MCA #4-8, early Monday morning before classes
Nathan woke up in his own bed, with his own clothes yay handwavey magic of Fandom. What he wanted to do was say to himself that he'd just had the craziest dream, and right now he'd have to shake it off so he could make productive use of his Saturday.
There were several problems with this. One: this particular dream had been rather vivid. Two: His clock radio had just gone off and the DJ had proclaimed it to be Monday. Three: There was a cold breeze coming in from the broken window.
Okay. Process. Take control of the situation. That's what he did best. Nathan got out of bed to do just that. It saved him a hell of a lot of time when he walked into the other room and found Peter there.
Peter was standing by the broken window, dressed in the T-shirt and sweats that he liked to sleep in, and looking for all the world like the first thing he'd done when he'd woken up that day was fly, literally, to Nathan's place.
Nathan was 100% okay with that.
"Pete." Nathan pulled his little brother into a tight hug, then let go just enough so that he could check him. No scars. No visible wounds. No signs of the hardened and bitter man his brother had turned into. "You're all right. You're okay."
"You died," Peter said. His voice was muffled as he buried himself against Nathan's chest, holding on to him so tight that it almost hurt.
Nathan bit back his first response. Because yes, his little brother had turned into a nuclear weapon who had then blown up Manhattan but the real problem was that after the fact Nathan had had a run-in with a psycho.
But this was Peter, who wouldn't be who he was if he didn't react in his Peter way. So Nathan rubbed his back and said "I'm fine. It's me. Nobody's killed me. I promise."
"You were President." Peter was smiling. Nathan could feel it through his shirt.
"He was President," Nathan said. He was filing that whole bit away for later. He'd deal with the implications about his political career after he'd gotten a handle on his brother.
"No." Peter looked up at him. His hair was splayed across his face. "You were. They elected you. He had to pretend."
Nathan reminded himself this was not the time to get distracted by Peter's insistence on being proud of him. He brushed Peter's hair out of his eyes and took on the Herculean task of getting Peter to focus. "Okay. Yes. I was President. But I'm not even old enough to run yet so one thing at a time. What about you? Can you do any of the things that - " what the hell did you call it? " - other... you did?"
Peter shook his head. "I tried. I would've teleported here if I could have."
Thank God for small favors.
"Nathan," Peter continued, "that was real. That happened. That was us."
"No, it was not," Nathan said. He used his authoritative voice. The one he used to make it clear that what he was saying was either true, or it was going to be true, and he wasn't accepting any other options. "That was just a - " a what? " - a possibility. A what if? Like your friend Claire. You said she knew an older you? Maybe that was him."
Peter looked him in the eyes. Realization started to take over the dark depression that had been lurking before. "She's your daughter."
Ohhh no. No no no. Not now. One relative at a time, and first on the list was Peter.
"Not mine," Nathan said, not unkindly. "I'm too young, she's too old. See? Different worlds. Little changes, big differences. That future is not going to happen to you."
"But - "
"I'll find out," Nathan said. Then, because it was Peter, he added a look of Please don't press this. Peter knew about Meredith, and how she and Nathan's daughter were supposed to be dead. Were dead, as far as Nathan knew. Young as he was - had been at the time - Peter was the only one who hadn't told Nathan "Maybe it's for the best."
"It can't be a coincidence," Peter said. "Us being here, her being here - "
"We'll figure it out." Nathan hugged Peter close again. "Whatever's going on, whatever needs to be done to fix it. Understand me?"
Peter's response was a silent nod, and holding Nathan tighter.
Nathan kissed the top of Peter's head. "C'mon. We'll have breakfast. You'll go to class so you can keep learning how to control your powers - " which was a tiny bit of manipulation but that didn't make it less true " - I'll make some phone calls. Everything's going to be fine."
Peter didn't move. When he spoke his voice was barely audible. "What if I - "
"You won't," Nathan told him. Again using his authoritative voice. "I promise. It will not happen."
Ever since he was a kid Peter had believed in his brother. Which was good, because it meant Peter nodded, and stepped back, and said, "Okay."
"Good." Nathan cupped Peter's cheek, then pointed him towards the bathroom. "Go. Wash up. I'll make eggs."
Peter went to do just that, and Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. Peter, food - all under control. Small steps, but you had to start somewhere.
Keeping Peter from exploding was just the next item on the list.
[ooc: NFI. That the boys talked is okay for broadcast, content not so much. OOC=AOK]
There were several problems with this. One: this particular dream had been rather vivid. Two: His clock radio had just gone off and the DJ had proclaimed it to be Monday. Three: There was a cold breeze coming in from the broken window.
Okay. Process. Take control of the situation. That's what he did best. Nathan got out of bed to do just that. It saved him a hell of a lot of time when he walked into the other room and found Peter there.
Peter was standing by the broken window, dressed in the T-shirt and sweats that he liked to sleep in, and looking for all the world like the first thing he'd done when he'd woken up that day was fly, literally, to Nathan's place.
Nathan was 100% okay with that.
"Pete." Nathan pulled his little brother into a tight hug, then let go just enough so that he could check him. No scars. No visible wounds. No signs of the hardened and bitter man his brother had turned into. "You're all right. You're okay."
"You died," Peter said. His voice was muffled as he buried himself against Nathan's chest, holding on to him so tight that it almost hurt.
Nathan bit back his first response. Because yes, his little brother had turned into a nuclear weapon who had then blown up Manhattan but the real problem was that after the fact Nathan had had a run-in with a psycho.
But this was Peter, who wouldn't be who he was if he didn't react in his Peter way. So Nathan rubbed his back and said "I'm fine. It's me. Nobody's killed me. I promise."
"You were President." Peter was smiling. Nathan could feel it through his shirt.
"He was President," Nathan said. He was filing that whole bit away for later. He'd deal with the implications about his political career after he'd gotten a handle on his brother.
"No." Peter looked up at him. His hair was splayed across his face. "You were. They elected you. He had to pretend."
Nathan reminded himself this was not the time to get distracted by Peter's insistence on being proud of him. He brushed Peter's hair out of his eyes and took on the Herculean task of getting Peter to focus. "Okay. Yes. I was President. But I'm not even old enough to run yet so one thing at a time. What about you? Can you do any of the things that - " what the hell did you call it? " - other... you did?"
Peter shook his head. "I tried. I would've teleported here if I could have."
Thank God for small favors.
"Nathan," Peter continued, "that was real. That happened. That was us."
"No, it was not," Nathan said. He used his authoritative voice. The one he used to make it clear that what he was saying was either true, or it was going to be true, and he wasn't accepting any other options. "That was just a - " a what? " - a possibility. A what if? Like your friend Claire. You said she knew an older you? Maybe that was him."
Peter looked him in the eyes. Realization started to take over the dark depression that had been lurking before. "She's your daughter."
Ohhh no. No no no. Not now. One relative at a time, and first on the list was Peter.
"Not mine," Nathan said, not unkindly. "I'm too young, she's too old. See? Different worlds. Little changes, big differences. That future is not going to happen to you."
"But - "
"I'll find out," Nathan said. Then, because it was Peter, he added a look of Please don't press this. Peter knew about Meredith, and how she and Nathan's daughter were supposed to be dead. Were dead, as far as Nathan knew. Young as he was - had been at the time - Peter was the only one who hadn't told Nathan "Maybe it's for the best."
"It can't be a coincidence," Peter said. "Us being here, her being here - "
"We'll figure it out." Nathan hugged Peter close again. "Whatever's going on, whatever needs to be done to fix it. Understand me?"
Peter's response was a silent nod, and holding Nathan tighter.
Nathan kissed the top of Peter's head. "C'mon. We'll have breakfast. You'll go to class so you can keep learning how to control your powers - " which was a tiny bit of manipulation but that didn't make it less true " - I'll make some phone calls. Everything's going to be fine."
Peter didn't move. When he spoke his voice was barely audible. "What if I - "
"You won't," Nathan told him. Again using his authoritative voice. "I promise. It will not happen."
Ever since he was a kid Peter had believed in his brother. Which was good, because it meant Peter nodded, and stepped back, and said, "Okay."
"Good." Nathan cupped Peter's cheek, then pointed him towards the bathroom. "Go. Wash up. I'll make eggs."
Peter went to do just that, and Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. Peter, food - all under control. Small steps, but you had to start somewhere.
Keeping Peter from exploding was just the next item on the list.
[ooc: NFI. That the boys talked is okay for broadcast, content not so much. OOC=AOK]