A Long Trip Home

[chimeramimicry]

The door is two yards away but I can't move from the top of the stairs.  It's been months, four or so, since I've been here, in this spot.  Gone were the days of trudging up the stairs with my satchel on the way home from work because my building's landlords refused to fix the elevators properly.  Gone too was the pleasure I had of returning to this apartment I paid for with my own money and not from my trust fund.  I donated all of that to charity the moment I turned twenty-five and finished paying off my loans to school.  It was two years ago.  It feels like forever.

I'm not the same man I had been.  I'm not a child anymore.  At least, I want to think that.

I'm still clutching the photograph of my brother and I in our tuxedos.  There's a smudge on it from my thumb and full of creases.  I've not let it go since I opened that box containing everything that I am.  Everything I was.  I left Ireland without looking back.  There was, there is only one thing on my mind.  Nathan.

Nathan.

Nathan.

I know he's here.  I've always felt a connection to him.  Mohinder Suresh called it part of my empathy, to feel things like that.  Funny to be so empathically linked to someone I spent my whole life pining for, who has always had a life to live without me.  He's never had time for me.  Never.

"Just walk, Peter," I whisper to myself as I move to a door I have not touched in a long time.  I swallow.  And knock.  I know he's in here without knowing it.  I almost lose the nerve to knock.  Please answer, Nathan.  Please.

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[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

"Well, I didn't name any of my children, Pete, so I guess I'll leave that up to you," I say with a smile. Heidi named Monty and Simon, and I don't know if Meredith or the Bennets named Claire.

I like the offhand way Peter answers the question I have inside my head. At least he misses himself too. His female body is beautiful, but I miss him the way he used to be.

I'm not so sure how much I like it that he's constantly picking up my thoughts. When he first got the ability from that police officer named Parkman, I believe, Peter said he didn't like using it, only when he had to. Now it seems like he's got it turned on full force around me. It started back when we were in Philadelphia, when I was so sick and so weak I couldn't always make it known verbally what I needed. I'm still getting used to him being a living lie detector. It's actually a blessing in disguise, though. It will force me to keep honest. I can't lie to him and tell him I only had one drink with dinner when I'm really about to fall flat on my face, or that I stayed late at the office going over paperwork when I was really fucking that intern.

All that is going to stop now. The affairs I recently carried on behind Heidi's back, I can't let them continue behind Peter's. I don't need any man or woman but him. The drinking and the sex was just a temporary fix, self-medication, to fill the empty place inside me where Peter belonged. Now I have him back, and now he really can be enough for me.

We finish our meal in a comfortable silence, our hands never breaking contact, my mind wandering. I stop on one thought in particular. In moving him back to New York, I'll be forcing Peter to leave his friends that he spent so much time with while here in Los Angeles.

"Hey. One of these days, you should invite your girlfriends over for a little celebration and going-away party. I'm sure they'll miss you, don't you think? Maybe they'd even want to give you a baby shower," I joke.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

A baby shower? The fork pauses at my lower lip and I grin at my brother. "Yeah?" I'd like that. I'll miss Peggy and Slice, they've been everything to me in the past few months. They've kept me sane, promised me support, and were willing to do things to help me most people wouldn't have. "They can meet you... Maybe..."

I find myself watching the side of his face, the curve of his nose, the chisled edges of his lips. He's a beautiful man, though I doubt very much he'd like for me to tell him that. I watch him butter his toast and then turn his head to look at me, smile on his mouth, smile in his eyes.

I remember breakfasts like these up in our vacation house in Maine. Just the two of us alone in the house while Mom and Dad go yachting. I lean forward, my elbow on the edge of the table.

"Maybe...they could even be brides maids. If we just go down to City Hall and get a liscence. I don't want fancy, Nathan." But I do want the ring. I want the bond. I want the paper.