Real Life Fairytales

Nathan Petrelli felt like shit. It wasn't a colloquialism he tended to use, but at the moment, with his entire body feeling like he was on fire, it seemed the most appropriate. He didn't remember much after flying off with Peter, but he remembered the bang of energy and falling. Somehow he had ended up in a field and every bone in his body ached, but he was alive.

As he opened his eyes, he became aware of his brother kneeling over him, blocking out the sun with his silhouette.

Nathan tried to smile because he knew that was what Peter needed. And who else was he if not the big brother who always gave Peter what he required?

When Nathan blinked up at Peter, all he saw was the young boy who had asked him to read from the same book of fairy tales over and over again when he was younger. Peter still had the same face, the soulful eyes and the puppy-dog expressions never too far from sight. Of course, the innocence was gone and Nathan hated that. He wished he could've protected his brother from some of the harsher lessons of the world - some of the things he, himself, had inflicted on Peter - but as his mother was fond of saying, "the world can be cruel and you need to be prepared."

Nathan was pretty sure that was part of the reason he could never say "no" to Peter. He was his little brother, and whenever Nathan looked at him for too long, he saw the kid who had acted out the scenes from his favorite stories as Nathan read them aloud.

"Read it again, Nate. Please. I want to hear it again," Peter used to say. And Nathan, despite his mother's and the nanny's protests, always read it again, stopping only when Peter finally gave into sleep.

And there that face was now, peering down at him. It was the same expectant gaze and his brown eyes glistened as he said hoarsely, "Please be okay, Nathan. Please."

Nathan groaned. He was pretty sure it had come from him, even if it didn't really sound like his voice.

"Nate?" Peter ran his hands over Nathan's chest and patted his face gently. "Can you hear me?"

"I hear you."

Peter smiled, letting out a long breath, and rested his forehead on top of Nathan's. He said, "You scared me."

"Well, I expected to be dead right now."

"Like I would let that happen. I need you too much," Peter replied, pulling Nathan up enough to properly hug him.

Nathan wrapped his arms around Peter and hung on for a minute, squeezing tightly, making sure that Peter really was there and okay. After a few moments, he said, "Where are we?"

"No idea."

"Wonderful."

"You can't do that again, Nathan," Peter said. Nathan shot him a blank look. His brain wasn't completely functioning yet. All he saw was how young and lost Peter still looked.

"You could've died and that would've been my fault," Peter continued.

"No, it wouldn't. I did what had to be done," Nathan said. He sat the rest of the way up on his own and tried to ignore the pain in his head, especially since Peter looked like any admission of injury from Nathan would break him.

"You could've let Claire shoot me."

"I couldn't do that to Claire or to you, Pete. It worked out. So drop it."

"But…"

"I'm fine, Pete. I'm not sure how, but I am."

"This time."

"I thought you followed the 'live for today' motto? We're both alive and that's all that matters."

Peter nodded. He stood himself up and extended his hands to help Nathan up. Once Nathan was standing upright, Peter slapped him on the back and said, "I've always known you were like superman, Nate, but this is crazy."

"I think it's more likely that you pushed me away in time."

"Still a hero who saved New York City."

"You've read too many stories. I'm not a superhero out of some comic book."

"Maybe not," Peter paused and looked him over appraisingly. He held onto Nathan's arm and asked, "Remember the book of fairy tales you used to read me?"

Sometimes it scared Nathan how often he and Peter thought about the same things, the way they could complete each other's thoughts long before powers came into play. Usually though, like in that moment, it was a comfort. There was always one person who understood him, someone who saw through everything else and still cared, someone who knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. Nathan draped his arm over Peter's shoulder and said, "Of course. You never went to bed unless I read you at least ten of them."

"You're like the prince or knight that always comes through in the end. You always save the day, Nathan. Ever since I was a kid."

"That's just what big brothers do."

"Not all of them."

"The good ones."

"I'm sorry about before. I should've trusted you. I should've known you wouldn't let me down," Peter said.

"It's okay. I wouldn't have trusted me either," Nathan replied. He squeezed Peter's shoulder and added, "As lovely as this heart-to-heart talk is, can we get the hell out of here and find our way home?"

"Only if you promise to let a doctor check you out."

"I'm fine."

"And I want to keep it that way. Good big brothers don't grow on trees, ya know?"

Fin