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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[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

It had started to rain pretty heavy while I was up on the roof and the weather report I heard this morning about freezing rain makes me laugh. It's already freezing to my hair, to the back of my neck. I shiver, but do my best to stay where I am. I want to hear what's going on. I want to know what's being said and discussed. I want to find out my fate.

Heidi and Nathan are under the balcony so all I can do is hear them speak and pull their winter coats around them. I probably should have worn a coat myself. The rain beats down on me like needles. I have to endure it for just a little while longer. I have to.

"You have a reason. Your brother. Your boys. Us."

The fabric is shifting. I hear a soft: "Oh Nathan." I've seen them hug many, many times. I don't have to see it now to know that they're clinging to each other. The guilt I feel for hating Heidi is intense. The happiness I feel for my brother reclaiming his life makes me want to vomit. The relief I feel for the boys takes my breath away and I slip off of the roof before I can hear anything more. I'll claim I was hiding outside when the rain started. I go back in the house through the front door and mom freaks out about her hardwood floors.

Never mind that I am frozen to the bone, wearing just a t-shirt and some jeans, and looking like someone just killed my cat. It's hard to remember that she loves me.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

I step into the living room to see Peter dripping wet, his shirt clinging to him, his dark hair plastered in his face. My mother wraps a towel around him and scolds him,"You'll catch your death out there! Whatever possessed you to go outside half-dressed?"

I'm trembling with anger still, at this whole ridiculous situation she's put me in the middle of, and I want to shake her and scream at her.

Peter can't fucking die! How the hell do you think he survived going nuclear? Oh, that's right, because of the daughter you hid from me for sixteen years!

I force myself to hold it in, and I feel like my heart's going to burst. I'm totally smashed now. Ma's fault too. Once Heidi arrived, I broke my promise to myself to go easy.

Maybe rehabilitation isn't such a bad idea.

But for now, I'm still an alcoholic, still angry, still a failure.

Once Peter is dry enough, he goes up the stairs to find some new clothes, and I consider going up after him. I have to talk to him, or I'm going to lose it.

But it's all his fault, taunts the devil on my shoulder.

No. I can't. Not like this. I don't want to fight with him, not here, not with my boys in the same house. Later, when we get back to his apartment.

But as I look out the large bay window, I see that the seemingly innocuous rain has become a full-blown ice storm. If it doesn't let up by the time we finish with dinner, we're not going anywhere.

I don't want to be stuck here with my mother and Heidi. I want to be alone with my brother,even if I am pushing all the blame on him. It's just the alcohol.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I still have clothes here. And they still fit. I think I stopped growing in high school when the rest of the kids in my grad were shooting past me another few inches. I sigh. There's a pair of jeans in my closet that I haven't worn in eight or nine years. And do they still fit? Yes. Quite well. Mom probably has her cleaning service up here airing everything out once in awhile. These clothes don't smell stale, aren't frayed, and probably should have been donated to charity a long time ago.

I'm cold enough to get out one of Nathan's old sweaters, crossing the top floor of the mansion before I hear two little voices scream that they found me. They did indeed.

Dinner is incredibly tense, though my attention is on my nephews and not the accusing stares of my brother across the table from me. Heidi looks like she's been crying. Mom's on her third glass of wine. I stopped counting how many Nathan's had.

It's clear that he's going to pass out though. Luckily, the boys have gone to watch TV in the study, giggling with glee that schools have already been closed. I can heard the news caster talk about ice half an inch thick already on cars. "Stay home, stay inside, stay warm!"

If only. I'm not sure if I'll ever be warm at this rate.

I leave the uncomfortable silence to sit with the boys until Heidi joins me. And cries on my shoulder. Christ, what did I do to deserve this? I comfort my brother's former wife as best I can, both of us trying not to disturb Monty and Simon. But they know. They know something is wrong. And moments later, they are both crawling all over her to offer her comfort.

I take that as my cue to check on Nathan.

Fuck.

His head is on the table. Mom just left him there. Immediately, I go to his side, cooing his name. "Nathan...Nathan...let's get you to bed..."

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

I feel someone shaking me, and I swat at the person to leave me alone. I'm too drunk to lift my head, and I just want to sleep.

God damn it. I got myself so drunk I passed out at the dinner table. I open my eyes, and my vision is blurry, but I can still make out my brother's face, his fringe of longish dark hair. Stupidly, I notice he's wearing one of my old sweaters.

"Looks good on you, Pete. I'd like to tear it off you," I whisper.

Peter almost yanks me up out of the chair and shushes me.

"Okay, okay." Pain lances through my head as I wobble on my feet, and Peter leads me through the family room, past Heidi and the children. They are cuddled up with her, Simon nodding off on her shoulder, and Heidi is sniffling softly, and Monty's crying too, patting her hair.

"Daddy's gonna be okay, Mommy, isn't he? He's gonna be okay, right?"

When Heidi sees me, she hisses, "Look what you've done to us, Nathan. You're a selfish bastard. I should have known you'd never change."

I feel like crying, and I want to throw myself at her feet and repent. I want tell her I'll do it. I'll go to counseling, rehab, anything. I'll do anything to fix this. I can't keep doing this to myself. To my family.

Peter sees the tears come to my eyes, and he forces me to keep walking up the stairs, one foot in front of the other. Sleep. That's what I need.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

God, Heidi is not helping. She wants her kids to be well adjusted -- she told me so just moments before -- and now she's making a scene? Simon and Monty are just little guys. Little guys that don't understand where this is going or why it's doing there. I feel for them. I really, truly do. Patting Nathan on the back, we continue up the stairs and I say something that I really can not believe.

"Stay in my room, you and the boys." It's big enough, the bed's got room for all of them and I still have my toys from when I was little in what use to be an attached nursery that later became my office or den as I hit high school. "I'll bunk with Nathan."

I see my mother, wine in hand, grim look on her face as we finish the last few steps out of sight. She's just come from the kitchen. She's got the most knowing look on her face.

I frown. God, she can't know does she? I could read her mind, but I refuse. I can't know for certain. I'd rather be forever in the dark. Sighing, I follow Nathan onto the top of the landing as he turns to look at me.

I hate the tears on his face, but I wait until we are alone and the thick, heavy door is locked to kiss them away.