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[ It was just... Nice. Being able to get closer to Peter again, to rebuild bridges he hadn't known until recently how much he wanted to rebuild. They'd lost so much, suffered so much, and this place was out to get them. They needed to look out for other, not be at odds for something better left at home.

He settled the bundle on Peter's chest, sliding out the cup of hot soup - capped - and while holding it in place with one hand, reached across to gently help Peter to sit forward, angling himself inward toward his brother's shoulder. ]

You got it?

[ In all truth, this wasn't how Peter would have chosen to rebuild bridges that they'd both had a part in burning down, but maybe it just had to get this bad. Maybe they both had to realize the possibility of loss between them to make them see what exactly was important, but Peter would have preferred he not have to nearly die for Nathan to remember why he ever cared in the first place. Not that Peter would have wanted it to be Nathan instead.

Wrinkling his nose with the effort it takes to lean forward, Peter huffs a breath, squeezing his eyes shut while he waits for the vertigo to subside. It only takes a second or two before he's settled, nodding at Nathan's words. ]

Yeah, I got it. [ Carefully taking the lid off the container of soup, Peter looks back up to Nathan, almost expectantly. ] Think you can convince the guys in charge to let me go yet?

[ Calmly Nathan settled back, watching his brother take the soup and pull it close. It was space soup, therefore he wasn’t even sure what was in it, but it had been dry and made up with water, and he was sure it was chicken. Okay mostly sure. It could have been that like the alcohol, such things as powdered soups were more like ‘tastes like chicken’ than actual chicken. Just like none of the scotch he’d found to drink was actually yellow.

He pondered his brother’s request. ]

I know if you were ready to go you wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, Pete, so no, I’m not even gonna give it a try. When you’re ready you’ll just walk outta here, and even Dr. Grouchypants won’t be able to stop you. Besides, I need you here for moral support when they jab me with that needle later.

[ More or less Nathan admitting that he was still sick. There was an excess of the cure now, but Nathan was preoccupied with making sure his brother was getting better before he even contemplated taking it—of course he’d written the whole thing off at first as making sure that people who were sicker than he was were being treated first, but now he didn’t really have that excuse any more. ]

How is it?

[ All things considered, Peter didn't care if it was real space chicken soup or artificially flavored or space water for that matter. All he wanted was to be able to keep it down, considering he'd spent the past week with a stomach that refused to have any sort of contents in it. The idea of just getting to eat something and enjoy it, just a little, was a ridiculously pleasing one, and so Peter sipped at it while Nathan spoke.

And out of all of the things for Peter to catch on to, he only listened to the last sentence, giving Nathan a look as he carefully set the bowl back in his lap. ]

You haven't gotten the cure yet? Nathan, go get it, there's no reason for you not to. [ He'd nudge at his brother if it wouldn't send the soup sloshing out of the bowl, and so all he could do was huff, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, too exhausted for his own good. ]

And the soup is fine. Thanks. [ He offers Nathan up a lopsided smile, his words obviously genuine before lifting the bowl again, though he takes one more second to tip his head, pointing his chin out towards the medbay. ] I'm not going anywhere, go get the cure.

You kidding? It's gonna make me feel worse than I already do taking that stuff, and who's gonna bring you chicken soup then? Besides, it can wait till you're sleeping. I'm feeling better already just seeing you up again.

[ He smiled again, reaching out to place his hand on Peter's shoulder and giving him a gentle squeeze, before settling down beside him. Sure, he was feeling a little dizzy, and the sight of the soup had made him want to throw up, but the cure could still wait until he'd made sure that his previously comatose brother was feeling a little better.

Nathan had to keep reminding himself that his brother was no longer knocking at death's door, that he didn't have to rush through clinging to every single moment any more trying to make it up to him, but he couldn't help it. He just wanted things to be alright between them again.

Goddamm space, going and messing everything up. Punching him right in the feelings. It wasn't fair. ]

Has anyone else been in to see you?

[ Giving Nathan a carefully concerned look as he took another slow sip of soup, he swallowed a second later and set the bowl carefully back down in his lap. He was still worried about his ability to keep it down, but most of his focus had fallen back onto Nathan.

Maybe he was supposed to be telling his brother off by now, that if he didn't go get the cure he'd have the same chance of dying as everyone else had. That he could get worse still, and that it wouldn't matter if he wasn't all that bad now, or that the cure still sucked. That Nathan, if he pushed this too hard, could deteriorate just like Peter had. Even if it took weeks. But he just didn't have the energy to fight it. Not right now. Just like he didn't have the energy to fight with Nathan about anything; which was why he desperately still wanted his brother around.

At the question, he gave his head a slight shake, staring back at his soup. ]

Haven't seen anyone else.

[ Shrugging absently, he took another sip as he looked up again. In all truth, he wouldn't know who he'd even want to have come seen him. He just wasn't good at making friends anymore, or at least that's what it felt like. ] Saw Claire before everyone got sick, though.

[ He stared off for a second, his chin on the pillow above Peter's head. He really hadn't seen anyone else? Hadn't been visitied by... Well, whoever would visit him down here when he was dying? There were people on the ship that cared, weren't there, other than him? And if not then why not?

He sat back up, blinking down at Peter as he mentioned Claire. ]

I saw her too, back when we jumped. Didn't think to tell you cause I reckoned you'd run into each other soon enough.

[ He paused, reaching up to stroke Peter's hair back, still looking away rather than right at him. He should have kept closer tabs on her. What if she'd wandered off into the corridors? What kind of father did it make him that he didn't even know where she was right now, or if she'd come down with this illness. He seemed troubled, embarassed, when he finally let his eyes drop down to Peter again. ]

Maybe I'll give her a call, see if she'll come see you now you're getting better.

[ Peter didn't mind because he simply told himself not to -- it's not as if anyone outside of the family had visited him in the hospital when he was in a coma before, and that was when he was home. He didn't expect anyone he'd just met a few months ago in space to stop by, either. Everyone had their own friends, people that they knew from home. Expecting people, who had others, to be worried about you when others were dying, was asking too much.

Taking another slow slip of his soup, he gave a slight shrug, glancing sideways towards Nathan. ]

We did. She was acting kind of funny, though. Things she didn't want to talk about.

[ And things he couldn't get out of her to say, but he'd expected he'd be hearing about them soon enough. And then all of this with the illness and the almost dying appeared and peoples priorities changed.

When Nathan finally looked at him again, Peter gave his head a tiny shake, trying not to make a big deal out of any of this. ] You really don't have to, i'll see her again soon enough. She doesn't need to be around here.

[ It's something he'd have to look into. If Claire knew about a future... Well, it was possible, wasn't it? The look she'd given him back in the Jump bay. He frowned at Peter quietly, then offered his hand out to him, patting him on the shoulder. ]

Forget it. You're better now, it's all that matters.

[ But Nathan wasn't quite done yet. He wanted Peter to really know how he felt, and frankly he'd done a damn rubbish job of it so far. He hadn't told Peter half the things he wished he'd told him. And so he looked at him quietly for a few seconds longer, as though gathering the nerve, and looked away from him before he actually opened his mouth to convey them. ]

You know when you woke up after the coma... You freaked out, decided you had to get away from everyone. You remember that? I do. I remember thinking that it was everyone else's fault for uh... For letting you go off and do your own thing when you needed a stronger hand than that. Like you being given that damn painting when it meant you'd go off to Texas and get yourself killed. Ma was furious. She said that if you didn't get yourself killed first then she was going to kill you.

Can't say I was that happy about it either. I sat by your bed watching you dying for two weeks and you just jump up and vanish without a word. This? Getting to actually talk to you now you've woken up? It's nice. And I... [ He looked back at Peter bleakly. ] I didn't want to get my hopes up, just in case it never happened this time. You always come back to me, and I can't stand the fact that one of these days you won't.

[ Sipping quietly on the last of his soup as he listened to Nathan, Peter kept his eyes on his brother over the container, even if Nathan seemed to have no interest in looking at him. Finally settling it back down into his lap quietly, Peter swirled the last of the broth around as he listened, looking apologetic, sad, to blame without really even trying. It helped that he still didn't feel all too well -- the cure made him feel like he had the flu when his body had barely adjusted to being pulled out of the coma.

Waiting for his brother to finish, even when Nathan did, Peter wasn't quite sure what to say. Not when he didn't entirely know what Nathan was getting at. If he wanted to talk about the possibility of Peter's death, or the fact that he didn't like taking help when he should, or that he didn't know how to stop when other peoples lives were in danger. There were so many things to say and all Peter could do for a few seconds, was just try not to cry. ]

You're lucky I felt worse this time around, then. Didn't have anywhere to go. And that I didn't have to explode, made it easier to not get up and want to run away from every-- [ The trying not to cry thing failed only seconds later and Peter couldn't look up anymore, didn't want to know if he'd find Nathan still looking away or staring at him. It was better to stay oblivious. At least for as long as he could. ] From everyone. But most of all, you.

Nathan, if i'd died, i'd have done it with us still hating each other. That's not how it's supposed to be with us. It's not, and I still don't know how to forgive you for what you did, but you're still my big brother. You still raised me, and I'd still rather have it be you sitting next to my bed over anyone else, and yeah, it is nice. To have you here while i'm trying to get the energy to get out of bed. Even though i'm sorry that you had to see me like this, and that you had to find me in the maze, and that I couldn't take care of it by myself. I've always wanted to get the point where I could just do it without your help.

[ Wiping at his nose with the back of his hand before anymore tears could drop, Peter sniffled hard, the pressure from his sinuses making his head feel twice as carved out, throbbing from the inside out. ]

Doesn't matter how mad at you i've been, i've just missed you.

[ Nathan just listened, and watched him, and it was raw and honest in a way that they just couldn’t have been with each other for years. Peter rarely every spoke about their relationship – neither did Nathan – and now they’d both laid it out. That was how it was—that they needed each other, relied on each other, and that even if everything was broken, even if they were hurt and angry and believed in different things, at the core of it they were still brothers.

It was a difficult realisation to come to for Nathan, but everything had been brought up again, made so raw out of seeing Peter like this that it might as well have been a year ago, sitting by his bedside wringing his hands together as his brother lay impotent and potentially dying in the bed beside him. All the feelings that had been smashed out of existence by Peter’s disappearance and the things that followed; the election, Linderman, the explosion—everything after that, had all come crashing back together, smothering him, hurting in ways that Nathan had thought he was long past. He’d believed he could do anything to make sure that the world was safe, even sacrifice his brother, but the real question was that when it actually came down to it, when it was Peter’s life on the line, would he actually ever be capable of it?

Or would those feelings have come back anyway? The understanding that even at the risk of the world, or his career, he didn’t want his brother – his only brother, his little brother – to die by his own selfishness, his own hand, and call it a ‘necessary evil.’ Could he be that callous? That cold? After this, he really didn’t think he could.

And this was his little brother who was still upset by the idea that Nathan would have to see him struggling, that he wanted to be perceived as stronger than that by his older brother even now, after everything that Nathan had – that he would - put him through. This was his little brother who still missed him despite that, and he dropped forward and wrapped his arms around him again, pressed his nose into Peter’s neck and took a deep, shuddering breath as he impressed the feeling of salty tears against his own hairline. He drew back just a moment later, looked him in the eye and nodded. ]

That’s what I’m saying, Pete. Crazy as it sounds I missed you too.

[ The close contact of his brother was enough to have Peter closing his eyes, the warmth from the connection enough to make him sleepy. It seemed to calm everything, to put things where they were meant to be, and almost made Peter feel like he wasn't quite so sick anymore.

Which was easier said than done, considering Peter still wanted to curl up into the fetal position and give up until everything stopped hurting. But he knew that sickness would fade eventually, that he'd get better. What was a far bigger concern was having the ties to his brother broken irreversibly, and what scared Peter the most was losing his brother while having him just an arms reach away, preaching from a podium and pushing them even further apart.

Tilting his head slightly to lean it against Nathan's, Peter yawned, making himself far too comfortable as he sleepily curled against his brother, empty soup bowl held precariously in his fingers. ]

'Least i'm not going anywhere this time.

[ Nathan hesitated, but the moment passed, a stray thought whirring unwanted against his mind, then slipping away before he could voice it. He couldn't stand to think of what would happen if Peter was wrong. This ship didn't keep people for long. It let them get comfortable, then whipped them away, leaving behind only raw wounds and the people who nursed them. Nathan still wished he could have explained himself to Claire, spoken to her more than he had, and yet she was gone and there was no getting her back to make up for lost time.

Peter wouldn't necessarily stay. Nathan himself could vanish at any given moment, leaving Peter to know only that he was returning to his own timeline and his own mistakes; things that he couldn't change. Knowing his own future was a tragedy waiting to happen and there was nothing he could do to prevent it--it ate at him in ways he hadn't told anyone, and yet he put on a brave face, threw himself at it, because he wasn't prepared to let Peter see how much it scared him. He'd made his own choices that led him there, felt he could justify them even now.

He just wished he didn't have to lose Peter in the process. He only knew now that he had it back how much he'd missed this; even something so simple as sitting by his brother's sickbed.

Holding Peter a little closer, he made the most of it, just in case, brushed a kiss to his brother's temple and lay his own head down, closing his eyes. ]

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