Author's Note: another update...woot XD

Counter Spark: I haven't even gotten started with him yet...lol You should see what I did to Jack Bauer from 24...' I seriously think if you look up sadistic writer in the dictionary you'd find a picture of me... ' and for Nathan in this fic, his future will remain uncertain for now (meaning I ain't tellin til i write it! lol) I update everyday because my updates are always sorta short (I don't have the patience right now to write detailed, and extended as many folks do...meaning 1000+ words an update) XD

Thanks to HeroesBonesSNPB and Winchester-Jackson-Petrelli for reviewing

ENJOY and please keep reviewing?

----------------------------------------------------------------------

A pair of flannel pajama pants, shirt, and a fresh pair of boxers should be enough, right?

Matt mused to himself as he went to make his way down the stairs when he heard something break, followed by a thud. On pure instinct he clambered down the stairs, taking two steps at a time with grace he could never find when actually concentrating on it. He took two running steps before sliding on the wooden floor into the door frame of the sitting room where he had left Nathan.

First he saw no sign of life. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern as he edged into the room. Soon the empty wheelchair came into view. His eyes widened as its occupant was missing.

"Nathan?" He called out to the room, edging closer to be meet with a scarring sight. As the ground before the couch revealed itself, so did the missing person. Nathan was on his side, half curled up, shaking. Next to him was a meager pile of vomit, and a shattered frame.

Instantly the cop came up behind him, pulling the eldest Petrelli onto his back gently. His face was ghostly white, and glimmering with a slim coat of sweat. His eyes were half open, glazed over. Matt noticed he could no longer hear the labored wheezing that was before.

His eyes widened as the tell tale signs of lack of oxygen were so visibly played out before him. Nathans' lips were slightly discolored, a pale purple, the lack of response and movement; he was completely limp on the wooden floor.

Matt immediatly recalled his rescue breathing lessons, and turned his head sideways and leant over Nathan's face. Matt waited for a moment, watching for the rise and fall of his chest, and to feel something on the side of his face.

One second passed...then two, three, five, ten...Nothing.

"Fuck, Nathan..." He growled as he felt for a pulse then. He closed his eyes to concentrate on counting. It was weakening by the second. Matt recoiled to sitting straight up putting his hands into his pockets, feverishly searching for something the good geneticist gave him before they left on their little trip.

I was able to get him to breath again before he went into full respiratory arrest. Next time he may not be so lucky. Here, if worse comes to worse, stick him in the arm and squeeze in all its contents. He should come around within seconds after.

The words flooded back to him as he finally fingered the syringe and pulled it out. He eyed it up before removing the cap that made it safe to carry around in his pocket. He lashed out with his free hand, gripping the closest arm to him. Without much concious though the syringe found its target, and with a remarkably steady hand, Matt administered the liquid into Nathans' body, and waited.

One second passed...two, five, ten...

Panic was rising as every second passed and nothing happened. The body looked more corpse like then ever. Matt was just about to check his pulse again, as he heard a sharp painful intake of breath. His eyes followed as Nathans' chest rose and fell, and continued in a shuddering like fashion. The cop himself, let out a sigh in relief.

After another minute passed by, and the adrenaline retreated, Matt was exhausted. He kept a watchful eye on Nathan, who was still rather unresponsive, only thing that had really changed, was that he was breathing now. Something wasn't right. His mind fell back to what Mohinder had told him about what should happened. He started breathing, but he wasn't fully coming around. He wasn't fully concious.

"Let's get you back." He said tiredly, positioning himself to pick the other man up. He was light, at least. Matt pulled him up by his armpits, so his back was now against the cops' chest. Matt noticed that in one hand was the photograph interlaced in his fingers, in a death grip.

Must be important, to not even let go of it after not being all there.

After a couple minutes of struggling, Matt managed to get Nathan in the chair and sitting upright. He grabbed the cloths he had gotten for the man which were scattered a few feet away and set them on Nathans' lap. He then proceeded to place the oxygen tube back in its rightful place around Nathans' head and connecting to his nose. Finally he rested the limp hands over the cloths to keep them somewhat secure.

This was when he got a good look at the photograph that Nathan had taken. It was of him and his brother, Peter. Matt never thought brothers could have such a deep bond. But why would he, He was an only child after all.

With that and keeping a steady hand on Nathans' shoulder to keep him sitting upright, they made their way back to the car.