Lifeline for heroes_bigboom; Peter/Nathan; Heroes; Part II
Fic title: Lifeline
Author name: triciasama @ tricias_flaunt
Artist credit(s): notsostrange
Art link: Cover art by notsostrange
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Nathan/Peter, Nathan/OMC
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Word Count: ~21,000
Warnings/Spoilers: “How to Stop an Exploding Man”
Summary: Peter and Nathan had a bond, maybe even stronger, more complicated than the blood that connects them as brothers. A story of moments that defined, moments that put them together, drew them apart... of love, betrayal, comfort, scars and lucky rocketship socks.
Author’s notes: Written for heroes_bigboom. Betaed by the amazing raihon, any other mistakes are mine. Feedback much appreciated as it’s the first time I’ve ever written anything more than 7000 words.
Link to fic:
Part I: Relations | Part II: Comfort | Part III: Precognition | Part IV: Scars | Part V:Frozen | Part VI: Connections
Lifeline, Part II - Comfort
When Peter was three, Nathan was busy with high school.
Peter was a dreamer even then. He would climb onto a bookshelf and try to jump onto the couch because he believed that it was a high crevice of mountains in between and he was the hardy adventurer who needed to jump over and claim the treasure chest. He tore the cushions from the antique sofa in the study to make a fortress to defend against the fire-breathing dragons.
In kindergarten he would sit quietly in a corner staring at the table while other children lined up and played games. Homework was an especially trying time, both for his mother and himself because all he wanted to do was sit on his bed and pretend it was a ship instead of holding a pencil and learning to write the alphabet. Nathan used to love colouring and writing numbers, she would tell him. Nathan learned to walk faster than he did, learned to talk faster than he did, had a better first birthday party than he did.
His brother was always better than him. He knew that. He knew his parents wanted him to know that.
There was once when he clambered up and down the spiral staircase pretending he was climbing a mountain or just running for plain fun, the study door swung open. It was his father. His father was angry. He didn’t like to be disturbed when he was working in the study. Peter stopped. He cried.
His father didn’t scold him. All he did was look at him exasperatedly and said to the crying child, “Why can’t you be more like your brother?” before turning back into the study, closing the door behind him.
That was enough to hurt.
Peter didn’t hate his brother for that. Instead, he just didn’t understand why he couldn’t be as good as his brother even when he tried so hard.
He loved his brother. He loved the rare occasions when Nathan was free and he would give him piggyback rides so high he felt like he was flying. It was Nathan who taught him to curl his tongue (even though he didn’t quite succeed) and blow on a piece of candy wrapper to make a weird noise. That was when he wasn’t at soccer practice or those strange sounding things called meetings and lessons and sorts. Peter used to wait at the window with his stuffed dog for Nathan to come home.
One afternoon when Nathan came home, drove home in his new red car he just got for his birthday, Peter ran out to greet him. He hoisted him up on his shoulders and Peter laughed, screaming happily as Nathan tore across the lawn. An airplane passed by overhead, engines roaring and both of them looked up.
“Aewopwane.” Peter said as he pointed into the sky. Nathan smiled, watching mesmerised as the plane disappeared into the clouds. Nathan had always wanted to be a pilot, to fly.
“What do you wanna be when you grow up, Pete?”
Maybe a fireman, or a pilot, or even a doctor. He didn’t know. So many jobs to choose from and they all seemed so cool.
Peter thought seriously for a moment and looked down at Nathan.
“You.”
--
Nathan was popular. Even Peter’s young mind could sense that. Popular meant like Terry at kindergarten when everyone looked and listened intently when you talked. They liked to play with you, make friends with you and even let you have the swing at the playground sometimes.
So when Nathan had his sixteenth birthday party and it was crowded and unsettling, he was not surprised. The people were not wearing suits like his father’s business parties where he spent the night in the playroom and watching TV and keeping out of the way. They were loud, young and bright. He discovered that when he ran downstairs to blow out the candles and have cake.
Nathan’s girlfriend was beside him. She was a pretty thing, all curled hair and mature compared to the other girls with their braces and awkward grace. They all sang and Nathan let Peter blow out the candles on the cake.
Peter was waiting to get a piece of the chocolate cake when suddenly Nathan was face down in the cake, cream all over his face and his friends laughing around him. He didn’t like that. It scared him. Why did they put cream all over Nathan’s face? He bit his lip. He didn’t want to cry in front of Nathan’s friends. He was a big boy now, he wasn’t a baby anymore.
Nathan managed to wipe the cream off his face with some paper towels. He was laughing. Peter just sat there in the huge chair for a moment at the foot of the table, listening to the loud music blaring and feeling strange and scared as his feet dangled a few feet from the floor. He was deciding that he wanted to leave and go upstairs and watch TV instead when Nathan leaned over and ruffled his hair.
“Pete, you wanna stay?”
Peter was scared but Nathan was there and asking him to stay so he nodded. Nathan winked and hoisted him out from the chair onto the floor.
“Come on, let’s dance.” Nathan said, and he grabbed Peter’s arms and twirled him around and around until he laughed and laughed because he felt like he was flying. The girls giggled and the boys laughed at them both. It was only until their mother came and told Peter it was time for bed that Nathan stopped, steadying the dizzy little boy.
“I’m sure this boy had his fill of fun.” Angela Petrelli said, amused, as she collected Peter in her arms. “He needs his sleep.”
Peter was halfway up the staircase when he saw Nathan’s girlfriend, Amy, walking towards Nathan. Amy frowned at Peter, leaned over and said something to Nathan. Peter was far, but not far enough to not catch what the disgruntled girlfriend was yelling over the loud music.
“Why do you always spend so much time with that runt?”
Peter never really saw her around after that and when he asked Nathan, he said something weird like ‘broke up’. People weren’t things, they didn’t break into pieces. But he didn’t really like Amy anyway; Nathan had more time with him now and that was all mattered.
--
He was his lifeline.
He comforted him and he made him smile and that was all they needed.
--
Nathan met Meredith when he was studying political science in college. She was a waitress at the diner on campus. She always knew what he liked - apple pie with a cold glass of milk when it was the afternoon, meatloaf with potatoes and gravy on the side for dinner when he dropped by. They had specials on the chocolate chip peanut butter milkshakes as well and she would share one with him sometimes.
She was different. Different from all the other girls he knew. She was bright, full of character, free and alive. With her, he wasn’t the valedictorian, the captain of the debate team, the strong socialite with practised charm… She didn’t expect him to understand what he was doing all the time; neither did she hate him for rambling off sometimes about his work and his assignments and the professors.
She was a change. She was someone who actually liked him for who he was and not what he was. He didn’t like being defined by what he was because sometimes you’ll lose that. Sometimes, it’s just too easy to lose it all.
The first time he asked her out she said yes. He took her to dinner, a movie - the usual package. She turned up in a pretty little green dress she said she kept for special occasions. He took her to an Italian place with chequered tablecloths and a fireplace. He remembered she look beautiful in the dim lighting, her curly blonde tendrils cascading down her shoulders and a childlike awe in her eyes.
“This is a beautiful place, Nathan. Thanks for bringing me here,” she said in her Southern drawl as the waiter handed her the menu. She giggled. “A change from serving, this being served.”
“You’re welcome,” he smiled back, clearly amused. They glanced at the menu for a while, even though Nathan already knew what he wanted to order, peering over the top of the wooden slat at a confused Meredith.
“I don’t know what to order. I can’t even pronounce all these fancy Italian words.” She said exasperatedly in a low voice, tinge of laugh in her tone.
“Alla Parmigiana” Meredith tried to pronounce it. “I make it sound like A La Parparika. And this clam thing is…”
“Vongole in Brondo.” Nathan pronounced in fluent Italian.
“Von-ghel-in-Brawn-do.” She said seriously, drawing out the syllables slowly while a grin twisted at Nathan’s lips.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I hate you.”
“Ti odio,” he translated almost mischievously and she laughed.
He laughed, too. Her smile was infectious, just like her energy. He could swear that she had a spark in her, burning into fire.
The waiter came over and they placed their orders, with Nathan deciding to complement the meal by adding a bottle of house wine. Meredith was sitting there, staring at the decorations with a detailed eye and it was only when the waiter arrived with the bottle of wine that she looked back at him and smiled a nervous smile.
“How was your day?” Meredith asked as she lifted the glass of wine to her lips.
“Okay. Lectures as usual. How interesting can politics get anyway?” He smiled because he found it funny. Meredith didn’t laugh, but she looked at him over the rim of her wine glass, thinking.
“It’s hard, isn’t it? I mean, doing what you need to do... instead of what you want to do.” She said casually as she put down her glass.
Meredith knew that Nathan wanted nothing better than to be a pilot and not a lawyer like his father, but she wouldn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. “Waitressing isn’t that easy either, right?” He tried, his voice low.
“It’s not too bad. I met you, didn't I? …and you’re gonna take real good care of me, right?” It sounded almost hopeful.
“The best for you, Mer.” He said, and he meant it.
They stopped talking for a moment and he found himself staring at the lipstick print on the glass - a light, peachy tone with a trace of cigarette ash. She smoked and he hated it. He remembered one time she was out on a smoking break and when she came back he asked her for her lighter to weld his paper clip but she said she didn’t have one. Then how did you light your cigarette? Oh, there was someone else out there smoking so I sort of borrowed theirs. Oh, okay.
At least she never smoked when he was around. She promised to quit if they ever got together.
Nathan was jolted from his thoughts when she started speaking. He looked up. She was glowing under the dim lighting, like an ember.
“You know what? I’m gonna call my cousin down in the airfield nearby. I’m sure he coulda give you some lessons for cheap.”
“Oh no, no, no. It’s too-” He tried to interject.
“When are ya gonna learn to fly? Come on, it’s a chance. Your ma doesn’t have to know about it either and you’ll still be going to college like a good boy, get your degree.”
Flying. Flying like he wanted to do since he was a kid and there was an opportunity, shining in front of him. He considered it for a while, rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed.
When he opened his eyes, he reached over and held her hand.
“…Thanks. It means a lot to me.”
“I knew it would.” She said softly.
The day Nathan got his pilot’s license, Meredith told him she was pregnant with their child.
She had dragged him out from the diner into the break room where coffee cups littered the floor and rock music was playing from an old radio, wiping her hands on her apron before looking up at him with that sparkle, that fire in her eyes, and told him that she was going to have a baby.
“If it’s a boy I wanna call him Neal after my grandpa. And if it’s a girl I wanna call her Claire. I’ve always thought it was a beautiful name.” She rambled on excitedly, complaining about how she wouldn’t be able to smoke but jumping quickly to the realisation that she was going to have a baby, their baby, again. She only stopped when he swept her up in a tight hug, planting a kiss laughingly on her forehead.
“It’s settled then. We’re getting married.”
“You think I’ll be able to see your house?” She is as exuberant as ever, almost bouncing on her heels. “You make it sound so… huge! And I can’t wait to see lil’ Peter. You’ve talked so much about him. How about your parents? Will they be all right with this?” The thought suddenly occurred to her and she seemed anxious.
“I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.” He reassured her with a smile.
They weren’t.
“She won’t do the abortion! She won’t take the money! You don’t know her, mom!”
His tone was rigid, loud, but not rude. He was arguing, arguing with his mother because they didn’t want the low class whore marrying her son, baby or not. They were in the living room, in the huge house that Meredith would never see, with Nathan seated at the table, his mother behind him, holding his shoulders firmly.
“You’re right.” She said quietly and Nathan looked up, a glint of hope in his eyes betraying the sudden thought that maybe this wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.
“She won’t do the abortion, but she took the money readily.” He stiffened, teeth gnashing on his lower lip. No, it wasn’t true. She wouldn’t do that. She didn’t know Meredith like I did. “And since we’re leaving for New York - to your grandfather’s estate - as soon as possible, we won’t be seeing her around for a while, at least.”
“We’re not leaving.” Nathan nearly choked, a futile argument even to himself.
“It’s for the best, Nathan. You know that,” she said with a tone of finality, patting him on the shoulder before clopping away on her heels, her expression wooden.
It’s for the best. It’s for the best
He punched the table, not looking even as the precariously perched vase fell off the table and shattered, spreading a trail of water and the fresh white lily his mother used to order from the florist everyday at his feet - like an impromptu funeral offering.
Maybe it was. It felt like a funeral. His funeral.
He could feel Peter standing at the doorway, peeking. He tried not to cry. He couldn’t let his little brother see him cry. And that was one of the times he wished that Peter wasn’t around, that he was in his damn playroom playing with his damn toys or watching television because he just didn’t want to keep up this face anymore.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” Nathan told the table, but Peter knew it was about him. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be listening. He wasn’t supposed to be listening when two people were shouting or when mom yelled at Nathan. So he turned around and ran back upstairs.
Nathan sat that for a while, clenching and unclenching his fists because he didn’t like it when he couldn’t do anything about a problem. There was a way out. There was always a way out. Even if there wasn’t, well, there were ways he could feel less miserable about it.
The dining chair scraped across the tiled floor as he stood up suddenly, walking purposefully over to the window.
He picked up the phone.
His mother had already cut the line.
He slammed down the receiver, feeling physically sick. He heard a clack, and then a thunderous crash from upstairs and he turned.
A toy plane sailed down the banister, clanking onto the ground and he heard Peter yelling. Yelling and crying because he wanted to stay here in this house and go to his school to be with his friends and not move to this place called New York.
Nathan hated this. Nathan hated himself for wanting to be himself.
Maybe he should just follow what his mother dictated. To mould him into another more successful version of his father. At least if he did that, Peter wouldn’t have to do it. He wouldn’t have to do what was for the best, wouldn’t be expected to follow in his father’s footsteps because he had to. He would be able to do what he wanted, to be more than just another Petrelli.
On the flight to New York, Peter didn’t talk to Nathan. He just sat there with his bowl-cut hair and stared into a new book he had bought at the airport. Nathan watched painfully as a tear glided down the young boy’s nose onto the page. He sniffled, wiped it away with his sleeve before he looked up.
His little brother looked up at him across the aisle, the mirror of tears glistening in his eyes, not angry, but almost questioning. Nathan looked away; him - a grownup man -who couldn’t look into a child’s eyes.
It was his fault, even if Peter didn’t blame him for it.
Watching as his home fled beneath a sea of cotton-candy clouds, he sipped a cup of cold tea, draining the last drop and looked into it, feeling as empty as the plastic cup he had in his hands.
--
The thunderstorms in New York were different from the ones in Texas. The ones in New York were darker, heavier, but tamer - a calmer, controlled, maybe even more depressed version of the unruly thunderstorms in Texas. The thunderstorms back in his hometown were a whirlwind of unruly force; a burst of energy sweeping in right after you tasted the moisture in the air.
It scared Peter. It also reminded him that he wasn’t home. Not at home because New York wasn’t home.
The lightning flashed again and Peter pulled up his covers, looking at the clock on his nightstand. It was midnight. He had never stayed up this late before. The bed didn’t feel like his. Mom and dad were out on a business trip. They told him they’ll be back real soon. This didn’t feel like real soon to him at all.
Nathan. Nathan was still around. He could go to his room and sleep. He was sure Nathan wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t scold him for being up so late either.
Peter slid out of his bed, gathering his pillow with the bulldozer pillowcase on it and walked out of his room, wandering down the darkened hallway. The thunder rumbled, sending vibrations on the wooden flooring beneath his bare feet. Shadows blended on the wall with the geometrical squares of light cast by the wan moonlight that filtered through the heavy rain clouds. Peter fumbled for the doorknob. The door was locked, but he could see the square of orange light beneath the door.
He heard the bed creak as Nathan got up. The lock opened with a click and the door opened, showing Nathan with a book brandished in his hand.
“Hey Pete, whatcha want?”
Nathan could stay up as late as he wanted because he was a big boy now. Peter was only six. He wished that he could grow up quickly so he could stay up as late as he wanted to. That would be nice. He would watch as much TV as he wanted and eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.
“I’m scared and mom and dad're away. Can I sleep here?” Peter asked his big brother.
“Mmm?” Nathan seemed surprised. “Sure.”
Nathan walked over and put his book on the nightstand. The lightning flashed again, punctuated by an explosive roll of thunder. Peter jumped onto the bed and burrowed under the covers, putting the pillow over his head and laughing. Nathan laughed as well, running a playful hand over Peter’s long, ruffled hair as he sat on the bed.
“You know what, you shouldn’t be afraid of thunderstorms…”
“But they’re scary!” Peter protested, peeping out beneath the pillow and the covers.
Nathan patted him on the head and lay down beside him. Peter yawned.
“Go to sleep.” Nathan said in a mock stern voice. If Peter didn’t know he was teasing, his tone would have been hard and authorative. He squeezed his eyes shut, giggling.
“You see…” Peter heard Nathan starting to explain. “When it rains there are a lot of clouds in the sky. So the clouds tend to bump into each other and the different charges causes lightning to be formed. And lightning travels through the air really fast so it makes a loud noise called thunder.” He loved it when Nathan explained things to him. It made him feel important and wanted. He could even go to school and tell the others all about it and they would hang onto his every word because he knew so much.
“So even though they happen at the same time, you see lightning first because light travels faster than sound.” Nathan continued and Peter pulled down the covers, looking at his brother.
“We learned that in science already, but I didn’t know lightning and thunder worked the same way.” Peter told Nathan. He smiled his gap-toothed smile. “That’s cool.”
They stared up at the ceiling, at the dancing shadows and hearing the rain slashing against the window.
“Why did we have to move?” Peter suddenly asked.
“Dad got a job here.” Nathan replied shortly.
Peter stared up at the ceiling again for a while, wincing slightly as the lightning flashed outside the window. “It’s not that. It’s something else.”
“What makes you think it’s something else?” Nathan tried to keep his tone neutral.
“You and mom… she made us move here, right? You didn’t want to.”
Nathan’s tone hardened. “You weren’t supposed to be listening-”
“Why, Nathan?” Peter’s voice was small, meek. “I miss home so much. I miss school there. I miss my friends.”
It hurt. Hurt to know that he did this to his brother. That what he wanted - to settle down with a girl he loved, stay back in Texas and raise their child - wasn’t good enough because he had to be someone else. Someone else that everybody needed him to be.
“Sometimes we just have to accept what comes. It’s our destiny.” Nathan finally decided on the answer, the answer that his parents always gave him.
“What’s destiny?”
“You’ll know when you grow up.”
“Why does it take so long to grow up?” Peter insisted.
“God made it that way.” Nathan answered after a pause.
“Did God make us this way too?”
“Yes. God made everything.” He said, even though he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything right now.
“Did God make this thing you call… des-destiny or something?”
“Destiny. Yes, God makes all our destinies too.” Nathan replied, almost to himself. He reached over and turned off the light, smoothing Peter’s ruffled bangs in the half-light. “Go to sleep.”
“Night.” Peter mumbled as if he were half-asleep. His eyes were closed. Nathan settled back on his side of the bed.
“Night.”
Even when Peter’s chest rose and fell calmly, soft snores emanating from the tired child, Nathan was still awake. The storm was dying down, the trickle of water from the gutters running down the metal grates outside. Drip, drip, drip. A stroke of lightning flashed behind the thick fabric of the curtains. The rumble was heard much later.
Nathan lay awake. He tried closing his eyes. He saw Meredith. He saw his mother telling him over and over again that it was his destiny to be strong and perfect and ready for what his future held. He saw the men in the business suits who came in and out of his house and talked about him, talked about his father and some company that no one wanted him to know about. He saw his life and wondered what it was.
It’s our destiny, he had told Peter. He himself didn’t even know whether destiny existed. You always say it’s for the best, mother. It’s in my destiny. My destiny you said. What was his destiny? Why did he have to follow it? Why was the future written in stone? What is destiny?
Peter shifted, kicking his legs and rested them on Nathan’s chest. The boy was sleeping sideways on the bed, lost in slumber. Nathan swallowed, looked down at his brother who lay sleeping so peacefully.
He hoped Peter wouldn’t have to go through this.
Peter didn’t have to go through this anymore if he did. If he turned out to be the one, the one they needed, as his mother had told him a thousand times.
It was quiet outside now. Nathan stopped thinking, curled his arm around his little brother, smelling the bubblegum shampoo that Peter used and fell asleep.
Part III: Precognition
Author name: triciasama @ tricias_flaunt
Artist credit(s): notsostrange
Art link: Cover art by notsostrange
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Nathan/Peter, Nathan/OMC
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Word Count: ~21,000
Warnings/Spoilers: “How to Stop an Exploding Man”
Summary: Peter and Nathan had a bond, maybe even stronger, more complicated than the blood that connects them as brothers. A story of moments that defined, moments that put them together, drew them apart... of love, betrayal, comfort, scars and lucky rocketship socks.
Author’s notes: Written for heroes_bigboom. Betaed by the amazing raihon, any other mistakes are mine. Feedback much appreciated as it’s the first time I’ve ever written anything more than 7000 words.
Link to fic:
Part I: Relations | Part II: Comfort | Part III: Precognition | Part IV: Scars | Part V:Frozen | Part VI: Connections
Lifeline, Part II - Comfort
When Peter was three, Nathan was busy with high school.
Peter was a dreamer even then. He would climb onto a bookshelf and try to jump onto the couch because he believed that it was a high crevice of mountains in between and he was the hardy adventurer who needed to jump over and claim the treasure chest. He tore the cushions from the antique sofa in the study to make a fortress to defend against the fire-breathing dragons.
In kindergarten he would sit quietly in a corner staring at the table while other children lined up and played games. Homework was an especially trying time, both for his mother and himself because all he wanted to do was sit on his bed and pretend it was a ship instead of holding a pencil and learning to write the alphabet. Nathan used to love colouring and writing numbers, she would tell him. Nathan learned to walk faster than he did, learned to talk faster than he did, had a better first birthday party than he did.
His brother was always better than him. He knew that. He knew his parents wanted him to know that.
There was once when he clambered up and down the spiral staircase pretending he was climbing a mountain or just running for plain fun, the study door swung open. It was his father. His father was angry. He didn’t like to be disturbed when he was working in the study. Peter stopped. He cried.
His father didn’t scold him. All he did was look at him exasperatedly and said to the crying child, “Why can’t you be more like your brother?” before turning back into the study, closing the door behind him.
That was enough to hurt.
Peter didn’t hate his brother for that. Instead, he just didn’t understand why he couldn’t be as good as his brother even when he tried so hard.
He loved his brother. He loved the rare occasions when Nathan was free and he would give him piggyback rides so high he felt like he was flying. It was Nathan who taught him to curl his tongue (even though he didn’t quite succeed) and blow on a piece of candy wrapper to make a weird noise. That was when he wasn’t at soccer practice or those strange sounding things called meetings and lessons and sorts. Peter used to wait at the window with his stuffed dog for Nathan to come home.
One afternoon when Nathan came home, drove home in his new red car he just got for his birthday, Peter ran out to greet him. He hoisted him up on his shoulders and Peter laughed, screaming happily as Nathan tore across the lawn. An airplane passed by overhead, engines roaring and both of them looked up.
“Aewopwane.” Peter said as he pointed into the sky. Nathan smiled, watching mesmerised as the plane disappeared into the clouds. Nathan had always wanted to be a pilot, to fly.
“What do you wanna be when you grow up, Pete?”
Maybe a fireman, or a pilot, or even a doctor. He didn’t know. So many jobs to choose from and they all seemed so cool.
Peter thought seriously for a moment and looked down at Nathan.
“You.”
--
Nathan was popular. Even Peter’s young mind could sense that. Popular meant like Terry at kindergarten when everyone looked and listened intently when you talked. They liked to play with you, make friends with you and even let you have the swing at the playground sometimes.
So when Nathan had his sixteenth birthday party and it was crowded and unsettling, he was not surprised. The people were not wearing suits like his father’s business parties where he spent the night in the playroom and watching TV and keeping out of the way. They were loud, young and bright. He discovered that when he ran downstairs to blow out the candles and have cake.
Nathan’s girlfriend was beside him. She was a pretty thing, all curled hair and mature compared to the other girls with their braces and awkward grace. They all sang and Nathan let Peter blow out the candles on the cake.
Peter was waiting to get a piece of the chocolate cake when suddenly Nathan was face down in the cake, cream all over his face and his friends laughing around him. He didn’t like that. It scared him. Why did they put cream all over Nathan’s face? He bit his lip. He didn’t want to cry in front of Nathan’s friends. He was a big boy now, he wasn’t a baby anymore.
Nathan managed to wipe the cream off his face with some paper towels. He was laughing. Peter just sat there in the huge chair for a moment at the foot of the table, listening to the loud music blaring and feeling strange and scared as his feet dangled a few feet from the floor. He was deciding that he wanted to leave and go upstairs and watch TV instead when Nathan leaned over and ruffled his hair.
“Pete, you wanna stay?”
Peter was scared but Nathan was there and asking him to stay so he nodded. Nathan winked and hoisted him out from the chair onto the floor.
“Come on, let’s dance.” Nathan said, and he grabbed Peter’s arms and twirled him around and around until he laughed and laughed because he felt like he was flying. The girls giggled and the boys laughed at them both. It was only until their mother came and told Peter it was time for bed that Nathan stopped, steadying the dizzy little boy.
“I’m sure this boy had his fill of fun.” Angela Petrelli said, amused, as she collected Peter in her arms. “He needs his sleep.”
Peter was halfway up the staircase when he saw Nathan’s girlfriend, Amy, walking towards Nathan. Amy frowned at Peter, leaned over and said something to Nathan. Peter was far, but not far enough to not catch what the disgruntled girlfriend was yelling over the loud music.
“Why do you always spend so much time with that runt?”
Peter never really saw her around after that and when he asked Nathan, he said something weird like ‘broke up’. People weren’t things, they didn’t break into pieces. But he didn’t really like Amy anyway; Nathan had more time with him now and that was all mattered.
--
He was his lifeline.
He comforted him and he made him smile and that was all they needed.
--
Nathan met Meredith when he was studying political science in college. She was a waitress at the diner on campus. She always knew what he liked - apple pie with a cold glass of milk when it was the afternoon, meatloaf with potatoes and gravy on the side for dinner when he dropped by. They had specials on the chocolate chip peanut butter milkshakes as well and she would share one with him sometimes.
She was different. Different from all the other girls he knew. She was bright, full of character, free and alive. With her, he wasn’t the valedictorian, the captain of the debate team, the strong socialite with practised charm… She didn’t expect him to understand what he was doing all the time; neither did she hate him for rambling off sometimes about his work and his assignments and the professors.
She was a change. She was someone who actually liked him for who he was and not what he was. He didn’t like being defined by what he was because sometimes you’ll lose that. Sometimes, it’s just too easy to lose it all.
The first time he asked her out she said yes. He took her to dinner, a movie - the usual package. She turned up in a pretty little green dress she said she kept for special occasions. He took her to an Italian place with chequered tablecloths and a fireplace. He remembered she look beautiful in the dim lighting, her curly blonde tendrils cascading down her shoulders and a childlike awe in her eyes.
“This is a beautiful place, Nathan. Thanks for bringing me here,” she said in her Southern drawl as the waiter handed her the menu. She giggled. “A change from serving, this being served.”
“You’re welcome,” he smiled back, clearly amused. They glanced at the menu for a while, even though Nathan already knew what he wanted to order, peering over the top of the wooden slat at a confused Meredith.
“I don’t know what to order. I can’t even pronounce all these fancy Italian words.” She said exasperatedly in a low voice, tinge of laugh in her tone.
“Alla Parmigiana” Meredith tried to pronounce it. “I make it sound like A La Parparika. And this clam thing is…”
“Vongole in Brondo.” Nathan pronounced in fluent Italian.
“Von-ghel-in-Brawn-do.” She said seriously, drawing out the syllables slowly while a grin twisted at Nathan’s lips.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I hate you.”
“Ti odio,” he translated almost mischievously and she laughed.
He laughed, too. Her smile was infectious, just like her energy. He could swear that she had a spark in her, burning into fire.
The waiter came over and they placed their orders, with Nathan deciding to complement the meal by adding a bottle of house wine. Meredith was sitting there, staring at the decorations with a detailed eye and it was only when the waiter arrived with the bottle of wine that she looked back at him and smiled a nervous smile.
“How was your day?” Meredith asked as she lifted the glass of wine to her lips.
“Okay. Lectures as usual. How interesting can politics get anyway?” He smiled because he found it funny. Meredith didn’t laugh, but she looked at him over the rim of her wine glass, thinking.
“It’s hard, isn’t it? I mean, doing what you need to do... instead of what you want to do.” She said casually as she put down her glass.
Meredith knew that Nathan wanted nothing better than to be a pilot and not a lawyer like his father, but she wouldn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. “Waitressing isn’t that easy either, right?” He tried, his voice low.
“It’s not too bad. I met you, didn't I? …and you’re gonna take real good care of me, right?” It sounded almost hopeful.
“The best for you, Mer.” He said, and he meant it.
They stopped talking for a moment and he found himself staring at the lipstick print on the glass - a light, peachy tone with a trace of cigarette ash. She smoked and he hated it. He remembered one time she was out on a smoking break and when she came back he asked her for her lighter to weld his paper clip but she said she didn’t have one. Then how did you light your cigarette? Oh, there was someone else out there smoking so I sort of borrowed theirs. Oh, okay.
At least she never smoked when he was around. She promised to quit if they ever got together.
Nathan was jolted from his thoughts when she started speaking. He looked up. She was glowing under the dim lighting, like an ember.
“You know what? I’m gonna call my cousin down in the airfield nearby. I’m sure he coulda give you some lessons for cheap.”
“Oh no, no, no. It’s too-” He tried to interject.
“When are ya gonna learn to fly? Come on, it’s a chance. Your ma doesn’t have to know about it either and you’ll still be going to college like a good boy, get your degree.”
Flying. Flying like he wanted to do since he was a kid and there was an opportunity, shining in front of him. He considered it for a while, rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed.
When he opened his eyes, he reached over and held her hand.
“…Thanks. It means a lot to me.”
“I knew it would.” She said softly.
The day Nathan got his pilot’s license, Meredith told him she was pregnant with their child.
She had dragged him out from the diner into the break room where coffee cups littered the floor and rock music was playing from an old radio, wiping her hands on her apron before looking up at him with that sparkle, that fire in her eyes, and told him that she was going to have a baby.
“If it’s a boy I wanna call him Neal after my grandpa. And if it’s a girl I wanna call her Claire. I’ve always thought it was a beautiful name.” She rambled on excitedly, complaining about how she wouldn’t be able to smoke but jumping quickly to the realisation that she was going to have a baby, their baby, again. She only stopped when he swept her up in a tight hug, planting a kiss laughingly on her forehead.
“It’s settled then. We’re getting married.”
“You think I’ll be able to see your house?” She is as exuberant as ever, almost bouncing on her heels. “You make it sound so… huge! And I can’t wait to see lil’ Peter. You’ve talked so much about him. How about your parents? Will they be all right with this?” The thought suddenly occurred to her and she seemed anxious.
“I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.” He reassured her with a smile.
They weren’t.
“She won’t do the abortion! She won’t take the money! You don’t know her, mom!”
His tone was rigid, loud, but not rude. He was arguing, arguing with his mother because they didn’t want the low class whore marrying her son, baby or not. They were in the living room, in the huge house that Meredith would never see, with Nathan seated at the table, his mother behind him, holding his shoulders firmly.
“You’re right.” She said quietly and Nathan looked up, a glint of hope in his eyes betraying the sudden thought that maybe this wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.
“She won’t do the abortion, but she took the money readily.” He stiffened, teeth gnashing on his lower lip. No, it wasn’t true. She wouldn’t do that. She didn’t know Meredith like I did. “And since we’re leaving for New York - to your grandfather’s estate - as soon as possible, we won’t be seeing her around for a while, at least.”
“We’re not leaving.” Nathan nearly choked, a futile argument even to himself.
“It’s for the best, Nathan. You know that,” she said with a tone of finality, patting him on the shoulder before clopping away on her heels, her expression wooden.
It’s for the best. It’s for the best
He punched the table, not looking even as the precariously perched vase fell off the table and shattered, spreading a trail of water and the fresh white lily his mother used to order from the florist everyday at his feet - like an impromptu funeral offering.
Maybe it was. It felt like a funeral. His funeral.
He could feel Peter standing at the doorway, peeking. He tried not to cry. He couldn’t let his little brother see him cry. And that was one of the times he wished that Peter wasn’t around, that he was in his damn playroom playing with his damn toys or watching television because he just didn’t want to keep up this face anymore.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” Nathan told the table, but Peter knew it was about him. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be listening. He wasn’t supposed to be listening when two people were shouting or when mom yelled at Nathan. So he turned around and ran back upstairs.
Nathan sat that for a while, clenching and unclenching his fists because he didn’t like it when he couldn’t do anything about a problem. There was a way out. There was always a way out. Even if there wasn’t, well, there were ways he could feel less miserable about it.
The dining chair scraped across the tiled floor as he stood up suddenly, walking purposefully over to the window.
He picked up the phone.
His mother had already cut the line.
He slammed down the receiver, feeling physically sick. He heard a clack, and then a thunderous crash from upstairs and he turned.
A toy plane sailed down the banister, clanking onto the ground and he heard Peter yelling. Yelling and crying because he wanted to stay here in this house and go to his school to be with his friends and not move to this place called New York.
Nathan hated this. Nathan hated himself for wanting to be himself.
Maybe he should just follow what his mother dictated. To mould him into another more successful version of his father. At least if he did that, Peter wouldn’t have to do it. He wouldn’t have to do what was for the best, wouldn’t be expected to follow in his father’s footsteps because he had to. He would be able to do what he wanted, to be more than just another Petrelli.
On the flight to New York, Peter didn’t talk to Nathan. He just sat there with his bowl-cut hair and stared into a new book he had bought at the airport. Nathan watched painfully as a tear glided down the young boy’s nose onto the page. He sniffled, wiped it away with his sleeve before he looked up.
His little brother looked up at him across the aisle, the mirror of tears glistening in his eyes, not angry, but almost questioning. Nathan looked away; him - a grownup man -who couldn’t look into a child’s eyes.
It was his fault, even if Peter didn’t blame him for it.
Watching as his home fled beneath a sea of cotton-candy clouds, he sipped a cup of cold tea, draining the last drop and looked into it, feeling as empty as the plastic cup he had in his hands.
--
The thunderstorms in New York were different from the ones in Texas. The ones in New York were darker, heavier, but tamer - a calmer, controlled, maybe even more depressed version of the unruly thunderstorms in Texas. The thunderstorms back in his hometown were a whirlwind of unruly force; a burst of energy sweeping in right after you tasted the moisture in the air.
It scared Peter. It also reminded him that he wasn’t home. Not at home because New York wasn’t home.
The lightning flashed again and Peter pulled up his covers, looking at the clock on his nightstand. It was midnight. He had never stayed up this late before. The bed didn’t feel like his. Mom and dad were out on a business trip. They told him they’ll be back real soon. This didn’t feel like real soon to him at all.
Nathan. Nathan was still around. He could go to his room and sleep. He was sure Nathan wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t scold him for being up so late either.
Peter slid out of his bed, gathering his pillow with the bulldozer pillowcase on it and walked out of his room, wandering down the darkened hallway. The thunder rumbled, sending vibrations on the wooden flooring beneath his bare feet. Shadows blended on the wall with the geometrical squares of light cast by the wan moonlight that filtered through the heavy rain clouds. Peter fumbled for the doorknob. The door was locked, but he could see the square of orange light beneath the door.
He heard the bed creak as Nathan got up. The lock opened with a click and the door opened, showing Nathan with a book brandished in his hand.
“Hey Pete, whatcha want?”
Nathan could stay up as late as he wanted because he was a big boy now. Peter was only six. He wished that he could grow up quickly so he could stay up as late as he wanted to. That would be nice. He would watch as much TV as he wanted and eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.
“I’m scared and mom and dad're away. Can I sleep here?” Peter asked his big brother.
“Mmm?” Nathan seemed surprised. “Sure.”
Nathan walked over and put his book on the nightstand. The lightning flashed again, punctuated by an explosive roll of thunder. Peter jumped onto the bed and burrowed under the covers, putting the pillow over his head and laughing. Nathan laughed as well, running a playful hand over Peter’s long, ruffled hair as he sat on the bed.
“You know what, you shouldn’t be afraid of thunderstorms…”
“But they’re scary!” Peter protested, peeping out beneath the pillow and the covers.
Nathan patted him on the head and lay down beside him. Peter yawned.
“Go to sleep.” Nathan said in a mock stern voice. If Peter didn’t know he was teasing, his tone would have been hard and authorative. He squeezed his eyes shut, giggling.
“You see…” Peter heard Nathan starting to explain. “When it rains there are a lot of clouds in the sky. So the clouds tend to bump into each other and the different charges causes lightning to be formed. And lightning travels through the air really fast so it makes a loud noise called thunder.” He loved it when Nathan explained things to him. It made him feel important and wanted. He could even go to school and tell the others all about it and they would hang onto his every word because he knew so much.
“So even though they happen at the same time, you see lightning first because light travels faster than sound.” Nathan continued and Peter pulled down the covers, looking at his brother.
“We learned that in science already, but I didn’t know lightning and thunder worked the same way.” Peter told Nathan. He smiled his gap-toothed smile. “That’s cool.”
They stared up at the ceiling, at the dancing shadows and hearing the rain slashing against the window.
“Why did we have to move?” Peter suddenly asked.
“Dad got a job here.” Nathan replied shortly.
Peter stared up at the ceiling again for a while, wincing slightly as the lightning flashed outside the window. “It’s not that. It’s something else.”
“What makes you think it’s something else?” Nathan tried to keep his tone neutral.
“You and mom… she made us move here, right? You didn’t want to.”
Nathan’s tone hardened. “You weren’t supposed to be listening-”
“Why, Nathan?” Peter’s voice was small, meek. “I miss home so much. I miss school there. I miss my friends.”
It hurt. Hurt to know that he did this to his brother. That what he wanted - to settle down with a girl he loved, stay back in Texas and raise their child - wasn’t good enough because he had to be someone else. Someone else that everybody needed him to be.
“Sometimes we just have to accept what comes. It’s our destiny.” Nathan finally decided on the answer, the answer that his parents always gave him.
“What’s destiny?”
“You’ll know when you grow up.”
“Why does it take so long to grow up?” Peter insisted.
“God made it that way.” Nathan answered after a pause.
“Did God make us this way too?”
“Yes. God made everything.” He said, even though he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything right now.
“Did God make this thing you call… des-destiny or something?”
“Destiny. Yes, God makes all our destinies too.” Nathan replied, almost to himself. He reached over and turned off the light, smoothing Peter’s ruffled bangs in the half-light. “Go to sleep.”
“Night.” Peter mumbled as if he were half-asleep. His eyes were closed. Nathan settled back on his side of the bed.
“Night.”
Even when Peter’s chest rose and fell calmly, soft snores emanating from the tired child, Nathan was still awake. The storm was dying down, the trickle of water from the gutters running down the metal grates outside. Drip, drip, drip. A stroke of lightning flashed behind the thick fabric of the curtains. The rumble was heard much later.
Nathan lay awake. He tried closing his eyes. He saw Meredith. He saw his mother telling him over and over again that it was his destiny to be strong and perfect and ready for what his future held. He saw the men in the business suits who came in and out of his house and talked about him, talked about his father and some company that no one wanted him to know about. He saw his life and wondered what it was.
It’s our destiny, he had told Peter. He himself didn’t even know whether destiny existed. You always say it’s for the best, mother. It’s in my destiny. My destiny you said. What was his destiny? Why did he have to follow it? Why was the future written in stone? What is destiny?
Peter shifted, kicking his legs and rested them on Nathan’s chest. The boy was sleeping sideways on the bed, lost in slumber. Nathan swallowed, looked down at his brother who lay sleeping so peacefully.
He hoped Peter wouldn’t have to go through this.
Peter didn’t have to go through this anymore if he did. If he turned out to be the one, the one they needed, as his mother had told him a thousand times.
It was quiet outside now. Nathan stopped thinking, curled his arm around his little brother, smelling the bubblegum shampoo that Peter used and fell asleep.
Part III: Precognition