A/N: Though you can probably tell, I decided to make it multi-chaptered. As always, I would like reviews. Praise is my crack!
Chapter 2: Hunger
"Happy birthday, dear." Angela Petrelli greeted tenderly, hugging her eldest son briefly before ushering him into the house. A stab of pain shot through her as she imagined him as he once was, slumped in a chair, dead, with his throat slit. She had gotten a second chance and she refused to waste it. This was Nathan, this was her son.
"Thanks, Ma." The smile on his face came naturally. Why shouldn't it? This was his mother, or so part of him told him. The other fumed silently, this woman was a liar, betrayer. She had given him a family and ripped it out from under him and then stolen his life, his identity. Someday, she would pay.
"Are you alright?" Angela asked in a concerned voice, snapping Nathan out of his internal conflict. She rested on hand on his shoulder, frowning ever so slightly.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine…Long day at the office." He flashed her a reassuring grin, quickly changing the subject. "Pete here yet? I haven't seen him in a while."
"Yes, he and Claire arrived just before you did. Listen, Nathan…" Her voice dropped into a low whisper and for a one heart-stopping moment he thought she was going to explain what was wrong with him, tell him that everything was going to be back to normal soon, comfort him like a mother should. Sylar scoffed, Angela Petrelli didn't comfort. "About Peter, I'm worried…" She cut off abruptly.
"Hey, it's the birthday boy." Peter smiled, appearing at his side as he smacked his brother playfully on the back. "Working too hard again? You look a little spacey."
"Look who's talking," Nathan's eyes flickered over Peter's face. Dark pouches sat under his eyes which looked harried, even his clothes looked like he had thrown them on without caring, his hair barely combed. "You look like crap, Pete."
"Thanks," The other brother said dryly, moving out of the way as Claire entered the foyer to hug her biological father, wishing him a happy birthday as well. Claire. She was another one that gave him mixed feelings as conflicting memories clashed. A fatherly love and admiration, but also a sense of inevitability tinged with irritated amusement.
Their dinner together passed smoothly enough, light small talk broken by awkward silences filled with the clearing of throats and the scrape of forks against plates. All the while Nathan's head spun as he grappled with two lives worth of memories and feelings fighting for dominance. Who am I? He thought bleakly, a smile plastered on his face throughout the whole thing.
He was jerked out of his musings when Angela suddenly stood after they had finished dessert, retrieving a dark rectangular box from a nearby shelf, setting it in front of him and a smile.
"Open it," She urged, watching him carefully.
"Aw, Ma, you shouldn't have. You know I don't need anything…" Unsure of what to expect he gently pried the bow open, revealing a heavy gold watch, its dark face staring up at him. A surge of longing swept through his gut, surprising him. He wanted his watch, his Sylar watch forever reading the time 11:53.
"Oh, hush, it's your birthday," His mother chastised lightly, earning a laugh from Peter and Claire. Her eyes tracked him carefully, her hands clenched in anticipation under the table. Sylar was gone, she told herself, this was Nathan. But she had to know…
"Thanks. It's beautiful, Ma." Taking off the watch he was wearing he clipped on his new one, admiring its face gleaming dully in the light. He could practically see the gears turning beneath the surface, each of them fitting together just as they were supposed to. It really was a piece of art, already the brand and how much it must have cost jumped to the forefront of his mind, things Nathan Petrelli never would have known. He had to admit, it frightened him. Angela smiled, reassured.
The rest of the night passed with light jokes and memories of birthdays past, the latter which Nathan didn't much participate in, afraid that he might mention a memory from another life, one they didn't know. It was getting late by the time he excused himself to finish some last minute paperwork in his home office.
Finally away from prying eyes he slumped in the desk chair, running his hands through his hair and sighing in exasperation. Who am I? The ultimate question and unfortunately the one without an answer.
"Nathan?" Peter's quit voice preceded by the creaking of the opening door startled him and he quickly shuffled some papers to appear to be busy doing something other than having a mental breakdown.
"Yeah, Pete?" He asked, looking up at his haunted looking brother.
"I messed up, Nathan," He replied simply, closing the door tightly behind him and proceeding a few steps into the office before collapsing in a chair. "I tried to see if I could absorb more than one power when Sylar was unconscious, i-it didn't work. I accidentally absorbed his power, his real power, just like before Dad took mine away. God, Nathan, it's like a parasite…"
Nathan stood and walked around his desk, placing a firm hand on his brother's shoulder, "Why didn't you say something earlier?" He asked, quelling a rising feeling of cruel satisfaction. See? Even golden boy Peter couldn't handle the Hunger.
"I didn't want to worry Mom or Claire," The younger explained half-heartedly, he looked up at his big brother, "I know I didn't have to ask, Nate, but…I need your help. Can I take your power? I just can't handle this anymore…"
No!
The feeling was so strong that his hand jerked back from Peter's shoulder as if it had been burned. He wasn't sure who the warning had come from, Nathan or Sylar, or if it was logic or selfishness that fueled it. What if Peter absorbed something other than flight? Besides, the selfish side said, he had killed for these powers, he had sold his soul for them, why should Peter get them without so much as lifting a finger. Because life isn't fair.
"Of course, Pete." Nathan said, trying to sound as confident and self-assured as was expected. He stuck his hand out toward his brother, cold apprehension settling in the pit of his stomach.
A look of utter relief dominated Peter's features as he reached out and took the hand, filaments of red electricity dancing from their hands and up his arm. Suddenly, he ripped his hand from his older brother's, jumping to his feet with a perturbed look.
"What's wrong?" Nathan asked, shocked by his violent reaction. Did he know?
Peter's head shook slowly from side to side, his eyes brows knitted together in confusion as he took a step backwards. He held on hand up in front of his, his eyes watching it carefully as the skin started to bubble and stretch, though he couldn't see his face do the same. In what seemed like no time at all two Nathan Petrelli's stood facing each other, each face mirroring the other in equal expressions of horror.
"I saw you burn," Peter hissed suddenly, lunging forward and shoving the real Nathan, if you could really call him that, up against a wall. "I saw you die. Where is my brother, Sylar?"
