Grimacing from the way the bullet shifted in her thigh, regretting more than anything that they hadn't stopped to take the time to dislodge it, Elle made her way to a sitting position in the sand. Probably not the most sanitary thing she could have done for it, but, well … beggars couldn't be choosers after all. She'd learned pretty quickly that complaining about it wouldn't get her far. Besides, complaining about it to Sylar when he'd just had his throat sliced by Claire's psycho-dad seemed pretty juvenile, anyway.
Her breath hitched in her throat from the pain all the same, but she tried to put on a brave face. This situation couldn't possibly suck as it felt like it did. How stupid had she been? Insisting to go along just because she wanted to prove she could still be a good agent after everything that had happened. And now she's slowed Sylar down so much that they'd blown to whole thing. Arthur was going to be pissed.
Right. Arthur. Her eyes flickered, concern evident, up towards Sylar's, trying to get a read. Noah had shaken him, that much was clear during the mini interrogation that her injury had at least managed to distract from. Thank whatever asshole god was up there for small favors. He didn't look angry, which meant he at least partially believed her that she didn't know anything. And, really, when was she supposed to find it in her heart to tell him the truth, anyway? It would have totally distracted him from the mission, distracted him from getting it done and doing what they'd come to do. It would have changed everything.
She wasn't sure she could take another earth-shaking change. Besides. Honesty was hard, and as guilty as she felt for lying to him again (seriously, when was that ever going to not be a theme in their relationship?) she felt better knowing that he could keep his head in the game. Until now, anyways. When he reached forward, though, she was sure it was a gesture that was bound to be coupled with telekinesis. A change of mind. He'd figured it out, realized she lied, and now she was going to get hers. Instinctively, she flinched, back shoulders tensing.
But, no pain came. No movement even. And she opened her eyes to look up at him, vulnerability and guilt evident. It was the only answer he'd need, she knew that much. Even with the cotton and ice of all those abilities clouding his mind again, she knew that he saw her clearer than anyone else did. He saw the monster she really was, and she'd hoped he'd accepted it, just like she'd accepted him for the monster he'd made her into. There was hesitation in her gaze as she tried to search his eyes for some kind of confirmation that she was right, but before she could find anything to ease her mind, he reached forward again to brush her hair back, simultaneously leaning in to kiss her.
And that was okay. That was familiar. It was easier than worrying about any of that. Elle was good at the physical part of intimacy. It was the emotional vulnerability that really got to her. The trust. She'd never had it with anybody but her own father and, well, he'd abused that and experimented on her and then he abandoned her. Well. Sylar made him abandon her. Still.
Everything seemed more complicated with powers introduced back into the situation. Like family, too, and obligations, were harder to forget. The dream world she'd built up where they could just have one another and be broken and find a way to fix each other was falling apart. Noah was right -- like always. That jackass. Given the chance, she really might have killed him back there, but instead she forced herself to push the rage to another part of her mind to deal with later while she and Sylar laid back, fingers interlacing. The moment was nearly perfect. Nearly enough to make her forget about the pain in her thigh and just remind her of how simple things seemed on the floor of the empty Canfield house. But then, he had to talk.
"I've been thinking," he said. Bad news. She tried not to assume the worst. Tried to pretend that she was worried it was a segue into calling her a liar and telling her that he couldn't do it anymore.
Her breath hitched in her throat from the pain all the same, but she tried to put on a brave face. This situation couldn't possibly suck as it felt like it did. How stupid had she been? Insisting to go along just because she wanted to prove she could still be a good agent after everything that had happened. And now she's slowed Sylar down so much that they'd blown to whole thing. Arthur was going to be pissed.
Right. Arthur. Her eyes flickered, concern evident, up towards Sylar's, trying to get a read. Noah had shaken him, that much was clear during the mini interrogation that her injury had at least managed to distract from. Thank whatever asshole god was up there for small favors. He didn't look angry, which meant he at least partially believed her that she didn't know anything. And, really, when was she supposed to find it in her heart to tell him the truth, anyway? It would have totally distracted him from the mission, distracted him from getting it done and doing what they'd come to do. It would have changed everything.
She wasn't sure she could take another earth-shaking change. Besides. Honesty was hard, and as guilty as she felt for lying to him again (seriously, when was that ever going to not be a theme in their relationship?) she felt better knowing that he could keep his head in the game. Until now, anyways. When he reached forward, though, she was sure it was a gesture that was bound to be coupled with telekinesis. A change of mind. He'd figured it out, realized she lied, and now she was going to get hers. Instinctively, she flinched, back shoulders tensing.
But, no pain came. No movement even. And she opened her eyes to look up at him, vulnerability and guilt evident. It was the only answer he'd need, she knew that much. Even with the cotton and ice of all those abilities clouding his mind again, she knew that he saw her clearer than anyone else did. He saw the monster she really was, and she'd hoped he'd accepted it, just like she'd accepted him for the monster he'd made her into. There was hesitation in her gaze as she tried to search his eyes for some kind of confirmation that she was right, but before she could find anything to ease her mind, he reached forward again to brush her hair back, simultaneously leaning in to kiss her.
And that was okay. That was familiar. It was easier than worrying about any of that. Elle was good at the physical part of intimacy. It was the emotional vulnerability that really got to her. The trust. She'd never had it with anybody but her own father and, well, he'd abused that and experimented on her and then he abandoned her. Well. Sylar made him abandon her. Still.
Everything seemed more complicated with powers introduced back into the situation. Like family, too, and obligations, were harder to forget. The dream world she'd built up where they could just have one another and be broken and find a way to fix each other was falling apart. Noah was right -- like always. That jackass. Given the chance, she really might have killed him back there, but instead she forced herself to push the rage to another part of her mind to deal with later while she and Sylar laid back, fingers interlacing. The moment was nearly perfect. Nearly enough to make her forget about the pain in her thigh and just remind her of how simple things seemed on the floor of the empty Canfield house. But then, he had to talk.
"I've been thinking," he said. Bad news. She tried not to assume the worst. Tried to pretend that she was worried it was a segue into calling her a liar and telling her that he couldn't do it anymore.
"About what?"
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