Brother's Keeper

Chapter 17


When Peter awoke the following morning, his mother was no longer beside him. The mattress and pillow still held an imprint of her body, but her spot was derived of human body heat, indicating she had gotten up at least an hour ago.

Peter glanced at the wall clock in his room. 9:47. He planned to stay in bed until Nathan came to visit. Facing his father after what happened last night caused a cold lump of dread to emerge in his chest.

*

Angela was looking over some figures from the recent hospital bills when the phone rang. She had taken a seat right by one of the telephones so that she could be the first to answer it.

"Good morning, Nathan," she spoke into the receiver.

"Ma? How's Peter?"

"He seems to be doing well. I'm going to be spoiling him with a big breakfast today."

"Good luck," Nathan replied, remembering how difficult it was for his brother to consume anything of a large quantity.

"Hopefully he'll remember how much he enjoys pancakes and strawberries."

Nathan hoped so as well. Peter had always liked pancakes smothered in strawberries and maple syrup.

"Is he there? Can I speak to him?"

Angela's jaw tightened for a brief moment, but she did not miss a beat. "He's still asleep, son. He was exhausted."

Nathan played with the cord of his phone as he tried to hold back disappointment. "Will you let him know when he wakes up? I promised him I'd call."

"I will do so," Angela lied, speaking in the same calm, steady voice. She had a natural affinity for lying and intended to make the most of it. She had spoken untruths to Nathan so many times that she was confident that she could fool him by now.

"I hope..." Nathan began and then hesitated. "I hope everything's gone well with Peter and Dad?"

"They haven't seen each other since dinner yesterday," Angela said.

"Oh." Nathan sighed. "Ma... Dad's not still hung up about Peter being gay, is he?"

"You'll have to ask him about that, son. I can't tell you how your father feels."

Nathan held back a snort of frustration. "Did he go to sleep fine last night? I mean, Peter hasn't been sleeping on his own since... all this happened."

"He sure did. I checked in on him before turning in, and he was snoozing peacefully."

"Alright," Nathan hesitantly said, considering how much Peter had wanted to see him again, even though he had only been gone for less than half of a day. "I'll have my cell phone on too. I managed to keep the number I had on the one I lost."

"Alright, dear," Angela replied. "He'll be happy to know what an attentive big brother you are."

"Take care."

Ending the connection, Nathan thought back on how desperate Peter had been when the two of them hugged the previous night. He hoped that everything indeed was alright in the Petrelli household, and that Peter would not be too disappointed that his sleep had wasted the opportunity to talk with his big brother so soon.

Angela put down the receiver onto its cradle and went back upstairs to check on her younger son. Arriving at his bedroom door, she knocked first before letting herself in.

"It’s just me, Peter," she called gently.

"Come in."

Upon entering, Angela could see the small, formless shape of her son curled up under the covers.

A tuft of almost black hair emerged first, and then Peter's pale face followed soon after. The boy's eyes appeared deep-set and were still bloodshot and swollen from all the crying. Angela took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked.

Peter made a small motion meant to represent a shrug. "Been better..." he murmured.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

Shaking his head, Peter wearily declined the offer. He was not hungry. All he wanted now was to see Nathan.

"Darling, you have to eat," Angela persisted. "Pancakes with maple syrup, that's your favourite, isn't it?"

"When is Nathan coming over?" the boy asked instead.

"Oh yes, I just got off the phone with him," Angela replied. "He won't be visiting us today, I'm afraid. Nathan's got a lot of things to take care of, and he just doesn't have time. He said he'll be checking in on you in a day or two, when things have calmed down somewhat."

What little hope was in those large eyes instantly vanished. It pained the woman to see such, but she hid the regret away.

"Oh," the boy said quietly, looking away and staring at the far wall, lost in his miserable thoughts.

"Perhaps you would like to get up and walk around the house for a while," his mother offered. "You haven't been here for so long, it might help to stretch your legs and ..."

"It's okay," Peter quietly interrupted, drawing his knees close to his body and hugging them. He rested his face against the knees, hiding half of his troubled visage. "It's just... he had promised he would come by."

"I know he did, and he deeply regrets not being able to," Angela said reassuringly. "You mean the world to him, Peter, but Nathan has a life of his own, too. He's an important person. You know that."

"He promised," Peter said with special emphasis on the word "promised". The pain in his voice was all too obvious, and for a moment - just for a moment - Angela wondered if she had done more harm than good by lying.

"Didn't he even want to speak to me?"

"He sends his love. Since you weren't around, I told him I would bring you his message. Peter... Nathan hasn't forgotten about you. I think... he just needs some time by himself, too."

"Did Dad say he couldn't come?" Peter asked bitterly, refusing to believe that his brother had simply chosen not to visit by himself. It was easier to blame their father, especially as Peter now knew what the family patriarch truly felt about him.

"Your father's not in right now, sweetheart," Angela said with a smile of reassurance. "You don't have to worry about him being here. I know he's reacted poorly from the events that have happened. You understand he doesn't know how to deal with emotions."

"I guess..." Peter muttered.

"Maybe it's better that Nathan not be here so soon after his arguments with your father," Angela offered. "Like him, your brother doesn't know how to deal with his feelings either. The only difference is that Nathan is so much more passionate. He doesn't want to frighten you by having another fight with your father."

Angela brushed away a strand of hair from Peter's face. It was getting oily again, even though it had been less than thirty hours since his last shower.

"Are you sure you don't want any pancakes?" she asked. Peter shook his head, wishing his mother would leave. Being reminded of the fact that Nathan wasn't coming over only added to his misery. If he could go to sleep again, maybe it would allow him a small reprieve.

Angela stood up. "Alright then, dear. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

Peter did not reply, and tried to will himself to sleep, ignoring the closing of his door. He would not be calling for his mother because he did not need her. All he needed was Nathan, and Nathan was not there.

*

Nathan hung up the phone, sitting back against the sofa and giving a long sigh. He did not like the situation one bit. His mother once again declined a chance for her two sons to talk. Having dealt with Peter's behavior ever since the horrible kidnapping, he knew far better than to believe a simple claim that Peter was too depressed to talk. His brother surely was depressed, but he always welcomed a moment to interact with Nathan.

Even worse, his suggestion to pay Peter a short visit before the boy's bedtime had been overruled by Angela. She had offered a rather transparent excuse, claiming Peter was too tired to accept any visitors, and Nathan began to suspect that something was very wrong. Was their mother deliberately trying to keep him from Peter? That did not make one bit of sense.

Nathan's jaw tightened when he realized that Arthur was probably the one who had instructed their mother to keep the two apart. The man's reaction to Nathan spending the night in his old room was proof enough. Tomorrow he would see Peter, regardless of what his parents thought was best. His baby brother needed him and letting Peter down was not an option.

*

Peter finally came down to eat some lunch the following day, only with his mother's promise that his father would not be present. In doing so, he was eating lunch at least ten minutes after Arthur had finished his own. Angela insisted her son eat at the dinner table, not in his own room, and Peter was far too hungry by now to argue. At least she had arranged for a big irresistible sandwich to help ease a little bit of his discomfort.

Halfway through his lunch, he saw his mother walk into the room.

"How is your lunch, Peter?"

"It's good," he replied, shyly.

"Good," she said, walking over and placing a hand on her son's hair. "When were you planning on taking a shower, Peter?"

"I... don't know..." Peter replied hesitantly, suddenly uncomfortable.

Why did his mother ask him that? Did he smell bad? Discreetly sniffing first one armpit, and then the other, he discovered that he actually smelled quite rank. Lying in bed for hours and hours on end had caused him to sweat more than usually, and he was still wearing the same T-shirt Angela had put on him when accompanying him to his room the very first night after his return.

Blushing, Peter suddenly lost his appetite altogether. He had not taken a shower by himself since the kidnapping. At the hospital, there had always been a nurse - or mostly just Nathan - to help him.

"I'm sorry," Peter mumbled. "I... I have trouble."

Angela took a seat next to her son at the table. "Does it still cause you any pain?" she inquired. She placed a hand on her son's back as a gesture of comfort.

"Well... I'm just..." Peter's face went red and he pushed away the remains of his sandwich. "Nathan helps me. Or the nurses did. I'm afraid to..."

"Why, darling?"

"Down there, it's..." Peter swallowed, avoiding his mother's gaze. "I'm afraid of thinking about where they hurt me."

"Are you afraid something bad will happen if you take a shower?" Angela asked, not really sure of what her son was referring to.

This time Peter didn't answer but kept averting his gaze, noticeably humbled and humiliated. She could tell new tears were not far off.

"You need to wash yourself, Peter," she explained gently. "Boys your age sweat a lot, and you... well, you need to wash your hair." She did not want to remark on his already strong body odor, as he no doubt knew about it already.

"Peter... do you want me to help you?"

"Yeah," the boy replied, nearly in a whisper. When he finally turned his gaze to his mother, she enveloped him in a comforting hug, despite his unclean state. He rested his head against her shoulder, hiding his eyes while he tried to rid himself of a few tears.

*

After drawing a bath and testing the temperature of the water, Angela was requested to turn away while her son disrobed, even if she was going to see him naked while he was in the tub. She heard the soft splash of water as he sat down in the tub and seconds later he said, "okay".

The woman considered how different it felt to bathe her teenage son as opposed to when he was a small child. Now she felt more like she was bathing a dog.

"Well, then, perhaps we should start off sharing the workload," she offered, picking up two bars of soap and handing Peter one of them. "You work on the face while I scrub the shoulders?"

Peter gave a small nod and spread the lather over his face, although some of it got into his eye and made him wince. Meanwhile, his mother used a bath sponge to scrub his back and shoulders, and Peter had to admit it felt really nice. Not as nice as having his brother do the same, but still pleasant.

Even as a small boy, he had preferred to be bathed by Nathan rather than his mother. Perhaps because Nathan had also taken the time to play with him, making sure the bath was an enjoyable experience and not simply something to be over and done with as quickly as possible.

His hair was next. It was obvious that Angela had not bathed another person in years, because her way of working the shampoo into Peter's thick mop of hair was awkward or even downright clumsy. A lot of it got into his eyes and even into his mouth, causing him to gag at the taste.

Peter was requested to stand up in the tub while Angela showered the lather away, probably so that she could keep her distance and save her own clothes from getting wet.

"I suppose now that you're standing..." Angela said carefully, "We can try the area that's been giving you trouble."

Peter looked down at said area. Some color went back into his cheeks at the thought.

"Alright..." he said, but without much in the way of confidence. "I'll do the front again. I don't like thinking about 'back there'."

Lathering up the soap again, he scrubbed at his genitals, almost with the care of someone polishing a priceless sculpted artifact. Angela carefully took her own bar of soap and washed at the small of her son's back, wondering how this would play out. She remembered how extensive the damage was to her youngest child's body had been when she visited him in the intensive care unit of the hospital over a month ago. Obviously he looked nothing like how he once did, but the image still played over and over again in the woman's mind.

Peter's entire body went rigid when she lightly scrubbed with the sponge between his buttocks, and she realized how horrifying the violations had been. It was basically a miracle that Peter had not died or at least suffered permanent, irreparable damage to his body from the grave injuries. She had been told that if the brothers had arrived at the hospital only a few hours later, Peter would not have pulled through.

"Alright dear, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" she said, trying in vain to sound light-hearted.

"I guess not..." the boy murmured, remembering when the friendly nurse Hannah had arrived to give him his first full body-wash after he woke up from the coma. Nathan had been present at the time, and the memory made Peter realize how badly he wanted his big brother to be there.

"Has... Nathan called lately?" he asked.

"Not today," Angela replied, and this time she was speaking the truth. Strangely enough, Nathan had not called since the previous evening, and knowing her eldest son, she guessed that he would most likely pay them a visit very soon.

"I really miss him," Peter said as his mother scrubbed his skinny legs.

"I know, dear," she responded. "We'll have to call him soon."

"How about after my bath?" he asked, the idea bringing light once again to his sad eyes. Instantly he was grabbing a nearby towel and attempting to dry himself off.

"Peter!" Angela exclaimed, moving to jerk the towel from him just as quickly as he had reached for it. "We're not done here. You still have some shampoo left in your hair!"

"But... I want to call Nathan...!" Peter objected, hanging on to the towel despite his mother's attempts to take it back. "Right now!"

"When I said "soon", I did not mean immediately!" Angela snapped, her patience quickly wearing thin. "I'm not letting you go out there in your birthday suit again."

"I wasn't going to!"

"Peter." The woman's voice was reproachful and chilly. "Stop behaving like a little kid. I have no time or energy for this."

Her grip on his arm was tight enough to be painful, and Peter winced under his mother's grasp.

"I said stop. Right now."

The woman's voice was steady, and that level of control frightened the young man. He immediately froze as a pair of steely eyes fixed upon him. He felt similar to a mouse under the observation of a hungry predator. Unable to break that gaze, he sank back against the wall and put the towel down.

"Do you understand?"

Peter nodded, his eyes suddenly reading of a mind that was somewhere else. "I'll be good…"

Angela's features softened slightly when her son cowered away from her, but she was still irritated with his childish and irrational behaviour.

"Peter, stand up. We still have to wash the foam from your hair."

"Please mom, don't be mad..." the boy whispered pleadingly, making no attempt to obey her command.

"I'm not mad, Peter. Come on, stand up so that we can finish this." Again Angela grabbed him by his upper arm - a part which had become so skinny she could almost reach around it with her fingers - and pulled. This time Peter complied, but he was now shaking and not entirely from the cold.

Arms wrapped around himself, the boy endured being showered by his mother, who did not heed the fact that the water temperature was too high or that the pressure was hard enough to make Peter's skin hurt. He simply did not dare object. Nathan had always been much more considerate when helping him, and Peter wished his brother was here with him instead.

Suddenly a forceful spray of water entered his ear, and he yelped, backing away from the source.
A fleeting but terrifying image entered his mind. In that moment he could have sworn he could feel a set of jagged teeth biting down hard. Whimpering, he flinched at the hand on his shoulder.

Angela did not notice at first which ear her son was currently covering protectively. She pulled her hand back at the poor response to her touch and turned off the water.

"I'm not angry, Peter," she said, feeling the defeat of dealing with how dramatically her son had changed since he left for that camping trip almost two months ago. "I just want to know what I can do to help."

Peter sniffled behind his long wet hair, hand desperately clutching at his mangled ear. "I want my brother."

"I know you do, dear... but Nathan isn't here right now." It was lousy, and Angela knew it, but it was the best she could come up with in that moment.

Peter sat on the far edge of the bathtub, shoulders hunched, still covering his badly mangled right ear with his hand. Nathan had told their mother that it was Peter's sore spot, and that no one was allowed to touch it. Angela was still not sure what she had done, but Peter's reaction proved that he had been deeply affected.

No traces of shampoo or foam were left in the boy's hair, and the woman decided it would do for now. She wanted the shower to end almost as badly as Peter. Obviously she was no good at this.

"Come on, darling..." she coaxed, holding out a large bath towel for her son. "You're all clean now."

Out of consideration, Angela held the towel high enough in front of her so that she would not be able to watch as her son stood up. Timidly, he stepped out of the tub and huddled against the towel, shivering now from the cold dampness against his skin.

He was briskly rubbed dry and lead out of the bathroom, into his own bedroom. The sheets were unchanged and thus still had the same odor that Peter had before his bath, but the problem could be fixed soon enough. The duvet was at least clean enough for the young man to take a seat. Still trembling inside the towel wrapped around him, he watched forlornly as his mother opened a chest of drawers and removed clothes, including a shirt and a pair of jeans.

"I'm really tired," Peter said. "Can't I just go to bed?"

"Your sheets are dirty and need to be cleaned, dear," Angela answered. "And besides, I did say that we could call your brother soon."

Peter's eyes instantly brightened at the mention of contacting his brother. "Yeah, can we do that now?"

He had already stood up and was headed to the door when Angela stopped him. Despite what happened last night, Peter was going to exit his room naked with just a towel wrapped around him once more. She did not quite fathom what was going on inside his head.

"Put some clothes on first, young mister," she gently but firmly advised. "Then we can try calling your brother."

Peter, realizing the situation, blushed from shame. "I'm sorry, Ma."

"It's alright. Just try to think about it next time, will you?"

Having received an eager nod for an answer, Angela asked if Peter needed help getting dressed. He didn't, he said, and she left his room to give him the privacy he no doubt craved. The shower had been a humiliating enough experience for him.

Peter quickly got dressed, taking care to mind his ear in his hurry. Perhaps he would finally find out what had kept Nathan so busy to the point that he had gone back on the promise of giving one little phone call. Exiting his room to go downstairs, Peter realized that he was hardly angry about the broken promise. If he could even hear his brother's voice again that day, he would probably be happy enough to forgive Nathan.

In the living room, Angela sighed as she hung up the phone. Nathan was not answering. He was not at home; otherwise he would have answered, considering his desire to call his little brother like he had promised. She briefly considered calling his cell phone instead but decided not to. Nathan could be in the middle of something important and she did not want to risk disturbing him. Besides, if Nathan wanted to talk to Peter, he would call them himself.

"Did you call him, Mom?" Peter entered the living room, cheeks blushing red with excitement.

"I tried, but your brother wasn't home," Angela explained. It saddened her to literally see the despair creeping back into her younger son's visage. "We'll try again in a short while. Where ever he is, he can't be gone long."

"D-do you think..." Peter sat down next to his mother, sniffling. "Do you think h-he's sick of me?"

"Oh, darling..."

Angela was about to give another lie to hide her avoidance of allowing her sons to talk when the doorbell rang. Peter's back automatically stiffened as he looked up. For all he knew, it was one of his father's friends or business associates, and the last thing the young man needed was to fall under his father's sight again. Fortunately, he did not hear the sound of the door leading to his father's study opening.

One of the estate's employees answered the door and seconds later a familiar voice echoed through the ground floor.

"Ma? Peter?"

"Nathan!"

Peter's joy in that moment was indescribable. He bounced off the sofa and ran toward the voice, throwing himself in his big brother's arms as soon as the distance between them had been closed.

Nathan was taken aback by the intense welcome and almost lost his balance when his arms were suddenly full of Peter. It was just like when he had come home for breaks from college. His baby brother was all over him and refused to let him out of his sight the entire first day.

"Whoa there, buddy! Easy now!" Despite his reproaching tone, he hugged the boy back as fiercely as Peter held on to him. When they finally parted and were able to look each other in the eye, Nathan instantly realized something was wrong. Peter was crying again, and he had an ugly, fading bruise on his left cheek.

"I kept waiting for you to call!" Peter exclaimed, unable to hold back tears of both joy and displeasure. "I didn't think you were going to."

"Wait, I..." Nathan was unable to give an explanation at first. He was still caught up in his thoughts concerning the bruise. But within seconds, the confusion cleared, and he understood why his mother had been lying. Everything made sense now.

"Peter, I did try to call. Mom said you were sleeping or unable to talk."

Wiping his now puzzled eyes, Peter glanced behind him and saw their mother walk into view from the adjacent room.

"You were too busy to call... she said..." Peter's head was turned away from his mother's grave expression back to his older brother.

"What happened?" Nathan asked, indicating the bruise. Peter only looked down, feeling ashamed.

"Dad was mad."

Though he already had his suspicions, hearing it from Peter's own lips somehow made the truth seem even worse.

"He did this?!" Nathan shouted. "Dad hit you? Peter!"

"I d-didn't m-mean to make him m-mad..."

"Oh, baby..." Nathan figured that his loss of temper had frightened Peter and forced himself to calm down, enveloping his brother in his arms again. "He won't hit you again, Petey, I promise you that."

"Nathan."

There was a hand on his shoulder not belonging to Peter, and the older Petrelli brother could see that their mother was now standing beside them. At least Angela had the decency to look at least a little ashamed. Nathan's eyes and voice hardened in an instant.

"If you'll excuse me, Peter, but I need to speak with Mom in private."

Nodding, Peter walked away, his head bowed, and he climbed the stairs, making a beeline for his room. Not until he heard his bedroom door close did Nathan speak.

"Is he here?"

"You'll look for him no matter what I tell you," Angela replied, her eyes reading of slight annoyance. "And what then? Things will get violent."

Giving a long exhale, Nathan eyed his mother with distrust. "And I suppose that was the reason you kept Peter and I apart."

"How do you think your brother would react if you and your father got into a fist fight? I've seen how upset he is with raised voices alone."

Pursing his lips at the thought, Nathan glanced up the stairs, considering how much it hurt him to see his little brother upset.

"How did it happen?"

Angela began telling her older son about Peter's first night back at the house, and this time she did not lie or leave anything out. There was no point, since Nathan was going to hear it from Peter in any case.

Once his mother was finished explaining, Nathan was, if possibly, even more upset. "And yet you defend him? What's wrong with you, Ma? You watched your wretched husband beat up your helpless little boy and still you take his side?!"

"Now hold on, Nathan," Angela objected. "Arthur didn't exactly beat up Peter..."

"The marks are there," Nathan snapped. "And I can see how scared Peter is. Lying like that to keep me from him... I thought I could trust you!"

"I regret lying to you now," the woman admitted. "But I still strongly advise you to let this matter pass, Nathan. You can't change what happened, and the last thing this family needs is more fighting."

Nathan's thoughts lingered on his mother's last words. "Yeah... he doesn't need that..."

Glancing once again at the stairs, he passed his mother and proceeded to walk up to the second floor.

"Nathan...? What are you doing?" Following his son, Angela watched as the lawyer went to Peter's door and called him out of hiding.

"How would you like to come and live with me for a while, Pete?"

Peter's large eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. "... really?"

Nathan smiled sweetly. "Pack your things, bud."

Angela, who had now caught up with her son, looked flabbergasted. "Nathan, you can't be serious...!"

"I'm very serious," the lawyer replied coolly. "Do you think I'll just stand by and do nothing while my despicable father slaps my baby brother around and nothing is done about it? You're wrong! If you can't protect Peter, I will."

Peter anxiously let his gaze wander between his mother and his brother. Another fight was brewing, and he did not want that to happen. However, being with Nathan was his hottest wish, and he did not want to stay under the same roof as his father. Coming face to face with him was eventually unavoidable, even in a household as large as theirs.

"I'll just get to packing," he said, and ducked out of sight behind the door.

Another door opened, but this time down the hallway. Arthur exited his study, looking around until his eyes rested on his eldest son.

“Nathan, what are you doing here?" he asked, more out of indifferent curiosity than truly benevolent surprise.

Nathan's expression became hard and angry as he walked right for his father, and Angela was instantly close behind.

"Nathan, remember what I said."

"I won't hit him, Ma," the man replied, intentionally speaking loud enough for his father to hear. "I'm here to pay my brother a visit," he explained as he stood at least two feet away from the older man. "But I've now decided that it's in his best interest that he comes with me."

Arthur's response to the statement was a simple snort. "Don't you have more important things to do than take your brother to a play pen?"

The barb made Nathan flex his jaw muscles, but he his mother was watching, and he had more or less promised to keep his temper in check.

"I mean that Peter is coming to live with me. After what you did to him, the poor boy is afraid to exit his room. And since you seem to carry nothing but loathing for him, wouldn't it be best if you didn't need to have him in your house?"

"Oh, I've been thinking about that," Arthur said scornfully. "And I have the perfect solution. Neither I nor your mother has the resources to keep a retard in our home. Your brother will be sent to an assisted living facility."

Nathan shot a questioning gaze at his mother, who actually looked faintly surprised.

"Arthur, that is unfair. I agreed to no such thing. I only said that he had been traumatized to the point that he might need psychological help." She turned to her son. "I was going to discuss it with you, Nathan. You had said that the doctors gave you phone numbers"—

"Of course you would side with him, Angela," Arthur interrupted.

"I can't see how anyone would side with you on this," Nathan interrupted his father in turn. "It wasn't bad enough that you hit him and call him a faggot, and now you're going to send your own son to an institution like he's some sort of nut-job!"

"Why should I have to take money from my own pocket to provide for someone who does nothing for this family but shame it?"

"That's a big fat lie!" Nathan roared, and he could no longer retain enough self-control to stop himself from grabbing Arthur's shirt front and slamming the older man against the wall.

"Peter hasn't shamed anyone! He's the sweetest person I know, and yet you hate him. It didn't just start now. You've always hated him! This just gave you a chance to truly show it! Why, Dad? What's Peter ever done to you?"

Slowly Nathan's death grip on his father's shirt was loosened, and the family patriarch straightened his now rumpled clothes. Despite the urge to show the young lawyer who was really in charge, Arthur held back. Nathan was stronger than he now and expertly trained. A fist fight between them would not end in his favor.

"Come to my office, Nathan," Arthur growled. "Let's have a talk between father and son."

Nathan looked at his mother. Though Angela tried to remain calm, fear could now be seen in her eyes, which was not there before. She touched her son's arm.

"Please try to remain calm, dearest."

Nathan finally nodded at the request and followed his father into the study. Closing the door behind him, Arthur gestured for his son to sit down, but Nathan did not comply, standing impatiently.

"I did not originally want to let this come to light, Nathan," the older man began as he walked over to his desk and pulled out a chair, taking a seat. "I was glad to see you so happy in earlier years, so I did not want to tell you, for fear of upsetting you."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Nathan inquired, hopelessly confused.

"The very reason why I've held such anger to your brother, son," Arthur answered, straightening the harshly handled lapels of his suit jacket. "He's not entirely your brother."

This time it was Nathan's turn to snort. "You've been threatening to disown him ever since you found out he was gay, saying he's no son of yours. Just go ahead. Peter has a home with me for as long as he wants."

"I'm serious, Nathan. That runt is not my son. He's never been. I didn't father him. Peter is just your half-brother."

Nathan tried to detect untruth in his father's voice, but to his surprise, Arthur appeared totally sincere.

"You're lying..." he croaked out, experiencing the same loss of breath he had felt when Jeff kicked him in the stomach.

"I'm afraid not. Your precious "brother" is not even a Petrelli. Sure, you came out of the same woman, but you weren't conceived by the same man. And I'm glad for it. At least I didn't conceive a homo."

Nathan was glad he had not taken a seat, for he would have kicked it away. Instead he had nothing to take his anger out on, and his fists clenched tightly to the point of pain in his desperation to keep the promise made to his mother.

"At first I was too overwhelmed," he stated. "But now I think I'm glad you told me."

Arthur allowed himself a small sneer. "You're actually glad to know he's not completely your brother?"

Eyes narrowed, Nathan steadied his breathing and voice. "I'm glad because now I know my brother was made without the inclusion of your filthy dick."

Arthur's face quickly became a shade of red as he stood up to unleash his anger on his disrespectful son, but the two men suddenly became aware of a commotion outside in the hallway. Nathan could recognize Peter's voice and he sounded as though he were in great distress.

Without as much as another glance at his father, Nathan dashed out of the study to see what was troubling his little brother now. Every time Peter showed signs of distress, Nathan himself experienced the same thing.

The sight that greeted him now was one of a hysterically wailing Peter and their mother trying to soothe him in her own mild-mannered yet somewhat chilly way. The boy's eyes were overflowing with tears when he turned to look at Nathan.

"Nathan, I... I can't find T-Trixie anywhere... and I wanted to bring her w-with me..."

The lawyer frowned in confusion. Did Peter have a pet or something he didn't know about?

"His toy dinosaur," Angela explained, sighing. "It's not been around for years, but now he suddenly wants it."

Good lord, would wonders never cease? Nathan had nearly forgotten all about the stuffed animal which had been Peter's best friend after his own big brother. As a small child, he took it everywhere with him, except on family outings when Nathan could convince him to keep her safe at home. If the older man's memory served him correctly, "she" was a Triceratops, hence the name Trixie.

Nathan almost inquired as the why of all times his little brother wanted the toy now, after so many years of realizing he was too old for such things. But he quickly told himself that Peter's regression had affected all parts of his lifestyle now, including bringing back long gone childhood memories.

"I can't find her!" Peter insisted, trying to leave so that he might race through the building in a mad search for her. "Where is she? I can't remember where I put her!"

Nathan and Angela exchanged a quick, worried glance, but the woman was not slow to look elsewhere. Nathan assumed that she had a pretty good idea what her husband and older son had been discussing within the walls of Arthur's study. Now, however, was not the time to bring up such matters.

"Petey, she'll be impossible to find at the moment," Nathan said, grasping his brother by the shoulders and stopping his aimless wandering about. "Perhaps Trixie's not even in the house anymore."

"No!" Peter cried out with surprising vehemence. "I want her with me! I want her now!"

"You've got me, baby," the older brother said with forced cheeriness, holding the weeping little face in his hands. "I'll watch over you and make sure nothing happens to you."

Peter's expression crumbled as his whimper changed into a heavy sob, and he sank to the floor, his shaking hands against his forehead as though he was overwhelmed to the point of madness. Nathan followed him down and knelt on the carpet, holding his baby brother and stroking his back as though the boy were five years old again. Perhaps Peter really was five again, stuck in the past as his misery washed over him. The real Peter would have been annoyed, possibly angry at the news, but this...

This was the real Peter now. Nathan's heart hurt as he considered the notion. "I can't remember what we did with her," he said. "But we'll tell the housekeepers to keep their eyes peeled for her, alright? We'll find her eventually. Until then, you can stay with me, okay?"

"I'm scared all by myself at night..." the boy sobbed. "I... I thought m-maybe... having Trixie would h-help..."

"You won't be by yourself," Nathan soothed, stroking Peter's still-damp, dark locks. "You only have to call out, and I'll be there. Whatever's happening. I'll be there, sweetheart. You can trust me."

Peter sniveled and tried to accept his big brother's promise. He had become so used to having Nathan in the same room - the same bed, even - that even a wall between them seemed too much of an obstacle to overcome. What he really wanted was to sleep with Nathan in Nathan's bedroom and Nathan's king-sized bed, but he knew that might be too much to ask, even from his brother.

Swallowing down his sobs, Peter finally wrapped his arms around his brother, savoring the feeling of a hug being returned. He did not entirely hear what was being whispered to him against his shoulder, but he knew by their rhythm and consistency that they were sweet words of comfort.

Nathan stroked his brother's head during the embrace, his brother's back facing where Arthur stood in the doorway of his study. The older man attempted a neutral expression, but Nathan could still see the disgust in those eyes. Nathan only glared, his own eyes dark and threatening, as though he were a wolf protecting its cub from another predator. Shaking his head as though the two young men were wasting his valuable time, Arthur retreated into his room and shut the door behind him.

"We'll have them keep looking," Nathan finally said, unlocking himself from his brother's hold. "In the meantime, you got everything else packed?"

"I packed his suitcase," Angela replied in Peter's stead. "There is some change of clothing, a few pairs of underwear, toiletries, and everything else he will need in the upcoming days." She made a brief pause. Then, "Nathan, don't feel obliged to do this. You've done so much already, and no one can ask you to do more than you already have. Even Peter understands that. You have your own life, and this”—

"I've made my decision," Nathan interrupted brusquely. "Thanks for helping Peter pack his things."

He passed his mother and headed for Peter's bedroom to get his brother's belongings. All he wanted now was to get himself and Peter out of the estate as quickly as possible.

Angela, possibly sensing her firstborn's current animosity toward her, called out to Nathan's back. "I never meant for this to happen! And I defended Peter when Arthur hit him. Believe me or not, but it's true."

Pausing, Nathan sighed and turned his glance toward her. "I'm not saying that you encouraged Dad or even simply stood by, Ma. But I don't trust Dad when it comes to what's best for Peter."

Peter, who had hurried into his bedroom to gather his things, came back out into the hallway with a half-full backpack. His enthusiasm to leave reminded the lawyer of the day they had prepared to leave for the woods. Pushing the thought away, Nathan managed to grin at his brother.

"You ready?" he asked, entering the room long enough to grab the suitcase.

"Yeah," Peter replied, proceeding to approach his mother and give her a hug and a kiss. Angela forced a smile, but her position in the matter still stood exactly where it intended to.

"Nathan, this is just a temporary solution," she said. "When Peter recovers..."

"He'll still have a home with me for as long as he wants," Nathan finished the sentence for her, knowing full well that his mother had meant to say something entirely different. He glanced at Peter who was standing beside him and still looking as expectant as ever.

"Peter, sweetheart, why don't you go downstairs and wait for me there? I'll join you in five minutes. Grab a snack from the fridge, if you're hungry."

The boy obediently did as asked and padded down the stairs, leaving Nathan alone with Angela. Despite his regression, Peter was not stupid and knew when his brother wanted "a word" with someone in private.

"Nathan," Angela began, approaching the lawyer. She touched his face which had a slight stubble on it, suggesting Nathan had forgotten to shave the previous day. "I'm fifty-seven years old. I can't tend to a baby all over again."

"He's going to get better," Nathan replied, his determination strong as steel.

Angela studied her oldest son's eyes for some time before she finally sighed. "Perhaps I'm where you get your stubborn streak from."

"I believe it," Nathan said with a smirk.

"I can't help but fear that he'll stay like this for a very long time."

"This is a strange thing to say, but... you should have seen him a few times when we had been kidnapped," Nathan said, trying not to relive those memories of Peter bleeding and feverish. "There were times when I thought he would have been dead otherwise. But he held on. He's strong, stronger than even he thinks. He'll get through this."

Peter was munching on an apple when he heard his brother descend the stairs and walk towards him at the front door.

"Let's go, buddy."

Peter regarded his brother quizzically when the two of them walked toward Nathan's BMW parked outside the mansion. He carried his backpack himself while Nathan carried the suitcase. It was quite heavy, and the lawyer wondered if Angela had chosen the contents or if Peter had done that himself.

"Nathan?"

"Hmmm?"

"What did you and Dad talk about earlier?"

Nathan swallowed before replying. He hoped Peter would not be able to tell how nervous his brother was. "Nothing of importance. He just tried to talk me out of taking you home." At least that was partially true, he told himself.

"But he said it was okay... right?" Peter asked anxiously. "What if he's mad enough to send the police to bring me back!"

"Here, hop in," Nathan said, changing the subject as he opened the passenger's side car door for his brother. Placing the luggage into the back seat, he quickly went over to his side of the car and sat down behind the wheel.

"Here's the thing," he said, putting the vehicle into ignition and driving out of his parents’ property. "He's not going to do that."

"But how can you be sure?"

Nathan's thoughts were conflicted. Even after so many years in his career as a lawyer, he was uncertain of what truths he could share with his brother. He hated to lie to him in the state he was in, but he was worried as to what the reality of the situation might do to upset the boy.

"I gave him a warning," the lawyer admitted. "I told him I would no longer call myself his son if he tried anything to upset or hurt you."

There was a minute or so of silence before Peter asked his next question, and this one left Nathan with a big, suffocating lump in his throat.

"Why does Dad hate me so much?" The boy's voice was quiet and subdued, as if he didn't actually want his question answered in the first place.

"I don't know," Nathan replied, loathing himself for lying to his brother. But it was for Peter's best, he adamantly told himself. The truth at this point would only cause Peter further grief and distress.

"But you should know that you have done nothing wrong. None of it's your fault, sweetheart. It's all his. He's a self-absorbed, narrow-minded old bigot who only loves himself."

"He loves you," Peter insisted. "Everyone loves you..."

Nathan felt like the worst excuse for a human being when he heard those words. His little brother was a sweet and compassionate boy, and yet Peter felt as though he was less of a person than the older man. It was not fair. Nathan did not feel as though he deserved the attention and admiration. For what, success? God damn charisma?

"No..." Nathan finally answered, his throat feeling tight and dry. "No I don't think he does."

"But..."

"He only thinks he does. He loves the fact that I make him look good. That's all."

Peter remained silent, and Nathan was not sure he wanted to know what was going through his little brother's mind. In an attempt to offer some comfort and reassurance, the lawyer placed his right hand on the boy's head, rubbing gently. Peter relaxed against the backrest of his seat and closed his eyes.

By the time they reached Nathan's apartment, Peter had almost fallen asleep. He was still protectively holding on to his backpack, and Nathan couldn't help but wonder what it contained. He would not, however, look into it without Peter's permission. Despite the state he was in, the boy deserved his privacy.

"You tired, little buddy?" the lawyer asked while they were riding the elevator up to the eighth floor where Nathan had his four bedroom apartment.

"A little..." Peter murmured. When wasn't he tired nowadays? At that moment, however, his stomach growled, reminding him of the dinner he'd missed.

"As soon as we've gotten you settled in, I'll make us a late supper," Nathan offered, having caught on to the sound. "Remember, you must keep your pounds and add more to them."

Peter really must have been worn out, because he did not even whine out an objection to being nagged over. He simply gave an "uh huh" and one long, drawn out blink.

"Anything you want specifically?" the older brother asked. "I know you think my cooking sucks, but I might have something microwaveable in there..."

"I don't care," Peter replied, yawning. The elevator door opened, and he followed his brother down the hallway. "Soup, I guess."

"Well, here we are," Nathan announced when he opened the door and entered his apartment. "It's been a while since you've seen the place, but nothing's changed really. Bathroom's to the left and the kitchen's to the right."

Hurrying forward, he opened another door, giving a quick grin to his sleepy little brother. "And here's the bed for ya."

Peter assumed this was Nathan's guestroom - in case he ever needed such - because it was probably the most impersonal-looking room he had ever seen in someone's home. Inside was a bed, not a double bed, but slightly wider than his own, a small table, an armchair, an expensive-looking oak bureau, a closet and a rug on the floor. A single painting of a sail boat hung on the wall closest to the door. It could have been a hotel room or even a finer room at a hospital.

"I know it's... bland," Nathan said, noticing his brother's disappointed reaction. "But we can make it more hospitable once we bring more of your things over. What do you say? Do you think you can live here? I figured you wanted to live next door to me."

Nibbling on the inside of his cheek, Peter stared for a moment at the room, but managed to force a reassuring grin for his big brother. He did not like the looks of the room, especially since he would be using it alone, but he did not want to appear needy to his brother. Nathan was already going out of his way to take him in and offer him shelter and food.

"It's fine," Peter replied. "Once I unpack my stuff it'll look more friendly."

Clapping his little brother on the back, Nathan said, "Thatta boy. Do you want to unpack now, while I make some soup?"

Peter shook his head. "I'll end up sitting down and then lying down. I'll be asleep in less than five minutes. Can I help make dinner?"

Nathan chuckled. "It's just soup, so I should be fine. But you can keep me company in the kitchen."

Peter sat at the kitchen table, watching his brother as Nathan prepared a meal of canned chicken soup for them both. He enjoyed regarding Nathan at work, too see other's the strong, sinewy hands handling objects, even something as trivial as the sifter his brother used to stir the soup. Nathan's hands had been the same for as long as Peter could remember, and moments when those hands were touching him were when he felt truly loved.

"Maybe we should call Mom," Peter said suddenly, breaking the amiable silence. "Just to let her know we got home okay..."

"We can call her tomorrow," the lawyer replied evasively, as he really didn't feel like talking to either of his parents. His mother would most certainly demand to know what he and Arthur had talked about, and that was a conversation not suited for this evening.

"Are you mad at Mom, Nathan?" Peter asked, the boy's large, innocent eyes watching him anxiously. His brother - 'half-brother' an evil little voice sang inside his head - would not let anything pass undetected.

"No..." Nathan said, rubbing at his forehead for a moment in a subconscious attempt to clear his thoughts. He was not sure of how to explain.

"It's not Mom I'm angry with... and not you, sweetheart," he quickly added, knowing how nervous his brother could be now about making others angry, especially the lawyer himself. "I am mad at our father. And I just want to clear my head of how angry I am with him. I promise we'll call mom tomorrow, buddy. Right now we should just relax, let things settle."

"I guess so," Peter responded, giving his older brother's answer some thought.

"I think," Nathan said, his words drawn out as he determined the state of the soup, "this is done. Come on up and say 'when', Pete."

Inhaling the delicious smell of broth and chicken, Peter stood up and grabbed a pair of bowls and spoons.

Nathan couldn't help but smile when his little brother made the table for two, just as Nathan himself had taught him when Peter was still a preschooler. At the time, Angela had been very impressed with her son having learned to do such at the tender age of four or five. Perhaps Peter was reliving those memories right now.

They ate mostly in silence. Peter did not finish his entire helping, but he ate enough to ease Nathan's worries, and the lawyer promised himself to try refreshing his cooking skills. Preparing food for just one person was such a dull task that he ate out most evenings or ordered something home.

A loud yawn from Peter revealed the fatigue the boy so desperately tried to hide. A quick glance at the kitchen wall clock told Nathan that it was just 8 PM, and while he was not ready to turn in for a while, Peter should already be in bed.

"Let's go prepare your room," Nathan declared, tugging Peter to his feet and leading him toward the room that was now his. "Do you need to take a shower first?"

"Mom showered me earlier..." the boy mumbled, and his voice spoke of unpleasant memories. "I didn't like it. She sprayed water in my ear."

"Awww," Nathan automatically said, stroking his brother's hair. "I forgot to tell her about that. I'm sorry, sweetie."

"I don't think she liked it very much either," Peter stated once they had entered the room and began unpacking.

Nathan raised his eyebrows. "Did she say that?"

"No..." the boy said quietly, looking embarrassed. "I didn't have to ask. I could tell. I was acting like a little brat."

"Sweetheart..." Nathan pulled his little brother's head to rest against his shoulder. "You're still healing. It'll get better."

"I hope so," a small voice said muffled against his shirt.

"It'll get better, I know it. You sure you can sleep by yourself tonight? You can always stay with me."

"No," Peter insisted. "I'll try it on my own this time."

Nathan wanted to remark that his first attempt home at the mansion did not work out all that great, but he also knew that being reminded of that and what Arthur did would only upset his brother.

"Alright, baby. As you wish."

He affectionately ruffled Peter's hair and managed to draw a small smile from the boy. They had already gotten most of Peter's clothes into the bureau and his few other belongings into the closet. Angela had apparently remembered to include Peter's portable CD-player and his case of CD's – things the boy had not managed without before the kidnapping. Now, however, Peter had not mentioned listening to music in over two months.

"Hey, what's in the backpack?" Nathan asked curiously, glancing at said backpack now haphazardly thrown in one of the room's corners.

"Oh, umm," Peter said, trying not to stammer. "Just some extra stuff, comic books and some videos, you know..."

"Oh, then I can put those away for you," Nathan offered, assuming his brother would not mind as he knelt down and unzipped the bag.

"No, I can do that," Peter interrupted, worry in his voice as he rushed forward. However, he was too late, and he could see that when Nathan picked up the stack, one of the loose books fell from the handful.

With one glance at the shirtless, but still obviously well-endowed model on the cover, Nathan instantly picked the magazine back up and inserted the entire stack back into the backpack.

"I'm sorry. I should have asked first. Peter...?" he glanced up and saw the boy's back facing him, shoulders hunched and head down. "Buddy?"

Peter knew that the old "how did that get in there?" would sound beyond lame, so instead, he said nothing. No matter how many times Nathan stated he was perfectly at peace with his brother's sexuality, and even with the crush Peter had on him, Peter still always had his doubts. His father's treatment of him because of what he was had dug deep holes in the boy's already wavering self-esteem, and rebuilding it seemed impossible.

"Pete, please forgive me," Nathan tried again, reaching out, then hesitating. "I had no business going through your backpack. I should respect your privacy. I'm sorry."

"It's one of few that Dad didn't throw away..." Peter said in a low voice. "I... I wanted to... I mean..." He felt awfully embarrassed, having to admit he had brought jack-off material to his brother's home.

"It's perfectly understandable," Nathan said. "I used to have mags too when I was your age. I probably still have some if I start looking..."

"No, it's okay..." Peter murmured, his expression sullen even with his brother's hand on his back. "It's kind of not what... you know..."

"But I've got some really embarrassing ones," Nathan said, his voice purposefully good humored. "Ones with great big tits!"

A smile tugged at Peter's lips despite his uncertainty at feeling better.

"And I think I remember one where they roll around in fudge. With rabbit ears on."

Still blushing, Peter could not help but laugh. He felt a kiss against his temple.

"It's your business, bud. I know we share a lot, but you're allowed to have personal stuff too. I won't knock you for it."

"Okay," the younger man cleared his throat and turned to his brother. "I'm fine now. I think I'll try to get some sleep."

"You look like you need it," Nathan pointed out, teasingly tweaking his baby brother's nose. "See? Already you've lost those catlike reflexes."

Rolling his eyes, Peter playfully pushed the older man away and started getting undressed.

Minutes later, Nathan found himself tucking Peter in. Perhaps in the same way that the younger man was reliving his happy memories as a child, Nathan felt himself reliving much fonder times when his brother was just a little boy.

"Goodnight, little buddy," he whispered, kissing Peter's brow and resting his own forehead against the boy's for a second. "I hope you'll sleep well."

"I'm sleepy..." Peter murmured, his eyes sliding shut despite his attempts to focus on Nathan. "G'night..."

"And remember, I'm next door. If there's anything at all, all you have to do is call out for me, okay?"

"Okay..."

Nathan sifted his hand through his brother's hair one last time before quietly getting up and leaving the room. The absence of a night lamp made it necessary to leave the boy in darkness; something Nathan knew his brother disliked. Despite this he hoped Peter would last through the night without any nightmares.

The unexpected discovery had been unnecessary to Peter, and even with his brother's reassurance, he felt guilty at his magazines being revealed. Still, Peter was exhausted, and it was not long before he had faded into a deep sleep.


TBC...