Disclaimer: The world being the unfair place that it is, I don't own Peter or Nathan Petrelli (rats!) Heroes is the property of Tim Kring and NBC, and I'll never make a penny off writing this. If I could, I would've already written the novel.

Wow, it's been longer than I care to think about since I managed to produce any fiction - but the new series of Heroes inspired me. Here's a look at why Nathan's gone downhill so fast and so far since the events of the Series 1 finale, "How to Stop an Exploding Man". Be warned, SPOILERS for Series 2 ahead. This story is also one of my darker ones ...

Everybody thought that the elder Petrelli brother was the strongest one, but it just wasn't true.

The answers were never at the bottom of a glass, or a bottle, or a can, but at least the soothing liquid they contained left you numb for a while. Nathan tossed back his fifth scotch, the much desired deadness already seeping into his soul. He could tell the bartender was keeping a close eye on him, ready to produce the classic line 'hey man, don't you think you've had enough?' Nathan smiled, just a cool twitch of his facial muscles that was more expressive of despair than happiness. He would never have enough alcohol, not until he drank himself into some fantasy where miraculously he would wake up with a foul mouth, pounding head, raw stomach and his younger brother standing over him with a glass of water and an aspirin.

"Nate," Peter would say disapprovingly. "I haven't seen you so drunk since you decided to propose to Heidi." Nathan had been so nervous prior he'd downed enough vodka to flatten the most hard-bitten Russian strongman, and Peter had had to take him home, tell Heidi he'd come down with a bug, and sober him up and give him the patented Petrelli pep talk that was usually Nathan's speciality. Peter had only been seventeen at the time, but already there was an old soul behind those large delicate eyes.

"I had a bad dream," Nathan would say quietly. "I dreamed you were gone forever and I didn't know what to do."

"It was just a dream, Nate," was the response, and Peter smiled ever so slightly as he handed over –

Someone dropped a glass, and the sound of it shattering started Nathan awake from where he'd started to doze off at the bar. He muttered an obscenity at whoever disturbed him from his daydream, and asked the bartender for a whisky. The man narrowed his eyes but complied.

Ah well. If he got thrown out after this whisky he'd find some dive where the staff didn't care if their customers died of alcohol poisoning, so long as they paid their tab. He nursed the whisky, glancing at his reflection and wincing at the man looking back at him. Bearded, scruffy, miserable drunk, alone –

Alone.

He hadn't been able to tell Heidi. What the hell could he say? "Darling, I can fly and Peter's just exploded and now he's gone. I've failed him." He hadn't been able to say the D-word yet, not even to himself. Heidi knew Peter was missing, and that was all. She was at a loss to understand her husband's despair, frustrated when he refused to confide in her, angry and disappointed when he failed to take up his Congress appointment and when Nathan turned to drink enough was enough. He'd lurched home one afternoon to find his suitcase packed and Heidi waiting for him with tears in her eyes. He hadn't argued, knowing he'd driven her away with his obstinate silence. The only thing that gave him pause was the picture of his sons sitting on the hall table.

"Let me get some photographs first," he pleaded softly. Heidi stood aside, and Nathan went upstairs to his former bedroom, and gathered all the photos he could of Peter and his boys and then left. He heard from Heidi's lawyer two weeks later.

Nathan smiled at the irony. Four months ago he'd had everything he'd ever wanted and worked for, but take away one person and suddenly he hadn't wanted it anymore. No, not entirely true, he missed Heidi and the boys achingly. But as he'd said to his younger brother "I don't know who I am without you." Peter had scoffed. But if only he'd known...

Nathan shut his eyes and tilted his head back, remembering...

Nathan had been eleven by the time baby Peter had arrived. Peter had been an unplanned, and as far as his father was concerned, an unwanted baby. Their father was pleased they had another healthy boy, obviously – the heir and the spare, as Nathan remembered overhearing once as his father was talking with business associates at a dinner party. But with Nathan already shaping up to be everything Petrelli senior wanted, his interest in Peter was non-existent. He patted the baby on the head and left him to Angela Petrelli and the nanny they hired to raise.

Nathan was likewise expected to be indifferent towards the new baby. His father was interested in achievements, not emotions, and his love for Nathan depended on how well the boy succeeded in life. Grades were high on the agenda, playing with his little brother was not. But something about the little guy just grabbed Nathan and refused to release him. The afternoon Peter was brought home from the hospital; Nathan had been doing homework, but had sneaked away to the nursery to look at the new baby.

He was lying in a crib, flailing his arms and legs when Nathan wandered in. He was still the reddish colour common to all newborns, with a full head of black hair. He seemed tiny to Nathan's curious gaze, tiny and not very interesting. But then as Nathan leaned over him the baby began gurgling happily and Nathan noticed something.

"His eyes are the same colour as mine!" he informed the new nanny. She smiled at him brightly.

"Most newborn babies have blue eyes," she told him. "But your little brother's different. Oh, listen to him! He must like you."

Nathan extended a curious finger, which Peter immediately latched onto with his tiny hand. "He's really strong," Nathan remarked in surprise. "Much stronger than he looks!"

"He doesn't want to let you go," the nanny – Sarah, his mother had told him - said smilingly. "Do you want to hold him?"

She soon had Nathan settled on a chair with his little blanket-wrapped brother in his arms, the baby still making happy murmurings. Nathan smiled at him and rocked him as he'd seen other kids' mothers do at the school gates or at one of their garden parties.

"Peter," he said, as his brother looked up at him. "Peter Petrelli – it sounds just right."

"The name Peter means rock," Sarah said. Nathan pulled a face.

"We can't name him after a rock!" he protested, and the woman laughed.

"No, no!" she replied. "By rock, it means someone strong, someone who can be an anchor, someone you can always depend on." Nathan had thought about that for a while. It seemed right – his baby brother was much stronger than he looked.

"What does Nathan mean?" he asked after a pause. The nanny thought hard for a moment, and then snapped her fingers.

"It means a giver, someone generous." She told him. Nathan grinned at that. Yes, someone generous, who would give lots to his little brother.

"We've got good names," he told baby Peter, who giggled.

Peter had babbled until he fell asleep a short while later – only to be woken by their father's angry yells for Nathan. Nathan had hurriedly – but reluctantly – handed him over to the nanny and gone to be chastised for not completing his homework as instructed, leaving a wailing Peter behind him.

That afternoon had been enough to cement Nathan's love for Peter – and also Peter's love for Nathan. He giggled and smiled every time his big brother held him, and from his first birthday onwards, Nathan became his hero. Peter followed him around, painted pictures for him, did whatever Nathan asked and always shared any sweets or goodies he got hold of with his big brother.

Nathan bore with it all with a roll of the eyes for his father's benefit. But the delight of being loved unconditionally was too strong to be resisted. His father was cold and demanding, and sometimes quite frightening in his callousness towards others; his mother far less so but still aloof and exacting. But Peter loved him regardless of grades or what teams he was on at school, regardless of any mistakes he made. Whenever Nathan had failed to live up to expectations or been yelled at or punished for not succeeding, Peter was always there to snuggle close to him and tell him that he could do anything, anything at all! No matter how curt or angry Nathan was with him, Peter just carried on believing in him.

Peter firmly understood that his big brother was capable of absolutely anything. So firmly, in fact, that it was soon Peter's unquestioning faith in him that had Nathan striving to be the absolute best, rather than his father's demands or his mother's wishes. He was the best, and he was going to prove it to the one person in the world who never thought anything else.

Nathan's smile this time was bittersweet. Peter had become a little more practical as he'd grown older, but no less devoted to Nathan. Nathan for his part acted as his little brother's protector and guide whenever it was needed. The smile became a grin as he remembered Peter nervous but happy in his white tux before his senior prom, or fidgeting anxiously as Nathan gave him advice just before his first date – like he was one to talk.

The smile faded, as he remembered Heidi and the boys. His smile vanished altogether as he remember their father's attitude towards Peter. Nathan had graduated as valedictorian, served in the Navy as a pilot, become a star prosecutor for the DA, and set an impossible example for Peter to live up to. Not that Peter was interested in doing so – he was a bright student, smart and capable, but soon emerged as a daydreamer, forever gazing out of the windows or making up elaborate stories he'd sometimes tell to Nathan. He had huge dreams, just as Nathan did. But whereas ambition began to dominate in Nathan, and inform all his actions, compassion began to become Peter's reigning emotion. He brought home countless stray cats and dogs, defiantly ignoring his father's apoplectic reactions to them. He gave his allowance to homeless people or dropped it into charity tins. He did volunteer work at the local hospital.

Nathan sighed deeply, remembering sadly all the times he'd taunted Peter over his "doing of good deeds" as he'd phrased it. Peter had mostly ignored him. And Nathan had secretly been rather in awe of Peter's rebelliousness against their father's orders. A lifetime of conditioning had left Nathan more likely dye his hair green and start wearing make-up than go against what his father desired.

Nathan snorted, and downed his whisky. Yes, you were quite the daddy's boy, weren't you, Petrelli? A grown man scared of what his father would think. But there was more to it than that, after all – his father had been his hero, a stern but honourable man. Finding out what his father was involved in, the sort of men he made his life among, had been a terrible shock to Nathan. Peter hadn't seemed remotely surprised when Nathan had told him, bitterly, about their father's involvement with Linderman and all his other crooks. Perhaps his dreamy younger brother, sensitive as he was, had sensed there was something rotten beneath the surface of the Petrelli family. Peter's calm acceptance of the situation and the talks he had with Nathan had been a big help during that time.

A few unpleasant little revelations and many difficult brotherly conversations later, and Nathan found himself looking to Peter every time he had a moral dilemma. Work at the DA's could be difficult sometimes, when he was forced to defend a truly disreputable client. But Peter always knew, somehow, the right thing to do. Even if it was the most difficult choice, he seemed to know how to guide Nathan through the danger zones and emerge with his honour intact.

Then Peter had decided to go to nursing school. Their father, who had been musing about how Peter might just make a passable lawyer, went as icily berserk as he ever permitted himself to go. Nathan had been present as "Dallas" Petrelli had informed, demanded and ordered that his younger son go to law school. Peter had sat impassively through it all, and when their father was finished announced that he was going to nursing school, he had taken out a loan to pay his way, and that he didn't remotely care what Petrelli senior thought about the whole business. Nathan had been torn between shock at the defiance of the family patriarch, disapproval of his brother's decision and admiration for Peter's gutsiness.

His baby brother was all grown up. But he was forever Nathan's little brother, the one who loved him unconditionally, the one who always came to him for help, the one who always believed in him...

And without that belief, where the hell was Nathan? Getting dead drunk in some bar, that was where. No matter what Nathan had done, Peter had always loved him. If Peter were here, if only Peter were here, he wouldn't see the alcoholic, wouldn't see the failure. All he'd see was his big brother, the one who had teased him, taunted him, overshadowed him, deprived him of his father's love, scorned his choice of career, refused to listen to him when all the crazy shit started up. But Peter wouldn't see any of those awful things. He'd see his brother, his hero, the person he'd loved since babyhood.

Peter meant "rock". It had been an apt name, a good name as far as Nathan was concerned. Peter had been his rock, the one who would always be there, the one person who would never hate him, always believe in him. But – Nathan, "giver"? What the hell had he ever given Peter? He'd failed Peter. He didn't deserve his name.

Nathan felt the tears threaten. He wiped at them angrily. As he lowered his hand, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. No, not of himself – the deep-set brown eyes that gazed back at him in terror were his, but the face surrounding them was burned and terribly scarred, marked by something brutal.

Nathan buried his head in his hands. When he looked a moment later, the reflection that gazed back was his own again, thickly bearded and pale from lack of sleep.

Nathan tossed a bill down on the counter and stalked out without waiting for change, to the bartender's obvious relief. He headed down the street, heedless of rain and traffic.

Without Peter, he was nothing. Without his brother, he didn't even recognise himself in the mirror.

He wasn't even sure of his name.