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Chapter 2

At points Nathan was convinced that Miriam and Mohinder had chosen the Beth Israel, not for its proximity to their home or its excellent medical care, but for the fact that its canteen food was vaguely edible.

Over the years since Peter's diagnosis, he had become an expert on canteen food.

Sitting here, with a cup of black coffee cooling in front of him, he could still remember the first time this had happened.

Peter had blacked out on top of 15 storey building. Thankfully a fire escape had broken his fall.

Nathan could still hear Peter's explanation of what had happened.

"You flew up and you caught me."

Tracy had once said that it summed up their relationship. Nathan needed Peter to fly. Peter needed Nathan to keep him grounded.

They had tried doctors, accredited doctors, crazy quacks, every sort they could think of.

Their opinion had been clear. Major depressive disorder.

And they had believed them. That was what hurt the most. Ignored Peter's protests that he wasn't depressed, and let them lock him away.

He remembered reading a quote about the old mental hospital at Bedlam. That if they weren't mad when they entered, they became it rapidly.

The next two years had convinced him that the system hadn't changed that much.

Peter would have still been there, if a chance meeting at a conference. Nathan had wandered into the wrong room, by accident, a room where Mohinder Suresh was explaining his father's research on the Shanti virus.
Tracy, not yet his lover, though his marriage to Heidi was already on the rocks, had convinced him to talk to him.

The relief that the conversation had brought, both to him and to Peter, was still felt unreal.

It hadn't changed the reality of the situation, but it had made things slightly easier. Then Miriam had arrived, making things much easier.

"Hey." Speak of the devil. Miriam stood a hot bagel in hand, looking down at him.

"Tracy still not picking up?"

Nathan shrugged, slipping the cell phone away.

"I've left a voicemail."

Miriam nodded.

"She'll call." She said, gently. "She loves you."

Nathan nodded. He then raised his head, noticing for the first time the cup of Tea on her tray.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing!" Miriam lied automatically. Nathan raised an eyebrow.

Miriam sighed.

"I need a favor."

"Shanti's virus isn't normally dangerous in itself." Mohinder stood, watching Nurse Eden bathe Peter's forehead. "About 50% of the population probably carries the virus at any one time. The problem only arises when there is genetic link."

"So," Eden said, gently moistening the cloth again. "That's when the hallucinations arise."

"Among other symptoms." Mohinder began to pace across the floor. "Hallucinations are the primary symptom, but there are many others. The virus interferes with the brain chemistry, thus a number of problems can arise. Idiomatic fevers, blackouts, even complete temporary paralysis. Peter's case presents a special problem."

"The breathing difficulties." Eden said, glancing at the oxygen monitoring machine.

Mohinder Nodded.

"Peter apparently contracted pneumonia as a child. It left his lungs damaged. The attacks, if they're not treated quickly enough can lead to respiratory arrest." He took a glance at the chart.

For all the pain and struggle the attack had caused, it seemed to be passing quickly. He nodded satisfied to himself and went off to find Nathan.

The world was burning white.

It was too bright.

It hurt him. Made his eyes sting.

His lungs ached.

He couldn't keep his balance. He was falling...

"Whoa, whoa. Easy, buddy" Nathan's hand grabbed Peter's shoulder holding him still. His breath came in gasps.

"What happened?" he asked, lifting a hand to shield his face from the fierce hospital lights.

"You don't remember?" the question was automatic; he knew that retrograde amnesia on both side of the attacks was normal.

He remembered. He'd been fighting Sylar, fire against ice, burning. Rising up into the atmosphere...no. that wasn't right.

He'd been in the kitchen. Miriam. She'd been there too. Making...Pizza. Heidi had dropped the boys off. She'd been mean to Miriam as usual. He'd been trying to make her feel better. They'd been talking about...

He couldn't remember. Nor could he remember which one was true.

"No." He sighed.

Nathan sighed.

"You're in the hospital." He said, gently. "You collapsed with a fever."

Mohinder moved into view. He began his examination. Peter shoved him away.

Nathan smiled, dryly.

"I'd say there's nothing much wrong with him."

Mohinder ignored him, completing his examination.

"The attack seems to have passed," he said, putting his penlight away. "But I'd like you to remain in for..."
"No!" the yell was fierce and automatic, causing Mohinder and Nathan to look at him with concern. Nathan didn't know what had happen in the 2 years Peter had remained in hospital, but he recognised that it had left an abiding hatred of them in his former nurse brother.

Nathan leant over and put his hand on Peter's shoulder.

"It might help." He began, but stopped at Peter's shaking body. Miriam who had wandered took the situation in at a glance.

"Mohinder. You just need Peter's blood to run these test. Right?" Mohinder nodded.

"I would also like to run a CAT scan."

Miriam nodded.

"That can be done tomorrow, before we check out. You can take the blood and run tests later. If there's any problems, we come straight back in here. Deal?"

Mohinder nodded.

"There. That wasn't so difficult." She said, with a smile that Peter recognised as a forced smile. He made a mental note to tackle her about it later.

Nathan let himself in as quietly as possible.

He checked the answering machine automatically, irrationally annoyed by the lack of response from his mother.

He sighed, heading for the kitchen, not trusting himself to go into his study. It was times like this that he really needed a drink.

"Dad?"
Claire was sitting at the table. She must have fallen asleep over her books.

"You should be in bed." He said, firmly.

"And you shouldn't?" she demanded before asking. "How's Uncle Peter?"

Nathan sighed. A part of him wanted to protect her, but he was well aware that Claire carried the necessary genetics for the virus to pose a risk. The more she knew about it, the better.

"He's regained consciousness, they just want to keep him overnight for observation."
"Bet he loved that." Claire said smiling.

Nathan didn't feel he could respond to this.

"What are you reading?" he asked, wandering over to the table and lifting up the book. "Marine life?"
"Zach and I are doing a project on manatees" she indicated the picture. "They're really beautiful. Sailors used to mistake them for mermaids."

"Really?" Nathan examined the picture, but he could see nothing there to suggest a woman. "Well, I think they'll wait for tonight."

He shut the book.

"But Dad..." Claire began, but Nathan held up his hand.

"Come on." He said calmly, glancing out at the silent answering machine. "It's time for bed for both of us."

Mohinder had left his home and mobile number at the hospital, with strict instructions to page him if Peter's condition changed.

Miriam had pointed out that she had both of those, and was planning to stay the night anyway. He had ignored her.

Letting himself in, he did a quick tour of the flat.

The remains of pizza boxes in the trash confirmed his suspicions that both Molly and Matt had ignored his note on the fridge, and indeed he found that in the trash also.

He checked into Molly's room and was relieved to see her sleeping peacefully, and with a normal temperature.

If he was completely honest with himself, Molly was the reason he worked so hard with Peter. Molly like Peter suffered from the genetic defect that made Shanti's virus dangerous, and like Peter she was infected.

Mohinder believed that if he could help Peter, maybe he could make life easier for Molly.

Sighing, he made his way to the couch. Matt was working the graveyard shift and didn't need him wake him up by coming on this late.

He glanced around for the blanket and pillow he left in the living room for just this situation, and was surprised to notice that they were gone. A note however lay on the coffee table.
"Mohinder. The pillow and blanket are in the bedroom. Where you should be. Matt."

He couldn't help himself. In spite of complete and utter exhaustion, he smiled.

"So..." Peter said, as Miriam lowered the pillows. "You going to tell me what you and Nathan were talking about while I was out?"

Miriam snorted.

"I could tell you that it was none of your business."

"It involves Nathan. It is."

Miriam sighed.
"That obvious huh?"
"If you know both of you, yeah."

He leant back, trying to relax against the pillows despite his aching muscles. Miriam noticed.

"I can get something to kill it for a bit if you want."

Peter shook his head.

"No and don't try to change the subject."

Miriam sighed.

"The FBI were in contact me." She looked at him. "You remember Isaac?"

Isaac Mendez. A heroin addicted artist with precognitive abilities...No. that was just in the hallucinations.

The facts were partly right. Isaac Mendez was a comic artist and he had had a problem with Heroin in the past. At the time of death, he'd been clean for nearly a year. He was Miriam's cousin and her only relative still in America. He'd died nearly a year ago.

"Yeah."

She sighed. "They want to talk about him."

Peter tried to remember the details of Isaac death, but his head ached too much.

She shook her head.

"We can discuss this later."

Peter knew that this meant things were badly wrong. Miriam had a long principle of not putting things off, especially when he knew that they wouldn't get much sleep.

He lay back, and tried to relax against the pain. Despite that he could have sworn that he could hear Miriam crying softly.

TBC