Fic: Dust to Dust, Ch. 2 (Adam/Hiro, Ando/Hiro)
Title: Dust to Dust (Ch. 2)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Adam/Hiro, Hiro/Ando
Previous parts: Prologue, Chapter 1
Summary: He’d steeled himself to feel nothing when Hiro next crossed his path, weeding any softness or affection out of his heart, but how could such a thing be possible? Wasn’t Hiro what he’d always wanted?
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
Stupid Hiro and his stupid sidekick and this stupid dirt that kept insisting on falling on him as if he suddenly started generating some freakish gravitational pull even though he shaved soil right from the top of the mountain those two had left for him. And to top it off, he was hungry. And not just kind of, “I can deal with it for now” hungry, but clawing at the walls of your stomach, “I’ve got to get some food in me now!” hungry. His stomach was already gurgling in fervent protest. Soon it’d proclaim it to all the world, namely those two sitting there, and he wasn’t sure if he could bear the extra humiliation. The dirt did well enough at that by itself, binding itself to the creases of his $350 shoes and staining his trouser legs beyond any hope of repair. Not that they mattered, anyway, frivolous baggage of a society that didn’t merit a flower for its gravestone, hypocritical mass of sheep too short lived to see the squalor of their own actions, content to blame the previous generation while throwing their own heedless cares into shopping malls and the latest car model fresh off the factory, locusts buzzing about in a grinding screech for a blink of an eye before dropping dead, leaving someone else to clean up their mess. And Adam had lived for far too long stuck in their mire, sinking down to his neck to want to deal with it for one more second.
But dreams of blessed peace in a human free world were gone now, squashed under a meddlesome empath’s hand no doubt, and he was left right back where he started in this wretched existence. Except, Hiro’s here now. 336 years he’d lived without him, without his guidance, without his smile, without the lilting sound of his voice as it rose in satisfaction when Adam fulfilled another task in the long list to defeating White Beard and saving Japan. Well, he failed at the end, didn’t he? Because there was one thing Adam had not been deprived of these past centuries. Hiro’s betrayal. His lies. His abandonment. How did Hiro expect him to act? Like the good, wholesome hero he’d trained him to be? The world didn’t need heroes. It needed to be fixed. Wiped clean. He needed it to be.
But look, part of him said. Look at him. He’s so close. So real. No late night hallucination. No fever dream. Flesh and blood calling your name.
Adam turned away, stabbing through another pile of dirt and shoving it into the grave. He kept at it for another minute, then an itch began to build at the back of his neck. No. He would not look up. Stop. Don’t look. Why do you want to look? It’s hopeless.
Hiro sat on the grass a few yards away next to Ando, who kept shooting not so covert glares at him, no doubt checking that he wasn’t slacking off or attempting to escape. But now what good would come of that? Hiro would simply freeze time and search for him at his leisure. Yet that was hardly the only thing keeping Adam trapped. His captor sat in profile, face composed of dusky shadows of yellow rising from the lamp standing at their feet. Light enough to trace the roundness of his cheek, the edge of his right eye hidden behind slender glasses, the line of his arm folded on his lap, pale elbow poking out from his dress shirt, bare patch of skin he remembered so well, having once memorized every bump and ridge of it as Hiro slept, unconscious to his desire, ignorant still, and wouldn’t he be so disgusted if he knew? But this want wasn’t supposed to still be here. He’d steeled himself to feel nothing when Hiro next crossed his path, weeding any softness or affection out of his heart, but how could such a thing be possible? Wasn’t Hiro what he’d always wanted?
But Hiro couldn’t want him. Ever. Not then. Definitely not now and there was no sense even considering that possibility so get it out of your mind. Besides, he had his friend now, best buddy in all the world. Hadn’t they known each other since they were children? Now how could a remorseless murderer like himself compete with that? Hiro rubbed his throat, mouth tightening in a pained wince. Adam had choked him hard, hadn’t he? He wouldn’t have really killed him, but neither had he wanted to let go, gripped in the moment, fury swallowing all reason until Hiro spoke that one name no person had called him in over three centuries. Kensei. And he let go. He let him live. Because Hiro whispered his name.
Adam gripped the shovel so tightly he could feel capillaries breaking. He continued shoveling, risking not a glance or thought in Hiro’s direction, clearing his mind down to the essence of the action at hand. Grab dirt. Throw it in. Simple rhythm..
Finally, he stabbed the shovel into the newly patched grave, giving the two a hard look as they turned towards him.
“Are you done?” that irritating voice asked.
“I should think that’d be obvious, Mr. Masahashi.”
The man twitched in surprise at hearing his surname, frowning in displeasure, though considering that the same expression had clouded his face for the past half hour, who could tell the difference?. But now, really. Did he think Adam a fool? It hadn’t required much legwork at all to discover the full identity of the blight he’d been carrying in his sword for all those centuries. He found him cleaved to the side of his primary target, Kaito Nakamura, his personal aide no less. Life could be so easy sometimes.
“Let’s go, then,” Hiro said, and suddenly the shovel vanished from his hands and Hiro stood with it a meter away. No chances, huh? Smart lad. .
“Where are we taking him?” Ando asked, whispering again. Honestly, why did he bother? Adam would discover the answer to that question within seconds anyway.
“I’m not sure,” Hiro replied in the same murmuring tone. “Our apartments aren’t safe. They probably know where we live. But a public place is too risky.”
“How about someplace with food?” Adam said, the hunger he’d been ignoring rearing up again, sending a sharp stab to remind him who was boss.
Yet despite this truly innocent suggestion, Ando frowned at him as if Adam were conspiring to shoot off a nuclear bomb.
“You’re not the one making the decisions here,” he said.
Like he’d never heard that clichéd line before.
“I’m merely suggesting that it might be more a comfortable venue. I’m not going to poison you or make you choke on your own food, if that’s what you’re so paranoid about.”
“Are you hungry?” Hiro asked, startling him and damn if he didn’t suppress that twitch just in time. Hiro regarded him with a frown Adam couldn’t decipher
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?”
“You did stick me in a coffin for I don’t know how long. It’s not exactly a nourishing experience.”
“But weren’t you dead?” Ando cut in.
“Obviously. But since I’m alive now, my body needs food. Else I might end up collapsing and you’d be all on your own in finding that formula.”
A sliver of a grin slithered on his lips. He could almost hear the cursing in Ando’s head, loud and colorful and so very amusing. The man was way too easy to toy with. But it wasn’t him he was most interested in, but Hiro, who eyed him for another moment before glancing to his side, a heavy, downtrodden sign dragging out his throat, and Adam almost felt sorry.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he admitted, but quickly threw Adam a sharp glance and Adam knew it was no idle warning. “At least, it better not.” He leaned towards Ando, adding in a lower voce, “I am a little hungry, too.”
“Fine,” Ando said with a resigned roll of his eyes. “Food it is. But don’t be trying anything.”
I’m shaking in my boots, oh Mr. Masahashi, sir, Adam thought, a sardonic twist in his sneer.
Then Hiro was moving closer to him, reaching out to grab his shoulder just like before and Adam braced himself, but not for the rapid rush of teleportation. Hiro’s hand, wide and warm and strong, the closest he had come to him in over three centuries, held him just like when Adam let him take him from the safe. He’d felt his furious determination to punish and save the world and Adam let him, because that touch meant more than any punishment Hiro had planned for him, because he yearned for it more than air and he’d wanted so badly to take that hand in his own, stroke it, kiss it, adore it, but then as now he must remain indifferent, unmovable. Don’t let him see. Please, don’t let him see. He had no problem fulfilling that self-command. As soon as they landed, Hiro jerked away from him as if he were infested with smallpox and Adam turned away, resigned.
The food turned out to be that chicken joint now universally known as KFC since it appeared that this even more fast paced culture he’d been dropped into couldn’t be bothered with proper names and simply reduced everything to its most digestible version. He preferred the old name himself. It had a quaint, homey taste to it even though there had never been anything quaint or homey about it. Judging by the pervasive flatness at all sides, the sluggish road lined with car dealerships, the fallow ground which in a few months would be brimming with corn stalks, and the always ominous curl of blue-black clouds rolling overhead, edges grinned like ragged teeth, they must be somewhere in the Great Plains, USA. Hardly his number one choice after being sprung from prison, again. The thin dressing jacket he wore did nothing to repel the cackling Midwestern chill slithering past the cloth to strike at the vulnerable flesh within. Oh, had he not missed this. The warmth gathered through all that bothersome toil of filling in his own grave dispersed faster than dandelion seeds in a tornado. But he would not let his discomfort show in front of these two. He had his dignity. But surely no one would blame him for squeezing his arms together just a bit more tightly than necessary. Hiro and Ando were doing so as well, hunching their shoulders and shuffling towards the building. They’d arrived at the back door next to the rubbish bins and the thankfully barren field. The spot where they were least likely to be seen popping out of nowhere. Did he plan that or did it simply happen? Perhaps they’d been here before.
“Where are we?” Ando asked.
Perhaps not.
“I’m not sure,” Hiro responded. “I just thought of some fast food far away from a big city.”
They stood at his sides and gestured at him with tense nods to start walking. How quaint. A prisoner off to his last meal with his oh so caring guards in tow. Not that this was necessarily his last meal, but one must be prepared for every eventuality. He quickened his step and they did the same, everyone eager to escape the cold (couldn’t Hiro have picked someplace further south?), hurrying across the side of the white and red painted building and in front of the car park, which contained only three vehicles: one of those little compact cars, a big, beaten up blue pickup, and a smooth, dull-looking minivan. Ando slipped inside first, holding the door open only to ensure that he actually went in, for Adam was sure that he’d love to let it smack him in the face.
Warmth! He didn’t think he’d be so glad to be in a building again so much in his life, but if humanity had achieved anything this past century, it was indoor heating. Something he hadn’t been able to appreciate anywhere near enough during his time under the Company’s generous hospitality, for the heater had the unusual tendency to malfunction just when the temperature dropped below freezing and he was forced to beg Bob for extra blankets because his breath was ghosting in front of him. Those four months Peter spent with him turned out to be the warmest winter during his whole stay. He’d even been able to wear t-shirts. Bob couldn’t expect to maintain an image of concerned aid if he froze his “guest” half to death. No. Such treatment was reserved exclusively for Adam.
Only two tables were filled in the place. Most likely they were off traditional mealtime hours or this was a particularly slow stretch of road. A teenage couple sat at one of the tables; two middle aged men at the other. all slurping sodas while stuffing themselves with over fried chicken. At the till, another couple, this one with two overactive children attached, a boy and bigger girl, placed their order while trying to drag their progeny’s choices out of them from between unseemly shrieks and play fighting. An ordinary scene in an ordinary day in an ordinary town. Thirty years had produced no difference in his eyes.
But never mind the people. A delightful, spicy smell wafted into his nose and straight down into his starved stomach, which rumbled ardently enough this time for it to reach his ears and he determinedly did not look at Hiro or Ando, focusing on the menu spread on the back wall above the counter. Nothing special, of course, just the usual common fare, but fine cuisine was overrated, anyway. A thick beefsteak, hearty soup, and hopefully fresh bread had been enough to sustain him through most of his life. Fried chicken, chips and apple pie would do more than fine right now.
“What do you want?”
Hiro’s unexpected question startled him out of his food drunk haze, and he turned towards him, searching his genuinely inquiring face for a confirmation of what he’d just heard.
“You mean you’re going to let me choose?”
“Why not?”
Hiro’s shoulders rose in a small shrug.
“I just find it awfully charitable of you.”
“What did you expect?” Ando asked. “Bread and water?”
Did he detect a hint of indignation? Had Adam insulted his delicate “good guy” sensibilities?
“Perhaps. It wouldn’t be the first time. Nor the second. Or the third, really.”
Ando looked away, discomfort tensing in his eyes. Not so tough as he presumed, was he? Hiro remained silent, though the haggard shadow of something crossed his face. Not guilt, not shame. Regret? Crushed hope? Or was that only Adam’s own?
The overloaded couple finally backed off from the till and Hiro stepped forward, plastering a fake smile on his face as he ordered. Ando prompted him forward with a light nudge to his ribs and Adam obeyed, listening to Hiro speak, the bouncy cadence of his voice working around the still slightly unfamiliar sounds of Adam’s language which he’d once helped him shape, adding a few now archaic words to the motley jumble of 21th century slang that Adam couldn’t make heads or tails of. In the end, Hiro taught him more than Adam taught him, aiding him in Japanese grammar while peppering his vocabulary with terms no one would be able to comprehend for well over three hundred years, but which he never forgot, a relic to their shared past. To this day he couldn’t hear the word yatta without hearing Hiro’s voice. Did Hiro remember those 17th century words, the language of Adam’s youth, which he could only recuperate through Daniel Defoe and his own memory, or had Ando weeded them out, not comprehending them himself? Thus far, Adam hadn’t heard him use a single one.
“I’ll have the number three, please,” Adam said when the cashier turned towards him. “And could I have a bottle of water instead of the soda, please? It doesn’t matter if it’s extra.”
He flashed the cashier a warm smile that turned her plastic one into a flattered grin. She was pretty, early twenties, probably making her way through college with this minimum wage job. There was no point in bothering gaining her favor, but it was an old habit.
“That’ll be 19 dollars and 7 cents, please” she said, looking only at him, no less, and he felt twin looks of displeasure at his side, though only Ando’s was a true glare, Hiro looking more tired than anything.
Hiro started taking a card out of his wallet, no doubt a platinum corporate credit card with an absurd credit limit now that he’d been initiated as Yamagato's new CEO as Kaito’s only son.
“Oh, sorry,” the girl said, shaking her head with a regretful grimace. “Our card system’s not working. You’re going to need to pay with cash. Sorry.”
Crestfallen, Hiro leaned towards Ando behind Adam’s back, whispering in Japanese.
“Do you have any dollars?”
“No.”
“I’ll take care of this one,” Adam cut in, digging in his trouser pocket for the cash he’d taken from a passerby during his travel with Peter. Luckily, Hiro wasn’t the type to riffle through people’s pockets before burying them alive. Taking out a twenty, he handed it to the girl, who looked delighted to continue interacting with him. Adam kept his eyes fixed on her, suppressing a laugh at the Ando’s flabbergasted glare. The girl’s fingers flickered on his palm as she gave him his change, eager for more than such a meager taste of him. Alas, he was already engaged.
Once their food had been placed on a wide, orange tray and graciously handed to him by the girl herself, they headed towards the tables. Hiro chose one far at the left-hand corner away from the other guests and with a clear view of the road outside, not that the Company or anyone else was likely to find them here, though one could never discount the possibility. Adam placed the tray on the table and sat down on the farther side facing the till, Hiro and Ando sitting in front of him.
“What the hell was that?” Ando demanded before even touching the chair. Always so testy.
“I paid for our meal. You could hardly pay with yen, could you? You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I-Never mind.”
Shaking his head, Ando grabbed his sandwich and started unwrapping it. Adam opened his bottle and lifted it to his mouth, his movements calm and casual, trying not to gulp it down as the deliciously cold liquid hit his tongue and wet the dry surface of his mouth, easing the itchy scratch in his throat. So good. Half the bottle was gone before Hiro spoke.
“Is that how you trick people?”
Adam lowered the bottle, peering closely at Hiro’s downcast face. There was nothing undecipherable about this expression, his emotions laid bare, raw and weeping though no tears blurred Hiro’s eyes. But it was more than sadness. He felt anger, disappointment, and a cold, deep hollow that nothing could fill but that which could never be again. Adam’s hand loosened on the bottle, his body frigid. When Hiro’s eyes flashed up to him, he was the one to look away. He scrambled about for an answer, trying to anchor himself in old rage but he couldn’t find it .
“I do what I have to. I don’t pretend that I’m a good person.”
“You used to be.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You were a hero.”
“I was a con man who paid others to pretend to be him so I could get rich. I only followed your lead to please you.”
“Why?”
For a sliver of a moment, Adam considered telling him, but what was the point? In any case, he wasn’t going to humiliate himself in front of Hiro’s best buddy, who had more right than he ever did. Hiro wouldn’t believe him anyway by this point. Who would?
“For one, you wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“But that’s not it.”
“The money was good, too. And you did lay it on thick. More gold than the emperor and all that.”
“That’s not what you just said.”
“Did you dig me up to have a tête à tête about our past or to talk business?”
Confusion scrunched Hiro’s brow. Ah, the phrase “tête à tête” had yet to enter his vocabulary. The gesture was so adorable that Adam felt the sudden impulse to reach out and smooth his forehead with his hand. Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to be so difficult.
“You’re changing the subject,” Hiro said, growing agitated.
“Funny. I thought you were.”
His fries were getting cold. Ando hadn’t spoken this whole while. Odd. But Hiro was the one badgering him this time and it wasn’t a subject that’d make him comfortable. Adam almost looked at him. Perhaps that would make Hiro drop this pointless tangent. He had no wish to revisit those feelings, thank you.
“I want to understand what happened to you.”
“You’re clinging to the memory of someone who doesn’t exist anymore. I suggest you drop it.”
“No.”
Adam’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth, a fry breaking in his fingers.
“No?”
“No.”
Adam dropped his hand back on the table, the fry crushed in his palm. He’d never seen Hiro’s eyes so harsh before, not even in the safe when he said it was a mistake not to kill Adam when he could.
”This isn’t a good place for this.”
God, it took way too much effort to keep his voice steady.
“Hiro,” Ando said, but Hiro brushed him off, eyes piercing through Adam, who felt like his stomach had been stuffed with gunpowder.
“Just answer one question,” Hiro insisted, voice brooking no argument.
Adam dropped the ruined fry back in its carton, wiping his hand on his trousers.
“Fine.”
“Why did you do it?”
So many answers he could give, all right and yet all completely wrong. But one response floated above the rest, the shortest, quickest way to kill this where it stood before it turned into a real hurricane.
“Because I wanted to hurt you.”
And yet he could only bear to look back into the Inquisition of Hiro’s eyes for half a second. He suddenly wished very, very much that Hiro had left him underground so he wouldn’t have to face him again or be subjected to the torment of having him so close to him after three centuries years of waiting and waiting and always knowing that he could never have what he wanted, yet still aching for the sight of his precious face, the sound of his voice, the firm press-
He ripped into his meal box and bit into his chicken as if it were his own soul, slashing through the meat without tasting it. He didn’t even feel hungry anymore. A gurgle clenched in his stomach. All right, maybe he did, but the sickly swell of bile still rose in his throat even as he forced the chicken down. It was no use. Any of it. Hiro was mistaken if he thought that dragging out Adam’s motivations would help him determine who he was. That man who called himself Takezo Kensei when he was nothing more than the poor, world beaten son of a dead merchant sailor and a tired clothes washer who sold her favors to the local apothecary to make enough to put some food in her children’s stomachs, who scrambled onto the decks of a ship as fast as he could to get away and at least have a hammock waiting for him at the end of the day even if it was only for four hours straight before the bosun roused them him onto the deck again, that man was just another memory shoved into the back of his mind, flickering every so often before fading away again. Adam wasn’t him any more than the New England coast was a wilderness.
They ate in a silence so deathly one could choke in it and Adam welcomed the break, turning towards the window to contemplate the utter banality of the car park with its three lonely cars, and the sleepy road beyond. Every once in a while, a car would come zooming past, but otherwise all was still.
“So...”
Ando this time. Probably the most level headed person at the table at the moment. Hiro still looked shot to hell from what little Adam could see in his peripheral vision.
“Who do you know that might have the formula?”
The man was working so hard not to look angry, though it was obviously a losing battle. Why did he bother? At least he wasn’t trying to look threatening, for that would never work. These bleeding heart types never could. Now, to answer his question, one name came to mind, but thankfully he was dead, or so Peter had said. However, did Hiro and Ando know that? From what Peter had told him, it appeared that there were many chips in play scattered across a board spanning hectares and no one could see more than a few of a their fellow players at a time. What they didn’t know could come to his advantage.
“Do you know the name Arthur Petrelli?” he asked.
Their eyes widened in recognition, the name Petrelli obviously familiar at least.
“Is he related to Peter and Nathan Petrelli?” Ando asked.
“He’s their father.” They didn’t know. Good. “He’s also one of the founders of the Company. As is his wife Angela”
“Yes, we know her. She’s the one who sent us to dig you up.”
“Did she now? Well, that’s unexpected.”
“Because you tried to kill her?”
Adam narrowed his eyes at Ando.
“Now how did you arrive at that conclusion?”
“You wanted revenge on the people who imprisoned you. Besides, she confessed to Mr. Nakamura’s murder for no apparent reason. It’s obvious.”
“I suppose it is. Oh well. I’m not going to apologize for it.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to.”
Ando might as well have spit in his face. Anger gripped Adam’s body.
“You’ve hardly any moral footing to stand on considering who you’re working for.”
“We’re not working for the Company.”
“Really? Then why does it sound like you’re Angela’s errand boys?”
“We’re not her errand boys.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Would you two please focus,” Hiro said, banging his hands flat on the table, exasperation staining his voice. He didn’t look up from the table, his eyes clouded, oddly hollow, and it suddenly felt so wrong for Hiro to look like that. He was always such a happy lad, eager and bright like the noon rays of the sun.
Well, you have no one to blame for that but yourself, don’t you?
Adam shoved the thought away, unwilling to deal with it right now.
“Arthur was always one of the most ambitious people at the Company,” Adam pressed on. “The ringleader, one might say. He was also one of the masterminds behind the production of the formula. It makes sense that he’d want to get hold of it now.”
“But if he’s with the Company why would he be sneaking around to get it?”
“Power struggle, maybe? The founders might have considered themselves friends once, but you know how those fail.” Adam allowed the remark to linger, tensing both their faces in remarkably different ways, Ando’s hardening while Hiro’s grew soft and troubled. “There were a lot of egos pushing about for dominance. Arthur was one. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’d devolved to underhanded dealings by this point. Actually, it’d be shocking if they hadn’t.”
“But Angela’s never mentioned her husband,” Ando said. “Wouldn’t she if he’s with the Company?”
“Like I said earlier, it’s been thirty years since I was last privy to the Company’s interior workings. My captors weren’t very forthcoming when it came to sensitive details.”
“But you had to look into the Company when you... When you were searching for the virus.”
Nice avoidance. Also an excellent point. This Ando was no rollover, it seemed. Despite the trouble he was likely to continue causing him, Adam gazed at him in burgeoning respect. He always appreciated a worthy adversary.
“True. I admit that I never got word of him, but I hardly had time for an exhaustive search. I was in New York for only two days.”
“Where did you go after that?”
“Montreal.”
“Why?”
“Because I felt like it. How is this relevant?”
“I don’t know. But it might be eventually.”
“Will it? Well, I’d love to regale you with my life story sometime, but I must warn you, it’s not for the faint of heart.”
“I’m not interested.”
“No, you wouldn’t be, would you? You just want me to shut up and behave.”
“If it’s not too much to ask.”
“We should get back to New York,” Hiro said, cutting through their bickering as if he hadn’t heard it at all.
So that was the strategy he’d chosen, then. Focus on the target at hand and ignore everything else. Ignore him. He still refused to even glance his way, looking at Ando instead. Well, Adam had forced him into that corner, hadn’t he? He wouldn’t say that he regretted it. But it all felt so... wrong. So hopeless. What was all this striving for? The virus no doubt had been destroyed by Peter. The world lay just as he’d left it, rotting in its own despair, his second chance extinguished. Why should he bother trying to get away? But he couldn’t stay. There was no sense or purpose, but Hiro was so close, and how many nights had he lied awake mourning his memory, trying to catch a whiff of passionate eyes and that enthusiastic smile and admiration that Adam had never deserved, but it was never enough, and look what they’d done. Why couldn’t he throw away that albatross around his neck? Not even Poe could tell how desolate and bleak that abyss was. What would he do away from Hiro, away from the one person he desired most ardently in all the world?
Rating: PG
Pairing: Adam/Hiro, Hiro/Ando
Previous parts: Prologue, Chapter 1
Summary: He’d steeled himself to feel nothing when Hiro next crossed his path, weeding any softness or affection out of his heart, but how could such a thing be possible? Wasn’t Hiro what he’d always wanted?
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
Stupid Hiro and his stupid sidekick and this stupid dirt that kept insisting on falling on him as if he suddenly started generating some freakish gravitational pull even though he shaved soil right from the top of the mountain those two had left for him. And to top it off, he was hungry. And not just kind of, “I can deal with it for now” hungry, but clawing at the walls of your stomach, “I’ve got to get some food in me now!” hungry. His stomach was already gurgling in fervent protest. Soon it’d proclaim it to all the world, namely those two sitting there, and he wasn’t sure if he could bear the extra humiliation. The dirt did well enough at that by itself, binding itself to the creases of his $350 shoes and staining his trouser legs beyond any hope of repair. Not that they mattered, anyway, frivolous baggage of a society that didn’t merit a flower for its gravestone, hypocritical mass of sheep too short lived to see the squalor of their own actions, content to blame the previous generation while throwing their own heedless cares into shopping malls and the latest car model fresh off the factory, locusts buzzing about in a grinding screech for a blink of an eye before dropping dead, leaving someone else to clean up their mess. And Adam had lived for far too long stuck in their mire, sinking down to his neck to want to deal with it for one more second.
But dreams of blessed peace in a human free world were gone now, squashed under a meddlesome empath’s hand no doubt, and he was left right back where he started in this wretched existence. Except, Hiro’s here now. 336 years he’d lived without him, without his guidance, without his smile, without the lilting sound of his voice as it rose in satisfaction when Adam fulfilled another task in the long list to defeating White Beard and saving Japan. Well, he failed at the end, didn’t he? Because there was one thing Adam had not been deprived of these past centuries. Hiro’s betrayal. His lies. His abandonment. How did Hiro expect him to act? Like the good, wholesome hero he’d trained him to be? The world didn’t need heroes. It needed to be fixed. Wiped clean. He needed it to be.
But look, part of him said. Look at him. He’s so close. So real. No late night hallucination. No fever dream. Flesh and blood calling your name.
Adam turned away, stabbing through another pile of dirt and shoving it into the grave. He kept at it for another minute, then an itch began to build at the back of his neck. No. He would not look up. Stop. Don’t look. Why do you want to look? It’s hopeless.
Hiro sat on the grass a few yards away next to Ando, who kept shooting not so covert glares at him, no doubt checking that he wasn’t slacking off or attempting to escape. But now what good would come of that? Hiro would simply freeze time and search for him at his leisure. Yet that was hardly the only thing keeping Adam trapped. His captor sat in profile, face composed of dusky shadows of yellow rising from the lamp standing at their feet. Light enough to trace the roundness of his cheek, the edge of his right eye hidden behind slender glasses, the line of his arm folded on his lap, pale elbow poking out from his dress shirt, bare patch of skin he remembered so well, having once memorized every bump and ridge of it as Hiro slept, unconscious to his desire, ignorant still, and wouldn’t he be so disgusted if he knew? But this want wasn’t supposed to still be here. He’d steeled himself to feel nothing when Hiro next crossed his path, weeding any softness or affection out of his heart, but how could such a thing be possible? Wasn’t Hiro what he’d always wanted?
But Hiro couldn’t want him. Ever. Not then. Definitely not now and there was no sense even considering that possibility so get it out of your mind. Besides, he had his friend now, best buddy in all the world. Hadn’t they known each other since they were children? Now how could a remorseless murderer like himself compete with that? Hiro rubbed his throat, mouth tightening in a pained wince. Adam had choked him hard, hadn’t he? He wouldn’t have really killed him, but neither had he wanted to let go, gripped in the moment, fury swallowing all reason until Hiro spoke that one name no person had called him in over three centuries. Kensei. And he let go. He let him live. Because Hiro whispered his name.
Adam gripped the shovel so tightly he could feel capillaries breaking. He continued shoveling, risking not a glance or thought in Hiro’s direction, clearing his mind down to the essence of the action at hand. Grab dirt. Throw it in. Simple rhythm..
Finally, he stabbed the shovel into the newly patched grave, giving the two a hard look as they turned towards him.
“Are you done?” that irritating voice asked.
“I should think that’d be obvious, Mr. Masahashi.”
The man twitched in surprise at hearing his surname, frowning in displeasure, though considering that the same expression had clouded his face for the past half hour, who could tell the difference?. But now, really. Did he think Adam a fool? It hadn’t required much legwork at all to discover the full identity of the blight he’d been carrying in his sword for all those centuries. He found him cleaved to the side of his primary target, Kaito Nakamura, his personal aide no less. Life could be so easy sometimes.
“Let’s go, then,” Hiro said, and suddenly the shovel vanished from his hands and Hiro stood with it a meter away. No chances, huh? Smart lad. .
“Where are we taking him?” Ando asked, whispering again. Honestly, why did he bother? Adam would discover the answer to that question within seconds anyway.
“I’m not sure,” Hiro replied in the same murmuring tone. “Our apartments aren’t safe. They probably know where we live. But a public place is too risky.”
“How about someplace with food?” Adam said, the hunger he’d been ignoring rearing up again, sending a sharp stab to remind him who was boss.
Yet despite this truly innocent suggestion, Ando frowned at him as if Adam were conspiring to shoot off a nuclear bomb.
“You’re not the one making the decisions here,” he said.
Like he’d never heard that clichéd line before.
“I’m merely suggesting that it might be more a comfortable venue. I’m not going to poison you or make you choke on your own food, if that’s what you’re so paranoid about.”
“Are you hungry?” Hiro asked, startling him and damn if he didn’t suppress that twitch just in time. Hiro regarded him with a frown Adam couldn’t decipher
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?”
“You did stick me in a coffin for I don’t know how long. It’s not exactly a nourishing experience.”
“But weren’t you dead?” Ando cut in.
“Obviously. But since I’m alive now, my body needs food. Else I might end up collapsing and you’d be all on your own in finding that formula.”
A sliver of a grin slithered on his lips. He could almost hear the cursing in Ando’s head, loud and colorful and so very amusing. The man was way too easy to toy with. But it wasn’t him he was most interested in, but Hiro, who eyed him for another moment before glancing to his side, a heavy, downtrodden sign dragging out his throat, and Adam almost felt sorry.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he admitted, but quickly threw Adam a sharp glance and Adam knew it was no idle warning. “At least, it better not.” He leaned towards Ando, adding in a lower voce, “I am a little hungry, too.”
“Fine,” Ando said with a resigned roll of his eyes. “Food it is. But don’t be trying anything.”
I’m shaking in my boots, oh Mr. Masahashi, sir, Adam thought, a sardonic twist in his sneer.
Then Hiro was moving closer to him, reaching out to grab his shoulder just like before and Adam braced himself, but not for the rapid rush of teleportation. Hiro’s hand, wide and warm and strong, the closest he had come to him in over three centuries, held him just like when Adam let him take him from the safe. He’d felt his furious determination to punish and save the world and Adam let him, because that touch meant more than any punishment Hiro had planned for him, because he yearned for it more than air and he’d wanted so badly to take that hand in his own, stroke it, kiss it, adore it, but then as now he must remain indifferent, unmovable. Don’t let him see. Please, don’t let him see. He had no problem fulfilling that self-command. As soon as they landed, Hiro jerked away from him as if he were infested with smallpox and Adam turned away, resigned.
The food turned out to be that chicken joint now universally known as KFC since it appeared that this even more fast paced culture he’d been dropped into couldn’t be bothered with proper names and simply reduced everything to its most digestible version. He preferred the old name himself. It had a quaint, homey taste to it even though there had never been anything quaint or homey about it. Judging by the pervasive flatness at all sides, the sluggish road lined with car dealerships, the fallow ground which in a few months would be brimming with corn stalks, and the always ominous curl of blue-black clouds rolling overhead, edges grinned like ragged teeth, they must be somewhere in the Great Plains, USA. Hardly his number one choice after being sprung from prison, again. The thin dressing jacket he wore did nothing to repel the cackling Midwestern chill slithering past the cloth to strike at the vulnerable flesh within. Oh, had he not missed this. The warmth gathered through all that bothersome toil of filling in his own grave dispersed faster than dandelion seeds in a tornado. But he would not let his discomfort show in front of these two. He had his dignity. But surely no one would blame him for squeezing his arms together just a bit more tightly than necessary. Hiro and Ando were doing so as well, hunching their shoulders and shuffling towards the building. They’d arrived at the back door next to the rubbish bins and the thankfully barren field. The spot where they were least likely to be seen popping out of nowhere. Did he plan that or did it simply happen? Perhaps they’d been here before.
“Where are we?” Ando asked.
Perhaps not.
“I’m not sure,” Hiro responded. “I just thought of some fast food far away from a big city.”
They stood at his sides and gestured at him with tense nods to start walking. How quaint. A prisoner off to his last meal with his oh so caring guards in tow. Not that this was necessarily his last meal, but one must be prepared for every eventuality. He quickened his step and they did the same, everyone eager to escape the cold (couldn’t Hiro have picked someplace further south?), hurrying across the side of the white and red painted building and in front of the car park, which contained only three vehicles: one of those little compact cars, a big, beaten up blue pickup, and a smooth, dull-looking minivan. Ando slipped inside first, holding the door open only to ensure that he actually went in, for Adam was sure that he’d love to let it smack him in the face.
Warmth! He didn’t think he’d be so glad to be in a building again so much in his life, but if humanity had achieved anything this past century, it was indoor heating. Something he hadn’t been able to appreciate anywhere near enough during his time under the Company’s generous hospitality, for the heater had the unusual tendency to malfunction just when the temperature dropped below freezing and he was forced to beg Bob for extra blankets because his breath was ghosting in front of him. Those four months Peter spent with him turned out to be the warmest winter during his whole stay. He’d even been able to wear t-shirts. Bob couldn’t expect to maintain an image of concerned aid if he froze his “guest” half to death. No. Such treatment was reserved exclusively for Adam.
Only two tables were filled in the place. Most likely they were off traditional mealtime hours or this was a particularly slow stretch of road. A teenage couple sat at one of the tables; two middle aged men at the other. all slurping sodas while stuffing themselves with over fried chicken. At the till, another couple, this one with two overactive children attached, a boy and bigger girl, placed their order while trying to drag their progeny’s choices out of them from between unseemly shrieks and play fighting. An ordinary scene in an ordinary day in an ordinary town. Thirty years had produced no difference in his eyes.
But never mind the people. A delightful, spicy smell wafted into his nose and straight down into his starved stomach, which rumbled ardently enough this time for it to reach his ears and he determinedly did not look at Hiro or Ando, focusing on the menu spread on the back wall above the counter. Nothing special, of course, just the usual common fare, but fine cuisine was overrated, anyway. A thick beefsteak, hearty soup, and hopefully fresh bread had been enough to sustain him through most of his life. Fried chicken, chips and apple pie would do more than fine right now.
“What do you want?”
Hiro’s unexpected question startled him out of his food drunk haze, and he turned towards him, searching his genuinely inquiring face for a confirmation of what he’d just heard.
“You mean you’re going to let me choose?”
“Why not?”
Hiro’s shoulders rose in a small shrug.
“I just find it awfully charitable of you.”
“What did you expect?” Ando asked. “Bread and water?”
Did he detect a hint of indignation? Had Adam insulted his delicate “good guy” sensibilities?
“Perhaps. It wouldn’t be the first time. Nor the second. Or the third, really.”
Ando looked away, discomfort tensing in his eyes. Not so tough as he presumed, was he? Hiro remained silent, though the haggard shadow of something crossed his face. Not guilt, not shame. Regret? Crushed hope? Or was that only Adam’s own?
The overloaded couple finally backed off from the till and Hiro stepped forward, plastering a fake smile on his face as he ordered. Ando prompted him forward with a light nudge to his ribs and Adam obeyed, listening to Hiro speak, the bouncy cadence of his voice working around the still slightly unfamiliar sounds of Adam’s language which he’d once helped him shape, adding a few now archaic words to the motley jumble of 21th century slang that Adam couldn’t make heads or tails of. In the end, Hiro taught him more than Adam taught him, aiding him in Japanese grammar while peppering his vocabulary with terms no one would be able to comprehend for well over three hundred years, but which he never forgot, a relic to their shared past. To this day he couldn’t hear the word yatta without hearing Hiro’s voice. Did Hiro remember those 17th century words, the language of Adam’s youth, which he could only recuperate through Daniel Defoe and his own memory, or had Ando weeded them out, not comprehending them himself? Thus far, Adam hadn’t heard him use a single one.
“I’ll have the number three, please,” Adam said when the cashier turned towards him. “And could I have a bottle of water instead of the soda, please? It doesn’t matter if it’s extra.”
He flashed the cashier a warm smile that turned her plastic one into a flattered grin. She was pretty, early twenties, probably making her way through college with this minimum wage job. There was no point in bothering gaining her favor, but it was an old habit.
“That’ll be 19 dollars and 7 cents, please” she said, looking only at him, no less, and he felt twin looks of displeasure at his side, though only Ando’s was a true glare, Hiro looking more tired than anything.
Hiro started taking a card out of his wallet, no doubt a platinum corporate credit card with an absurd credit limit now that he’d been initiated as Yamagato's new CEO as Kaito’s only son.
“Oh, sorry,” the girl said, shaking her head with a regretful grimace. “Our card system’s not working. You’re going to need to pay with cash. Sorry.”
Crestfallen, Hiro leaned towards Ando behind Adam’s back, whispering in Japanese.
“Do you have any dollars?”
“No.”
“I’ll take care of this one,” Adam cut in, digging in his trouser pocket for the cash he’d taken from a passerby during his travel with Peter. Luckily, Hiro wasn’t the type to riffle through people’s pockets before burying them alive. Taking out a twenty, he handed it to the girl, who looked delighted to continue interacting with him. Adam kept his eyes fixed on her, suppressing a laugh at the Ando’s flabbergasted glare. The girl’s fingers flickered on his palm as she gave him his change, eager for more than such a meager taste of him. Alas, he was already engaged.
Once their food had been placed on a wide, orange tray and graciously handed to him by the girl herself, they headed towards the tables. Hiro chose one far at the left-hand corner away from the other guests and with a clear view of the road outside, not that the Company or anyone else was likely to find them here, though one could never discount the possibility. Adam placed the tray on the table and sat down on the farther side facing the till, Hiro and Ando sitting in front of him.
“What the hell was that?” Ando demanded before even touching the chair. Always so testy.
“I paid for our meal. You could hardly pay with yen, could you? You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I-Never mind.”
Shaking his head, Ando grabbed his sandwich and started unwrapping it. Adam opened his bottle and lifted it to his mouth, his movements calm and casual, trying not to gulp it down as the deliciously cold liquid hit his tongue and wet the dry surface of his mouth, easing the itchy scratch in his throat. So good. Half the bottle was gone before Hiro spoke.
“Is that how you trick people?”
Adam lowered the bottle, peering closely at Hiro’s downcast face. There was nothing undecipherable about this expression, his emotions laid bare, raw and weeping though no tears blurred Hiro’s eyes. But it was more than sadness. He felt anger, disappointment, and a cold, deep hollow that nothing could fill but that which could never be again. Adam’s hand loosened on the bottle, his body frigid. When Hiro’s eyes flashed up to him, he was the one to look away. He scrambled about for an answer, trying to anchor himself in old rage but he couldn’t find it .
“I do what I have to. I don’t pretend that I’m a good person.”
“You used to be.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You were a hero.”
“I was a con man who paid others to pretend to be him so I could get rich. I only followed your lead to please you.”
“Why?”
For a sliver of a moment, Adam considered telling him, but what was the point? In any case, he wasn’t going to humiliate himself in front of Hiro’s best buddy, who had more right than he ever did. Hiro wouldn’t believe him anyway by this point. Who would?
“For one, you wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“But that’s not it.”
“The money was good, too. And you did lay it on thick. More gold than the emperor and all that.”
“That’s not what you just said.”
“Did you dig me up to have a tête à tête about our past or to talk business?”
Confusion scrunched Hiro’s brow. Ah, the phrase “tête à tête” had yet to enter his vocabulary. The gesture was so adorable that Adam felt the sudden impulse to reach out and smooth his forehead with his hand. Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to be so difficult.
“You’re changing the subject,” Hiro said, growing agitated.
“Funny. I thought you were.”
His fries were getting cold. Ando hadn’t spoken this whole while. Odd. But Hiro was the one badgering him this time and it wasn’t a subject that’d make him comfortable. Adam almost looked at him. Perhaps that would make Hiro drop this pointless tangent. He had no wish to revisit those feelings, thank you.
“I want to understand what happened to you.”
“You’re clinging to the memory of someone who doesn’t exist anymore. I suggest you drop it.”
“No.”
Adam’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth, a fry breaking in his fingers.
“No?”
“No.”
Adam dropped his hand back on the table, the fry crushed in his palm. He’d never seen Hiro’s eyes so harsh before, not even in the safe when he said it was a mistake not to kill Adam when he could.
”This isn’t a good place for this.”
God, it took way too much effort to keep his voice steady.
“Hiro,” Ando said, but Hiro brushed him off, eyes piercing through Adam, who felt like his stomach had been stuffed with gunpowder.
“Just answer one question,” Hiro insisted, voice brooking no argument.
Adam dropped the ruined fry back in its carton, wiping his hand on his trousers.
“Fine.”
“Why did you do it?”
So many answers he could give, all right and yet all completely wrong. But one response floated above the rest, the shortest, quickest way to kill this where it stood before it turned into a real hurricane.
“Because I wanted to hurt you.”
And yet he could only bear to look back into the Inquisition of Hiro’s eyes for half a second. He suddenly wished very, very much that Hiro had left him underground so he wouldn’t have to face him again or be subjected to the torment of having him so close to him after three centuries years of waiting and waiting and always knowing that he could never have what he wanted, yet still aching for the sight of his precious face, the sound of his voice, the firm press-
He ripped into his meal box and bit into his chicken as if it were his own soul, slashing through the meat without tasting it. He didn’t even feel hungry anymore. A gurgle clenched in his stomach. All right, maybe he did, but the sickly swell of bile still rose in his throat even as he forced the chicken down. It was no use. Any of it. Hiro was mistaken if he thought that dragging out Adam’s motivations would help him determine who he was. That man who called himself Takezo Kensei when he was nothing more than the poor, world beaten son of a dead merchant sailor and a tired clothes washer who sold her favors to the local apothecary to make enough to put some food in her children’s stomachs, who scrambled onto the decks of a ship as fast as he could to get away and at least have a hammock waiting for him at the end of the day even if it was only for four hours straight before the bosun roused them him onto the deck again, that man was just another memory shoved into the back of his mind, flickering every so often before fading away again. Adam wasn’t him any more than the New England coast was a wilderness.
They ate in a silence so deathly one could choke in it and Adam welcomed the break, turning towards the window to contemplate the utter banality of the car park with its three lonely cars, and the sleepy road beyond. Every once in a while, a car would come zooming past, but otherwise all was still.
“So...”
Ando this time. Probably the most level headed person at the table at the moment. Hiro still looked shot to hell from what little Adam could see in his peripheral vision.
“Who do you know that might have the formula?”
The man was working so hard not to look angry, though it was obviously a losing battle. Why did he bother? At least he wasn’t trying to look threatening, for that would never work. These bleeding heart types never could. Now, to answer his question, one name came to mind, but thankfully he was dead, or so Peter had said. However, did Hiro and Ando know that? From what Peter had told him, it appeared that there were many chips in play scattered across a board spanning hectares and no one could see more than a few of a their fellow players at a time. What they didn’t know could come to his advantage.
“Do you know the name Arthur Petrelli?” he asked.
Their eyes widened in recognition, the name Petrelli obviously familiar at least.
“Is he related to Peter and Nathan Petrelli?” Ando asked.
“He’s their father.” They didn’t know. Good. “He’s also one of the founders of the Company. As is his wife Angela”
“Yes, we know her. She’s the one who sent us to dig you up.”
“Did she now? Well, that’s unexpected.”
“Because you tried to kill her?”
Adam narrowed his eyes at Ando.
“Now how did you arrive at that conclusion?”
“You wanted revenge on the people who imprisoned you. Besides, she confessed to Mr. Nakamura’s murder for no apparent reason. It’s obvious.”
“I suppose it is. Oh well. I’m not going to apologize for it.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to.”
Ando might as well have spit in his face. Anger gripped Adam’s body.
“You’ve hardly any moral footing to stand on considering who you’re working for.”
“We’re not working for the Company.”
“Really? Then why does it sound like you’re Angela’s errand boys?”
“We’re not her errand boys.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Would you two please focus,” Hiro said, banging his hands flat on the table, exasperation staining his voice. He didn’t look up from the table, his eyes clouded, oddly hollow, and it suddenly felt so wrong for Hiro to look like that. He was always such a happy lad, eager and bright like the noon rays of the sun.
Well, you have no one to blame for that but yourself, don’t you?
Adam shoved the thought away, unwilling to deal with it right now.
“Arthur was always one of the most ambitious people at the Company,” Adam pressed on. “The ringleader, one might say. He was also one of the masterminds behind the production of the formula. It makes sense that he’d want to get hold of it now.”
“But if he’s with the Company why would he be sneaking around to get it?”
“Power struggle, maybe? The founders might have considered themselves friends once, but you know how those fail.” Adam allowed the remark to linger, tensing both their faces in remarkably different ways, Ando’s hardening while Hiro’s grew soft and troubled. “There were a lot of egos pushing about for dominance. Arthur was one. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’d devolved to underhanded dealings by this point. Actually, it’d be shocking if they hadn’t.”
“But Angela’s never mentioned her husband,” Ando said. “Wouldn’t she if he’s with the Company?”
“Like I said earlier, it’s been thirty years since I was last privy to the Company’s interior workings. My captors weren’t very forthcoming when it came to sensitive details.”
“But you had to look into the Company when you... When you were searching for the virus.”
Nice avoidance. Also an excellent point. This Ando was no rollover, it seemed. Despite the trouble he was likely to continue causing him, Adam gazed at him in burgeoning respect. He always appreciated a worthy adversary.
“True. I admit that I never got word of him, but I hardly had time for an exhaustive search. I was in New York for only two days.”
“Where did you go after that?”
“Montreal.”
“Why?”
“Because I felt like it. How is this relevant?”
“I don’t know. But it might be eventually.”
“Will it? Well, I’d love to regale you with my life story sometime, but I must warn you, it’s not for the faint of heart.”
“I’m not interested.”
“No, you wouldn’t be, would you? You just want me to shut up and behave.”
“If it’s not too much to ask.”
“We should get back to New York,” Hiro said, cutting through their bickering as if he hadn’t heard it at all.
So that was the strategy he’d chosen, then. Focus on the target at hand and ignore everything else. Ignore him. He still refused to even glance his way, looking at Ando instead. Well, Adam had forced him into that corner, hadn’t he? He wouldn’t say that he regretted it. But it all felt so... wrong. So hopeless. What was all this striving for? The virus no doubt had been destroyed by Peter. The world lay just as he’d left it, rotting in its own despair, his second chance extinguished. Why should he bother trying to get away? But he couldn’t stay. There was no sense or purpose, but Hiro was so close, and how many nights had he lied awake mourning his memory, trying to catch a whiff of passionate eyes and that enthusiastic smile and admiration that Adam had never deserved, but it was never enough, and look what they’d done. Why couldn’t he throw away that albatross around his neck? Not even Poe could tell how desolate and bleak that abyss was. What would he do away from Hiro, away from the one person he desired most ardently in all the world?