Savior, 1/1
Three Weeks Later
Washington, D.C.
“And you’re saying all these people have abilities?”
Nathan watches as the President’s hands flip through the thick file with practiced ease, briefly examining the familiar names and faces of the innocent people whose lives are about to be changed by what he has done and the dangerous foes who will be dangerous no more.
For this is what Nathan has told himself in the dead of night as he ponders his actions: that it is for the Greater Good. Every life he is about to ruin, every family he is about to tear apart will save countless others. Their sacrifices will be the world’s salvation, and Nathan will be their savior.
Their hero.
It’s his turn now. He’s given his life to the people, to serve and protect them, to speak for them in both times of peace and crisis, but it’s Peter who has always been the hero. Even before they discovered their powers - when they were just Nathan and Peter - it was Peter who had always felt the need to save people, to fix them. It was the reason he had become a nurse.
But Nathan had become the lawyer, and although he had been a hero in his own right, it has never felt as wholesome and beneficial as his brother’s “blind compassion.” Especially not when Peter had to save the world from Nathan.
But no more.
Nathan won’t allow himself to be manipulated by another Linderman.
Because it’s only a matter of time before someone worse than Linderman, Sylar, or Arthur comes along.
And if they’re let loose on a dying world, what will happen then?
That’s why they need to be contained.
It’s a pre-emptive strike, and it’s foolproof.
Nathan hesitates.
Nearly foolproof.
Otherwise, there wouldn’t be two names conveniently missing from the incriminating folder in the President’s hands, two names which, despite all his convictions, Nathan couldn’t force himself to reveal.
His own.
And Peter’s.
The first is self-explanatory. He can fly; he’s hardly dangerous, but Peter…
He loves Peter.
And he can’t condemn him to life as the government’s giant guinea-pig.
“For years, I’ve lived in a world where we’ve been hunted. Slaughtered. Used. All because you told them about us…”
He won’t be responsible for forcing that future on his brother again.
Because Peter’s right; they’re connected, beyond blood and family and right versus wrong. They are two halves of one whole.
And maybe in time, Peter can learn to forgive him.
Washington, D.C.
“And you’re saying all these people have abilities?”
Nathan watches as the President’s hands flip through the thick file with practiced ease, briefly examining the familiar names and faces of the innocent people whose lives are about to be changed by what he has done and the dangerous foes who will be dangerous no more.
For this is what Nathan has told himself in the dead of night as he ponders his actions: that it is for the Greater Good. Every life he is about to ruin, every family he is about to tear apart will save countless others. Their sacrifices will be the world’s salvation, and Nathan will be their savior.
Their hero.
It’s his turn now. He’s given his life to the people, to serve and protect them, to speak for them in both times of peace and crisis, but it’s Peter who has always been the hero. Even before they discovered their powers - when they were just Nathan and Peter - it was Peter who had always felt the need to save people, to fix them. It was the reason he had become a nurse.
But Nathan had become the lawyer, and although he had been a hero in his own right, it has never felt as wholesome and beneficial as his brother’s “blind compassion.” Especially not when Peter had to save the world from Nathan.
But no more.
Nathan won’t allow himself to be manipulated by another Linderman.
Because it’s only a matter of time before someone worse than Linderman, Sylar, or Arthur comes along.
And if they’re let loose on a dying world, what will happen then?
That’s why they need to be contained.
It’s a pre-emptive strike, and it’s foolproof.
Nathan hesitates.
Nearly foolproof.
Otherwise, there wouldn’t be two names conveniently missing from the incriminating folder in the President’s hands, two names which, despite all his convictions, Nathan couldn’t force himself to reveal.
His own.
And Peter’s.
The first is self-explanatory. He can fly; he’s hardly dangerous, but Peter…
He loves Peter.
And he can’t condemn him to life as the government’s giant guinea-pig.
“For years, I’ve lived in a world where we’ve been hunted. Slaughtered. Used. All because you told them about us…”
He won’t be responsible for forcing that future on his brother again.
Because Peter’s right; they’re connected, beyond blood and family and right versus wrong. They are two halves of one whole.
And maybe in time, Peter can learn to forgive him.