His grip tightened for an instant as Peter struggled to breathe, eyes squeezing shut. His chest hurt, and the ache made lifting his ribcage enough to draw a breath a difficult thing. When his breath finally caught, he coughed, the taste of stale air in his mouth and on his lips. There was a familiar, uncomfortable tingling across his chest as the skin healed over, forcing out the charred bits of material from his shirt.
His eyes opened, the grip of his hand loosening for a moment as he got his bearings but never completely slacking in their hold on her. But as his recollection resurfaced, his grip renewed itself, combined with the whispered sound of her name. "Sarah."
As he started to sit up, a frantic wave of emotion and thoughts struck him, and Peter reeled slightly. Its okay, Nathan, he sent to his nerve-wracked brother. I'm okay. Promise. And then he set his thoughts aside to focus on the crippling emotions coming off of Sarah.