2009-12-04: Brotherly Reunion Take Three



Date: December 4, 2009


The Petrelli brothers meet once again, even if one of them doesn't remember the other.

"Brotherly Reunion Take Three"

"Nathan's" Hotel Room

After finishing his day with Habitat for Humanity, Brayden chose to stay in his rustic building garb, that which makes him most comfortable and feel most himself — faded work blue jeans, an orange plaid shirt, and a pair of brown worn workboots. He smirks as he sits on the couch of his very very white hotel room (white walls, white carpet, white linens) accented only by black and white photos on the walls.

Afterlife is on loudly in the background as Brayden sits with a block of wood whittling away, his feet crossed on the coffee table. Several finished pieces sit on the coffee table — all whistles, all shaped like trains. The blinds are drawn, allowing the sunlight into the room, only increasing the whiteness of its appearance.

A shadow comes over the light streaming through the blinds. Almost as if someone's peeking in through the window. Not quite the truth, but there's someone suddenly standing right there. In front of the window. How he got in may be in question. So could how long he's been there. Peter doesn't realize at first that he's appeared in the room, which could indicate he's been standing there for quite some time. Sounds masked by the loud television show, he's been watching his brother whittle for quite some time. Until his invisibility failed him, at least.

Dressed in dark clothes, as he often is these days, he contrasts easily with the lightness of the room. Dark stubble stands out on his face, and he looks infinitely tired. It takes a few moments, but he notices the additional shade in the room and suddenly blinks, looking behind him, then to the fractured shadow he casts. …Crap.

That strange sensation that someone is watching him causes Brayden to look up. He glances up casually, directly at Peter and then back to his work. And then… "AH!" it registers as he jumps, causing his hand to slips, cutting a large gash into his thumb. He curses loudly before he takes some tissue from the coffee table to wrap his thumb in. He takes a few steps away from Peter as he peers at the other man. "Dammit," he mutters as his thumb continues to bleed.

Finally Peter comes into focus. "P-Pete?" he asks cautiously, eyebrows furrowing. He doesn't remember his brother, but he has that photo his mother gave him still. Finally he manages a second question, "How did you get in here?"

"Sorry," Peter immediately says, looking to the blood on the hand and immediately crossing the room to look for a towel. He's been in the room long enough that he knows where the towel happens to be. The sounds of Afterlife don't quite drown everything out, but it covers his footsteps. When he stepps back over, his tumb is already wrapped in tissue, but he still offers the towel. "I— used the door. Sorry, I wasn't really sure what— I was told you weren't quite yourself and I wanted to watch you for a while before…"

He trails off, looking down at the blood seeping through the tissue. "I didn't mean to startle you." But he did mean to spy on him!

The towel is accepted. Fortunately Brayden manages to avoid dripping blood on the very white carpet. Frowning, Brayden isn't entirely sure how Nathan would've reacted to such things, but Peter is met with furrowed eyebrows and a pronounced frown, "You've been watching me?! W-why?" He reaches for the remote and shuts off the television. He mutters, "Ma at least used the door. Heidi used the phone. The only other person that snuck up on me was Charlotte, and I think that was an accident." He swallows and takes a few breaths.

"Ma said you aren't yourself. Did they put you up to it? Are they finally coming after me?" His eyes narrow suspiciously at the brother he doesn't remember.

"I did use the door, you just… didn't see me," Peter says, looking over at the door that he snuck through. Charlotte? The mention of Heidi and Ma gain some of his attention to, but he shakes his head. "No one put me up to it. I— I wanted to see you. I went to the old offices, found Helen and got the place you were staying at. She told me to call first, but…" He looks down, suddenly rather insecure, but then he steps forward and just does what he'd wanted to do when he snuck in the first time.

He hugs his brother.

Brayden stiffens in the hug, but there's something familiar about it so he doesn't step out of it or push his brother away, not right away anyways. He manages to pat Peter on the back before taking a step backwards. "Pete — I…" he frowns. "… wait. You heal?" Brayden had learned that one from Gene the other day. "You are invisible?" Frown. "What don't you do?" His eyebrows relax as do the rest of the muscles in his body.

With a sigh he offers his brother a strained smile, "Ma said you wouldn't be yourself… not that I'd know…" The smile is replaced by a frown as he continues to hold the towel around his thumb.

The longer he stays in the grasp, however short it is, the more Peter's head hurts. That constant throb that tries to overwelm him. There's some pain around his eyes when he finally steps back, but otherwise he does a good job covering it up. He's gotten used to it while standing there watching him. The sight of his brother seems to make it worse, these days… "There's a few things I don't do— but— you don't remember anything? Anything at all?"

Memory problems must be a Petrelli thing.

"I— I can't remember the last few years. Not entirely. I have… bits and pieces. They seem to come when I touch things, or in dreams, but they're confusing and… But I can remember most everything up until a point." One has complete amnesia, the other doesn't, but it does seem to be a trend.

Brayden chuckles ironically as he sits back down on the couch, "I can only remember the last year and a half. My oldest memory involved me waking up in Ireland." He studies his brother carefully, trying to trigger something, anything. "I don't remember who Nathan was. Or is. Who I am, I guess." He blinks before he quips, "Ma said she had my memory erased. Purposely. And that you can fix it. Although, I'm not so sure if you can't remember things…"

"What happened to you? I heard you got hit with a helicopter…" his expression turns to pure concern. Even though he can't remember Peter, there's something familiar about his younger brother and a protective feeling comes too naturally.

"I can heal you?" Peter says, thinking back on a dream, or a memory of a dream, whichever the case may be. It seemed to imply that he made her remember. So perhaps… There's a lot he doesn't understand about his abilities, though, so he doesn't know what it is. "I got hit by a helicopter, yeah, or so I was told. I woke up in a slab naked. It was like I was in a morgue. I think I was dead for a while." Does that make him a zombie!? "That was the first memory I have besides… three years ago."

There's something about that three years ago. "I thought you might be dead. I was told that they knew you, knew where to find you. That I was working with them when I got hurt. Now I'm not so sure, and— I found you without them."

"Yes, Ma said you can," Brayden nods before he hrms. "Well no one has been in contact with me besides Ma, Helen, Charlotte, Heidi, and the boys." His lips twitch as he studies Peter. "I think they lied. Unless… they knew me before." He sighs as he shakes his head with a frown, "Pete, our entire childhood is a blank. Every now and then I feelings of familiarity, but it's all a blank. New York felt familiar. Ma felt familiar. You feel familiar."

"I wasn't a nice person before my memory was erased. I was like split or something." He swallows. "I don't know who I am," the admission is met with an ironic smile, "Brayden? Nathan? Logan? All of the above? None of the above?"

His frown however disappears momentarily as he remembers something, "Ma said there was someone that could help you. Partner? No. Parker? Hmmm. PARKMAN. It was Parkman. Ring any bells?"

"Split?" Peter says, obviously not remembering that far into it. But something in his memory clicks. "There was this… I found an item in my apartment. A bullet. And I saw you and another man talking to you— the man looked just like you, except his face was all burnt and… I didn't understand it. Thought it was a nightmare, but maybe it's a memory of some kind…" He trails off, looking down toward his hands as he backs away a few steps. So much of his brother's life is blank, but… At least Peter has a way to connect to his old memories, even if they tend to just confuse him even more.

"Parkman?" he repeats, trying to think on the name a few moments. "It sounds familiar… there was an officer Parkman, I think. Down in Texas. When I saved— do you know about Claire?"

"Claire? My daughter, right? Ma told me about her, but I remember nothing about her. Not even what she looks like. She thinks I owe Claire an apology. I seem to owe everyone apologies." Brayden frowns before he glances a Peter, "I know you can't remember, but I'm preemptively apologizing for anything Logan did to you. He seems to have caused trouble for everyone so…" he shrugs fleetingly.

"I don't know where Logan came from, just that he or Nathan made Heidi not want to see me…" He shrugs again. "Not that I can remember her." This is all very frustrating. "Maybe he's the same Parkman?"

"Yeah, your daughter. She's the one I got regeneration from— the healing thing. That's how I'm able to survive getting hit by helicopters and stuff," Peter says, as if getting mortally wounded was a thing that happened a few times. Though before it was mostly him being tossed off buildings… "It could be the same Parkman, but I have no idea how to find him. I'll… figure something out. The memories have been coming back more often, while I'm around things I know. And… my head's been hurting a lot more since I started to find you." Even if he doesn't understand what that means.

"You don't have to apologize for something you don't even remember, though. I'm sure I have just as much, if not more, to apologize for. So does Mom, I'm sure. But I haven't seen Claire yet— Mom said she's okay?"

"Wait, Claire can regenerate then? Wow. The world is so different than I thought," Brayden smirks. "And about Parkman… I think this woman named Cass that we used to be friends with can find him or something. Pete, I can help you if you let me. And after I do —- maybe you can help me? Ma really seems to think you can. I need to remember who I am to fight what's going on."

"I don't know if Claire's okay, but I'm assuming so. Ma didn't seem concerned. Except… Pete, the government is after people like us. Tagging and bagging us. I haven't been of interest lately as I've had cameramen following me around; pretty hard to take down an amnesia-stricken ex-Senator when he's constantly pursued by media folk. We need to stop them Pete. And I can't help unless… unless I remember how to be political." He pauses as his voice lowers, "Pete, I need your help."

"I— there's some things I have to do first," Peter says, looking down towards his hands again. It seems to be a self-conscious gesture with him. Maybe he always had it. Maybe it's new. "I know the government is after people like us, and— I think I'm working for them. Or— I've been out of their custody for a while, so they may suspect me of being a traitor, but there's someone I need to get out of there before I can really leave. Someone who might be being used, like I was."

When he looks back up, there's one of those stricken, possibly even love-sick looks. Must be a woman. "If I can get her out of there…" Yup, a woman. "Then I can focus on fixing myself. And maybe if I get my memories back, remember everything I can do— maybe then I can really help you."

"Pete," Brayden's tone is pleading, "I need — you need to help yourself first. How can you help anyone without getting fixed first? If this woman is in danger, isn't it better to figure out what happened to you — what you're missing?" He narrows his eyes at Peter and shakes his head, "You need help, Pete. Let us help you. We can help each other." He purses his lips. "We're brothers. I don't know if we're close. I don't know if we're distant, but I want to help you. Pete, let me help you. I don't think it's a good idea for you to go alone. They're dangerous."

"Ma is scared. I put her up in this hotel under a fake name. And while I don't remember her, she doesn't seem to be the kind of woman that intimidates easily," he considers her conversation with Gene and how she held her ground and even threatened to Gene with the Haitian. "Pete, you sought me out for a reason, right?"

Something about this seems so familiar. Even in what memories he does possess, Peter knows he's had this conversation before. And often times he still went off and did things on his own. Some part of him knows this. "You always help me. You always come through for me…" he says, as if to confirm his brother's instincts on the situation, even if there's a hesitation to his words. "I sought you out because you're my brother. Because— because I thought seeing you would make everything come back." That isn't what happened. Instead…

He backs away a few steps and touches his head finally, the pain more intense than before. "I need to save her first. I— I have to. I can fix myself afterwards. After I go back in and see what they're up to. If— if I have all my memories…" he trails off. "Just let me do this one thing first, okay?"

"But Pete, you'll be in a better spot to help her if you can remember," Brayden reasons as he stands to squeeze his brother's shoulder. "It's not that simple. It's dangerous. What if they mess with you again? Obviously something happened, and if you can heal, shouldn't your brain heal too? It doesn't make sense…"

He frowns deeply as he shakes his head, "I can help you. Let me do something. You've lost stuff, Pete, lost what happened to you. I know what it's like to lose that much of yourself…"

The touch is so familiar, so comforting, that Peter leans into it and even returns it with an opposite hand, squeezing. The pain in his head keeps getting more and more intense, but he just leans in and ends up closing his eyes for the moment. Closeness had always been a big thing in their family. Even without memories, it seems. "What if I get my memories back, but… I won't know who I was. What if— what if there's some things I don't want to remember?" There's another pause, before he squints painfully in trying to make eyecontact.

"How will you help me? With that… Parkman person?"

"I ask myself that all of the time," Brayden admits with a frown. "But everyone wants you back, Pete. Heidi will say maybe two words to me at a time. She wants a divorce. Logan hurt that Cass woman that Ma says we're friends with and she's painfully awkward around me. Charlotte told me he was some kind of sociopath. I was some kind of sociopath." His lips quirk upwards, "I think though that's the risk. We need to own up to the things we've done. I ran away from who Nathan was to avoid the truth. The responsibility. But who we are is who we are. Good, bad, or ugly, I'm Nathan Petrelli. I am Logan. I am Brayden. I'm all three. And I need to face who I was to embrace who I am." It seems his mother and Noah have managed to push his thoughts in a Nathan-favourable way. "It's the same with you. Our demons are our own, Pete."

Brayden hmms, "Yeah. I can get you to Parkman." Pause. "Or I could go with you. Or… something else. I just want to help, Pete."

"I'm sorry to hear about Heidi," Peter says, though there's something in his expression that shows, even three years ago, he had expected it to happen eventually. His brother had been a politician, and cheated on his wife on at least one occassion. And if a sociopath had taken over at a few points— he could see her wanting a divorce, even if it makes him sad to hear about it. He'd liked Heidi. "You're right," he says, glancing up with a partial smile, before he pulls back and steps away a few steps. They'll always be who they are.

Hiding from it won't really change things.

"I have a cellphone," he says, pulling out the cheap little phone be bought from a grocery store. Obviously one of those pre-paid ones. The kind that people use in movies when they're on the run. "I'll give you the number so you and mom can call me. When you find this Parkman person. I've also been staying at my apartment. Mom knows where it is. But if the government is watching it, it's not a good idea to go there."

"I might be upset about Heidi if I could remember her," Brayden admits with a shrug. "I don't know who she is or what she's about." It's the truth. Divorce isn't traumatic when you can't remember the relationship. "Alright, Pete. I'll get in touch with Parkman however I can. You can find me here. Just try to make sure no one follows you if you come here. Between the media and the government, I need to be constantly watching my back."

"I know you're capable, Pete. Thanks for letting me help the only way I can." He offers his brother an easy smile and another shoulder squeeze.

"That's why I've been moving around invisible as much as I can," Peter says, looking guiltily toward the door to the hotel. His mother's in the same building, but he's even less in a hurry to meet his mother when his last memory of her happens to be a dream of her chatting about the bomb with Charles. The bomb that happened to be him.

He moves over to the desk and writes down his cellphone number on a piece of paper, then puts his cellphone away. "You're helping just by being here, Nathan," he adds once he's got it written down, walking back over and hugging him yet again. "I missed you.

This time the hug is well reciprocated as Brayden squeezes his brother. "Don't worry about how you got in here. I'm glad you found me. Just try not to surprise me while I'm whittling again." He breaks the embrace and steps back towards the coffee table, picking up one of the train whistles. "Here. Have it." He shrugs a bit. Why Peter needs a train whistle, no one knows, but Brayden made it himself. Designed it himself. "I made it myself," he half-smiles proudly.

"Sorry," Peter says, giving a small smile, before he takes the whistle and looks over it. No visions of the past go flooding into him. Probably because it's new. "You never were very artistic before. Maybe living in Ireland did some good." He brings it to his mouth and blows on it, letting the whistle sing out loudly. When he lowers it from his lips he tilts his head. This seems so familiar… But it feels like a half memory, misty, fogged. "I'll hold on to it. And I'll do my best not to startle you again. I'll knock next time. Even if I'm invisible in the hallway. If you look out and no one's there, just open the door enough so I can get in."

"I learned to do that while hanging in the pub at night," Brayden grins at Peter. "And then I got good while living in the monastery. Did you know monks do very little during the day? Their lives are very… ascetic." He smirks as he nods a bit, "Yeah. Just knock, or let me know you're here some other way. Charlotte teleported in here and startled me once. And this other time she teleported while I was flying. Fortunately I reacted quickly enough to catch her." He liked playing the hero, and it's evident from her expression.

"It sounds like you've had an interesting year and a half. I wonder what the last three years had in store for me," Peter can't help but muse, trying to figure out how much of his own life he's missed out on. Maybe that's what this Parkman could tell him. "I'm not very good at teleporting," he adds after a moment. "I can— but I'm not good at it." It strikes him suddenly…

"You don't know what I can do— I— actually sort of do what you can do. And anyone that I meet. So whoever I meet, whatever they can do, I can do too. Usually not as well as them, but— that's the basic idea. And why I can seem to do anything. Only I don't remember half of what I can do, so I sometimes discover I can do something when I really don't want to." Like teleporting into a girl's bathroom while she's showering.

"That explains things some," Brayden quips with a broad grin. "Gene said that you can heal. I know you can fix me. Can you fly too then?" His grin broadens further. "It'd be awesome to have someone to fly with. I get to go alone mostly. Flown with some lighter people before, but that's all."

"I can fly, yeah— that was the first thing I ever did," Peter says, thinking back on his life, what he can remember. "I jumped off a building cause I was convinced I could fly, and you flew up and you caught me. Then I found out that I could fly too— and then that I could paint the future, like this guy, Isaac. Then I could heal like Claire— There's some dangerous abilities too, but… flight and invisibility are what I'm best with. Though I don't fly often. People might see."

"Wow. I know I can fly and I still can't believe it. You must've had some incredible faith to do that," Brayden observes with a half smile. "Yeah, I don't fly too often, and normally only when it's dark. But I always can think up there. You know? It's quiet and peaceful and no one is around. No one tells me what to do or how to act." Beat. "Or who I am."

"It's also cold," Peter says, grinning a little. "I'll take you for a flight once I find out who I am, then I can work on fixing you." There's a few places he can think of that would be good for that, rooftops that hold an important memorable meaning to them both. Even if Nathan doesn't remember all of it right now. "I should go. Give mom my number too, if you want, and— I have yours. Helen gave me your number too. I'll call first next time, if I can."

"Alright Pete," Brayden grins at his brother as he hugs his brother. After releasing Peter, he nods a bit, "I'll make sure mom can contact you. I'm sure she will once she has your info. Please keep in touch. It's been awhile, but … I think I may have missed you." He smirks. "Watch out for yourself, Pete."

"I will. You watch out for yourself too, Nathan," Peter says, as he moves toward the door, with all of his information. They missed each other. More than either of them probably know… When his hand touches the door, he suddenly realizes. "Do you prefer to be called Brayden right now?"

"It's easier to respond to than Nathan," Brayden admits with a grin and shoulder shrug. "But I'm trying to get used to being called his name. My name. Nathan is who I am. Or, at least, who I used to be."

"Then I'll see you again soon, Nathan," Peter says, looking back at him for a moment with his hand on the doorknob. "Oh— I see your taste in TV didn't change when you lost your memory. You always loved that show," he jokes, with a grin, before he slowly fades out of sight, like a shimmer that falls down over him, making him transparent. When it's done, the door opens and then closes, with only the sound of footsteps.

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