a baby for not being able to take care of himself yet?”

“I’m not saying he’s handling this poorly!” Ryder snapped, seemingly nearing the end of his patience. “And I’m not saying this is something he can get over if he tried hard enough. I’m not saying that at all. What I’m saying is that the trauma he’s faced has left him profoundly scarred. His ability to cope is to escape into memories of childhood. It happens to people a lot if they’ve survived something terrible. It’s a coping mechanism that allows him to hide somewhere safe. He had a secure childhood, did he not?”

Listening closely, Nathan’s anger seemed to leak out of him like steam. His once tense body deflated into one of regretful understanding.

“He was happy as a kid. He never had anything to worry about, everyone loved him.” Nathan had to look away from the doctor’s gaze, or else he would not be able to speak. “He was a sweet kid. He’s always been sweet. Like some innocent child… God, I’ve never seen him so scared in his entire life.”

“We all want to see him get through this, Mr. Petrelli, “Ryder stated. “But even though his physical wounds have healed, it’s clear the injuries run much deeper. If he’s as sweet and gentle as you say he is, it could explain why his trauma affects him so badly. We can have someone come in and talk to him…?”

Nathan lifted an eyebrow. “Like a shrink?”

“Just someone who can analyze what kind of care he needs.”

“No,” Nathan persisted. “What Peter needs is to return home. Who wouldn’t be lonely and depressed if they had to spend weeks on end at a place like this?”

Immediately after uttering the words, he realized how they had sounded. It had practically been an insult to the hospital and everyone who worked there.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that…-”

Ryder held up a hand. “Twist it how you want, but my opinion stands. Your brother needs the kind of help that neither you nor I can give him. All I’m asking for is an evaluation, after all. Since Peter can’t speak for himself, I need your authorization to have it done.”

Nathan had another reason for not wanting Peter examined by a shrink, and that reason was the boy’s incestuous feelings for his older brother. If a psychiatrist found out about that, Nathan feared Peter might be taken away from him and he might not even get to see his baby brother.

“Fine,” Nathan muttered. “But I want to talk to the doctor, whoever it is, before I let him near my brother. Okay?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Ryder said, and they shook hands on it.

Nathan exited the physician’s office and found Peter sitting on a chair outside with a nurse keeping him company and simultaneously watching over him.

“Is the doctor mad at me?” the boy asked sadly, bangs concealing his face.

“No, of course not,” Nathan answered, ruffling his brother’s hair. “Let’s go back to your room and talk, okay?”

“Okay.”

The walk back was long for both brothers. Peter was anxious to know what his brother wanted to talk about so privately while Nathan was worried as to how the talk between the boy and a psychiatrist would play out. Peter did not require a wheelchair anymore, but he shuffled along as though going any faster would cause him discomfort. Sometimes Nathan would catch himself wondering if his brother was still in great pain between his legs.

When the two young men finally reached their destination, Peter went to use the toilet. A few minutes passed by before a small voice behind the restroom door called out timidly. “Is anyone else there?”

“No, just me,” Nathan answered.

The toilet was flushed and Peter hesitated before unlocking the door. “How about now?”

“It’s all clear, I promise.”

Slowly the door opened and Peter exited the bathroom, looking nervous. Every once in a while, he would become nervous about whether or not he was truly safe, even in a hospital.

They both sat down on Peter’s bed, and Nathan placed a protective arm around his little brother’s shoulders, drawing him into an embrace. The older man could not remember the last time he had seen Peter smile.

“I talked to Doctor Ryder…” Nathan began, and there was an instantaneous tautness in Peter’s small frame.

“Are they gonna take me away?” he asked, voice betraying his terror.

“No, of course not! We’re just trying to find out what’s… troubling you.”

//God, I almost said ‘what’s wrong with you’!//

“We agreed that it might be good for you to talk to someone, Peter. Someone who knows a great deal about such issues.”

“Another doctor?” Peter asked glumly.

“Yeah. Hopefully someone who can help you feel better.”

“I wanna go home…” the boy miserably murmured, and Nathan could tell tears weren’t far away now. “Why can’t I go home, Nathan?”

“Because--”

The lawyer was interrupted by his cell phone ringing, and he answered it, not even checking the caller ID. His parents were the only ones who had the number, anyway.

“Nathan,” Angela’s familiar voice said. “How are things today?”

“Oh, hey,” Nathan mumbled as he stood up and gestured to Peter that he would return shortly. He stepped out into the hallway and allowed his brother some privacy, but at the same time he did not want Peter overhearing any of the conversation and getting worried.

“Things are the same.”

“His injuries?”

“Those are mostly all healed up. It’s just… mentally that’s the problem.”

A pause on the other end lasted for only a few seconds, but it felt entirely too long to Nathan.

“He’s still acting like a child.”

“The word they used was ‘baby’,” Nathan answered bitterly. “They act like no one’s ever had a traumatic experience before.”

“Remain calm, dear,” his mother replied. “That’s what a traumatic experience creates. Some become serial killers and others become substance abusers. Peter’s hidden away in a far younger age… where he truly believed you could protect him from everything.”

“I don’t know what to do… I did promise him I’d protect him, but it feels like I’m not doing a very good job,” the older Petrelli child said, the bitterness still clinging to his voice. “I wish I could help him, but I can’t really do anything.”

“Give him time,” Angela said. “For now maybe this regression is what it takes for him to heal.”

“He’s going to see a psychiatrist. Maybe they can help.”

“Nathan…?”

The lawyer turned around at the sound of his name being spoken, and he could see Peter in the doorway, peering anxiously at him. Obviously his five-minute absence had made the boy nervous or even afraid.

“It’s Mom,” Nathan mouthed in reply. “Do you wanna talk to her?”

Peter nodded and Nathan placed the phone in his brother’s out-stretched hand.

“Hi, darling. How are you feeling?” Angela asked her younger son.

“I miss you, Mom. When can I come home?” Peter’s grip on the cell phone tightened and he was soon fighting back tears.

“As soon as you’re well enough, dearest.” His mother’s voice did not bend in response to his misery, but it did not become harsh and reprimanding. He was comforted by the lack of judgment in her tone. She could make him feel like there was nothing to be worried about.

“But when will that be?” Peter urged.

“Nathan’s told me that the doctors want you to see a psychiatrist. I wholeheartedly agree with them. If I were in your situation, I would do the same. A psychiatrist can help you so that you won’t be afraid anymore. Would you like that darling?”

“Yeah. I guess so. Does that mean they can let me go home?”

“Probably, dear. Just mind your brother until then.”

They exchanged goodbyes and Peter ended the call, handing the phone back to his brother. Nathan followed him back into his room.

“So I guess Mom spoiled what I was about to tell you. How would you feel about talking to a specialist like that?”

“Would they send me to a nuthouse?” Peter asked, worry in his voice.

Nathan almost laughed at the outrageous question, but he choked it back when he realized that Peter was serious. In his childish mind, it probably made sense.

“Certainly not, buddy. You needn’t worry about that. They only want to help.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked, still not convinced.

“As sure as I can get, little guy. Don’t be afraid,” Nathan said, even though he knew it was a stupid thing to say to Peter nowadays. His brother was pretty much afraid of everything.

*

Arthur Petrelli walked into the living room just as his wife ended the conversation with her younger son.

“How are things?” he asked, even though he already knew that there at least wasn’t a change for the better.

“The same,” Angela sighed. “Peter is still too traumatized to take care of himself. Nathan said they’ll have him see a psychiatrist. Hopefully they can help him.”

Arthur pondered this for a moment. “Are you sure he’s not just faking it? I mean, Peter’s never been able to take care of himself. He probably just uses this as an excuse to keep Nathan tied to him. That kid is so clingy, and we both know he’s got an unhealthy attachment to Nathan. Always has.”

“Nathan is his big brother. Of course Peter is attached to him, especially after what they went through. I don’t understand how you can be so heartless!”

“How can you say I’m being heartless about something that matters so little to me?”

Angela could not restrain herself from striking Arthur, and she gasped in response to her behavior. They stared into one another’s eyes for quite some time.

“To hell with this,” Arthur muttered as he grabbed a bottle of scotch from the liquor cabinet and stalked out of the room. “No son of mine…” she heard him mutter, but the rest was unheard.

Angela Petrelli stood still as one of the many figurines which decorated the room. She glanced at the open door of the liquor cabinet, and for a fleeting moment she was tempted to distract her discontent with something from one of the crystal shelves. But only people like her husband resorted to that, and instead she sat down on the sofa, staring at the framed images of her two beautiful sons.


TBC...