Author's Note: Yet Another One shot. What I want to happen this time instead of being the sadistic writer that I usually am... I don't own anything you recognize.
ENJOY!
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Chaos did not adequately explain what had just erupted. What was once docile turned into complete and total anarchy with in an instant. Two gun shots rang out over the crowd, hitting its; target - the speaker, Nathan Petrelli.
The first instinct was to duck for cover. Unconciously pulling his head downwards and looking towards his sibling and the mind-reading cop. He seemed to go temporarily deaf then to everything except for a gasp in shock coming from his elder brother.
Time seemed to have slown then, and it wasn't a trick or a power being used either. His eyes could not peal themselves away from Nathan, who stumbled backwards reaching out blindly to him to steady his balance.
His own body seemed to move accordingly as his concious mind was still reeling at what was happening. As soon as he felt Nathans' hand grip his shirt, he manuevered himself around, pulling Nathan slowly and carefully down to the ground.
Once spotting the reddening spots on his blue shirt, Peter placed a hand there in an attempt to slow the bleeding. There was a conversation between the two, but He was not concentrating on it fully. His only motive was to keep Nathan alive and awake until assistance came.
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She flipped on the television to the local news and turned around to fetch her mug of coffee, listening ideally to what was on CNN today. She had just returned from picking up her two young sons who were off making mischief somewhere in the household. She heard their laughing from the sitting room, and inwardly smiled at their happiness.
They were dealing with not having their father around fairly well. Of course they did not understand why he was not with them in the first place. She could expect them to understand that their father was more or less insane, and had obtained a drinking habit. Their grandmother though helped alot with pulling the two appart.
"...earlier today, former congressman elected from New York, Nathan Petrelli, was shot today during a press conference in Texas..." Heidi glued her eyes to the screen then, not even aware that the coffee mug had slipped from her hands then and collided with the floor.
"Oh god..." She whispered as she watched the footage they had shown on the screen. One moment He was speaking to them as if it were one of those speeches he gave to the voters, the next minute he had two gunshot wounds in his chest and was on the ground. The camera work after that was chaotic and confusing.
She had not realized she was crying until her eldest boy entered the room looking with concern at her. He had heard the mug shatter and came to see what happened. The youngest trailed behind him.
She looked over to them then immediatly made a dash for the television. She could not let them see their father being shot on national news. Sadly she was too late to kill the suspicion. As she slapped the power button off, and turned around to her boys. Both were wearing moritified expressions, the youngest was tearing up. It would only be seconds before full blown sobbing. She, herself, was suprised that she hadn't been sobbing already.
"Mom?" The eldest asked her, his bottom lip quivering as he bit back tears. She instinctively moved towards them, embracing them in a tight hug.
"Why would someone shoot Dad?" The eldest asked his mother. She shrugged, not knowing the story behind the what looked like a random shooting.
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"Ma?" He asked quietly into the phone. It had taken him an hour since they arrived at the hospital to build up the nerve to call her. She probably thought he was dead. He did not know how to explain it. He did not know where to start even.
"Peter?" She replied her voice sounding hopeful, but also skeptical. "Oh Thank God I thought you were dead." She continued joyfully. It made it much harder for him to break the news to her that Nathan probably would not survive the night. According to the ER doctors, they'd be amazed if he survived the surgery to remove the bullets.
Both bullets pierced a hole in each of his lungs, and one also nicked his heart. That had been a terrifying ride to the hospital. He watched helplessly as his eldest brother passed into the unconcious realm, flatlined, and was revived. This was all before they even reached the hospital. In the ER they worked for nearly an hour to stabilize him and prep him for surgery, which the youngest brother pacing impatiently in the waiting room. He did laps around the NYPD detective that had helped to set up the press conference.
"Ma, I need you to come down to Odessa, Texas." He continued with his mother, trying to not sound worn and emotionally drained.
"Why? What's wrong?" She sensed his tone of voice.
"It's Nathan, He's been shot." He answered simply. He heard her gasp on the other end of the line and sighed heavily.
"The doctors don't expect him to live through the night..." He continued quietly.
"I'll be there in a couple of hours..." She said quickly before hanging up on him.
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He sat there eyelids half pried open staring at his lap. It had been five hours now since the doctors had rushed Nathan up to surgery to remove the bullets. His mind was numb, as he blankly stared at the bloody hands.
The blood wasn't his, it belonged to his dying brother, and the color haunted him. The mind-reading cop was sitting next to him, snoring, and in a very ackward position at that. He'd have a sore back when he awoke.
He felt his phone vibrate then, well Nathan's phone. He had snatched it from his elder brother before the EMTs carted him away on the gurney. He pulled out the silver razor and glanced down at the ID, it read 'Heidi'. He sighed heavily and pulled it open, bringing it to his ear.
"Nathan?" She whispered, it sounded like she had recently been crying, but there was some hope in her voice. The youngest Petrelli assumed she must have saw the news, and felt a twinge of pain as he was about to crush her hope of it actually being her husband.
"No...It's me, Peter." He answered in a tired husky voice. He heard her break out into sobbing again.
"How is he?" She finally asked after a moment to build up the courage. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up, trying to stop the renewal of tears threatening to start up again.
"Not good..." That was all he could say to her. "He's been in surgery for five hours now." He relayed the information.
"Where are you? I'll be there as soon as I can." She asked. "Odessa, Texas." He replied.
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His mother was the first to arrive, sporting a concealed look on her face as she spotted her youngest son and briskly walked over to him. He stood up smirking sadly as they embraced each other.
"He's still in surgery, I haven't heard anything yet." He told her in a soft tone. It has been nearly eight hours now without any hint of what was going on in the surgicial room where his eldest sibling was being worked on.
He guided his mother into one of the plastic chairs next to him. The cop had awoken twenty minutes prior and was off in search of some strong coffee for the two men.
"Heidi is on her way...She called me before boarding the plane. She told me she left the kids at her parents house for now..." Peter revealed not really relevent information.
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It was approaching nearly the eleventh hour of surgery when his sister-in-law came through the waiting room doors. His mother had to nudge him awake to greet her. He had been awake for so long, too long. But sleeping in a plastic chair was definitly not the place to fall asleep in.
Still nothing on the condition of his brother.
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If there was a hell, This was it. The idea of waiting was cruel torture. He couldn't stand it, He didn't have the strength to keep waiting. He was on the verge of storming the surgery room and demand an update.
It had been fifthteen hours. The doctor though finally emerged from the room for them. He was instantly on his feet, along with the rest of the group. They encircled the doctor, eyes begging for the status.
"We were able to remove the bullets, repair his heart and lungs... We expect him to come through in fine fashion." Meaning he was going to live. He felt tears running down well worn tracks, almost suprised that he had any left. But these were different tears, these were tears of relief. He glanced around at his mother and sister-in-law and saw they sported the same tears, smiling through them. Silently thanking god for not taking the eldest Petrelli brother.
END