Hey y'all :):):).

I needed to bring this up, but I got a review for the last chapter saying that it was "disgusting". I am very sorry if any other readers felt this way, but in my stories I like to relate to real-life stories as much as possible. Lots of things happen in life that aren't pleasant and sometimes the world can be a very dark and sinister place. I always like to make sure that what I write is not entirely fantasy based: bad things happen to good people, that's just how it is.

However, if any other readers were a bit wary about my writing, then please explain to me why you think this and I will tone down the graphic-ness of what I upload, okay? :D.

Anyway, rant over and done with for today hehehehe.

This next chapter involves the other Petrellis: has a lot of brotherly love (from Nathan's POV), and also explains where Nathan got the idea to tell the public about Peter's "mental affliction" from ;).

Thank you very much for all reviews and story alerts/favorites that I've received so far: they all make me smile loads!!! :).

Hope you all enjoy!!!

Playlist: -

The Script - The Man Who Can't Be Moved

Lostprophets - Everyday Combat

Avenged Sevenfold - Scream

Kate Havnevik - Nowhere Warm

Lifehouse - Everything

Chapter 2: A Clock Is Ticking.

Angela Petrelli was pacing. That was never a good sign. She briskly walked from one end of the dining room to the other, making as if to leave, before she practically pirouetted on her heels and walked back again.

Nathan sighed quietly, knowing that if he did it too loud his mom's almighty glare would spear him instantly. He fingers drummed against the table's surface, the other hand supporting his chin as he did so. The dining room was empty save for him and his mother – he'd sent Heidi and the kids off to another room a few minutes ago.

They needed to be out of Angela's explosive anger when Peter eventually did turn up.

Titling his wrist, squinting at the time his watch supplied, he sighed louder. Half an hour late… where the hell are you Peter?

The distinct lack of clacking heels against the tiled floor made him realise that he now had his mother's full attention and he met her gaze unflinchingly. Raising his hands in a surrender-like gesture, he spoke gently: "I didn't say anything."

"I know, but I know what you're thinking."

She began to pace again and Nathan ran a hand through his hair.

Neither spoke, until the eldest Petrelli brother broke the uncomfortable silence. "You sure he didn't forget, Ma? He's been a bit, I don't know, absentminded these past couple of days."

Absentminded was a serious understatement. Peter had been living in a fantasy world, convinced that they could save the world, that they were heroes. Yes, they could fly, but that was it. It was just a freak inconvenience as far as Nathan was concerned.

He even jumped off a building to prove he could do it.

Scrubbing a hand across his face, Nathan glanced out of the window, watching the raindrops race down the window pane. The weather was a bitter reflection of their lives at the moment: cruel, cold, unpredictable, hectic…

And why now, of all times?! Nathan groaned inwardly. He was running for congress, in a pivotal moment of his career and then this had to go and happen. His ability, Peter's delusions of grandeur - it was almost as if someone was willing him to fail.

He looked up, catching a hint of concern flash over Angela's face as she too stared out of the window. But then it was gone again, replaced by the cold mask of indifference that Nathan had become so accustomed to over the years.

"He's fine," Nathan voiced, even though he was pretty sure his mother would deny any claims that she was worried anyway. "Probably just can't catch a cab in this weather."

Angela glanced at him before staring back at the window. She began picking subconsciously at the sleeve of her lace shirt, her nails scratching against the fabric. Then she replied, "He won't have taken a cab."

"What? Why?"

Sighing, she relented, pausing in her movements. Her hands gripped the top of her chair as she stood opposite her eldest, "Because he won't want to waste the money. He isn't exactly rolling in it at this moment in time."

"He can't afford a cab?" Nathan asked incredulously, honestly surprised at Peter's apparently dire financial situation. "Well, why didn't he say something? Didn't you offer to lend him some?"

"Of course I did. He refused, as always. As stubborn as his father was."

The way in which Angela bristled at his words made Nathan back down a bit and he fell silent. Peter had refused money, again. Why do you always have to be so stubborn Pete? He knew that his little brother liked to try and make his own way in the world, to break free of the Petrelli expectations, but this was taking it a little too far.

Grasping his hands in his lap, Nathan shook his head. "He never said anything to me."

"He wouldn't. He'd never want to appear weak in your eyes, Nathan." Angela studied her son's reaction, noting the underlying guilt that rested on his face. "What would you have done if he had told you?"

"… Helped him!"

"Like I tried to?" His defiant expression slid then and she lifted her head superiorly. "Do you think I want to watch him struggle, Nathan? That I haven't noticed how thin he's gotten because he hasn't been eating properly?"

Nathan didn't reply.

He had wondered if it was just him that had noticed the steady decline in Peter's weight. When he had caught him, that day that Peter had jumped, was when he had truly noticed how skinny he'd gotten. It was true that he hadn't been able to hold on because of the difficulty of trying to support them both, but in any other less heart-stopping moments, he may have been able to.

Realisation struck him fast as lightning struck outside and his face fell instantly. "So you mean he's out," he pointed towards the window violently, "walking in this?!"

Angela didn't meet his eye as she nodded and Nathan bolted to his feet. He took another sharp glance at the window, the rain lashing cruelly against it in an attempt to break inside. He inwardly shuddered at the thought of his little brother wandering the streets of New York in this weather.

"Where are you going, Nathan?" he was asked sharply as he headed for the door. He tried to restrain himself from any snarky comments – they would certainly not be appreciated.

Swivelling on his heel, he met his mother's sincere eyes with a pair of his own: "To go and find him."

Angela didn't reply. She merely sidestepped around a chair and sat down, overlapping one leg with the other as she considered him. Her long fingers reached out along her black skirt, smoothing out any miniscule creases to maintain her pristine image.

Coolly, she spoke, "Don't be so brash, Nathan. It is most unbecoming of a congressman to be so impulsive all of the time."

"How can you say that?"

"Because it's the truth," she snapped back, that always condescending motherly tone creeping into her voice. "I know how you feel, Nathan. I had wanted this meal to be a comfort for Peter. To let him know that he still has his family around him."

Nathan raised an eyebrow, sagging against the doorframe, "Or at least to get him to eat for once."

A smile, genuine and bright, rose on the Petrelli woman's face at that and Nathan felt instant relief. He had begun to pick up on signs of a mother-son argument, where, as always, the mother always came out on top. Disaster averted.

"It wouldn't surprise me if he's forgotten, you know," Nathan added as an afterthought, making his way back into the room. His automatic protectiveness over their youngest family member had calmed in its rage for the moment, and he took it as an opportunity to backtrack quickly.

Collapsing into the nearest chair, he pressed his palm into his right eye, rubbing away the sleep. The stress of the last couple of days was really beginning to take its toll.

"He's been through quite an ordeal recently."

"Yeah," whispered the elder brother, letting his hand flop uselessly to his side.

It was the truth that, suddenly, Peter had taken a serious tailspin. Rambling on about being able to fly, even if it was true, was never a sign of a mentally healthy person. Then, jumping off a roof and nearly dying to prove his theory right. Quitting his job to follow some half-assed fantasy about 'saving the world'…

Nathan shook his head, contemplating the questionable actions that Peter had carried out lately. "He's losing his mind."

Pursing her lips, Angela watched her eldest seem to sink lower in his chair. She should have been proud that she had been wrong about Nathan: it appeared that he did care about someone other than himself. But, at such a pivotal moment in his life when he was about to be elected for congress, the crushing despair she sensed in him would most certainly not bode well.

"Even if he is, we knew that it was a possibility." His intelligent hazel eyes rose to gaze at her and the pure emotion she caught lurking there almost threw her off guard. "Your father was the same, Nathan. Out of the two of you, the one who was most likely to inherit his illness was Peter."

"So what do we do?"

Finished with her unnecessary straightening of her dress, Angela interlaced her hands, resting them neatly on her lap. She paused for a moment, most likely for dramatic effect Nathan suspected. Angela Petrelli never had difficulty finding the right words.

"We use it," his jaw dropped but she ignored it. "You're still behind in the polls and there's been no indication of you catching up. This could be a turning point in your campaign."

Once more, the elder Petrelli brother was on his feet, fingers now raking through his delicately combed hair. He scoffed indignantly, stopping to stare down at the stoic woman. "You want me to use Peter for political gain?"

"Yes."

"H-How can you be so…?" Cold? Heartless? He wasn't sure what word should follow. But the thought of using someone as innocent and self-sacrificing as Peter to increase his chances of being elected was just wrong. "No, I can't do that."

The chin tilted, trying to invoke superiority in the situation, "Why, because he's your brother?"

"Yes! And it's wrong, using Peter in that way."

Angela cleared her throat. "I love that child, Nathan. But you know as well as I do that he does not contribute well to our family expectations. I am proud that he has found his own way and, as I've said, I have always wanted a nurse in the family." She sighed deeply. "Peter is not what the public eye would view as being a true Petrelli."

That's bullshit, Nathan thought silently. At first, he had been opposed to the idea of Peter going into medicine. All Petrellis were lawyers – it was practically the family emblem. But, when seeing how happy it had made his little brother, he couldn't be disappointed with the decision.

Petrellis were headstrong, self-serving, were always top of the class and immediate symbols of power. Peter had always been different to the typical Petrelli image. He was empathic, always looking out for others before himself. He didn't care about becoming powerful and, especially, had no interest in becoming a lawyer.

In the end, Nathan was proud of Peter – he had made his own path in life. It took a lot of courage to disregard their father's expectations and even more to make it without any of his support. Guess he got the 'headstrong' part of the Petrelli image then.

"You'd rather the public eye viewed him as mentally unstable?"

The question literally hurt to say. It felt like a stab in the chest at even thinking the words 'Peter' and 'mentally unstable' in the same sentence. It stung all the more when Nathan knew that he was actually telling the truth about flying and everything he spoke about.

He's just taking the wrong approach. Something like this, it should be kept secret. People are always scared of things that are different.

Studying his mother's face, Nathan found himself despising the mask that she always wore to cover her emotions. It made her seem too hard and unfeeling in the world of compassion that Peter chose to inhabit.

"It would benefit you."

"And what about Peter? How could it possibly benefit him?"

The corners of her lips lifted slightly, no real happiness behind the smile. "You're his brother. He hero-worships you still, after all these years. I have no doubt that he will be upset by it at first, but, when he realises how much it will contribute, he won't object."

Leaning on the table, his hands clenched into fists as the cruel suggestions registered in his brain, Nathan muttered darkly, "You're asking me to betray his trust."

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic Nathan."

Angela sat poker-straight in her chair, annoyance creeping in at Nathan's sudden development of a conscience. Such inconvenient timing… She watched him struggle with himself internally, already knowing which aspect of his personality would win out.

Nathan was a Petrelli, through and through. He would always be a role-model and, consequently, power would always be his personal treasure chest to strive for. He wouldn't throw all that away to simply spare his overly-sensitive little brother's feelings.

"You know," managed the whispery voice after a moment. "I think we should postpone this meal for tonight."

He spoke in the way all politicians were supposed to: detached and to the point. He was basically shutting down any remains of the conversation and making a quick exit. It was his way of saying that he wanted nothing more than to run out of the door with his family and never look back.

And, to her credit, Angela said nothing, merely inclining her head a fraction.

Mimicking her, Nathan turned, reaching the door with quick, practised steps. He needed to get out of this house now. He couldn't breathe, his mind drowning in the implications and suggestions that had been thrust harshly upon him.

I need time to think this through.

"Nathan."

He heaved a heavy breath, shoulders hunching in anticipation as he stopped. Refusing to turn around, he simply tilted his head to the side slightly, indicating that he was indeed listening.

The Petrelli woman pulled her lips into a tight line as she noticed Nathan's reluctance to turn around. "If you see Peter, tell him that I would like to speak to him." The strong shoulders seemed to tense considerably. "We have matters to discuss."

Remaining silent, Nathan briskly left the room, seething at his mother's final words. What could she possibly have to say to his brother that would be worth saying? Surely not a reprimand about being late when what she had been discussing was unspeakably cruel towards him.

Hypocrisy, thy name is Angela Petrelli.

He hadn't realised how infuriated he must have appeared until he walked into the living room. Monty and Simon instantly stopped playing at his 'about-to-explode' expression and Heidi turned in her wheelchair to regard him seriously.

"What happened?"

Nathan loved his wife, there was no doubt about it, but he couldn't discuss this now. Not when his blood was boiling and his mind was overloaded with persistent thoughts. He was barely holding it together as it was.

"We're leaving," he said, not looking at Heidi or his sons. All he wanted was to get out of this house so that he could just calm down. When he noticed that nobody was moving, he added, "now."

Thank God, they took the message.

Heidi gently told their boys to grab their coats and sent them out to the car, wrapped up tightly against the bitter rain. Only once they had gone did she look up towards her husband. His whole frame was bowed, one hand clutching tightly onto the back of an armchair: his knuckles stark-white as he gripped on.

She slowly wheeled her chair towards him, stopping just before him. As an act of comfort, she rested her hand atop his, her thumb already tracing soothing circles over his skin.

A shaky breath passed his lips and an expressive gaze met hers sadly, "I'm sorry. I just…" He broke off, dropping into a crouch in front of her, clutching her hand with both of his own. "I can't stay here right now. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't," she replied softly, before drawing her head towards his own and planting a tender kiss on his cheek. "But I trust you, Nathan. If you say you need to go, then for whatever reason, I'll come with you."

Nathan smiled, returning the kiss gratefully. Rising steadily to his feet, he walked around her, gripping the handles of her wheelchair and pushing steadily towards the door. He didn't know what he was going he was going to tell her. She deserved to know the truth of why he was acting this way, but revealing that side of his mother was not something he wanted to do. It personally scared him a little.

And Peter, he realised sadly, wondering why his brother seemed to always attract unwanted attention. Nathan could only hope that Peter had indeed forgotten about their arrangements tonight and would be well out of Angela's clutches for at least a little while.

For the rest of the journey home, Nathan remained utterly silent, his thoughts always straying back to the puppy-like expression that always adorned his baby brother's young face.

How could I ever hurt you, Peter?

Wearily, Nathan wheeled Heidi into the house, telling his sons to go up to bed. Upon seeing their pleading faces, he added, without missing a beat, that he would send some food up to them later. With that, they bounded merrily away, laughing and joking all the way up the stairs.

"Nathan," began the dark-haired woman as Nathan pushed her into the spacious dining room. Stopping, he moved past her, reaching the long table and collapsing into the nearest chair opposite it tiredly. "What's wrong?"

Looking at her with a guarded expression, Nathan shook his head. "I don't… I don't know if I can go into it right now, Heidi. I'm not sure even I understand it."

"Is it to do with Peter?"

The elder Petrelli said nothing, dropping his gaze and staring down at his clasped hands on the table top. Heidi sighed, Of course. There was only one person who could get under Nathan's skin and make him so worried and brooding without even having to be present to do it – Peter.

"Is he okay?" she asked, her own concern peaking through for the young nurse. Peter had been like a little brother to her since the day they had first met. She loved him as such and wasn't beyond mothering him if he needed it.

Nathan sagged further. "I don't know."

Flinching at the admission, Heidi moved her wheelchair closer, her hand grabbing his arm tightly, squeezing. Nathan was always certain about everything. He knew how to go about handling his campaign, how to stave off his mother's questions and accusations, how to take care of his brother…

If he wasn't sure about this one thing, then they were really in trouble.

Swallowing, knowing solemnly that she was about to cross into dangerous territory, Heidi murmured, "It was your mother, wasn't it? She's done something."

As though he had been electrocuted, Nathan leapt to his feet, pulling away from Heidi's touch. "Go and tell Sarah to prepare some food," he spoke with evasion, his voice low as he strode away. "I'm gonna go check on the boys."

He didn't wait for her to answer as he practically bound up the stairs to escape her questions. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but until he got a handle on what he had been told, he couldn't speak aloud about it.

His hand once again weaved its way through his hair: the already arrayed locks now tangled further. His pristine image was the least of his problems at the moment. Although Ma would have something to say about it, that's for sure.

He reached Simon's room, hearing his sons speaking in hushed tones. However, Monty's abrupt giggling every few seconds ruined the secretive moment that the two were clearly trying to share. Smiling to himself, Nathan knocked, the voices quietening immediately.

"Boys, it's just me. Can I come in?"

He heard a gentle '"yes", no doubt from his eldest, and he entered. His eyes fell on the two huddled together on the floor, Monty leaning near to Simon as though listening to a story. Nathan paused, watching the two as they likewise did the same to him. "What're you up to?"

"I'm telling Monty a story," Simon replied, before pointing to the rain-lashed window. "The storm was scaring him, so I was telling him about how it was just God holding a party."

Raising an eyebrow, Nathan approached, sitting himself on the edge of the small bed. "Really?" his lips curled at the interaction between his sons. Just like how Peter and I used to hang out. Turning his attention to his youngest, he asked, "You like that story, Monty?"

Leaping to his feet, Monty dove at Nathan, wrapping his small arms tightly around his waist, "Uh-huh. 'Cause, thunder is just the audience clapping for the different circus acts that God invited, a-and, the lightning is one of the tricks they do!"

Nathan's grin widened further as he stroked Monty's hair before he winked at Simon. "Yep, that's all it is."

The lightning flashed outside the window and the young boy tensed instantly in his hold, whimpering. Apparently the story hadn't quite had the intended effect that Simon had wanted. Nathan soothed him quietly, murmuring gentle reassurances in his ear as he held him close.

Peter had been the same way whenever there had been a thunderstorm. It had taken ages for Nathan to reassure the youngest Petrelli that the lightning wasn't coming to hurt him. It was just trying to say hello to him.

The phrasing perhaps hadn't been his best. The next time there had been a tremendous storm, Nathan had, by some merciful chance, happened to see Peter rushing outside into the oncoming rain. The young child had raced towards the lightning, raising his arms wide and screaming his greetings back at the flashes in the sky.

Nathan shuddered at the memory. He remembered the fear as he raced outside, managing to grab his brother and carry him hurriedly back inside. He had shouted and raged about how stupid Peter had been, his racing heart fuelling his anger.

But then Peter had cried.

And the anger was gone.

He had softened then, hugging the sobbing boy and comforting him. Nathan had sat them both down, explaining that he was just worried. The thing was, the lightning did want to meet him, but because it was so powerful, it couldn't control its own strength.

"If it had managed to speak to you, Peter, it would have hurt you by mistake."

The five-year-old had frowned, his dark eyes flicking back towards the howling storm. He glanced back at Nathan, his tear-stained face glistening in the dim lights. "What's the point of it being so strong, if it can't control it?"

"Because," Nathan began, brushing the wet bangs from his brother's eyes, "there always have to be strong things in the world, Pete."

"…Like people?"

"Yeah," the elder Petrelli replied. "There have to be strong people in the world so that they can help those who can't look after themselves. But, even with that strength, not everything that happens is within our control. You understand?"

The brow, if possible, creased further and Nathan inwardly groaned. He hated explaining things to kids – they were too damn innocent to understand them. And Peter, well, he was just the most innocent of the lot of them.

"S-So… the lightning does still like me?"

Smiling at the tentativeness of the question, Nathan nodded assertively. "Sure it does! It's just like you trying to give an elephant a hug. The elephant might wanna hug you back, but it'd just end up squishing you."

"Like a pancake!" burst out the younger brother as he bounced on the seat, holding Nathan's hands for support. They had both laughed at that and then, Nathan tugged Peter close, ruffling his hair before kissing him softly on the forehead.

Thin arms wrapped around his back and they had embraced warmly, simply enjoying the moment. "Yeah Pete," Nathan murmured, watching the storm from over Peter's mop of hair. "Just like a pancake…"

"Come on Monty," Nathan urged softly, lifting his youngest boy and leading him to the window. He held his hand as Simon approached his other side and he pointed ahead blindly at the darkness, to where he knew their garden lay hidden. "The lightning's gonna help us, okay? When it flashes, it's going to show you what everything looks like at night."

He chuckled at Monty's wondrous expression as he pressed his face against the glass. A second later, Simon mimicked him, squinting against the darkness and waiting for the explosion of light.

It happened swiftly.

Simon and Monty gasped, taking in the illuminated skyline. Dark clouds were carved out in the enraged sky that hung over their house. The garden posed little interest to them – the sky was much more endearing.

But for Nathan, who had touched the sky freely with his own two hands, found his gaze being drawn down to the garden.

Involuntarily, his jaw slackened and his hand released Monty's as he gaped. He could clearly make out the churned up grass, nothing more than mud-ridden trails left behind in their stead. But what truly grabbed his attention was a shape lying at the end of this ruined pathway. It was motionless, oblivious to the storm and rain: a lifeless body strewn out brokenly on the ground.

Nathan leant closer, staring in disbelief. It can't be…

But something in the pit of his stomach told him it was. A past fear from when he had been only seventeen struck him. It was the night of a storm, the night that he had raced outside in terror to retrieve a young child: his baby brother.

Tears were already shimmering in his hazel eyes, his fingers pressing against the glass. The flash was soon to vanish and Nathan was left staring at nothing, his face a reflection of despair in the window pane.

"Peter?"

... Not sure if that's a cliffie or not :/.

Hope you liked it (were Nathan and Angela's characters portrayed correctly with how I wrote them?) and please leave me a review!!! :D.

Hugs, Ami-Rose x x x x x ;).