Don't really know where this came from. I've only seen the first episode and part of the second. The rest of my information has been gained from Wikipedia.
Before getting heavily involved with this fandom however, I wish to complete my Ghost in the Shell stories. Mwaha.
Peter was not a fan of 3 AM. It didn't matter about proof; he always felt that he was the only person left alive on the entire planet. This was especially distressing since the visions of the exploding man started.
He really hated his life right about now.
His apartment was a cute, little thing. Well, Heidi thought it was cute. Nathan thought he should have gotten something roomier, but that was a different argument all together.
Quietly, Peter curled up on his bed and looked out his window. The stars were out tonight. He knew he needed to sleep, gather his composure, and be Peter-Who-Always-Bounces-Back. For the world's sake, for Nathan's sake, for Claire's sake, for his own right.
He pulled the pillow over his head. He didn't want to visit the nightmares. Briefly, he considered taking one of his barbiturates, but then rejected the notion. Too much of that and he would end up on the street with all the other addicts. Some hero he'd be.
And besides, he was too keyed up to sleep. Near-death experiences could do that to a person.
So, he didn't sleep. He didn't sleep, he didn't move from his less-than-comfortable position on the bed. He simply watched the night sky's progression through time. Eventually, the moon came out. It was waxing; a delicate crescent perfectly suspended in the sky.
Goodnight Moon. He loved that picture book when he was a kid. Always thought that when he had children, he'd read it to them.
God, that seemed far away.
The pillow was soaked before he realized he was crying. Weeping silently, tears sliding out the ducts and down his cheeks.
Of course, it was the noticing of the fact that set off the sobs. The awful, wracking sobs that pinched his chest and made it impossible to breathe, sobs that let in the despair he'd been trying to keep away.
Who the hell did he think he was kidding? 'Save the cheerleader, save the world?' He'd barely managed the first; what the hell would happen when he had to take up the second challenge? Would someone have to carry his ass out of that mess, too? Would there even be someone there to do it?
He realized that he didn't want this. Not anymore.
The door opened, just as he undulated.
Footsteps hurried across the floor, and then there was a warm, comforting arm around his shoulders.
"Aw, Petey," his big brother said sadly.
Before, the dam had been leaking. Now, it burst.
Peter wailed, and cried, and shook, and his nose ran disgustingly as all the fear and awfulness hit him. Nathan held him patiently through it all; humming quietly as his baby brother fell apart.
Eventually, Peter trailed off into sniffs and hiccups. Nathan dug a packet of tissues out of his pocket and held one up to the younger man's nose. "Blow," he said.
Peter did, just like when he was five.