Adam Monroe

The warehouse in Montreal holds marvels from around the world, dancing through time. Vintage pieces, he supposes they'd call them now, though they're more aptly antiques. Curiosities, little bits of his life he hadn't been ready to let pass into other hands. Parts of him, in some ways, he supposes, and he smiles as he watches them wander through the haphazard mess its fallen into, a dark head and a light, turning to flash him smiles now and again back to where he lounges on the sofa watching them with indulgent eyes.

Shock, confusion, anger, and acceptance finally, and now the plans. He has to make things up occasionally, slipping off to a rooftop in New York, phoning an old friend and calling in a debt, setting other things in motion that needn't really bother his two young protégés. What are parents, after all, when they have him? Monsters who used them, hurt them, tried to mold them into things he'd never intended any of their generation to be--unless at his fingers.

And they are, now, turning to him in perfect faith, eyes trusting, though Peter remains wary of the shocks that spark now and then from Elle's fingers, eyes narrowed in speculation when Adam welcomes her touch with a smile, settling her against him, though the boy has to be aware of the way ice blue eyes track his every move like a hunter after elusive prey. The touches, gentle and approving that brush his skin, his hair, the smile that's meant only for him. He turns it on her more fully now, too, now that they aren't monitored, now that they have time. Approval, encouragement, support, he gives it all, warm and delighted in every little success, every conquering of a power, every step further that either of them takes.

He needs them, he tells them, in a soft litany of persuasion. They are the future, the three of them, saving the world from the evil of the Company, the evil of men, the darkness that has spread across the Earth. Peter, he works with, trying to convince him not to fear his powers, to learn to control them. So strong, so good, so able to save them all, he just knows it. And his beautiful Elle, with her practiced deception, her eagerness to do as he says--such a good little soldier, just what he needs, he whispers in her ear as he lets her tease at him with blue fire late at night. They're special, he tells them both, eyes and voice serious, earnest. Their parents betrayed him as much as they betrayed them, but together, the three of them can start over, make it right, be what they were meant to be.

He smiles when they nod, the power of his belief working to overcome years of being told they weren't good enough, of walking in shadows. He believes in them, just them, as they are now, and he wants to help them grow, to master themselves and their power, to make them the best they can be. And under that the quiet promise to himself and to them that in doing so, he'll make them his.

Note: Elle mentioned is not_myfirstday; Peter is its_myturn; based on scenario/set up for watch_overyou

1. To my mother, after my father left. I'm not sure what it was, but I'm fairly certain it was my fault somehow. There was an accident, I think, and something spooked him. Looking back, I'm fairly certain that it was the fact that I wasn't hurt.

2. To Hiro, after I hit him over the head. He looked rather helpless lying there.

3. On the same note, to Hiro, for the opium. Running on rage, I've been told, is not the best way to do things. It seems to be a pattern I cannot break, however.

4. To Yaeko, because I never could love her like the stories said I should. I tried, as I tried with every task he set, but some things go beyond trying.

5. To the swordsmith for not being a gentleman and waiting until after marrying his daughter. I've never quite gotten the gentleman thing down. Too many rules.

6. To Yaeko, because, lovely as she was, I wasn't thinking about her while not waiting for the wedding.

[Locked from Peter and Hiro]

7. To Peter, for having to make him think we were going to save the world by destroying the virus. There wasn't time to convince him of my vision, after what he'd seen.

8. To Linderman, for not being there to continue to guide his endeavors.

[/Lock]

9. To Bob, for blocking the cameras a few nights while teaching his daughter a few things.

10. To Elle, for a less than romantic introduction to adulthood. A prison bed may work well enough, but cold white walls, even with reflected sparks, do not really set the mood.