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]

When I wake for what feels like the hundredth time, the bed is empty and cold, the comforter and sheets tangled up around my naked body. My sleep was fitful and interrupted, and filled with dreams I'm glad I can't quite remember.

My body aches from all the sex I've had this week. I think I'm getting laid more now than I ever did when I was in college.

I shower and dress, preparing myself for the quick flight to D.C. and my morning meeting. My brother is sitting in the kitchen with his hands curved around a cup of tea. His robe has slipped off one delicate shoulder, and I lean down to place a kiss there. I catch the faint scent of my cologne and our sex on his skin; he hasn't showered yet, but he's taken off his makeup, pulled his hair back.

He's put on coffee for me, and for that I'm glad. I fix myself a cup and sit at the table with him, place my hand over his, my ridiculously large wedding ring replaced by a platinum-and-diamond engagement ring that actually fits.

He told me he didn't want fancy, but I'll never forget the way his face lit up when I presented him with this at dinner. I looked into his eyes when I slipped it on his finger, and I didn't see Paige; I saw Peter the six-year-old child whose only wish in the world was to marry his older brother. All he's ever wanted was my love, and I'll give it to him, no matter what else comes. He deserves it.

"I'll see you on Friday, Peter," I say, kissing his lips once more, smiling sincerely down on him. I'm loathe to leave him here in California, but I take comfort in the fact that once I get him home to New York, he will finally, truly be mine.

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Friday is a very long time away. Watching him go breaks my heart, but I have to believe that he will be back. My eyes settle on my diamond. This is the embodiment of his promise. He's bought me frivolous things before to placate me. It's his usual MO. 'Sorry, Pete, can't make it to your game, so here, have a new mitt!'

That's not fair, not really. Nathan was there for me when I needed him too. He helped me train for track. He taught me to play baseball. He showed me so many things. And he loves me. This uncertainty will just eat me. I have to learn to trust him despite the times he's proven that he's not a good man.

That he's not suitable for a committed relationship.

We talk every day. He makes time for my phone calls and makes me laugh during them. He seems calm and happy, he's not hiding anything, he genuinely cares for me.

I relax.

Peggy and Slice have a shower for me. We go shopping for dresses for the civil ceremony we've got planned for later this month. I want to be married before I show too much. And I want to return to New York as soon as possible. I want my friends to come with me.

I've already determined to ask Nathan if there's any way he can possibly manage to get them jobs. Neither have ties to California...both want to be actresses. And New York is as good a place for that as LA is.

Friday. I hear the drapes rustle and I nearly spill my tea on myself rushing to the balcony. Nathan. "Nathan!"

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It's been a long week. The meetings in D.C. went well. I broke it off with Vanessa the intern, and needless to say, she wasn't pleased. She threatened to spill our affair to my ex-wife, and when I told her to go ahead, she spit in my face and told me I was terrible in bed. Women.

Later that evening I call Tracy for the same reason, under the guise of dinner and drinks, and I wind up taking her back to my apartment in D.C. Try speaking at a press conference with a terrible hangover and three hours' worth of sleep.

I spend a little time every day speaking on the phone with Peter, and it's so much easier to imagine that I'm talking with my brother rather than the woman he's become when I'm far away. Only a few more months, and I'll have my brother back, I tell myself.

I haven't even imagined how I'm going to explain all this to my mother, and I've been avoiding her calls for the past week. That's why I shouldn't be surprised when I return to my large, empty house on Friday afternoon, and my mother's car is in my driveway.

She's all smiles and pleasantries until she's got three glasses of wine in her, and then her gaze is hard as steel, her next sentence cutting through my bullshit.

"What have you done to your brother, Nathan?"

I get up without a word and leave her in the sitting room. She leaves without incident, and I tell my housekeeper I'll be gone for the weekend. Looks like I don't have to explain a damn thing to Ma.

My mother knows. She knows everything.

I fly harder than I ever have before, my lungs aching, muscles trembling, trying to burn all of this turmoil and guilt out of my system before I wind up dumping it all on the shoulders of my empathic brother. He doesn't need it. All I want is for Peter to be happy.

And he is, when he slides back the door to the balcony and wraps his arms around my neck, kisses me deeply.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Nathan wears more than his heart on his sleeve, and as much as I want to ignore the scent on his shirt, I find myself unable to do so. Breaking the kiss after several long moments, I step back and gaze up into his eyes. "I use to think it was because I was a man," I say softly. I'm not accusing my brother of anything. I know how character, I know his needs. But I still have such a hard time fitting them into my own. "That you just needed something more than I had.... But it's not that, is it?"

How am I lacking? How can I not be enough for him?

I look up at Nathan, the ring making a mark on his cheek with bent light as it catches the glow from the kitchen behind me. I'm not going to accuse him. I can't make him be the man I want him to be. But I do want to understand.

I need to understand to either accept it, or to figure out if there's a way to move on, or maybe even to fix it in myself so that he won't feel the need to stray.

But, God damn it, I wore him out every night he was here and he still could not quit his other women.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

My time spent in flight trying to let it all go does nothing to soften the blow as my emotions settle over him.

My brother is pleading with me, those dark eyes begging me to tell him why, after all of this, everything he's sacrificed for me, the long years he's waited for me, the physical and mental anguish I've put him through, why? Why do I still do the things I do?

Peter knows me better than I know myself; how can't he know the answer to the question he's asking?

I love him more than life and I hurt him over and over, because it's what I've been taught my whole life. Take advantage. Find the weakness and exploit it. Abuse something until it's outlived its usefulness and cast it away.

In Peter's case, he loves me so much that no matter how I destroy him, he always gives himself back to me. I smooth over the rough spots, patch up the damage, and do it all over again. I have to stop this if I truly want this to work. I have to prove to him that I deserve him.

"It's not you, Peter. You're perfect," I sigh, stroking his cheek, tucking away a curl of hair that's in his face.

"It's me. It's always been me. You know that, don't you?"

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He says it's his fault? Really? He experiences pleasure with someone else, days after promising to marry me...and it's his fault? I shake my head a little at the way he decides to brush it off and leave him standing on the balcony to reclaim my tea.

I've become what I asked for. I've become Nathan's Hiedi. He was still fucking me right up until the night before his wedding. I want to cry, but the irony is too poignant.

"You can't teach an old dog new ways," I say, knowing he's followed me into my apartment. "But I was hoping I could be enough..." Finally.

That, more than a ring, more than a child, is all I've ever wanted from my brother. Back when I could only think of getting to go to ball games and hang out in his room looking at magazines. But now there's another life here.

I smile slightly, fingers against the bump of my stomach. "How many times will you do this to me, Nathan? Ten more? Twenty? If I know, it might be easier to put up with it."

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"No more," I promise him, circling my arms around him, pulling him close. He's so much shorter than me now that I can drop a kiss on his head. "No more," I whisper again, into his strawberry-scented hair.

I feel him shake his head. He doesn't believe me, and I don't blame him. I mean the words I say, but I've made a liar of myself too many times for him to trust me.

I turn him around, and Peter's head stays downcast. He won't look up at me as he rubs the bump of his belly. I place my hand over his and lace our fingers.

"It's always been hard for me to fight temptation because I've never had to. I've always taken whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. I have to teach myself that even though I might want it, I don't need it, not anymore. Because of you, Peter. All I really need is you."

Peter finally looks up at me, and at first I don't know whether he's going to laugh or cry.

I need him to believe me, and to trust me. Without it, we're nothing. If I lose him, I lose everything. It's happened before, and I can't let it happen again.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

My fingers move to his mouth, not to silence him, but to feel his words. He kisses my fingertips and I nod without smiling. What's one more heart break on top of a pile of already broken pieces of me? I have no choice but to try and believe that he'll change. I wonder if he has it in him? I wonder if I can change the way we love each other.

"All right," I tell him, finally letting a smile ghost across my face. Another follows. And another. And as they grow in brightness, I push myself up onto my toes to kiss him. I want my lips to always be the last ones to touch his. I want my hands to be the last ones to embrace him. I will my need for him into this kiss because this is the last time Nathan will cheat on me.

I demand that it be so. I demand that I never have to go through this again. For my sake. For the baby's--

I blink and Nathan looks stricken, as if I've discovered something else he'd rather not have me know. But it's not that. I've gotten two very distinctive thoughts, simplistic, and certainly not Nathan's.

"I think I need to see that obstetrician now, Nathan."

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

"What's wrong?" I ask him, the cold hand of fear gripping my heart and squeezing hard. Not perfect. Something's wrong with Peter.

No. Peter can't die. Peter is eternal. It's our baby. Something's wrong with our baby. Oh, Christ.

I'm frozen in place for just one moment, until I'm snapped out of it by a stinging pain across my cheek. Peter just slapped me, and apparently, I needed it. All the military training I've had, all the pain I've ever been through in my life, nothing could have prepared me for the the utter panic I'm feeling right now. Our child is in danger.

"I'm going to take you to the hospital, okay? Tell me where to go," I instruct him. He nods, his eyes closing slowly.

There's a sweater hanging on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, and I wrap it around his shoulders, scoop him up in my arms, and take off into the night, praying the cover of dusk and smog over this great city will allow me to fly without being seen.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Sitting in a room in a paper gown is not, unfortunately, a new to me. Nathan's pacing, and while I wish that I could tell him that I am all right, I can't be for certain. A nurse has come in and taken blood. I've been charged with drinking several glasses of water. And now I have to pee pretty badly, but that's the point. They need my bladder to enlarge so that the ultra sound will be clearer.

"Nathan, please, come here." He's at my side in a flash and I take his hand as a friendly looking woman, chubby, with blond frizzy hair comes into the room. She's wearing pink and blue scrubs and tells us her name is Dr. Patricia Jenkins. I lay back and she begins to pour gel on my stomach.

If I wasn't super strong myself, Nathan would be breaking my hand.

"So what seems to be the trouble, Miss... Marino." I blink before I realize that Nathan's gotten my name changed. I can't be Paige Petrelli just yet. Not until we're married.

I shake my head slowly and squeeze Nathan's hand slightly so that he'll smile or feel better. "There's more movement." I can't tell her that I feel my boy's thoughts and that they are not normal. "It feels different... I'm sorry, is that vague?"

The doctor laughs softly. "Feeling is the most important part for a pregnant woman. We take feelings very seriously." She moves the wand around and all I see is an inverted golden triangle on the screen. How she can make out another other than waves, I don't know. "Let's see. You're about three months pregnant?"

"Yes," Nathan and I answer at the same time. I smile at him for good measure.

"Beautiful. Everything looks fine, Miss Marino. Though I know why you're feeling additional movement. You're having twins."

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"Twins," I breathe, all the tension that's been seized up in my muscles suddenly releasing, my adrenaline and fear ebbing away, leaving a sense of relieved anxiousness in its place. My brother and I are not only having one child, but two? Peter told me that he knew it was a boy, but he didn't know there were two. Two boys, or a boy and a girl?

I smile and laugh and try to compose myself, call back my usual grace and charisma. It's taking a lot out of me, and I could really use a drink.

I kiss my brother's cheek and let go of my deathgrip on his hand. His engagement ring has left an indentation in my own skin, I was holding onto him so tightly. Peter's eyes close and he's smiling strangely; I can only imagine what's going on inside his body right now.

"So everything's fine? You're sure?" I ask the doctor, trying to imagine that I see something other than grainy lines and bumps on the ultrasound screen. I remember doing the same with Heidi, and I'm sure the technology has improved somewhat in the last six years, but I still don't know what I'm seeing.

Dr. Jenkins smiles, and politely ignores me by giving me an affirmative nod. She's probably dealt with countless nervous fathers in her career, and this is a busy Los Angeles hospital.

She resumes speaking to Peter. "Everything looks good here. I'm going to give you a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and when we get the results of your bloodwork we'll give you a call. I strongly urge you to schedule regular appointments with your obstetrician to insure the continued health of your unborn babies, Miss Marino."

Unborn babies. Twins. My brother and I are having twins. I look over at Peter, and he smiles at me, nothing but love for me in his eyes.

I don't deserve him, and I don't know if I ever will, but I have to try. Two lives are counting on me now.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I start to laugh, but only before my brother's emotion overwhelms me and the tears start. They're happy tears, but the doctor leaves us to ourselves for a little while. This might be an emergency room, but perhaps young parents were allowed to keep some space to themselves. I'm grateful for that, especially because I'm trying to field a mixture of relief and fear and uncertainty.

One child would have been enough... I remember distinctly helping Heidi with both of her boys when they were born, spending weeks at a time at their home. I'm good with kids. I loved tending for the infants and for their exhausted mother and my usually absent brother.

But two children? At once?

Who will help me? Not my mother, though I'm sure she knows. And if Peggy and Slice won't come with me, I'll be alone.

You'll have Nathan. That idea is almost laughed at for it's absurdity. I hate myself a little for being so cynical.

"Now we have to come up with two names," I murmur, wiping my eyes.

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"Yeah, you're right," I chuckle nervously, brushing away the last of his tears with my thumb. I don't know if Peter is crying because he's happy, or because he's afraid, but one thing I do know is that if he keeps it up, he's going to make me cry too. I refuse to do that here in a curtained-off corner of this emergency room. I pull my chair in as close as I can, and Peter rests his head against my shoulder.

Once the shock wears off, I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, tell myself that everything's going to be fine. I know Peter is affected by my emotional state, and if I can calm down myself, he'll feel better too. The panic attack he had in Philadelphia was a direct result of my emotional and physical stress. He feels everything I feel and makes it his own, and I can only imagine what kind of burden that is on him. I need to begin controlling myself around him. I have to do whatever I can to insure that my unborn children are safe.

I look over at my brother, and he's actually fallen asleep against me. I hope he's able to find some relief from the emotions of everyone around him while he dreams.

The doctor discharges him an hour later, and it's still dark, so I find a deserted alleyway, cradle him in my arms again and fly him home.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I've managed to sleep through just about everything. After my brother lays me down in a bed that smells annoyingly like me and nothing like him, I raise my arms so that he can pull off my shirt and then lift my hips so that my pants can follow. Once I'm naked, I accept him back into my arms, his curly head against my shoulder, his hard, defined shoulder muscles good to stroke my fingers against as we settle in.

Sex had been what I had planned for the evening, but now I do believe we need something more. Something closer. We need to talk. Our nakedness can compensate for our physical needs for the moment.

I yawn sleepily and stroke my fingers through his hair, keeping him close with my lips against his forehead.

"I bought my wedding dress," I say, though the words seem foreign. Wedding dress. I might have desired it as a child, but I never considered actually buying one. "It's simple...nothing fancy." Though I fill it out very well. "But Nathan... Will you promise that it will be only me?"

Our conversation before hand had been cut off by the baby. By the twins. I feel his hand move to rest over the growing bump in my stomach. I wonder if he's subconsciously swearing on our children.

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I'm silent for a long moment, just stroking my fingers along his rounded belly, and when I curve my hand fully around him, I notice it's even more pronounced than it was just a week ago.

My brother's words echo over and over in my ears. Will you promise that it will be only me?

I take a deep breath, and part my lips to say the words I know Peter needs so desperately to hear. He wants me to tell him he's enough for me...and he is. I'm just not enough for him.

My life has been one continuous string of broken promises; my brother, more than anyone, should know this. At the age of twelve I promised myself I'd protect him, and I've only damaged him in more ways than I can count. He looked up to me as his hero and his role model, and what kind of example have I been for him? Arrogant, untrustworthy, neglectful. Selfish. Violent. He needed my guidance, and I took his hand and led him blindly down a path of depravity, thinly disguising it in love.

He gave me his heart, and all I've done is broken it over and over. He gave me his body, and I've abused it. I've raped him, bruised him, made him bleed, made him cry.

If I tell Peter I promise, it will only be a matter of time before my own weakness and self-indulgence makes a liar out of me yet again.

I've been setting him up for this the moment I held him in my arms twenty-seven years ago and told him I loved him. I condemned him to this life of pushing down his own desires to fulfill every twisted one of mine. He gave up everything that he could have ever been to make himself into what I wanted him to be. To give Peter what he's wanted his whole life, to make him my bride, will ruin him completely.

How can I do this to him? I can't lie to him again.

"I've never been able to keep my promises," I say instead, blowing out the breath I wasn't even aware I was holding.

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And here I am, poor little brother, the one that begged Nathan to run away with me on his wedding night. Here I am laying in bed with him, pregnant with his children, rosy cheeked and glowing. What have I become? I've replaced Heidi completely and in absolutely every way. I got what I wished for.

So now I'll be the wife. I'll raise the kids and give up more of myself. And some nights he'll come home to me with a smile and flowers and be warm and wonderful. And some nights he'll come home drunk. And as he grows tired of me, some nights he won't come home. Or bring home the scent of someone else's perfume on his shirt.

How can I survive that and look at our boys?

How did Heidi survive it for ten years?

I look up at the ceiling and pull the ring from my finger. "I can't marry you, Nathan." I smile sadly.

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Peter presses the ring back into my palm, in just the same way he gave me back my own wedding ring that day in Philadelphia when he took it upon himself to save me. He saved me from myself, and he gave me another chance to put it all back together. This is how I thank him. I traded everything for him, and now I've thrown it all away.

I failed Heidi and my boys, and now I've failed my brother and my two unborn children. I have nothing.

My hand grips his tightly before he can pull it away, and I press it to my chest, as if trying to fend off the wound his words have already made inside me. My voice trembles as I plead, "Peter, please. Please don't--"

He just pulls back, and he focuses those beautiful dark eyes on the ceiling, on nothing in particular.

It's over. I'm losing him.

"I know," I say softly, finally admitting it to myself. "I know you can't marry me, Peter."

What a fool I've been to entertain Peter's fantasy and believe I could make it reality. We were meant to be together, and we were meant to push each other away. This is how it ends. He's going to run away again. He's going to take my children away from me, just like Heidi did. I'll be alone, and it's what I deserve. But Peter doesn't.

"Please don't leave me, Peter. They're counting on us," I plead, resting my head on his shoulder, pressing my hand to his stomach again. I can't let them down too.

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"I'm not going to run anywhere," I tell him softly. "I'll be right here when you want to see me. See us. I won't take the boys from you, I'm not a terrible person." I move my hand to his head and gently scratch his hair. "I'm not going to make you forget. I won't try to forget either... But--"

I can feel him cringe when I say that and I don't blame him. I'm trying not to cry.

"Those three days you gave me last week.. I'd do all of this again, suffer everything for you again, to have those days." And it's true. Three days of bliss where I was finally Nathan's everything made me understand what it was I had been missing my whole life. It's all right that it's over. It's all right that I woke up from the dream. I'll always have those amazing days to remember.

So far so good on the tears.

"When Daniel and Lucas are born, I'm going to go back to being Peter Petrelli. Or try to. And if I manage, Paige will have died. I'll be their father. I can't confuse them and they won't understand why their uncle is their father too." I tuck a loose curl behind his ear. "You can visit whenever you'd like, Nathan. If you want sex, I'll give you sex. But we can't be with you. I can't watch you with anyone else anymore because I need to remember those days we had so that I don't hate you."

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So that he doesn't hate me? I traded everything for him. I gave up everything I spent more than a decade of my life making for myself. I'm actually not the one throwing it away. He is.

I fling his hand off me and reach over the side of the bed for my clothes. "I can visit whenever I like?" I demand, incredulity replacing the heartbreak, anger bleeding into my words. "And what are you going to tell them, Peter? That I'm their uncle?" I button my shirt with shaking fingers, and I'm barely able to buckle my belt.

Emotions cut much deeper now that I'm no longer physically dependent on alcohol, and I hope he can feel what he's done to me, how he's turned against me. I suppose I have my brother to thank for helping me to destroy my world and everything in it.

There's only one thing left that's intact, of course, and that's him. But not for long. Peter Petrelli may be indestructible, but there's one person in this world who can still break him. And I'm going to find that person. Peter is going to regret this decision he's made.

"If I can't have them, you won't either. I hope you're strong enough to run and hide for the rest of your life. I hope you can live on memories, Peter, because it's all you'll ever have. Pray that you're lucky enough to never see me again."

This damage is irreparable. He may not want to hate me now, but he will.

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I can not believe he's saying any of these things to me. I can not believe that he is threatening the life of children we made out of love. Any tears I might have cried for him are gone. Any pain I might have had from deciding to be his sometimes lover again is off the table.

He does not deserve that.

And he's not going to get very far. You do not threaten a mother. I may not be one yet, but I talk to my children. Their thoughts are my thoughts, even if they are only just starting to have them. Fuzzy, half conscious moments. But we share them. They know me. I know them. And no one, not even the man I have loved my entire life, will ever take that away from me.

Nathan goes from spitting fire and buttoning his shirt to being pinned face first to the wall.

I understand how Sylar feels, an unfortunate side effect from being too close to him for too long. He's alienated. He wants to be special. He wants someone, anyone, to love him. And if they won't love him, he wants to hurt them.

My face falls. It's flat, I suppose. Flat and dangerous. I climb out of bed while he struggles to pull himself away from the wall. I tilt my head. Sylar. I understand him. Everything about him. I accept it.

"You're not going to do anything," I say, finding a robe to slip into. "I don't know why I didn't think of this before... I... I can make you the man I want you to be."

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My body slams the wall with incredible speed and force, and I turn my head right before my nose smashes on impact. Just because I'm pressed up against the wall so tightly I'm barely able to breathe, just because I'm just a flying politician, doesn't mean I stop my angry tirade. It's all I have left.

I suck in as much air as I can, and I struggle to turn my head to see what he's doing. "You'd better kill me now, Peter. If you don't, you will fucking regret it, I promise you." He won't kill me, but he's going to wish he did, if I can manage to find a way out of this. I try to use my flight to propel myself backward against the force of his telekinetic hold, but it's no use. I struggle until I'm breathless and my heart is threatening to pound its way out of my chest. A fresh shot of adrenaline spikes into my blood as I hear Peter coming closer.

I'm not afraid of Peter. He's not a killer. For Peter to use his powers against me like this, and this particular one, I wonder if he picked up my thought of finding Sylar and convincing him to help me take revenge on my brother.

"Peter," I demand, with the last of my strength. "Let me go." The room is deathly silent, and still I can't move. Minutes pass, and still I'm anchored to the wall. What is Peter going to do to me?

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"So what? So you can find someone that probably will kill you just because that's why he does? You're an idiot, Nathan. A handsome one, but you have no idea what you're dealing with. And you have no idea how twisted you've become."

I begin to list off his crimes. Statutory rape. "You taught me how to suck you off when I was twelve. That's pedofilia too." I smirk as he squirms and force his jaws shut when he tries to talk. "You made me dependant upon you. You used me like a whore. Every relationship I ever had was ruined because of you. You slept with my girlfriend in college. Simone was killed because you tried to stop me from saving her and everyone else. I left Caitlyn to come back to you."

I lean against the wall to look at him. I'm calm, he's furious.

"You raped me in my own bed and then beat me when I could not manage to speak...even after I made you breakfast."

At least I'm beginning to see guilt in his eyes. Everything he's ever blamed me for has been because of him. Every time I have tried to love him, to tend him, to do what's right for him, he's come to resent me a little more.You, the only man I've completely loved, are allowed a wife.

"In the end, you're allowed to sleep around, fuck whomever you want, be any man you want, but when it comes to me, you call me a slut, you accuse me of being a whore. You've had sex with a hundred more people than I have ever had. You've fathered children by three women...maybe more."

I put my hand to my stomach, cradling are babies.

"And now, because I can not live with you while you cheat on me, you are going to kill the only good thing I have ever made in this world? Out of jealousy, Nathan? You're really going to try and take my children from me?"

I cut off the blood flow to his brain. It's slow. And painful. But it will make him pass out.

"You will never hurt me again. You will never hurt our children. I swear this to you."