FIC: Angel with a Broken Watch, Chapter 3
Title: Angel with a Broken Watch, Chapter 3
Characters/Pairings: Elle/Gabriel, The Haitian
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or any of its characters
Word count: 925
Spoiler alert: definite spoilers for episode 3x08, AU after that
Summary: It's in her best interest that she doesn't remember any of this...
Angel With a Broken Watch
They finished off the whole pie and chatted more, sitting together cross-legged on the floor, for hours. Elle mostly listened, afraid that Gabriel would ask questions she couldn't answer - she hadn't quite worked out her story yet. Somehow the hours passed, and when they realized how late it was, Gabriel insisted that Elle take the bed.
"I sleep in my chair most nights anyway - you know, doze off while reading late," he explained, although the blush in his cheeks betrayed him.
He was also betrayed by the squeaking of cloth against plastic throughout the night. Elle pretended to be sleeping, listening to Gabriel struggle to get comfortable.
He's such a sweet guy, she thought to herself as she watched him in the dim illumination of the streetlights outside. I can't imagine him even hurting a fly. She ran her hands along the hollows in the bed where the springs sank and stuck - his indentation, his impression. No one has ever been so nice to me.
When the clock next to the bed indicated that it was 2 a.m., and Gabriel was still unsuccessfully trying to sleep on the chair, Elle got out from under the covers and padded quietly over to him, setting her hand on his shoulder.
He jumped at her touch. "Oh, Elle," he said, reaching for his glasses on the shelf nearby. "I was... I was sleeping."
"No, you weren't," she told him. "Take the bed. I'll sleep on the chair."
"But... you're a guest."
"Then let's share it. I wouldn't mind," she smiled, a little flirtatious.
"Oh, that... that wouldn't be..." he stuttered, searching for an appropriate excuse. "It's a twin. There's no room for two."
Elle nearly regretted her suggestion; she didn't want him to think less of her. "Come on, Gabriel! You're not going to be able to sleep at all tonight if you keep being so stubborn." She took his hand and pulled him towards her, twisting around him, unintentionally forcing him into an awkward embrace. For a moment they both stood still; he, almost holding her, and she, almost being held.
"I've never liked anyone so much as I like you," he said suddenly, stepping back from Elle and letting his arms fall to his sides. "It's not that I don't want to sleep with you. I mean, I'd like to sleep with you. I mean, I don't want to... I want to respect you. You deserve your space."
Elle turned towards him, letting her palms run reassuringly over his shoulders, his arms, his chest. "I don't deserve anything, Gabriel. You've been more than kind to me." She looked up at him, her chin on his chest, her eyes watery with either lack of sleep or with emotion - it was impossible to tell which.
"That's because I like you, Elle," he replied.
"No, that's because you're a good person," she corrected.
He sighed and smiled. "I'm going back to sleep. On the chair."
"Then I'm going with you," she replied. As he sat down, the plastic crumpled; Elle squeezed in beside him, wrapping herself around him.
Neither of them got any sleep that night, but they were both too bashful to admit it to one another.
The Haitian stopped for a moment, pulling his hand away from Elle's pallid face. She let her head sink into her pillow, eyes closed. The Haitian couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep. He delicately brushed away a wisp of hair that had fallen into her mouth and wondered at how strong and how stubborn she could be in one moment, and how vulnerable the next.
He paused because of the image of Elle and Gabriel, now Sylar, entangled in one another; it bothered the Haitian for reasons he couldn't understand. He told himself it was because he knew it would end badly: at that moment, in the memory he'd seen, they could have been happy, but something had to have gone very wrong to lead Elle back to the Company, and to lead Sylar to become a killer again.
But the image of Elle with Gabriel had a stronger effect on the Haitian; it made his blood run hot, it made his throat tighten, it made his skin crawl with anger and resentment and... jealousy?
The next morning Elle made toast and remembered the camera hidden away in the electrical socket. While Gabriel was in the shower (he tried insisting that she go first, but she reminded him that he had to open the shop) she flicked her wrist and zapped the camera into dust. Now if she could only remember where the other cameras were hidden...
"What do you plan to do now?" Gabriel asked as he emerged from the bathroom, hair wet and glasses off but otherwise impeccably dressed.
"I... uh... what?" Elle stammered, her thoughts interrupted.
Gabriel awkwardly leaned against the counter, trying not to let her catch him looking at her; he was entranced, enchanted, amazed that she was still there. "I mean - what are you going to do? You're welcome to stay here as long as you need, I'm just..."
"I need to find a new job," she told him. "I guess I gotta hit the streets."
"Well, after you've done that, would you like to stop by the shop and we could go for lunch? There's a great falafel place around the corner."
"I'd like that," Elle replied.
But she wouldn't remember her first real date, just like she wouldn't remember ever having ridden a roller coaster or going swimming. The Haitian held on to those memories, too, and only now was he beginning to understand why.
Characters/Pairings: Elle/Gabriel, The Haitian
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or any of its characters
Word count: 925
Spoiler alert: definite spoilers for episode 3x08, AU after that
Summary: It's in her best interest that she doesn't remember any of this...
Angel With a Broken Watch
They finished off the whole pie and chatted more, sitting together cross-legged on the floor, for hours. Elle mostly listened, afraid that Gabriel would ask questions she couldn't answer - she hadn't quite worked out her story yet. Somehow the hours passed, and when they realized how late it was, Gabriel insisted that Elle take the bed.
"I sleep in my chair most nights anyway - you know, doze off while reading late," he explained, although the blush in his cheeks betrayed him.
He was also betrayed by the squeaking of cloth against plastic throughout the night. Elle pretended to be sleeping, listening to Gabriel struggle to get comfortable.
He's such a sweet guy, she thought to herself as she watched him in the dim illumination of the streetlights outside. I can't imagine him even hurting a fly. She ran her hands along the hollows in the bed where the springs sank and stuck - his indentation, his impression. No one has ever been so nice to me.
When the clock next to the bed indicated that it was 2 a.m., and Gabriel was still unsuccessfully trying to sleep on the chair, Elle got out from under the covers and padded quietly over to him, setting her hand on his shoulder.
He jumped at her touch. "Oh, Elle," he said, reaching for his glasses on the shelf nearby. "I was... I was sleeping."
"No, you weren't," she told him. "Take the bed. I'll sleep on the chair."
"But... you're a guest."
"Then let's share it. I wouldn't mind," she smiled, a little flirtatious.
"Oh, that... that wouldn't be..." he stuttered, searching for an appropriate excuse. "It's a twin. There's no room for two."
Elle nearly regretted her suggestion; she didn't want him to think less of her. "Come on, Gabriel! You're not going to be able to sleep at all tonight if you keep being so stubborn." She took his hand and pulled him towards her, twisting around him, unintentionally forcing him into an awkward embrace. For a moment they both stood still; he, almost holding her, and she, almost being held.
"I've never liked anyone so much as I like you," he said suddenly, stepping back from Elle and letting his arms fall to his sides. "It's not that I don't want to sleep with you. I mean, I'd like to sleep with you. I mean, I don't want to... I want to respect you. You deserve your space."
Elle turned towards him, letting her palms run reassuringly over his shoulders, his arms, his chest. "I don't deserve anything, Gabriel. You've been more than kind to me." She looked up at him, her chin on his chest, her eyes watery with either lack of sleep or with emotion - it was impossible to tell which.
"That's because I like you, Elle," he replied.
"No, that's because you're a good person," she corrected.
He sighed and smiled. "I'm going back to sleep. On the chair."
"Then I'm going with you," she replied. As he sat down, the plastic crumpled; Elle squeezed in beside him, wrapping herself around him.
Neither of them got any sleep that night, but they were both too bashful to admit it to one another.
The Haitian stopped for a moment, pulling his hand away from Elle's pallid face. She let her head sink into her pillow, eyes closed. The Haitian couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep. He delicately brushed away a wisp of hair that had fallen into her mouth and wondered at how strong and how stubborn she could be in one moment, and how vulnerable the next.
He paused because of the image of Elle and Gabriel, now Sylar, entangled in one another; it bothered the Haitian for reasons he couldn't understand. He told himself it was because he knew it would end badly: at that moment, in the memory he'd seen, they could have been happy, but something had to have gone very wrong to lead Elle back to the Company, and to lead Sylar to become a killer again.
But the image of Elle with Gabriel had a stronger effect on the Haitian; it made his blood run hot, it made his throat tighten, it made his skin crawl with anger and resentment and... jealousy?
The next morning Elle made toast and remembered the camera hidden away in the electrical socket. While Gabriel was in the shower (he tried insisting that she go first, but she reminded him that he had to open the shop) she flicked her wrist and zapped the camera into dust. Now if she could only remember where the other cameras were hidden...
"What do you plan to do now?" Gabriel asked as he emerged from the bathroom, hair wet and glasses off but otherwise impeccably dressed.
"I... uh... what?" Elle stammered, her thoughts interrupted.
Gabriel awkwardly leaned against the counter, trying not to let her catch him looking at her; he was entranced, enchanted, amazed that she was still there. "I mean - what are you going to do? You're welcome to stay here as long as you need, I'm just..."
"I need to find a new job," she told him. "I guess I gotta hit the streets."
"Well, after you've done that, would you like to stop by the shop and we could go for lunch? There's a great falafel place around the corner."
"I'd like that," Elle replied.
But she wouldn't remember her first real date, just like she wouldn't remember ever having ridden a roller coaster or going swimming. The Haitian held on to those memories, too, and only now was he beginning to understand why.
