Hey guys sorry for the long time it took to update. The charger to my PC was broken and I had to get that sorted before I could post this chapter. Eight to ten days I tell you! It may take longer for me to make another update becasue they sent me back a charger that charges only SOMETIMES. FML. Anyway I hope that you enjoy this chapter and that you comment. And also I do not own any of the Heroes characters they belong to Tim Kring.

The hardest part was reaching for the phone. What was always hard for nearly all things was the beginning.

Peter rubbed his loose fitting sweater's sleeve under his nose.

Cough.

The second hardest part was typing in the numbers. Each press was a press towards remembering, it was the heading towards the familiar part of life. Calling your brother, heading off to see Mr. Deveaux, kissing mom hello, leaping off a building the coattails of a much loved coat flapping and catching a cool breeze. Flight, laughter, discovery, freedom.

Click.

No, the hardest part was redialing after many attempts and constantly reassuring the heart that thudding so hard wasn't necessary. The sweat beaded on shaking hands, hands that struggled to hold the receiver.

"Pete."

"Nathan," Peter breathed out. His ribs expanded, his breath made the plastic of the phone slightly moist. A part of Peter's mind was angry, with just a sound of Nathan's voice he had already forgiven the older man his err. He had planned to answer the phone and give his brother the cursing out that he deserved. But lately...

Intentions were never carried out as they were supposed to, be it a telephone call or saving a city.

"What can I do for you Pete?"

'What can you do for me? Perhaps be my brother for once instead of the golden boy, head in class, a senator of New York, instead of my betrayer, the President of the United States.'

"Nathan, I-I...I miss you," and it was a shaking whisper that came as Peter clutched the phone tightly to his ears.

"Peter, what's-are you alright? Do you need me to come up there?"

"I dunno, don't know anything anymore."

"Do you need money, just talk to me Peter."

"No, just...talk to me. How's mom? What's the weather like in DC? You find Bin Laden, just anything."

Peter sat on the couch the cordless phone pressed to his ear. Nathan's voice so much unlike his own burbled easily and confidently over the comings and goings of the capital. It wasn't so much that Peter wanted to listen to what was happening, it was more the fact that he hadn't heard his brother's voice in months.

The voice slowed down, there was nothing left to say.

"Peter, what's going on?"

"You told Claire."

"She's your niece Pete, she wanted t' see you."

"I don't want to see her, why'd you do it?"

"I thought...I thought that she could bring you back. We all miss you here."

"I'm never comin' back, thought we took care of that."

"Did we?"

"Nathan...I'm different, we're different. You're not my brother and I'm not yours. You own the free world, I do blow between gigs. We were never the same and now...it's just more obvious."

"Peter I can fix this, just-just let me help you for Chrissakes!"

"A long time ago I woulda said yes in a heartbeat. I trusted you but Claire was right. You were never with us. 'Caus-a you things'll never be right, I'll never be right. I gotta go...thanks for talkin' t' me."

"Pete."

Silence.

"I love you Peter."

"I do too, but I'm workin' on that."

Peter hung up. No, perhaps he had been wrong. A tear fell and rolled down the hard plastic curve of the phone as he placed it back on its stand. Perhaps the hardest part was not grabbing the phone again and begging for his brother back.

"Peter."

"I couldn't even get mad," he muttered surreally as long muscled arms enclosed him.

He let his own arms encircle his lover, pulling him closer, inhaling the strange scent of oil, the stinging sweet smell of benzine and something wholly predator that was embedded in every pore. He leaned into Gabriel's neck, let his tongue lave gently over the thick pulsing artery that lay beneath. Gabriel sighed in content his large hands palming the warm skin of his lower back. He pulled away letting Gabriel pull his sweater over his head. He wore nothing underneath.

Even without his lost power of reading minds he could read the worry etched on his lover's face. The older man was gauging how much weight he had lost, the bruises in the crook of his arms, wondering if they should still continue.

"Make it stop hurting," Peter said looking from beneath his long hair.

"Just let me save you, just this once, please."

Peter shook his head and stepped forward letting his unsteady hands close over Gabriel's forearms. He kissed soft pliant lips. He smiled reached up and cupped the older man's face deepening the kiss until it was all that either of them could think of.

Kissing, they began moving backwards until the mattress was pressing into the back of Gabriel's knees, until he had fallen over on top of Gabriel's still clothed chest. He dipped his tongue into the hot mouth that suckled on his lips. They pulled away from each other so that they could get more comfortable on the old mattress. Springs moaned and keened beneath their weight and only achieved a higher pitch as Peter kneeled hard into the mattress. Gabriel began removing his own shirt revealing tan skin and a chest adorned with soft straight hairs. Peter licked chapped lips his tongue touching on the line where Gabriel had bitten him last time.

"I want this to be this way forever Peter. I don't want to have this go away."

Tears. Peter didn't understand how any one could cry for him. He wondered what it was they saw when they looked at him, what it was that made them feel he deserved their pity. A clear line of liquid leaked from eye to curved pink lips.

"After. We'll go tomorrow okay? We'll go check out a rehab center."

"You have to mean it."

Peter let his hand find Gabriel's thudding heartbeat. His fingers warmed as they pressed on his lover's chest. Nowadays he always felt so cold but he supposed it was only another sign of him getting worse. He didn't want to drag more people on his spiral. If his addiction were to hurt Gabriel he didn't know what he'd do. There was no one else that could save him, no one else that he could bear to see him this way.

"I mean it. If you...if you want me t' do it, I'll do it."

Gabriel grabbed his hand and pulled him close until their chests were against each other's. The fervent kisses that captured his lips next were sweet chaste and almost thankful in their eagerness. Hands grasped his bottom and he gasped as his and Gabriel's hips met. Lips nipped and sucked on his neck and he looked heavenward to allow better access.

'I can do this, I can be this if he wants me to.'

................

He wasn't being fucked, not like he was used to. As his lover prepared him he realized that they were making love. There were no harsh words no forcefullness behind any of the motions, it was tender all of it. As his lover grabbed his hips and pushed into him he couldn't help but think that this was even more painful than the time a few days before. This agonizing sweetness was making him ache despite the driving length that hit his sweet spot until his vision blurred. He screamed beneath the emotional onslaught that was tearing at his defenses. He needed to stop, he needed release, he needed air, he needed drugs so badly his teeth were clenching.

"Peter," Gabriel whispered gently, "just let go, we're fine."

And he did.

Tears mingled with blood as the wound on his lip reopened. He came with an airy gasp, his spent cock in large gentle hands.

He could feel his lover's cock softening inside him, his body curled over his like a shield. They lay down together on the bed his back flush against a warm chest. He closed his eyes and he didn't dream.

Warm hands pressed firmly against his stomach, he laid his own over top. He could never bear having to let go.