Bait and Switch

A/N: Takes place sometime after Season 2, Episode 11, “Powerless”, and goes AU; Nathan does not get shot during the press conference, etc. Spoilers up until that episode. Please rate and review, even if it's only just a sentence.


Nathan pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door to his brother’s apartment, his temporary home, unable to shake the strange, paranoid feeling that he was somehow being watched, being followed. Part of him knew it was just the difficult struggle he was going through, his attempt to control his self-destructive drinking. But another part of him was convinced there was something else going on. Nathan had experienced his fair share of conspiracies in the past few months, and he’d learned that there was no such thing as a coincidence.

He’d actually had the taxi-driver drop him off way across town and taken to the skies, having landed on Peter’s rooftop in a fraction of the time the ride would have taken. No one except his brother could have possibly kept up with him. He half-wished it were Peter, but no such luck.

He collapsed into the bed, only taking the time to kick off his shoes, when there was a sharp rap at the door that set his heart to double-time. No, no. Not Peter. He wouldn’t have bothered to knock. Who the hell had the nerve to show up here at midnight without even calling?

Nathan thumbed the viewer, and was genuinely stunned to see Adam Monroe standing there, dressed in an overcoat and grinning widely. Hadn’t Hiro Nakamura taken care of him? No, guess not. Leave it to a diminutive Japanese man who was obsessed with superheroes to dispose of one of the world’s most dangerous villains. A smashing success.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Nathan demanded, not opening the door.

“Is that you, Peter? Oh, I’m not surprised that you’re not happy to see me. I’d like to chat with you, if you’d be so kind. Just a few minutes is all I ask.”

Nathan opened the door a crack, but didn’t unfasten the chain. “I’m his brother. And no, he wouldn’t be so kind. I know who you are--” Adam cut him off, and Nathan didn’t even realize it, so irritated by his seemingly fake, practiced English accent.

“Nathan Petrelli…to what do I owe this pleasure? Congratulations on your landslide victory in the polls. Is Peter here?”

“If he were, I wouldn’t tell you,” Nathan seethed, aware he probably sounded like an overbearing parent. “Peter wants nothing to do with you, I’m sure of that much. He saw the future that you were ready, and willing, to create. More than half the world’s population obliterated so that you could get your revenge on my family. You lied to him. Manipulated him. You took advantage of him. If you think for one minute I’m going to let you get anywhere near him, you’re sorely mistaken. I’d like you to leave. Now.”

Adam didn’t budge, and Nathan figured eventually he’d be forced to go away if he merely ignored him. He crept back into bed, hoping Adam didn’t have any special abilities other than immortality; that’s what he’d needed Peter for, wasn’t it?

Just as Nathan’s eyelids grew heavy with sleep, there was another more urgent knock. Nathan slid back the chain and opened it this time.

“I told you to leave,” Nathan uttered through gritted teeth. “I am trying to get some sleep.”

just smiled at him and stood his ground.

“I don’t see you moving,” Nathan said. He clenched his fists at his sides, even though he knew it was a useless effort to hit the man. He was indestructible, and had been for over four hundred years. That didn’t stop him from wanting to, however.

“Now, now. Let’s go inside and have a drink, shall we? You look like you could use one. I wouldn’t want to inadvertently raise our voices, alarm the neighbors. I don’t suppose you’d really want to air the dirty Petrelli laundry in public, would you?”

“I suppose not,” Nathan snapped sarcastically, relenting, and almost yanked the man inside, slamming the door behind them. “Have a seat, Mr. Monroe,” he said grudgingly.

“No need for such formality. Call me Adam. Now where were we? Ah yes, of course. We were just about to play ‘This Is Your Life, Nathan Petrelli’.”

“No. We were talking about you,” Nathan hissed. “About your goddamned vendetta. How you used my brother to try to carry out your revenge against humanity.”

Adam chuckled and took off his coat. “It seems that you think no one can ever change their evil ways. I’m a bit surprised to hear that coming from you, Nathan. ‘Once a villain, always a villain?’ If I’m not mistaken, I believe you yourself had grandiose plans to annihilate most of New York City. You lied to Peter as well. You would have let him die, in order to further your career. You would have destroyed New York, for the ‘greater good’, I believe? Sacrificed a chosen few for the redemption of all the rest?”

Nathan’s stomach churned in a mixture of anger and remorse. What the hell had Peter told him?

Nathan had thought he’d lost Peter because of that very reason. He’d been convinced of it for months. His life had fallen to pieces while he mourned for his brother, his lover. He’d begun to drink heavily. He’d lost his wife and children, his ill-gotten Congress appointment. He still hadn’t really put his life back together: he was just barely controlling his alcoholism, and had somewhat mended his strained relationship with his brother.

Peter hadn’t protested when he’d found out Nathan was staying in his apartment. He’d walked in, surveyed the mess Nathan had made during the four months of missing him, and he’d laughed. Then he’d cried. Then he’d pushed Nathan down into his bed and made it all up to him with that strong, lithe body, his gentle fingers, his tender kisses. Nathan felt an ache deep in his belly as he remembered the way Peter had held him close, with each thrust whispering soft words into his ear, reassuring Nathan he’d never leave him again.

Nathan flashed his best placating politician’s smile. Whatever Adam wanted from Peter, he wouldn’t find him here. Peter hadn’t been home for almost a month, and Nathan didn’t know where he’d gone. Maybe not off to save the world, but to save someone, no doubt. He vaguely remembered Peter saying something about losing someone in the future, the future that Adam had created, the world devastated by the virus, needing to find her before she died there, lost, alone. And in doing that, he’d broken his promise, left Nathan here alone.

Nathan focused his thoughts back on the here and now. “I didn’t let it happen. I stopped it. I almost died because of it. I’m sure Peter told you that, too.” He didn’t like the fact that this arrogant bastard seemed to know more about Nathan and his family than he was letting on. Peter himself hadn’t even known that he was born for one reason, and one reason only: to die screaming and burning over New York City, taking millions with him, in order for Nathan to unite the world in tragedy, the surviving population a phoenix rising from the nuclear ashes. Only at the last moment had Nathan realized it wasn’t the right thing to do. He couldn’t let Peter--or himself--be responsible for the deaths of all those innocent people. But truthfully, Nathan realized, why wouldn’t Adam know firsthand these secrets that had been in the Petrelli family for decades? He’d been up to his goddamned elbows in the work of the Company; he’d been his parents’ right hand man until he’d gone rogue, until he’d decided to follow his own agenda.

Adam continued, breaking through Nathan’s reverie, his voice taking on a subtle hint of sarcasm. “Those plans that you so cleverly--and selflessly, I might add--avoided…those plans were set in motion even before my dear, dear friends, your mother and father, planned to bring Peter into this world. I was just doing the same thing. On a much grander scale, granted, but the same, nonetheless. You and I have more in common than you think, Congressman,” Adam laughed, finally settling himself down into a comfortable position on Peter’s sofa. Nathan wanted to smack that look of pure arrogance off his face.

Instead, Nathan found himself obediently walking into the kitchen, digging into the back of Peter’s cupboard for the nearly full bottle of Scotch he’d hidden there weeks ago, when his mother had come to check on him, to see how he was handling his and Heidi’s divorce, to judge the extent of his mourning for his brother. He wasn’t even dead…

Nathan pushed the thoughts away and took a long swallow of the alcohol, even though he knew he really shouldn’t, before pouring a generous measure into two ice-filled glasses. The alcohol burned uncomfortably, yet familiarly in his stomach: he hadn’t touched a drop since he and Matt Parkman had set off on their adventure to stop the ‘nightmare man’, and ultimately this man from playing Peter Petrelli like an instrument, his blood-stained hands nearly tarnishing him completely. Now he’d made Nathan break his near two months of sobriety.

Another couple of shots in rapid succession started to take the edge off, but Nathan was still incensed. What nerve Adam had, to just invite himself into his brother’s apartment with that ridiculous, haughty smile on his face and make himself at home. It seemed that after living over five lifetimes, a person must somehow lose their capacity for basic pleasantries, simple manners.

However, Nathan would not lie to himself: he found Adam rather intriguing, even if he was dangerous and not to be trusted for a second. Nathan decided he’d level the playing field a bit. The more Nathan could find out about him, the better off he would be in keeping this bastard away from Peter for good.

He slammed the drink down in front of Adam, and asked, “So, what do you plan to do with yourself now? The virus is destroyed. What, did you come here to recruit my brother on some other sort of seemingly heroic quest? You’re too late. He’s already gone.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. Did I just miss him?”

“He’s been away for a month, and I don’t know when he’ll be back.” You promised me you wouldn’t leave me again, Peter, Nathan thought bitterly. Here I am again, cleaning up your mess.

Now, if I’m not totally imagining things, I’d say that you were jealous! Trying to protect him from that big bad world out there? Peter is man enough to make his own decisions. You think he needs his elder brother watching over him at all times?”

Nathan felt the alcohol threatening to come up, the taste of bile in the back of his throat. Adam really knew how to get under a man’s skin, didn’t he? Hundreds of years of practice, no doubt. “What are you trying to say?” Nathan hissed. “Peter can take care of himself.”

“He didn’t seem to think so.” Adam rubbed his cleanly shaven chin, and silently ruminated over his next two glasses of Scotch. Nathan wanted nothing more than to throw him out as quickly as he had come, but he desperately wanted to keep Adam talking. He half-hoped Peter would magically step in right now and beat the living hell out of him for his brazen, devil-may-care intrusion into what was left of Nathan’s life.

Adam finally looked up, a flash of something Nathan didn’t quite trust in those scheming blue eyes. “Oh dear…Peter must not have told you.”

“Told me what?” Nathan said, grimacing. Dealing with this man was like having a goddamned root canal.

“Peter and I spent four months together in neighboring cellblocks. He cried to me every night. He missed you. He thought he let you down. He survived without a scratch on him, and you were in hospital, suffering, possibly dying. Third degree burns over most of your body. He couldn’t help you.”

But he did help me. He saved me. He healed me. He told me!

Nathan finished the rest of the drink in his glass, and got to his feet. “You’re wrong. He saved me. I saved him. We saved New York. And then he saved the world that you would have destroyed. I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. You know absolutely nothing about my brother. Please, show yourself out.”

Nathan was shaking now with the force of his anger, and surprisingly drunk to boot. He wished more than anything that Peter were here to defend himself against the accusations of this liar who would have happily been responsible for the genocide of the world’s population.

“You just don’t see it, do you? Peter was lost without you. He needed comfort, and I was there. I gave him what he needed. Simple as that. It doesn’t matter how you try to stop me, Nathan. Either I’ll find him, or he’ll come looking for me, inevitably. Who knows, maybe that’s what he’s doing right now. Looking for me,” he suggested flippantly, tossing back his own drink, getting to his feet and heading for the door. “How romantic.”

“You were sleeping with Peter.” Nathan said it slowly, almost as an afterthought. Adam nodded knowingly, and all of a sudden, a vivid image flashed behind Nathan’s eyes: his brother on a small cot in a little cell, his body twisting and turning beneath this would-be murderer. All he could see after that was the smile on Adam’s face, before all of his senses faded into nothingness for a split second, and when he could see again, he felt it: the satisfying contact of his fist slamming over and over again into that now formerly smiling face. He straddled Adam on the well-worn carpet and hit him again and again, until his hand was bruised and sore, his knuckles torn, until not even the adrenaline rush brought on by his jealous rage could keep him going. Nathan had no choice but to give up his frantic assault, breathing heavily, his head spinning from the alcohol and the anger.

“He was mine,” Nathan choked. “You fuck. You seduced him…” Nathan felt his face burning, his stomach twisting inside him. Peter, he wanted to scream. How could you do this to me?

Adam had to know that Nathan’s assault wasn’t merely an act of brotherly over-protectiveness. Adam definitely knew just how intimately and inappropriately involved he and Peter were. Adam would have to be blind if he couldn’t see this as proof of Nathan’s obsession, but he couldn’t even care, not at this point. “God damn it,” he moaned. He rested for another few seconds, then raised his hand, but changed his mind when Adam began to laugh. It was pointless.

Adam wiped the blood off his perfectly healed face, and pushed Nathan’s hand down. Admonishing Nathan as if he were an errant child, he said, “Jealous, jealous, aren’t you? I should have listened to your brother. Peter told me you’d act just like this if you ever found out about us. I rather like the idea of us fighting for your brother’s love. A modern day fairy tale. Reminds me of when I was young, back in the days of knights, and princesses, and chivalry. Oh, what savage beasts we are. Peter is a worthwhile prize.” Adam seized Nathan by his collar, pulled him down, kissed him hard on his mouth. “You look so much like him when you’re angry, Nathan. Angry that I was there for him, when you couldn’t be?”

“Stop it,” Nathan murmured, trying to pull his face away, even while he felt Adam’s hands groping along his ribs, his hips pressing repeatedly down into his own. Before Nathan even realized it, he was moaning into Adam’s mouth, tasting the Scotch they’d shared. Nathan’s body warmed with the slow burn of arousal.

He fucked Peter…and he’s just like Peter. Indestructible. Insatiable. No wonder Peter wanted him. I wasn’t good enough.

He imagined his last time with Peter while the lure of Adam’s power pulled him in, a moth to a flame, tempted to its doom, consumed in a bright flare, a puff of ash.

Peter…

His brother could go for hours without end, never tiring, never faltering. Nathan would be exhausted and shaking, pleading, his body spun up so tightly he was sure he might die before Peter would finally give him his release. Then Peter would wrap his body around him in a most un-brotherly embrace, and they would fall together into deep, satiated sleep…

Nathan groaned and arched his body into Adam’s, thoughts of Peter fueling his desire. He’d thought Peter loved him. How could Peter have betrayed him like this?

He wondered if Adam were a mind-reader as well, because he seemed to know just what Nathan was thinking.

“Now you miss him, don’t you? He promised he wouldn’t leave you, and he’s gone. How tragic.” In a swift motion, he reversed their positions, Nathan now pinned beneath him, and he didn’t protest when Adam’s fingers slipped under his waistband and wrapped around his dick, started to stroke relentlessly. “I can help with that, Nathan."

Yes, he certainly could. His anger at Adam faded, now that he was enjoying this unexpected turn of events. He thought now only of how Peter had lied to him. How fitting it would be for Peter to be out looking for Adam, while Adam were here in Peter’s own apartment, fucking his brother…Nathan hadn’t been with anyone else since Peter had gone, and was long overdue for a decent fuck.

Nathan laughed drunkenly and kissed him roughly, biting at his lips. “So we’re gonna do this, then? Right here?” Nathan breathed, his body shaking now with the need Adam had ignited in him.

“Good man. I just knew all you needed was a little convincing, Nathan. So much more stubborn than your brother.”

Nathan ignored the remark, and they both staggered to their feet. Nathan pulled Adam into his bedroom--his and Peter’s bedroom--and they collapsed into the unmade bed, arms and legs tangling as they struggled out of their clothes. Nathan wondered how Adam seemed totally sober, when they’d just about finished the mostly full bottle between them. When Adam asked him if he had anything to use, Nathan could hardly see straight, fumbling around in the dresser drawer for a condom and a packet of lube. Nathan was too drunk to care that Adam was in such a rush, as he lowered himself down on top of Nathan, wasting no time.

Not that it mattered. He wanted it, needed it, now. Everything about this was thrilling, forbidden. This was the only time he ever let go of it all. This way, no one ever had to know how Nathan longed to give up his control, even if just for a little while.

Except for Peter.

He pushed away his angry thoughts of his brother and concentrated on this. “Fuck,” Nathan cursed. It always hurt, pain becoming pleasure, the slick slide, the deep pressure as Adam pushed forward, burying himself into him with a grunt of his own.

Nathan tangled his hand in the blond curls on Adam’s head, sliding the other around his own shaft to jerk it. Once they’d fully adjusted, found each other’s rhythm, he demanded, “You may be immortal, but I’m not made of glass, you got it? Don’t fucking hold back.”

“That’s what Peter said,” Adam responded. “So much like your brother. Without all his lovely powers, of course.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about him--anymore. I’m nothing--like him,” Nathan panted, his chest heaving, hand pumping between his legs. He furiously wanted to reach his peak, culminate this selfish action. He needed to come. Needed to spite Peter. To return the favor.

“Oh, but you are, Nathan. More than you think,” Adam spoke right in his ear now, his hands gripped around Nathan’s thighs as he adjusted the angle slightly. “So easily convinced of your brother’s infidelity, of his wrongdoing…”

Nathan barely heard him as he went into spasm, his breath leaving him, his orgasm abruptly drawn out of him as Adam pulsed within him, thin streams of his come landing on his stomach, the rest running over his fingers.

There you go, Peter. That’s what you get for betraying me.

“Jesus Christ,” Nathan commented breathlessly, reaching over for a handful of tissues from the nightstand.

Adam was smiling brightly, the high color in his cheeks visibly fading. He’d composed himself in record time, no longer even breathing heavily. He traced his hand lightly over Nathan’s hip, but Nathan turned away, something he’d heard just before the height of his pleasure now echoing inside his head. Nathan really wanted no part of post-coital cuddling, not with this man, at least, but when Adam placed soft kisses at the back of his neck, Nathan longed for Peter, a sudden stab of guilt sinking into the pit of his stomach.

Adam pressed his lips into Nathan’s skin, and his next words sent shivers down Nathan’s spine.

“Let me tell you a secret…I never laid a hand on your sweet little brother. I never wanted anything from him but his multitude of powers at my disposal. I wanted you. You owed me one.”

“What…the fuck…are you talking about?” Nathan replied disbelievingly, catching his breath, struggling out of Adam’s embrace.

Adam merely shook his head and began to dress. “Did Peter ever tell you how you were miraculously healed of your burns? Why you woke up one morning no longer in pain?”

Nathan bolted out of the bed and almost tipped over trying to get his pants on, still completely hammered. “Peter healed me with regenerative blood. He put it into my intravenous line…” The guilt he’d felt for Peter became a sick, gnawing feeling that began in his gut and radiated into his chest, the dull ache of a new kind of betrayal.

He’d always thought it had been Peter’s blood, or maybe if that wouldn’t have worked, seeing as healing was not Peter’s natural ability, possibly Claire’s. He’d never really pushed the issue any further, and Peter hadn’t wanted to say much about it either. Somehow, he should have seen this coming…Adam was immortal…Peter hadn’t been there when Nathan had woken up. He was with Adam. Before he’d gone on his inadvertent mission to destroy the world, Peter had brought Adam to him. To save him.

Adam patted Nathan’s cheek condescendingly, probably watching his inner struggle, and Nathan slapped his hand away. “Get out,” he commanded.

Adam gave him a look of mock-offense, and said, “There, there, Nathan. Don’t look so upset. You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you? Not even a ‘thank you’? Should have figured. Peter always said you had a selfish streak. But he loves you. Trust me on that, even if you never believe another word I say. ”

Nathan couldn’t even think beyond his guilt. He’d been so obsessed with Peter leaving him, that he’d just blindly taken Adam’s word for it, become jealous and vindictive over something his brother hadn’t even done. He’d let his emotions and the alcohol get the best of him. Nathan knew now that Peter would have never done that to him. He’d been played by this bastard just as smoothly as Peter had at Primatech.

“You manipulative son of a bitch,” Nathan threatened. “Get out. Now.” He buttoned his shirt with shaking fingers, sure he would be sick if Adam didn’t get out of his sight in the next five seconds.

“I dearly hope Peter finds his little Irish gal and comes back to you soon. Something has become quite clear to me over our time together,” Adam said, his voice soft, almost apologetic now, as he walked towards the front door.

“And that is?” Nathan managed, pouring the last of the bottle into his glass.

“That you need him much more than he needs you, friend. Cheers.”

Adam disappeared from the apartment, finally gone. Peter was still gone. Would he ever come back? Did Nathan even want him to come back? To see how far Nathan had fallen? How he’d failed Peter and himself this time?

Nathan went looking for another hopefully forgotten bottle of liquor, and once he found it, he threw his AA chip at the bedroom door, leaving a dent in the wood. Even when Peter finally did come back, even if Nathan decided never to reveal to him what he’d done, he’d still have to live with it.

Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. He tried to drink the guilt away, but somehow it didn’t help this time, not like it used to. He closed his eyes, and all he could imagine now was his brother’s face looking back at him, disappointed in him, ashamed of what he’d become.

Nathan didn’t think he’d ever felt more alone.