Characters: Peter and Nathan Petrelli, the entire clan Petrelli (Angela, Heidi, Simon, Monty and Claire) in later chapters.

Rating: T (If you're old enough to watch the series, you should be old enough to read this, too.)

A/N: Inspired by Nathan's line in the Fix. "I could have my mentally ill brother detained for his own safety."

Reviews and comments are extremely welcome.


Some things are sacred. Like the actuality that Nathan Petrelli is bound to be always right, even when the facts dare to contradict this reality. But Nathan knows better than to be bothered about what the facts state. No, Nathan is never wrong. World is.

By the same reasoning, Nathan can forgive himself for having his little brother institutionalized. After all, Peter is crazy. Not I-need-to-be-locked-behind-the-bars-cause-I-might-do-some-crazy-shit (although lately, Peter has tested this category way too often) crazy, but rather I-need-to-be-locked-behind-the-bars-cause-I-might-save-the-world crazy. Honestly, what self-respecting, sane person wants to save the world? Nathan shudders at the thought. The world doesn't want to be saved. It wants to be left alone.

Nathan considers giving Dr. Pierson a call to check that Peter's settled down all nicely, but decides that it's too early for conclusions. He has dozens of various handshaking and toothy smile sessions in his daily program today, including a drinks meeting with one of his biggest sponsors right after Mr. Linderman. He needs to be one hundred and ten percent there, and if he contacts Palmwood Care in Los Angeles to ask Peter's latest, he's done for. Nathan knows he can't afford his mind to linger in Peter more than is healthy. After all, the Peter Incident has now officially been taken care of and swept under the mattress with other issues, so Nathan should just pat himself on back and congratulate himself for taking out two birds with but one stone: ensuring his little brother's safety and securing his ever-growing chance of becoming a Congressman.

Yes, Peter is in good hands. Peter is flourishing.


2.

Peter's lying in his bed with his eyes closed in a state of semi-consciousness, heavily drugged. At the moment he doesn't feel too bad about being here. More precisely, he doesn't feel a thing. It's quite comfortable to just be, be, be, without emotions interfering his blissful being. It's dull and peaceful and Peter finds it... well, he can't quite decide what he thinks of it, since his mind is murky and slow for reasons he doesn't understand. He's not home, but it's okay, because everything's okay and nice and soothing and he can sleep whenever he wishes to, which is most of the time.

Food is fantastic. Everything's just fantastic, although Peter does not like the frequency he soils himself with soup or sauce or whatever is on the menu, because his hands are not cooperating for some reason. Perhaps it is because of how time has started to warp, Peter thinks knowingly, moving either too fast or too slow but never quite the ordinary rate, and Peter wonders why he seems to be the only one to notice. It may have something to do with him being special, because he is special, even if his hands have forgotten how to keep spoon or fork steady so he doesn't drop food on his lap. He is so special it's just fantastic and he could sleep now to celebrate the fact but he likes being half-awake, too, because it feels nice and he can keep on thinking how special and wonderful it is.

His mind wanders idly and he thinks of his brother, Nathan. He remembers that Nathan brought him here, which is nice and fantastic, although Nathan's not here now, is he, so he forgets about Nathan soon. His mind is not very focused these days, but it doesn't matter because he's special, he's really something, and he smiles knowingly, happy to be there without real emotions, because these chemical ones seem much better in contrast, not complicated or biased at all, and it's so right it's almost wrong which makes Peter want to embrace the entire world. He thinks of Nathan again and forgets him, and his mind drifts back and forth until he falls soundly asleep and has amazingly vivid dreams he cannot remember later.


The people at Palmwood Care (Peter thinks it's an awesome name, it feels just right, doesn't it?) are nice, well, almost everybody, but the ones who talk to Peter most often are all wonderful, although Peter doesn't like it when they prick needles into him and he tries to assure them that he would swallow his pills now, that he would prefer pills over needles even if the needles don't hurt all that much. But they keep on saying it's for his own good, so it probably is, because he just doesn't know, even though he's special.

They have promised that he can join painting group or music listening group later on, but Peter is happy as he is in his own small world. He thinks that painting could be nice, though, because - well, just because. There is not much to do out here, and although most of the time it does not bother him at all because time moves differently here, even if others don't realize it, sometimes he has a fleeting feeling that he's supposed to do something, and it puzzles him, because he cannot think what it is. He can't remember. It's like swimming in murky waters, trying to dive and see the bottom even though there's no way to see it. If there even is a bottom.

He tries to talk to other people about it, but they don't get it. It frustrates him, because he doesn't really get it either, but at least he tries. There is this one time he gets so agitated and anxious that they decide to give him a shot of something and take him back to his bed, and then he just needs to sleep his confusion away and when he wakes up he doesn't understand what all that fuss was about.

This is his life now.


Peter hears footsteps in the corridor becoming more louder and pronounced. He's not hungry (although he rarely is) so it can't be someone coming to drag him out of his bed for breakfast, lunch, dinner or whatever excuse they have for eating. It can't be Nathan, either, because his steps sound different, and well, Nathan's not here. He's never been here. Peter misses Nathan, but most of the time he doesn't remember or care or both.

"Peter? Are you awake?" A dark-skinned, middle-aged nurse who goes by name Whithers peeks at him by the entrance.

"Yeah," Peter answers, smiling shyly to nothing in particular.

"We have your brother on the phone. Would you like to talk to him?"

"Nathan?" Peter asks as if to make sure that the world hasn't sprouted additional brothers for him overnight.

"Yes, it's Nathan. Would you like to talk to him?"

"Yeah." Peter nods. "Can I have something to drink? I'm thirsty."

The nurse automatically glances the sink and the untouchable plaster mugs piled on it, not at all surprised about the lack of initiativity.

"Of course, but would you like to talk to your brother first?"

"Okay." Peter jumps from his bed, kicks the sandals in his feet and follows the nurse downstairs. The nurse takes him into a small room with phone. He offers Peter the handset, expectantly. When Peter finally understands to grab it, the nurse turns to leave the room. Peter takes two steps after her.

"Peter, your brother is on the phone. Don't you want to talk with him?"

"Oh." Peter notices the handset he's carrying. "Oh, yeah. Nathan. Yeah."

The nurse smiles and closes the door behind him. She finds Peter cute, albeit totally clueless.

"Peter?" Nathan asks after listening to his brother's breathing for one long minute. "You there?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't say anything, I wasn't sure... I thought... never mind."

Silence.

"Peter?"

"Yeah."

"Are you mad at me?" God knows he would be, locked up in a facility like that. Not that Palmwood Care isn't one of the best and most expensive private clinics out there - private being the key word - but even so, it has one purpose only. Containment; to keep people with their little big problems inside, because the world outside is busy.

"Mad?" Nathan can hardly believe his ears, because it sounds as if Peter just chuckled. "Why?" No, he doesn't seem angry or sarcastic at all, which disturbs Nathan to no end.

"Well, I thought... are they treating you right?"

Peter says something which honestly cannot be English and probably not any language known to man, followed by, "I had it covered. It's there."

"What is?" Nathan's almost afraid to ask.

Again Peter spouts some gibberish. It's really hard to recognize the words from his brother's drug-hazed slur.

"Peter, listen to me. I'm flying there later this week," Nathan decides on the spot.

"Okay. Just don't come tomorrow, okay?"

"Why's that?" Nathan asks, astonished.

"Painting's tomorrow," Peter states and hangs up.

Nathan stares at his cell phone dumbstruck for several minutes, doing some very fast and furious thinking before speed-dialing the clinic again.


"What the hell have you done to my brother?"

"Mr. Petrelli, Peter was very anxious and disoriented when he arrived here, so it was necessary to sedate him. We decided on --" Dr. Pierson gives a respective list of sedatives and antidepressants and other shifty-sounding drugs, "-- which has improved Peter's condition considerably. He hasn't tried to escape anymore and he seems to be adjusting nicely."

"I can imagine," Nathan says. "I'm guessing he hardly remembers how to walk. Was it really necessarily to turn him into a drug store?"

Nathan can hear Dr. Pierson sigh in the other end.

"From my experience, it is best for the patients to be, ah, less involved during the first days here. Being brought into a new place with unfamiliar faces is usually a frightening and stressful experience. That is why we start with heavier medication. Once the patient has become accustomed to the new environment and the routines, we cut the dosage down."

"No, I need you to stop turning my brother into an idiot right now," Nathan says with forced calmness, his voice low like a growl. "I couldn't understand half of what he was babbling and the rest didn't make sense. Hell, I think he hardly recognized me, and I surely didn't recognize him. I wanted my brother to get help for his... illness, not lose it completely."

"I assure you I understand your concern. However, your brother is seriously ill, and it would be unwise to cut his medication too radically. He's still having both auditory and visual hallucinations despite the psychosis medication --"

"What?"

"-- but his overall condition seems to be improving. Tomorrow we will start with --" once again Dr. Pierson bombards Nathan with a list of drugs and dosages. Nathan couldn't care less about the technical crap. He's extremely worried - no, make that disturbed - to hear that Peter has hallucinations for real, and it makes him uncomfortable. He's even starting to question the wisdom of his decision... no, not going there.

One thing is for certain, though. Nathan will fly to see Peter tomorrow, whether he's painting or not.