Nathan jolted awake to the strange voice coming from the radio. Everything was back in place, including him, back in his own bed, in goddamn pajamas, even. He slowly sat up, looking around the room. He only had time to notice that the bed across from him was empty before he let out a sudden deep cough, raising his hand to his mouth to stifle it. Smoke inhalation? It was the only sign that whatever had happened yesterday had been real, and not a dream or some kind of crazy hallucination. Nathan clung to that sign desperately. Despite being in an institution, he was not crazy, and if Peter was here too, it was starting to look like this place didn't really care whether the people it brought in were crazy or not. The other two he'd met last night didn't seem too bad themselves. Peter had certainly known at least the one well, not that that really spoke volumes in Sam's favor. Peter had a way of mixing with the wrong sort.
It didn't matter. Peter was alive now, Nathan reminded himself, and Nathan was going to keep an eye on him. That was what big brothers were supposed to do. Maybe, he reasoned, some part of him was trying to make up for what he'd risked, being a central part of the plan to destroy New York, using his younger brother has a living bomb. Nathan already knew guilt, front and back -- he'd become well-acquainted with it during his time in the hospital, where he had nothing else to do but lie there and think, sleep, and have drugs pumped into him to keep him from the agonizing pain.
If this sudden need to watch over Peter was purely caused by guilt, Nathan wondered how long it would last. It would be lying to say that he'd always looked after his younger brother, and the age gap between them was hardly an excuse. Even when Peter was causing all kinds of trouble a year ago, Nathan knew he'd been more worried about his campaign than his own flesh and blood.
Even now, he wasn't certain that had been the wrong path to take, but here, in this place, Nathan had nothing but Peter. No reputation, no office to uphold, nothing but his younger brother, and right now, that was almost everything to him. It was certainly enough to matter a whole damn lot.
He got up, coughing again, and changed into the normal clothes, slipping into his shoes just as the nurse opened the door. Knocking was, apparently, not a necessary courtesy here. Nathan flashed a smile at her and she seemed a bit caught off-guard.
"Well! It's nice to see you so cheery this morning," she said. All Nathan could picture was the nurse from the night before and her well-placed scalpel, cutting Peter's arm--
"I try," he said, smile still in place. "I heard we have a choice this morning?"
"Yes! Though I would really recommend you get something to eat... three meals a day is much more healthy for you."
Nathan thought about eating for a moment -- he coughed, suddenly, but shook his head. Somehow, the memories from the night before -- rotting bodies, and the stench that came with them really wasn't doing anything to fuel his appetite.
"Think I'll pass on that one," he said.
The nurse looked a little discouraged before she sighed. "Well, it is your choice. Your chart says you're religious... maybe we could start the day there?"
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It didn't matter. Peter was alive now, Nathan reminded himself, and Nathan was going to keep an eye on him. That was what big brothers were supposed to do. Maybe, he reasoned, some part of him was trying to make up for what he'd risked, being a central part of the plan to destroy New York, using his younger brother has a living bomb. Nathan already knew guilt, front and back -- he'd become well-acquainted with it during his time in the hospital, where he had nothing else to do but lie there and think, sleep, and have drugs pumped into him to keep him from the agonizing pain.
If this sudden need to watch over Peter was purely caused by guilt, Nathan wondered how long it would last. It would be lying to say that he'd always looked after his younger brother, and the age gap between them was hardly an excuse. Even when Peter was causing all kinds of trouble a year ago, Nathan knew he'd been more worried about his campaign than his own flesh and blood.
Even now, he wasn't certain that had been the wrong path to take, but here, in this place, Nathan had nothing but Peter. No reputation, no office to uphold, nothing but his younger brother, and right now, that was almost everything to him. It was certainly enough to matter a whole damn lot.
He got up, coughing again, and changed into the normal clothes, slipping into his shoes just as the nurse opened the door. Knocking was, apparently, not a necessary courtesy here. Nathan flashed a smile at her and she seemed a bit caught off-guard.
"Well! It's nice to see you so cheery this morning," she said. All Nathan could picture was the nurse from the night before and her well-placed scalpel, cutting Peter's arm--
"I try," he said, smile still in place. "I heard we have a choice this morning?"
"Yes! Though I would really recommend you get something to eat... three meals a day is much more healthy for you."
Nathan thought about eating for a moment -- he coughed, suddenly, but shook his head. Somehow, the memories from the night before -- rotting bodies, and the stench that came with them really wasn't doing anything to fuel his appetite.
"Think I'll pass on that one," he said.
The nurse looked a little discouraged before she sighed. "Well, it is your choice. Your chart says you're religious... maybe we could start the day there?"