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 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.