Peter is so easily led that Adam almost feels bad about it. Then he reminds himself that he's going to save the world and he needs Peter to do it. He needs the power that just the mention of the name Nathan gives him. Adam can brush off the guilt he sees in Peter's eyes; it's the gratitude that sticks.

Peter looks at Adam like he's a hero. It's flattering and almost feels like vindication. Too bad the word hero has such painful connotations for Adam. Too bad sometimes it's more a name and a curse than a word.

Still, it makes things difficult.

Locked in their Company-made cells, it was easier to ignore the warped remains of his conscience and poison Peter against the world. Adam never had to see the pain in Peter's eyes with the cold brick wall between them.

Now it is not so simple. Peter is not just a disembodied voice. He has soft brown eyes and an awkward smile. He's even younger than Adam expected. For the first time in a very long time, Adam considers being someone's hero again.

Adam thinks maybe all he ever needed was the proper inspiration. He finds Peter rather inspiring. Perhaps he has a weakness for dark hair and blind faith.

He'll admit that he is using Peter too, but it's not as if Peter doesn't get exactly what he wants out of the deal. Adam watches his blood turn the saline pink and slide down into Nathan's veins. He remembers what it feels like to be burned.

Four hundred years ago, Adam watched his own burns heal and missed his new worldview and Yaeko and his goddamn sword, because that was his before all the heroic folly started. When he left, Hiro took all that he ever gave and more besides.

Adam remembers the black remains of charred skin flaking off his arms. Everything healed except for the burning feeling of betrayal.

"It's working!" Peter cries, relief and joy in his voice, and Adam pulls himself back to the present. Nathan's burns fade to pink, healthy skin.

"Thank you," Peter says sincerely, one hand resting lightly on Adam's arm. "You're a good person." Adam wonders whether he is still corrupting the innocent or if some of Peter's eternal optimism is creeping into his bitter heart, because he almost believes it.

Things go wrong, the way they always do, and he is separated from Peter. But three months is nothing to Adam. Decades slip by like days.

He finds Peter again soon enough. And then they find Victoria. Adam can feel victory on his tongue, soft and sweet and bitter. Victoria is dangerous. She holds a gun to Peter's head and Adam feels no remorse over his reaction.

Afterwards, Peter looks at him with the first hint of doubt and Adam's conviction wavers. Lucky, then, that Peter has enough conviction for the both of them.

By the time they reach Texas, Adam has decided to give being a hero another chance. Destroying the virus is the right thing to do. He has time to save the world the slow way, step by step, with Peter at his side. But time stops, suddenly Hiro lies on the floor in front of him, and four hundred years of bitterness come raging forth.

In his mind's eye, Adam sees the virus. Such a small, unassuming thing. A tiny glass vial with a purple rubber cap.

He imagines the sound it will make when it hits the ground.