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]

I open my eyes, and at first, all I can see is bright light. I wonder if I could have possibly been forgiven by my brother as he let me die, and he mistakenly sent me on my way to heaven.

No, not heaven. It's just sunlight, pouring in the windows, warming my face and my naked body. I'm lying flat on my back in my brother's bed, my skin and hair slightly damp. My brother is standing over me, tears drying on his face as he rubs my skin gently with a washcloth. Am I just sick? Was I only dreaming that my brother tried to kill me? I'm not still in Philadelphia, am I, suffering through my self-inflicted illness?

No. I think it was all just a dream. Peter looks into my eyes, and he leans down to kiss my forehead. I wonder if maybe I'm still dreaming, because I haven't felt quite like this since I was much, much younger. I can't quite put my finger on what it is that's different, and I try to wrap my mind around it.

I'm lighter, almost, like something that's been weighing me down for a long time has been lifted from my soul. Random aches from old injuries I sustained many years ago, pain that I'd just learned to live with and accept as a given, have left my body. Shame and guilt are a distant memory; they've somehow disappeared like a dream does upon waking.

My brother didn't kill me; he took away the part of me that was broken and sick. He reached inside me and fixed me. Because he loves me.

I smile up at him, and blink away the little bit of disorientation that's left inside my head. God, I feel perfect.

"Peter," I murmur, reaching for his hand. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Really?" I had been afraid that I'd taken too much, tried to fix too much. While I am confident in most of my abilities so long as I can keep up a particular mindset and focus, this was a delicate operation. Still, what was I suppose to do? Let Nathan get killed by Sylar? Or worse, have to fight a man that has every one of my powers now as he tries to take the life I'm holding inside of me?

No. I deserve happiness. And so does Nathan. All I've really done is taken out his addiction and fixed the mental blockers the genetics of his brain and cultural learning from our parents have instilled in him.

I've healed him with Sylar's destructive powers. The hunger did not win.

Crawling into bed with him, I sit at his side, in the curve left by his abdomen and hip, and face him so that we can gaze at one another. He's not lying. He feels good. He feels relieved.

And while I might have done this to selfishly unfetter his love for me, I also did it for him.

"Thank God!"

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Peter wipes the tears and the sweat from his face with the washcloth, and as I look upon him, still in his feminine state, I don't think I've ever known anyone more beautiful, more loving and giving than he his. He's my savior once again. If Peter hadn't found the strength within himself to forgive me one last time, and use his incredibly dangerous skill to heal me, even after I threatened the lives of our children yet again, I would have just gone off in my angry, jealous rage and gotten myself killed.

Who the hell did I think I was that I could just convince the deadliest, most deranged special in the world to help me achieve my selfish act of vengeance? Peter is right. I am an idiot.

But all of that is gone from me. I feel twenty years younger. I've been granted yet another chance to do right by the great love of my life.

I begin to laugh until tears roll down my cheeks, and Peter just holds me, watching me curiously. He's still not sure if I'm all right, or if this strange behavior means he scrambled my brain. I'm fine. I'm better than fine. I'm whole again.

It's almost an euphoric state I'm in, and while I know it won't last forever, I want the person I love more than anything in the world to hold me and enjoy it with me.

"Come here," I whisper, patting his thigh. He leans forward and slides into my embrace, and I hug him tightly to me. "I love you, Peter. I love you so much. Tell the babies...tell them I love them too, if you can."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Tell them yourself," I whisper gently, putting his hand on my stomach. "They known that you do. You are their father." I would be wrong to try and take him away from them now, not when he's changed. Not when I can see it in his eyes and taste it on his lips. I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

I want it to be like this. I want it to always be like this.

As my brother's arms wrap around me, I feel a smile spread across my lips and I press them to his neck. "Nathan?"

I listen for the small "Hm" that comes from his throat and slip my hand into his. Our fingers lace and I scratch lightly at where his wedding ring use to be.

Where I want another to be in a few weeks.

"Nathan Petrelli, will you marry me?" It'll be our second engagement. But I know it will work. I know it will. We can have our happily ever after now.

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I tilt his face towards mine and press a kiss to his lips, and I can't wait until the day comes when this action will join us together forever.

"Yes, Peter, I will," I answer, looking straight into his eyes, so that I can see my brother in there.

I never want to go back to the way I used to be. Peter's forgiven me, and I've forgiven myself, but I'll never forget. I will never forget the hurt I laid on him time and time again because I put the blame on him for my faults and failures. I never truly was able to admit to myself that Peter was the perfect one, and that I was the broken one.

Peter made me the man I was always supposed to be, and now we can finally be what we were meant to be for each other.

I realize my left hand is closed tightly around something, and I open it to find Peter's engagement ring, the round diamond glittering and sparkling in the sun flooding Peter's bedroom.

I slide the ring onto his hand, and then lace my fingers with his and rest them on his belly. Rubbing a gentle circle there, I whisper, tears closing up my throat, "I love you guys, and I'm sorry, okay?"

Peter smiles at me and squeezes my hand.

"Did they hear me, Pete? Do they know I'll never hurt them?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Of course then know," I murmur when he inclines his head against my abdomen. He needs my comfort and I need to comfort him. This is not about doing anything more for my brother than he deserves, this is about reconnecting. About falling in love. About commitment.

I draw my fingers through his curls as I recline back against the pillows. We stay this way for a long time. We're chatting lightly about the children, about ourselves, the wedding, everything.

"I want to go back to New York with you. Soon. After we're married." I don't want to be parted from him. I know he'll need to travel frequently to DC, but at least we'll be closer this way.

I gently dip my fingers against his cheeks and then touch his lips with a smile.

"I love you too much... I've been away from you too much in my life. I only want to be with you."

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"And you will be. For as long as I live, Peter. I promise."

There. The first promise that I will not allow myself to break, even if it kills me.

I sit there a little while longer, listening to the funny squishy sounds of the children moving around inside my brother's womb, and I kiss the bump there.

Time to get a move on. I'm not leaving my brother again.

"Call Peggy and Slice. Tell them to take the next two weeks off. I'm flying them out to New York. Tell them not to worry about money; they're not going to need it. All expenses paid. They've got a wedding to witness. Then you get dressed; I'm taking you home. I'll hire someone to pack up your apartment and deliver your things."

I kiss Peter and jump out of the bed, and go looking for my cell phone. I have some extremely important phone calls to make concerning the finalization of Peter's female identity, and applying for a marriage license. Today is the first day of the rest of my life, and I'm going to live it right this time.

Peter deserves it, and so do my children.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

It's so busy. I've got my head on backwards, I'm running around like a chicken with my head cut off, and I love every moment of it. Slice and Peggy are over in less than three hours, bags packed, looking more excited than either of them have ever looked before. They both drag me off to my bed before they pack my suitcase for me, chattering all the time.

Silly things. I love them though. I've never had friends, not like these girls. In my private schools, all I ever had were rich, snotty boys who were the sons of my father's business partners. They were never people I really wanted to be near and when I left school, none of them kept in touch. I was never one of them.

"Paige, you need to bring this!" Peggy says, gasping, and holds up a slinky white nightgown that comes just to my thighs that I've never worn before. I don't even remember where I bought it. "It's beautiful." At least she's broken me from my reverie.

We spend the next hour finalizing last minute things. Nathan wants us to leave tonight and there's still so much to do and plan for. My wedding dress, a short white number, simple but low cut and full around the hips to hide my pregnancy, is packed last and finally, after some dinner, a black limo pulls up in front of my apartment.

The girls squeal with delight and I beam at Nathan.

He's never treated me like this...but I won't complain. The fairytale I wanted my life to be is coming true.

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Paige. Paige. Have to remember to call him Paige, I repeat silently to myself as my brother and his girlfriends are helped into the car by the driver, their luggage attended to and stowed away. "Hello, ladies, nice of you to join us on such short notice. How's my beautiful fiancee this lovely evening?" I ask, taking Paige's hand, kissing it gallantly. Peggy and Paige twitter in nervous laughter, and Slice is smiling very carefully. It seems she still doesn't quite trust me fully, but that's all right.

"I'm a lucky man, aren't I?" I say amicably, passing Peggy and Slice a glass of champagne, and Paige a flute of apple juice because I know she can't have alcohol, not while she's pregnant. She'd metabolize it before it ever crossed to the children's blood, but still, there's no harm in being careful.

"I get to spend my evening with three stunningly beautiful women. What did I ever do to deserve this?" That comment elicits a smile from Slice even. Paige gives me a sideways look, and I laugh, and give her a smile.

"Oh, you know you're the most beautiful one of all, Paige. To my beautiful bride-to-be," I toast, raising my glass. "Everything I've ever wanted and needed in my life." We all clink glasses and I sip the champagne, my eyes never leaving Paige's.

"Kiss her, for goodness' sake!" Peggy exclaims, clapping her hands, positively vibrating with excitement. Slice nods approvingly, and I pull Paige in close and brush her lips with mine. The kiss turns much more passionate, and Peggy and Slice clap and whistle. It's nice to be able to be open about my love for my brother, even if it's only when he's a woman.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Yes, there are people watching me make out with my brother, but for the first time in my life, I have been able to shout to the world that I am in love with Nathan Petrelli. I blink tear laden eyelashes at my fiance, fingers touching his smooth cheek. The true beginning of my life is happening right here, in this limousine, with my friends and my husband to be. The diamond on my finger catches the light as I stare up into his eyes and ignore Splice's sudden need to pull Peggy up through the sunroof.

She's giving us space. A moment to be lost in each other.

"I've waited my whole life for you," I whisper. It's not often that my tears are shed because I'm so very happy. "I really was born just for you."

While my maids of honor bask in the wealth my brother has spent on them in first class, I nap against Nathan's shoulder. While the girls gaze up at the tall buildings of New York through the window of another limosine on the way to my brother's mansion in Hyde Park, my lips are on Nathan's once more as I climb into his lap.

A handsome forty-year old senator and three mid twenty-year old women, one of whom is very much in love with him, stroll up the drive. Tomorrow is my wedding, a simple civil ceremony. Tomorrow night Nathan will make love to me as his wife in a bed I've never slept in before in my life.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

We've lost three hours in the time difference between New York and California, and it's just a little after two a.m. here. Peggy and Slice are shown to their guest rooms, and they both insist they'll retire for the night. All the better. I'm happy to spend some time alone with Paige.

I'm going to start thinking of him as Paige all the time, and using that form of his name always, because I almost slipped a few times in the limousine after the champagne started flowing freely. This is the life we are going to share publicly, and I have to get used to it.

My slight buzz from the alcohol has worn off, and I feel very tired myself, but Paige looks like she's about to burst, energy and excitement radiating off her. Her cheeks shine with tears that almost haven't stopped since the night began. She cried a whole lot tonight, but they were happy tears. She deserves everything I can give her. She's about to make my life complete in a way Heidi never, ever could.

Speaking of Heidi. All of hers and my elder sons' belongings and furniture have been moved into storage at her request, and every picture of my former family has been removed from sight. I had a cleaning company and an interior decorator come in while we were flying in. This is Paige's and my home now, and I've started fresh.

I replaced everything. The carpets, the curtains, the china, the glasses. The towels, the sheets, even the bed. I would never let my brother use anything that I shared with Heidi. That life is over. Everything new for the person I've loved my whole life. My new life.

"What do you think?" I ask, leading her through the sitting room, letting her see the changes I've made since she was last here. She can't even say anything, but her face is glowing with happiness, and I hope she doesn't cry again.

I spin her in a circle, her skirt fanning outward, letting me catch a glimpse of her slender legs. The dress she has on is a lovely shade of light pink, simple and pretty, and it hides her pregnancy well. The low-cut top gives me just a slight view of her cleavage. Tasteful, but definitely seductive.

"You want to see your new bedroom, Paige?" I suggest, leading her up the stairs.

Lowering my voice, I whisper into her ear, "Mirrors everywhere." I kiss her neck, cup one breast gently in my hand as I pull her into the master bedroom of my sprawling mansion. Our new home.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I can't even speak. My fingers press against my nose and mouth like a steeple and I nod slightly as Nathan put his arms around my waist while we finish out ascent to my new home. I know he doesn't want to see me cry any further and I blink away tears that have been smearing up my makeup most of the day. I lean back against Nathan's chest and we half waltz our way through a room I've only ever seen while chasing his sons around in games of hide and seek and tag.

I'm amazed by what I see. There's no flowers here. I might be a woman at the moment, but he knows that I've been called feminine for most of my life and I've gone out of my way to like masculine decor. Or, you know, giant posters of comic book superheroes.

The dark wood and deep blue walls are perfect for me. And he was right about the mirrors. There are so many of them. Ceiling, walls... I hold my breath and Nathan nuzzles against my neck again. His hands are all over me and I'm in no way going to stop him because, my God, I want them there.

"It's beautiful," I whisper. I'll worry about his other sons later. I don't want them to hate their father. I know Heidi's taken them back up north, but I want Nathan to keep in touch with them.

How can I bring these things up right now when he's hiked up my dress, fingers against my thigh?

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

Paige's arms wrap around my neck after I lift the pink silk dress over her head. Today's matching panties and bra are also a delicate shade of pink that goes nicely against her pale skin. Heidi never wore matching underwear after our honeymoon, but I hope Paige always does. That is, when she decides to even wear panties.

Oh, no you won't, Heidi. You won't haunt my life, I think, pushing every image of my former wife out of my mind, made much easier by the soft, flowery vanilla scent of Paige's perfume as she thrusts her breasts into my face. I use my teeth to pull away the fabric of her bra, revealing her large, dark nipples, and I suck on them as if they can sustain me, drawing needy, almost pleading sounds from her throat.

Paige's fingers work at my belt and my slacks, and suddenly my mouth is no longer filled with the sweet taste of her skin as her lips move down my neck, over my chest, along the muscles of my stomach. I hear her growl low in her throat, much like I remember her doing when she was Peter, and she nuzzles her face into the dark hair that curls around the base of my cock. She slides her mouth on me before I'm even halfway hard, and it doesn't take much before I'm actually moaning with each of her movements. She knows how much I love this, always has. Naughty girl.

My fingers slide under the panties, and just teasingly against her clit, and her hips buck almost involuntarily. She lifts her head just long enough to breathe my name.

Oh, she wants me...and badly too. My fingers are covered in her slick heat before I can even thrust two of them deeply into her, and find the spot that makes her shake and writhe.

The body of a woman is a beautiful thing, really, and I've had enough experience with hers now, the only one ever again, that it doesn't take much. She's coming against my hand just a moment later, her chest heaving, the blowjob left abandoned. The aftershocks of her pleasure do not stop my bride-to-be from getting up and lowering herself right down on top of me, my cock sliding easily into her.

"That's my girl," I moan as she rides me.

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The mirrors are ingeniously placed and as I draw his pleasure slowly out of him, I watch the places that we connect with glee. His hand on my breast, or my waist. The kiss of our thighs. His cock sliding out of me with a delicious wet sound. I toss my head back and close my eyes until we both come.

It's my last night apart from him, though he and I have connected far more than just physically. We're emotionally dependant on each other and the piece of paper we're signing tomorrow proves it.

I'll be Paige, his wife. And when our children are born, I'll be Peter his brother. Both roles are important to me and I can finally have each.

Afterward, when he's mostly asleep and cradled in my arms against my chest, I gaze up at our image in the mirror. It's perfection. "We belong together," I murmur into his curly locks.

Morning arrives quickly and Nathan leaves the house early to get himself to the courthouse. I'm left with my friends, who do my hair and makeup and pamper me. "We should have done a bachelorette party," Peggy complains as I try to sip some water through a straw so that my lipstick isn't smeared.

"Paige wanted to fuck her fiance one last time," Slice points out and I have to laugh. "You two were loud. And we were across the mansion!"

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I roused myself as early as my body would let me this morning, after last night's round of lovemaking, and reluctantly left the comforting arms of my fiancee for the last time. The next time I hold her, she'll be my wife, but one thing will never change; he will always be Peter, always my brother. Last night I dreamt he was his male self again, and all I could do was hold him until we both cried, the tears mixing with our kisses. Peter told me he loved me, and that he forgave me.

I miss him, but I'll see him soon enough.

Today is Paige's and my wedding day. Peter's and my wedding day, my mind supplies. I smile at the sudden image I get of my six-year-old brother and his gentle, somber insistence that he would one day marry me.

I circle around the few blocks surrounding the courthouse, looking for a parking space. I took my car this time, so that Paige and I will have some privacy on our drive to the restaurant at which I've made reservations for lunch. Peggy and Slice will meet us there, of course.

My heart almost stops dead in my chest as I parallel-park the car and notice the license plate of the car I've pulled in behind. My mother's car.

She's here. The wicked, conniving woman she's always been, no doubt threatening to ruin everything I've wanted for my brother and myself my whole life. I don't expect her to understand why Heidi and I called it quits. I don't expect her to understand why Peter's become Paige, or that she's pregnant with my children. I know Ma's been dreaming; that's the only way she could have an inkling of what's taking place today.

I don't expect her blessing or her forgiveness; I don't want or deserve either. I just want her to accept it for what it is and leave it alone. She knew about Peter and myself when he was just a teenager, and she did nothing to stop it then. In fact, in her own way she almost encouraged it. She was very protective of her 'little one' as she called him, and expected nothing less from me.

Our mother would find Peter in my bed, or me in Peter's, in various states of undress, and she'd simply shut the door and make sure to wake us before our father ever found us. She never breathed a word of it to anyone, ever.

I suppose now that her golden boy is flaunting it out in public, now is when Angela Petrelli finally has a problem with her sons' incestuous affair. Maybe she's here on Heidi's behalf. Or maybe she's really just here to play along some more, wish her son and her son-turned-daughter well in their new life together, the culmination of everything she allowed to go on in her house when we were younger. Yeah, I'll just bet, I think sarcastically.

I won't know until I find her. No use worrying about it until then. I open my phone to call Peter to warn him, and that's when I feel a surprisingly strong hand grip my arm. I can feel her nails digging into my skin even through my suit jacket. I turn around, and a hard backhand slap whirls my head sideways, sending my phone flying into the gutter.

"What the fuck, Ma?" I spit angrily, touching my lower lip, my fingers coming back bloody. She's actually split my lip with the force of her blow.

My mother's found me.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Angela Petrelli had long since decided several things. One, she was not the best mother. Her ambition did not allow her to be. Since she was a teenager, she'd lived on her own, trusted only her own kind, and pulled herself from nothing to become a hero. She only had the best intentions, but even the best intentions can be twisted by a false sense of power.

I never really understood my mother until this moment, standing behind her as she kicks Nathan since she managed to push him down to the gleaming, polished floor of City Hall. For such a tiny woman, she's got so much strength.

"Oh my God, that woman is beating up your--"

"That's my mother," I say without thinking. Peggy puts her hand to my shoulder, trying to give me strength I think. But how can she give me strength when I've picked up everything that was going on inside of my mother's head?

My birth was planned for a particular reason. I was to keep Nathan in line, to give him a connection, and ultimately, to kill a lot of people to boost his career. My mother foresaw so many things. Her gift was a curse, but she followed her visions blindly.

The fact that she's grown a conscious now should make me laugh, but it doesn't.

I sway and then stride forward, so easily breaking the hold on my shoulder as I rush in white pumps to stop the fight. "Please--"

"My God, Peter!"

I pause and straighten up, smiling softly as I touch my stomach. "Paige, actually."

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This day started out really well. Now I'm on the marble floor of City Hall, bleeding from my lip and my nose, and being stomped by my mother's size seven heels. She's the epitome of a woman scorned, and I don't think I can remember the last time I've seen her this angry. She lands a severe blow to my ribs, the point of her shoe stabbing me right between two of them, and now I can hardly breathe. I cover my face and she kicks me again, this time in the wrist. I moan, "Ma, would you fucking stop it? Peter, do something before she puts one of my eyes out!"

Paige's eyes go wide as saucers, and she reaches over and grabs our mother before she's able to stab me in the jugular vein with the heel of her pump.

Peggy and Slice are looking at one another and mouthing, "What the fuck? Who the hell is Peter?" They have no idea about how severely dysfunctional the Petrelli family really is. And I just called my brother by his real name. Fuck.

Peter is the next recipient of our mother's rage. She pushes him off with strength I can't even believe she has, and Peter lets go, more stunned than overpowered. I have just enough time to notice she's actually a little taller than he is, before she goes after him. She cocks back and slaps him across his face too, and spits, her eyes burning, "You should be ashamed to call yourself my son, Peter. Did Nathan put you up to this charade?" As I get to my feet, she turns and kicks me once more in the shin for good measure.

People are milling around to watch, and I swipe at my bloodied face and dismiss them with a brilliant smile and a wave of my hand. "Everything's fine, folks, nothing to see here." I lean in and grip my mother's arm. "Ma, you have to calm down. You're making a scene," I advise her. Someone here is bound to know that I'm a New York State Senator, and just like that, this altercation will be all over the news. I hope Peter has some kind of tricks up his sleeve to get control of this situation before it gets even more out of hand.

This is a nightmare. I should have known if I wasn't going to screw this up, the Petrelli matriarch would do a fine job of it in my place.

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Stumbling backwards, towards two girls ready to claw out the eyes of anyone that hurts me, I stop time. I'm alone in the silence after that, and it lets me drop to my knees to sit out the fit of hyperventilation I'm experiencing. It's been awhile since I've had a panic attack, and I accept it as it is and just let it go, exhaling through my nose until everything stops spinning.

I don't know how to handle this. Situation control is not my forte and I pick myself up slowly to move to Nathan's side. He's still got our mother's wrist, and that's good enough.

I touch them both and for them at least, the world resumes it's course. Everyone else is struck with looks of confusion on their faces. Immediately, Mom pulls herself away from us and gives me a push as she looks around, makeup smeared on her face.

"You have no idea," she says, choking on her own tongue as she tries to stop her quaking, "what you two are doing!"