Title: Riders in the Storm
Pairing: Adam/Peter
Rating: PG
Warnings: Um, post-apocalyptic sort of world. M/M kissing.
Words: 1275
Notes: In a world where Adam successfully released the virus, he and Peter must live with the ramifications of that decision--and Peter's choice to stand by him anyway. Written for prompt "Wish I didn't love you" for
un_love_you. Xposted to
heroes_slash,
puppet_master12 and
saltandsaffron.
"You can't just let them keep dying."
Peter's voice broke through the rolling wave of the Doors album Adam had playing on the record player he'd found and appropriated from an abandoned pawn shop two towns ago. Adam opened his eyes and glanced up at him from where he was stretched out on the bed.
"Actually, yes, I can," he said with an arch of his eyebrow before closing his eyes again to better listen to the music.
The sound of a needle dragging across vinyl, accompanied by the abrupt cessation of music made him open them again. Peter was still hovering a few feet away, his hand out toward the record player, and Adam propped himself up on his elbows, flashing the boy an annoyed look. "Do you know how hard I had to look for that album? If you've scratched it..."
Peter stared at him, aghast. "There are people out there dying, dropping like flies, and you're worried about a record?"
"Considering that the people dying was part of the plan," Adam said slowly, as if to a backward child, "Yes. I'm worried about my record."
"I can't believe you." Peter looked a little sick.
Adam stared back at him, then shrugged. "It's for the best, Peter. I know it hurts, but you'll see. Things will be better..."
"What? When everyone is dead?"
One eyebrow arched at the interruption, but Adam's voice was still patient. "Not everyone. Some will have a natural immunity. Some will just be strong enough to see it through. It's natural selection."
"You released the virus! There's nothing natural about that selection," Peter protested.
"Ah, but I'm not choosing who dies, so. It's still in God's hands." Adam's voice held a bit of bitterness.
"You saved Nathan. Ma. Simon and Monty..." Peter moved to sit on the edge of the bed, looking at him earnestly. "You have the power to stop this, the ability to heal them..."
"And make myself into the next government project, being drained of all my blood as fast as my body can regenerate new? No, thank you. I've had my fill of being a lab rat. When the time's right...I'll do what I can."
"And when will that be?" Peter demanded.
Adam sighed, shifting to lean against the headboard. "When the governments have crumbled enough to not be a threat."
"How many more people have to die before you decide that it's enough?"
Shooting him a look that said not to ask stupid questions, Adam reached out and brushed his fingers through Peter's hair. "You could do it, Peter. Turn me in. Lock me up. Drain me for them. Be the hero..." His lips curved slightly in a smirk.
"I should," Peter said, anguish shadowing each word. "It's my fault. If I hadn't..."
"But you won't," Adam said, voice dropping to a bit of a purr as he tugged Peter toward him. "It's not in you to do that to another person." His words slid into a familiar refrain. "They're all going to die, Peter. One way or another, eventually. They'll die, and you'll live on, and I am all you have. Better that the die for a reason, a cause, to pave the way for a better world than uselessly in car accidents and wars and of cancer rotting them slowly from the insides. This is fast, it's clean, and when it's done, we can reshape the world the way it should be. No more famine, no more war, no more disease. No inequality, no injustice. A world where all men and women, with or without abilities, can live in peace, where children can thrive without killing the world around them, where we don't have to worry about raping the Earth, destroying that which sustains us a little more every day, where people do not have to live in fear of their governments. It will be paradise, Peter. You'll see. Sacrifice is necessary..."
"It's too much," Peter whispered, even as he leaned in closer at Adam's urging.
"It is no more than what is needed. We need a fresh start, a cleansing, so that those left when the ashes settle can begin to grow again." Peter swallowed, and Adam pressed on. "And we'll be together, helping them. I need you, Peter. Your heart, your vision, your empathy. I need someone by my side to help me bring the world into being, to create a world where we can live, safely, you and me. Forever."
Peter's eyes fell closed, trembling fingers wrapping around Adam's tight enough to hurt. "I could stop you...go back, make it never happen..."
An amused sound fell from Adam's lips as he brushed a kiss over Peter's cheek. "You've tried that, pet. No matter what you do, we end up back here. You need to accept this is destiny, that it is meant to be." He pulled his lips away from the heat of Peter's skin, fingers sliding under his chin to force his head up. The boy's eyes flickered open. "Or you need to go back and end it." Twisting his hand around, he raised Peter's fingers to his own forehead and took a gamble. "Put a bullet here, take me out, end it, because I don't want to live in that world anymore. If you're going to stop me, don't make me stay there."
Alarm flickered through wide brown eyes, staring into Adam's cold blue ones. The harsh drag of breaths shattered the quiet of the room, replacing the music that had played before with a different melody.
"You could save the world" Adam taunted gently, thumb tracing back and forth across Peter's cheek. "One life for all of theirs? Of course, then you'd have to live with that for the rest of time...But wouldn't that be better than this? Let the world keep dragging itself through the muck, destroying itself slowly until there is nothing left worth saving. Watch as the centuries stretch by, and everyone you think to tie your life to dies, and the world just keeps falling farther...But you would have stopped me."
"It would be the right thing to do," Peter said with a flash of defiance, though Adam could still feel the trembling.
The music of breaths, different rhythms, different tempos, filled the silence again as their gazes held. Adam dragged his fingers down, over Peter's neck, across his shoulder to settle over his heart. "So go," he murmured. "Just make it quick, and don't let me know it's you. I don't want to die knowing that."
Shadows and ghosts of morals and memory danced in Peter's eyes, twisting around each other and tangling up with an excess of emotion that threatened to spill over, wetting his cheeks in a wash of saltwater. His eyes closed, pushing the tears out in a slow trickle. "I can't."
A cynical smile tugged at Adam's lips before he leaned in, kissing Peter softly, a silent promise that the dawn would break again, and the world they found on the other side of the storm would be a glorious one, theirs to do with as they wished.
"I know."
He pulled away, moving across the room to examine the record, finding it unscathed, and dropped the needle back down on it casually. Glancing back, he took in the way Peter's shoulder's drooped as the music filled the room again...
...ya gotta love your man
Take him by the hand
Make him understand
The world on you depends
Our life will never end
Gotta love your man, yeah
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone
And actor out on loan
Riders on the storm
...and smiled.