**
They're dead, she wants to tell him. They can't hear you and they don't care. She just has too much heart to do so.
Peter sat and stared at the only other human in existence. The whole thing boiled down to the fact Hiro lied. Peter had saved the cheerleader; saved her from Scylar, saved her from the man in the paper factory in Texas, he even saved her from his own mother.
Peter shook his head, clearing away thoughts of that woman and what she had done to Claire. Claire, the reason he was still alive and everyone else, well, wasn't.
The first couple of days, or weeks, he can't be sure, time just blurs when you're the only man left on Earth, he couldn't be in the same room as her, much less talk to her. He spent most of his time at the cemetery where he had buried the others. Spent his time wishing, thinking, drinking. Sometimes he wondered if the world held enough alcohol to drown away his sorrows, his pain, his bitterness. He knew he couldn't die off the stuff, he had tried before and with other things, but it never worked because of the stupid, stupid cheerleader. She kept an eye on him, staying near but out of sight whenever he tried to off himself.
He'd never know she half wished he's succeed so she could kill herself in the same manner and be rid of the guilt, the overwhelming guilt that suffocating her to the point of physical pain.
Peter drunkenly snorted at the concept of a grown man being taken care of by a teenie-boppin cheerleader. He was in front of Nathan's mound now, and his body ignored the piercing icy wind ripping at him while his mind mused further on the blonde he was left with.
He was so fucking angry at Nathan for his "tell you a secret before I die" line. Now not only did he have the guilt of surviving everyone else he ever cared about and loved in the whole world, but also the guilt that he wasn't helping his niece cope, that he was actually avoiding her. He just couldn't handle it. Every time he saw her or thought of her, he was reminded of his brother.
He's got the barrel of the gun pressed against his temple and he wonders what will flash before his eyes when he pulls the trigger this time. When the bullet flies through his skull and for a split second Peter is actually dead, what will be that last image in his mind?
He throws back a swig of something; he doesn't care enough to look at the bottles he picks up anymore, with the gun still held to his head with his other hand. Thoughts of Claire are slipping into his mind and it's ruining his buzz.
What would Nathan do in this situation? Peter thought miserably to himself.
**
