Day 69.

He couldn't believe he was even counting. That made life even more miserable then it already was. Two months he had been in this room, talking to this guy in the room next to him; Adam. The closest thing he had to a real friendship anymore.

Adam did most of the talking. The guy really seemed lonely, apparently he had been here thirty years already. What was even more astounding was He said he was over 400 years old. His healing ability allowed him to survive anything.

Adam's stories were the only thing that kept him normal anymore. He had enough stories to last them a long time; about feudal Japan (rarely came up though, Peter sensed a bit of bitterness with that), traveling through the countries, watching the Americas be discovered and conquered. He traveled to the Americas first to get in on the new world's riches. He got swept up in the American revolution, and stayed through the civil war. Shortly after he traveled back to his original home country of England, taking in the changes. He stayed through World War I. During world war II he was put through a concentration camp for a decade. After the war was over he went to Canada, touring around, and eventually ending up in New York once again. Peter was like a child always asking for more stories, and Adam was the elder always granting his wishes.

The stories weren't enough to fill the day though. There were alot of silent moments to take him back to that night. It was vivid in his mind, and no matter how many drugs they had him on that was still clear as day.

Nathan. Did he survive the surgery? How was he doing? What about everyone else? What about his mother? It hurt that he wasn't allowed to see them. He asked Bob earlier that week if he could go see them, and got a firm no. He had wised up since then. They had put him in a cage, a prison, and he wasn't getting out anytime soon.

The Haitian entered his room then, holding two cups, one that held his pills, and the other an empty cup for water.

"Thought Elle did this?" Peter questioned, use to getting the young blonde who liked to elecrute him. Leaving whatever part of his body she zapped numb for a few seconds, then painful for the following hour. How he loathed that girl, though it was the only female he saw on to day to day basis. As much as he hated her mentally, his physical body needed the female presence.

"Take your pills and come with me." The haitian said frankly, waiting by the door. Peter cocked an eyebrow, wanting to question more, but did what he was told. The other was clearly in charge, and Peter knew this well by now.

He snatched the plastic cup of pills and downed it in one swallow, he then took the empty cup and filled it with by far the most disgusting tasting water he ever tried. He downed that without so much as a flinch, but after a second he shuddered shaking his head at the after taste.

The Haitian then through him a coat, and headed out the door. Peter furrowed his eyebrows for a second then simply through the coat on and followed the taller black man through the halls. This had been the first time he had been able to wander through the halls since he was taken down there.

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"So where are we going?" Peter finally asked, watching the streetlights whiz by. The Haitian had led him to a black sedan and they were now weaving in and out of the busy streets of New York City. Peter didn't pay too much attention to the black man at first, and stared out the window as if it had been his first time in the city.

"You wanted to see your brother, Did you not?" The haitian asked, taking another corner. Peter jerked his head towards the man driving him with wide eyes.

"We won't have much time, two hours at most before they start looking. You'll have enough time to say what you need to say and be at peace." The Haitian said smoothly.

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"Room 1909." The Haitian informed him, as they were heading towards the room. "Visiting Hours are over in an hour." He continued as Peter finally spotted the room. The Haitian stopped just before the door, allowing Peter to go in first.

The younger Petrelli took a deep breathe and entered the room to find only the patient inside. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. His older brother laying limply in the bed. White sheets tucked in tightly around his gaunt frame. Angry red burns covering his bare chest and face. Much of his hair on the one side was gone, and the other side was just a short fuzz brown. His eyes were closed, and wires ran to and past his nose for oxygen, and a few IVs lay scattered around his right hand which was rested over his adobmen.

Peter could only gasp in shock, breaking the silence in the room. Well almost silence, before it had been just Nathan's labored breathing, trying to get air in and out of his damaged lungs, and the beeps of the vitals monitor.

It was then that Nathan pried open the one eye, and was staring right at Peter. The younger brother could not help but move forward to his elder brothers' side, taking his least injuried hand in his own.

"Nathan..." He mumbled quietly, biting back tears. "Peter..." Nathan returned in a hoarse whisper. "I'm so sorry..." A tear now ran down Peters' right eye. Nathan simply continued to stare at him in an almost disbelief. "Your alive..." Nathan continued in his hoarse labored whisper, coughing slightly as the strain was put on his weak condition. It was if he hadn't heard Peter the second time. A small curve upwards of the one side of his lip was enough to Peter.