Disclaimer: Heroes does not belong to me and I will not profit from this

Nathan's earliest memory is of a baby that wasn't Peter. He remembers vividly the wracking sobs that emanated from the room along the corridor from his den and being curious as to where they were coming from. He can still see the sight of the housemaid running down in the opposite direction, carrying a red and sodden towel that dripped on the polished oak floors. He can taste the metallic bite of the air and remember the feeling a strong hand on his shoulder, and meeting his father's eyes, scared at how sorrowful they were.

"It's ok son," Arthur had said, guiding him back towards the playroom. "She'll be ok."

He never encounters a scene like it again, but Nathan rapidly becomes aware of the words 'miscarriage' and 'viable foetus'. He sits at breakfast tables where nothing is said and as he swings his legs in time with the ticking of the clock he notices his mother's tears and his father's fury.

When he is still eleven and very nearly twelve he understands a lot more about pregnancy and sex and relationships. He was starting to wonder if his mother is putting on weight but doesn't say anything because he would probably end up with a slap, or no dessert. He is sitting in the den watching television two days before Christmas when his father walks in pale faced.

"We're going to the hospital," he says calmly, grasping Nathan's shoulder. "Your mother is not well."

Nathan grabs a book, To Kill A Mockingbird, and heads into the car. Arthur fills him in on the way.

"Her stomach was hurting, so an ambulance was called," Arthur says, staring at Nathan with an intense gaze. Nathan meets his stare and tries to ignore his father's flinch as he says, "She's having another miscarriage."

Arthur sighs and gazes out of the window. "Its looks that way."

The hospital is clean and shiny and clinical. Nathan doesn't like it one bit and neither, it seems, does his father. They are instructed to sit outside a room for what seems like hours until a nurse with sad eyes lets them in. The first thing Nathan notices is that there is no baby. A pain like nothing else settles in the pit of his stomach and he wants to curl up on the floor and cry and cry. His mother is lying on the bed, facing away from them, her body a blockade against the world. Nathan's father moves around to take her hand, not speaking, not even looking at her.

"The baby is being transferred to the NICU," a doctor says. His eyes are sadder than the nurse's. "You can see him if you would like."

Who the doctor is addressing, Nathan is not sure, but he wants to leave the room where his parents are falling apart and be strong for them elsewhere. He nods to the doctor who smiles in a bemused fashion that grates on Nathan's last nerve but he still follows him down a winding series of corridors and stairs. He makes Nathan wash his hands three times, take off his shoes, put on a gown and then put on a facemask and then a hairnet. Nathan scoffs but does as he is told, the aching, gnawing pain inside him making him compliant.

Then he is led into a bright room. There are 6 trays in the immediate area, and on the top of each is a little plastic box, where a small squashy pink thing is lying. The doctor points to the one closest to Nathan. "That's your brother."

Nathan stares down at the tiny thing. He counts ten fingers and ten toes, ignoring the sucky things on the baby's chest and the tube down the baby's nose. He sees dark hair and pale skin. He sees a child desperately clinging to life as the chest heaves up and down. He leans forward and pokes a finger through a hole the Perspex cage. He wiggles it at the baby's side and then almost yells out as his finger is seized by a tiny pink fist.

Then he smiles. The aching in his stomach shifts and he feels fantastic. He has a brother. A little brother and he's amazing. Nathan feels pride and excitement and love well up inside him and suddenly he's crying like his mother, but not from sadness.

A warm hand lands on his shoulder and Nathan is suddenly transported back to when he was two and a half and his mother was bleeding all over the bathroom floor, howling with misery. "Its ok son."

"Its ok son," Arthur repeats. He is gazing down misty eyed at the baby, who refuses to let go of Nathan's hand. Nathan knows the truth now and refuses to be lied to, even for protection. "He's too small Pa."

Arthur sighs and puts his hand through the hole of the other side of the box, to lightly run his fingers along the baby's arm. "He's a Petrelli Nathan, like you and me and your mother. He's fighting with everything he's got. Look at him."

Nathan couldn't tear his eyes away. "What do the doctors' say?"

Arthur continued to trace patterns on the baby's skin. "They don't have much hope, but they can be wrong."

This time Nathan sighs. At 11, he's already a realist and what doctors say is usually what they mean. His eyes are swimming again and he wants to leave, but he wants to take his brother with him, keep him safe and take him away from the horrible hospital with the doctors who would condemn him to death. He is jolted from his desperate thoughts by the sound of his father's sobbing. With a soft thunk Arthur's head hits the Perspex above the baby and the noise causes the baby to wake. Nathan swears that the baby looked right at him before drifting back off to sleep.

"Pa! Pa, its ok, he woke up!" Nathan's words come tumbling out of his mouth and his father gives him a watery smile through his tears. Nathan knows that his father is humouring him but he is so sure, so certain that he shakes his head. "No Dad, I saw him!"

There is a rap on the glass behind him and Nathan recognises his father's closest friend, Mr Linderman, standing there. Nathan doesn't like him very much, but can understand why he is there. Arthur withdraws his hand from the baby and moves out of the NICU. Nathan waits, watching as the baby with translucent skin breathes.

He can hear the sound of muffled talking, but the baby is still present, still alive. He's still a big brother and it is his duty to keep the baby safe. He doesn't ever want to give up this job.

The door slides open and Nathan hears Mr Linderman say, "I'll do what I can Arthur, no promises."

Nathan doesn't take his eyes from the baby until Arthur says, "Come and see your mother Nathan."

His mother, Nathan had completely forgotten about her. He looks from his father to Mr Linderman, who looks faintly ridiculous in the gown and mask, back to the baby. "But…"

"Come on son," Arthur says gently. "Your mother needs us."

Nathan doesn't want to leave the baby. The painful aching in his stomach is back as his father places a tight grip on his shoulder. "Nathan, please."

Nathan looks back down at the baby and holds in a sob. He would never cry in front of Mr Linderman. He gently releases his finger and takes his father's hand. As soon as they are out of the room Nathan runs. He can hear his father calling after him, pleading with him, but Nathan runs. He runs so fast he's almost flying. He runs and runs and runs. He only stops when the pain in his gut is so bad that he vomits his lunch and breakfast all over the sidewalk. Then he cries so hard that his throat hurts.

A gentle hand lands on his head and he sees his father smiling down at him through his tears. Arthur sits down on the curb next to him, ignoring the hospital visitors and workers as they mill about.

"We tried to protect you," he says, slipping an arm round Nathan's shoulders. "We didn't want you to get hurt."

"Is this why Ma is always sad?" Nathan asks and Arthur squeezes him gently. "She knows we are lucky to have you Nathan. She is never sad when she is with you."

Nathan wipes his eyes. "She has high expectations of me. I always have to do better in school than everybody else."

"She's proud of you son," Arthur says, smiling at him. "We both are."

They fall silent, watching the traffic, the people, the birds. Nathan feels his breath catch and he leans into his father's side. "I want to be a big brother. I think I would be a good one."

"The best," Arthur says and silence falls again.

As the dusk seeps in over New York Nathan starts to shiver in the December air. Arthur hauls him up by the hand and says, "We really should see your mother."

They walk side by side through the hospital, and somehow it feels friendlier now. Arthur pushes his wife's door open and they hear a baby wail. Nathan feels a shock run from the top of his head down his spine to the soles of his feet.

Angela is holding the baby, looking flabbergasted. "They brought him in," she says, joy etched onto all her features. "They said he needs feeding, like Nathan did."

Arthur makes a noise that Nathan has never heard before, somewhere between a laugh and a cheer, running forward to press a kiss to his wife's lips. "He's strong, I told you, he's strong."

"He needs a name," Angela says. The baby is quiet now, almost sleeping, Nathan can see that the eyes are shutting.

"Peter," Nathan says suddenly, reaching out to touch the baby's soft head. "His name is Peter."

Arthur is beaming, rubbing at Nathan's hair as if it were infested. "Peter! That's brilliant!"

Nathan watches as his mother rolls her eyes and then looks down at the baby. "Are you a Peter?"

The baby is snoring now. Angela smiles. "Peter it is."

Nathan watches as his father dances and feels his own fingers itch to hold the baby. He reaches out and his mother smiles at him, a smile that he has never seen before. She passes him Peter, making sure that Nathan is supporting every part of him before releasing him totally. "You be careful with your little brother Nathan, he's your responsibility now."

Nathan is suddenly overwhelmed. The baby, so tiny, seems too heavy in his arms and the feeling of duty comes crashing onto his shoulders. Peter is not a toy, a pet or a friend. Peter is his responsibility, his family, his brother. The painful ache in his stomach shifts to something warmer, more comfortable. Its something he will always do, something he will never forget.

The baby's eyes pop open again.

"Hello Peter," Nathan says. "I'm Nathan, your big brother. I'm never going to let you go."