Peter's apartment, NYC, early Thursday morning
"Peter, so help me if this is you screwing around," Nathan said, in one of many voicemails he'd left on Peter's phone. One call had gone unanswered. Then another. Normally Nathan would've had so much more to worry about, his still undecided election amongst them, but he knew about Peter's paintings and dreams. Some little voice inside of his head - one that sounded an awful lot like Claire's, actually - told him Peter's silence couldn't be ignored.
Nathan went to Peter's apartment. He had a key. When a knock got him nowhere, he let himself in.
He didn't expect to see his mother there.
He also didn't expect to see his brother's corpse on the couch.
"Close the door behind you," Angela said, like that was what mattered.
"He - " Nathan rushed over to Peter's side. He immediately cradled his little brother in his arms, clinging to him, checking him for something, anything to hint at life. There was no pulse, no breath, no warmth. Peter's eyes were clouded over and nobody was home. "No. No no no. Not like this. He's not supposed to die like this!"
"He's gone," Angela said, far too calmly. She shut the door that Nathan had left open, then returned to Nathan's side.
"Peter!" Nathan buried his face against Peter's shoulder. He felt tears pricking his eyes and didn't give a good God-damn about showing this much emotion. He'd lost his little brother. He'd let something slip out of his attention or control and Peter had died because of it. He didn't know if he'd ever forgive himself. "What do we do?"
"We hide it," Angela replied. She didn't even hesitate before offering her response.
Nathan was stunned to discover that this day could somehow become even more surreal. "What?"
"Until after the election is settled," Angela said. "The last thing he would have wanted was to bring you down with him."
"Why does it matter anymore?" Nathan set Peter back down on the couch, not trusting himself to hold his brother's body while this much anger coursed through him. "Peter's dead. I'm not having this conversation."
"Years of planning have gone into this," Angela told Nathan in a tone Nathan recognized from a lifetime of lectures about What Must Be Done For Family, Nathan. "We are not throwing that away because of one incident."
"Inci - your son died, Ma," Nathan snapped at her. "This isn't me getting caught with a hooker. This is the only member of this family who had a damned soul dead because of a - "
Nathan trailed off, realizing he hadn't even stopped to find out what had killed Peter. His eyes followed the trail of blood on Peter's face, back to his hair, back to...
Nathan reached out, as if in a trance, and touched the piece of glass protruding from Peter's skull. He grasped it, not caring if his own hand got cut on the sharp edges, and pulled.
Peter's eyes cleared. He sat up, taking deep grasping breaths.
"Peter!" Angela looked at her sons in shock.
"You saved me," Peter said to Nathan. He smiled up at his older brother.
"You are a pain in my ass," Nathan replied, though the words were muffled as Nathan clung so tightly to Peter that it probably hurt them both.
Nathan went to Peter's apartment. He had a key. When a knock got him nowhere, he let himself in.
He didn't expect to see his mother there.
He also didn't expect to see his brother's corpse on the couch.
"Close the door behind you," Angela said, like that was what mattered.
"He - " Nathan rushed over to Peter's side. He immediately cradled his little brother in his arms, clinging to him, checking him for something, anything to hint at life. There was no pulse, no breath, no warmth. Peter's eyes were clouded over and nobody was home. "No. No no no. Not like this. He's not supposed to die like this!"
"He's gone," Angela said, far too calmly. She shut the door that Nathan had left open, then returned to Nathan's side.
"Peter!" Nathan buried his face against Peter's shoulder. He felt tears pricking his eyes and didn't give a good God-damn about showing this much emotion. He'd lost his little brother. He'd let something slip out of his attention or control and Peter had died because of it. He didn't know if he'd ever forgive himself. "What do we do?"
"We hide it," Angela replied. She didn't even hesitate before offering her response.
Nathan was stunned to discover that this day could somehow become even more surreal. "What?"
"Until after the election is settled," Angela said. "The last thing he would have wanted was to bring you down with him."
"Why does it matter anymore?" Nathan set Peter back down on the couch, not trusting himself to hold his brother's body while this much anger coursed through him. "Peter's dead. I'm not having this conversation."
"Years of planning have gone into this," Angela told Nathan in a tone Nathan recognized from a lifetime of lectures about What Must Be Done For Family, Nathan. "We are not throwing that away because of one incident."
"Inci - your son died, Ma," Nathan snapped at her. "This isn't me getting caught with a hooker. This is the only member of this family who had a damned soul dead because of a - "
Nathan trailed off, realizing he hadn't even stopped to find out what had killed Peter. His eyes followed the trail of blood on Peter's face, back to his hair, back to...
Nathan reached out, as if in a trance, and touched the piece of glass protruding from Peter's skull. He grasped it, not caring if his own hand got cut on the sharp edges, and pulled.
Peter's eyes cleared. He sat up, taking deep grasping breaths.
"Peter!" Angela looked at her sons in shock.
"You saved me," Peter said to Nathan. He smiled up at his older brother.
"You are a pain in my ass," Nathan replied, though the words were muffled as Nathan clung so tightly to Peter that it probably hurt them both.