Spoilers: Vague S2 spoilers
Warnings: Cruel and unusual punishment
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
A/N: Going into an AU where Adam is still working for the Company openly, but Peter was still “voluntarily” imprisoned in Hartford after the end of S1. Takes place around where “Four Months Ago” would come in the timeline. Thanks to perdiccas for betaing. Written as a pinch-hit for sarkywoman for the 2009 Spring heroes_exchange.
Summary: An imprisoned love in an inaccessible place, a dedicated lover trying to set them both free, and an evil guardian determined to see them both pay for their love…
“Peter? Peter Petrelli? Let me in.”
Peter’s hand reached through the wall and pulled Adam into his cell; gratefully kissing him the second he cleared the cinder blocks. Sneaking down to the sixth sub-level basement containment cells wasn’t easy, but Adam had made the trip so many times by now it was almost second nature.
“I thought you couldn’t come today,” Peter said, pulling back for a quick second to look Adam in the eye. Adam smiled reassuringly and ran his hand through Peter’s hair, starting to get long again from Elle’s inexpert shearing two months ago.
“Something came up. Besides, I hate leaving you alone with only Elle for company, pet,” Adam said soothingly. He moved them back to Peter’s bed, secure in the knowledge that the Company, for all its resources and sophistication, still hadn’t managed to find cameras that could stand up to Elle’s daily visits.
“Thank you,” Peter whispered, brown eyes liquid and earnest as he let Adam lay him out on the bed, kissing soft and slow, hands languidly running through each other’s hair and down each other’s backs, content and happy to just be with him.
Adam hadn’t gone farther than kissing with Peter. He hadn’t needed to yet. Peter was just a very needy person; he needed to be touched, kissed, wanted, loved, and for right now, that was exactly what Adam wanted out of him. Peter might be the only person with whom he could spend his life, his entire life, and he wouldn’t jeopardize that for a quick screw.
He wouldn’t jeopardize that for the Company’s goals, Bob and Angela’s ego, or Elle’s sense of “fun” either. They had no idea how it was like to live through four centuries, watching everyone around you die, being unable to love for more than a few decades at a time.
Peter finally pulled back first, smiling, and Adam heaved himself up on his elbow.
“How’s practice going?”
“Pretty good. I mean, no problems. Elle hasn’t noticed anything yet. I feel good; in control,” Peter said, a little trickle of confidence in his voice and expression that hadn’t been there in a while. Adam smiled a bit; convincing Peter to throw away the pills and practice with his powers, to get the control Bob claimed he couldn’t possibly obtain, had been the biggest and most important step.
The second was convincing Peter he wasn’t a danger to everyone else, that he could leave the Company with Adam and everything would be fine.
“Nathan’s co-authoring some bill or another, getting his name in the news. Doing well, healthy, still wondering where you are. You going to let me tell him? I know he misses you too.”
Little slices of outside, of home, were Adam’s other enticements to get Peter to finally go. And it was working, little by little. Each piece of information, each kiss, each caress was forging a link around Peter’s heart, linking him to Adam.
“Soon?” Peter promised finally, biting his lip. “I think I’m almost ready.”
“All right, pet. Soon. I’ll hold you to that.” Moving fast, before Peter could protest, Adam rolled on top of him, lips pulling at his fiercely, grinding down just a little, just enough for him to feel it, before sliding off again.
“Soon, soon, I swear!” Peter said fervently, grasping Adam’s hand as he let him back through the wall.
A few moments later, Peter heard a familiar voice.
“Peter? Peter Petrelli? Let me in!”
Bounding over to the wall, wondering if Adam had managed to forget his wallet, Peter stuck his hand through and grasped a sleeve, bringing through… Elle.
Stumbling backwards in shock, the bed taking his legs out from under him, Peter sat down heavily as Bob and the Haitian entered through the normal door. Everyone was scowling at him.
“Peter, Peter, Peter, after all we’ve done for you…” Bob said, shaking his head. “If you can’t use your powers responsibly, then you shouldn’t use them at all.”
“Wait!” Peter said, starting to jump up, flinching as Elle brought her sparking hands down on his shoulders. “Wait!”
The Haitian stepped forward, stern and unforgiving, and put his hand on Peter’s forehead.
The next day…
“Peter? Peter Petrelli? Let me in!”
A hand reached out through the wall and hauled Adam into the cell. The smile on Adam’s face died as Bob, Elle, and Agent Roberts, a phaser, surrounded him.
“Do you really think we wouldn’t notice?” Bob asked mildly.
“Actually? For the first two months there? Yeah, I did,” Adam said with a casual smirk hiding fear. What the hell had they done with Peter?
Bob’s expression darkened. “Hold him, Roberts.”
Adam ducked under his grasp and slapped the override code at the door. He was going to have to fight his way out up six levels. This was going to be a bitch. He rolled as Elle’s lightning hit the door behind him and scrambled for the stairs.
Peter, Peter, what did they do to you?
Two days later…
If Adam hadn’t faced death approximately five thousand, eight hundred, and twenty-seven times before, he might have been afraid now. During his escape attempt, Bob had ordered him shot with some chemical darts that held a liquid version of the power-repressing pills, and Elle’s subsequent attacks had blinded him. Then they’d dropped him in this godforsaken desert hellhole and left him to die, enough of the drug in his system to keep his powers down for days. God only knew what they used; nano-capsules or some such nonsense, Adam was sure.
Adam supposed he must have really pissed Bob off for him to go to these lengths to watch him suffer. In an abstract way, Adam could admire the artistry of the plan, even if it meant his doom. He’d been without water in the desert sun for two days; he’d be dead by sunrise tomorrow.
He didn’t fear going this way, he was only angry because he’d been robbed. They’d robbed him of his life with Peter; they’d robbed him of love, of decades, centuries of love.
Ah, now came the hallucinations. Starting with Peter’s voice, of course.
“Adam is… that you? I remember… I remember!”
Would a hallucination have Peter say something so odd? Would a hallucination have stumbling steps towards him, a body kneeling down next to him, hands gathering him up into a hug, with grateful tears wetting his face?
“Adam, I forgot, I forgot, I didn’t know why I was here, and I thought I was going to die, but then I saw you and I remembered.”
It was Peter. Peter was here, he’d found him… The Company had dropped him out here too, wanting them both to die for their transgressions.
“You got us out, we’re out, we’re free,” Peter said, rocking him back and forth, his tone almost pleading. “Adam, talk to me!”
“I’m dying, pet,” Adam said softly, bringing a dusty hand up to blindly fumble through Peter’s hair. “For real, this time.”
“No, no! You promised, I promised. Soon, I said. Now, ok? You can’t leave me, not now!” Peter’s voice was desperate, breaking, and Adam was torn between fury at the universe for making him leave right now, and wanting to smile at Peter one last time.
“Never did. Got taken, but never left,” he rasped.
Peter’s arms crushed Adam to him, painfully hard, tears falling so thick from his eyes that Adam’s face was soaked. “God, Adam. Love you, please… don’t go…”
Light burst across Adam’s vision for the first time in two days as Peter’s words hit Adam straight through the heart. Chemicals and despair had nothing on the strength of emotion in Peter’s voice, and Adam rode the cresting wave of his power to suddenly kiss Peter hard enough to steal the breath from his lungs.
“Never going, love,” Adam said, fisting his hand through Peter’s hair. He looked at Peter, fresh eyes drinking in the sight of Peter clutching to him with the desperation of a drowning man, and the devotion only a besotted lover could give. “Not now.”