Fic: Electric Potential (Heroes, Angela/Elle)
Urp. Heroes fic. WTH? And what is with me and huge age differences?
Title: Electric Potential
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Angela Petrelli/Elle Bishop
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: All parties are of legal age by the time it's important.
The first time Angela Petrelli met her, she was still a child.
"I did what was necessary," Bob said, impassively. They stood side by side, looking through the two-way mirror at the lone girl curled up on the bed in the corner of the room. "When the time comes, you, too, will find it in yourself to do what you must."
Angela hoped that day was very far away. For now, she was here for one reason alone: to see, with her own eyes, what might come to pass; if she might one day become the mother of a child like this. She had always wanted a daughter, and the thought of her own sons possibly ending up here at this age -- well. Not a thought she cared to entertain for too long.
The girl looked up at their entrance, her blue eyes wary with distrust. "Who are you?" she asked, calmly but hoarsely.
"Elle, this is Angela," Bob gestured to the woman at his side. "She's here to see you."
"Is she a doctor?"
"No, I'm not," Angela said, and the girl turned to look at her. "But I've heard a lot about you, and I thought I might say hello. You have a beautiful name," Angela told her.
"Thank you," Elle said politely. "It's nice to meet you, Angela." She extended her hand for a handshake, and without thinking, Angela shook it. Immediately she felt the girl deliver a tentative jolt of electricity along her arm, and she spasmed violently. Fortunately, she had enough presence of mind not to scream, or fall backwards and pull the girl with her, still holding her hand.
"Elle," Bob said sharply.
"I'm fine," Angela said calmly, fixing a smile on her face and her eyes on the girl. "She was just having a bit of fun, weren't you?"
"A bit of fun," Elle repeated.
"Can I have a moment alone with her?" Angela said, not breaking eye contact with the girl.
"Are you sure?" Bob muttered. Angela's smile did not waver, and after a moment, the girl returned it. Angela had never seen a child smile with such pain. Bob sighed. "Now, Elle. Angela's a good friend of mine, okay?" There was a warning tone in his voice. "Can I trust you to behave?
"Yes, Daddy."
"Good. I'll give you two a moment." Bob left the room, but Angela could sense his watery, unwavering gaze through the two-way mirror.
Finally releasing the girl's hand, Angela eased herself onto the bed next to the girl . Her limp, blond hair fell over her small shoulders, and her pale limbs poked out from the white hospital clothing that was a size too small. There were bandages and tubes taped to the girl's arms.
"How old are you?" Angela said, even though she knew the answer already.
"Eight and a half," said Elle.
"My, what a big girl you are," Angela marveled. "I have a son about your age."
"Really? How old?"
"Eleven."
Elle snorted with laughter. "That's not my age at all." But she sat up straighter. "What's his name?"
"Peter. Peter Petrelli."
"Peter Petrelli," Elle repeated. "That's a beautiful name, too."
Angela smiled. "Thank you. Would you like to see a photo of him?" She fished her pocketbook out of her handbag and opened it. "See? That's him right there." Elle wrinkled her nose at the sight of the boy, and Angela chuckled in spite of herself.
"It gets so boring around here," Elle said, exhibiting the first visible sign of moodiness Angela had seen since first entering the room. "Can I meet him sometime?"
I should hope not, Angela thought, then kicked herself, before remembering that Elle wasn't a mind reader. "We'll see. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"
They talked for about half an hour, and in that time, Angela learnt things about Elle that she already knew -- she was bright, intelligent, selfish and prone to mood swings; she was 'special' and that's why she was here. She also learnt things that she hadn't known: for example, Elle liked reading, horses, singing, New Kids on the Block and her father. She did not like swimming, Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles, crowded places, and tests. She couldn't wait to get home. She missed her grandmother. Angela did not ask her to clarify what she meant by 'tests.'
"Well, it's about time I should go," Angela said, glancing at her reflection in the two-way mirror.
"Oh, okay," said Elle, looking disappointed. "Um, will I see you again?"
Angela opened her mouth to say no, sorry, but the words that came out instead were "I'll try to stop by the next time I'm in town."
"Well?" Bob said, outside the room. "See what you came to see?"
"You be gentle with her," Angela said. "Don't hurt her."
Bob looked away.
~~~~~
True to her word, Angela stopped to see the girl again one year later, on her regular visit to the facility. Bob did not show her in, seeming extremely reluctant to do so, but Angela remembered the way. Upon entering the room, the difference in Elle was immediately visible. Her hair was fuzzy and short, as if it were still growing back after being shaved off. She had lost weight.
Elle turned her head slowly towards Angela. "I remember you," she said quietly. Whatever light that still had been in her eyes one year ago had vanished, to be replaced with something haunted and ugly. Angela thought to herself that no child should ever wear an expression so tormented. "You said you'd stop by." The tone was not accusatory, merely weary.
"My home is rather far, so I don't get to come out here as often as I'd like." Angela swallowed, wondering why she'd felt the need to provide an excuse. "Last time I saw you, you had mentioned that you liked to read, didn't you? So I brought you some books to help you pass the time."
The girl looked around. "Where are they?"
"Outside. They'll bring them in soon," said Angela. She didn't mention that they were being screened for 'hazardous' components, although what could possibly be hazardous about a pile of old paperbacks and hardcovers was beyond her. After that, they would only give Elle one book at a time, so that in the worst case, any conflagration she could start would be small and containable. "You remember my son, Peter? I had him pick out some of his old books that he read when he was your age. I think you might like them."
"Peter," the girl said, reaching for Angela, who took her hand and squeezed. A faint shock buzzed through her hand, lighting the nerves along her arm and shoulders, down her back. "Tell me about him."
So Angela did, telling her stories about her son, both her sons, their family, their two dogs, the picnic they had just gone on last week, the science project Peter had done last month, the types of things they did outside these walls. All the while, she knew that she was reminding Elle of all the things she was incapable of doing.
Elle listened quietly, nodding in all the right places. She did not ask if she could see Peter. She did not ask when or if she could do the same things.
When the time came to leave, Angela couldn't leave fast enough.
"Will I see you again?" Elle said.
"I'll try to stop by the next time I'm in town," Angela managed, and fled.
~~~~~
Angela found an excuse not to stop by the facility the next year, unable to imagine going there and successfully avoiding the girl; instead, she shipped Bob several pounds of books and hoped they would find her way to the girl eventually. The guilt weighed on her all year, and so she decided not to skip the next scheduled facility visit.
"Angela!" Elle greeted her cheerfully, running up and giving her a (shock-free) hug.
"Elle ... you look ... rather well." Angela was quite surprised. Three separate visits; three different Elles. This Elle had shoulder-length hair tied back in a ponytail, had grown a few inches, and looked fuller and healthier than Angela had ever seen. She was wearing actual clothes, not some shapeless hospital suit. Her room had been redecorated; several posters covered the previously bare walls, and there was actual furniture consisting of a desk, a chair, some bookshelves and a wardrobe.
"So I think I get the pattern now," Elle said, pretending to think. "First it was one year, then two -- so the next time you'll will be, what, in three years?"
"Possibly," Angela said. "I'm actually going overseas on business." Company business. "I'm not sure how long it will be before I return to the country."
"O-Oh," said Elle. "Are you taking Peter -- your family with you?"
"No, I'm going alone," Angela said. She was going to miss them terribly. "I'm sorry," she added inexplicably.
"Why?" Elle stared.
"Well, I ... I suppose it's because I won't be able to give you any more books," Angela said. "Did you get the books I sent last year?"
"Right there," Elle pointed to the bookshelf in the corner lined with dogeared, dusty books; it looked to be about half of what Angela had given the girl in total.
"Where are the other books?" Angela said.
"Um ... there was a little accident," Elle said. Angela raised an eyebrow. "Several ... little accidents. Then I accidentally, er, lost one of my favourites, and they refused to replace it, so I was very, very careful after that. And then they let me have all this stuff in here." She waved her hands and spun around the room. "What do you think? Doesn't it look so much nicer?"
"It does," Angela agreed.
"Dad did it for my birthday. Guess how old I am!"
"Well now," Angela played along. "Eleven?"
"Yes! Finally," Elle nodded. Then she giggled. "Do you remember when you first told me about Peter, and you told me he was eleven?" Angela nodded. "Well, this is going to sound kind of silly. But I used to think that if I grew up fast enough, I could catch up to Peter one day and be old enough to play with him." Elle covered her mouth with her hands and laughed. "It actually took me several weeks to figure it how stupid that idea was."
Recalling that there were no other children of Elle's age in the facility, and that she never saw anyone other than Bob and the facility doctors, Angela suddenly felt rather melancholy.
"Well? What do you have for me this time?" Elle said eagerly. "More books?"
"Actually, I thought I'd try something a little different," Angela said, reaching for the case at her feet and hefting it onto the desk. "Although there will be more books for you later."
"What's this?" said Elle, as Angela unclasped the latches.
"This is Peter's old violin." Angela lifted it out of the case and placed it in Elle's hands.
"I don't know how to play this!" Elle said, looking appalled.
"Do you want to teach yourself?" Angela smiled. "It's something you can do in your free time," which Elle had in abundance, she did not point out, "but if not, you can have a little accident with it," she said teasingly. "I don't mind. It's yours now."
Elle looked torn, and finally looked resigned. "Well, I might as well. Got nothing better to do, right?"
"Good, because I also brought you these." Angela emptied a bag of books onto the desk, with names such as 'The Art of Violin Playing,' 'Teach Yourself Violin,' and a host of other similarly-titled books, along with several books of sheet music and a music stand. "If I remember correctly, you already know how to read sheet music, don't you?"
"A little, but that was years ago," Elle said. "What's this tape under the strings?"
"It's for fingering," Angela said, taking the violin from her and demonstrating. "It'll help you remember where to position your fingers. Once you get used to where the notes are, you can take it off." She placed the violin under her chin, cocked the bow, and played a short melody. Elle looked impressed.
"This all looks so hard," she said, flipping through the books. "I'm never going to learn, am I?"
Angela replaced the violin in the case thoughtfully. Without anyone to teach her the proper technique and supervise, the girl would probably develop a ton of bad habits and incorrect postures, become extremely confused, and eventually get sick of it. Of course, in place of a proper teacher, there were visual and audio aids that could be used, but Elle's tendency to emit a steady electric current even when at rest could potentially cause ... problems.
"How's your control?" Angela took Elle's hand. The gentle tingle of electricity strummed pleasantly against Angela's skin, and she thought to herself that Elle would make a great masseuse. Then, suddenly the buzzing sensation disappeared completely. Elle's face showed no sign of strain as she suppressed her power.
"Not bad," said Angela. "You think your dad would trust you with electronic equipment in here?"
"Like what?" Elle grinned.
"CD player, TV, VCR ... that sort of thing."
The shock of excitment Elle emitted was so strong that Angela actually yelped and fell to the ground. A stray bolt fell onto a book on the table and Elle patted it out with her hands before it could do too much damage, or before the sprinklers could activate. Angela groaned and tried to get up.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Elle laughed, helping her up, "I'm sorry, I really am -- and I'm never sorry!"
"You'll have to control yourself better than that, young lady," Angela said, trying to sound disapproving, but the girl's laughter was infectious, and Angela found herself laughing along. "Well, why don't you try the violin for a few weeks, and see if it interests you; if it does, I'll talk to your father about getting you some videos and CDs of people playing the violin, so you can watch and listen to how it's really done. How does that sound?"
Elle's grin grew shark-like.
"I hate to break it to you, but your father will probably be able to tell if you're faking an interest in the violin just to get a TV in here."
"I'll just have to be less obvious about it, then," Elle laughed. "Come on, show me, show me how to play!" She picked up the violin and imitated Angela's posture. "Like this?"
Angela showed Elle how to hold the bow correctly with her right hand, fixed the angle of the wrist holding the violin, and straightened her back. Then, placing one hand over Elle's right hand and the other under her left, she gently guided Elle's movements against the violin strings. The look of delight on Elle's face when she played a low, steady, E note filled Angela with pleasure. She talked Elle through the basics, showing her how to play individual notes and scales, and a few hours had passed before Angela realised how long she'd stayed.
"That should be enough to get you started for now." Angela glanced at her watch and stood to leave. She was surprised Bob hadn't come in and and dragged her out of there already.
"Really? I don't feel ready yet," Elle said, her brow furrowing. "Could you show me a little more?"
"I really should get going." Elle's face fell, and Angela found herself saying, "I'm in town for a couple of days, though, so maybe I could stop by again tomorrow. Only if that's okay with your dad, of course. And with you."
"Yeah," Elle said tentatively, her relief evident, "that would be okay by me," and Angela felt happy and sad all at once.
When Angela stopped by Bob's office before she left, Bob said simply, "I haven't seen her smile like that in years. We'll make time for you two tomorrow." Before Angela could thank him, he added, "we can always step up her testing afterwards."
Throughout the next two days, Angela taught Elle as much as she could, made her laugh, and laughed with her, but Bob's words hung over her like a dark cloud and stayed with her long after she left.
~~~~~
Company work was trying, and kept Angela abroad for months at a time, so whenever she had a chance to return to the country, she spent all her time with her family. Her sons were the one bright spot in her life, keeping the darkness at bay, and when she was with them she was able to forget, if only for a moment, their possible fate.
Yet, from time to time, she found herself wondering about Elle -- if she was getting the books and CDs and tapes she shipped to her father annually, if the violin had been burnt to a crisp by now, if the girl was even alive... though of course she would be alive, Angela told herself, for Bob would have informed them otherwise, wouldn't he? But he had always been unforthcoming on the topic of facility 'subjects,' and that went double for his daughter, but yet ...
Angela could not help but be flummoxed as to why among all subjects in the facility, she had shown particular interest in this one, who wasn't particularly unique -- she was not the only child in the facility, and not the only girl. But she was a child of one of the Twelve, and that, perhaps, made all the difference.
So it happened that it was not three, but a full four years before Angela next saw Elle, and she almost could not believe her eyes. Gone was the blond, blue-eyed little girl that had occupied a corner in the back of Angela's mind for the past four years. In her place was a taller, slender young woman, still growing, still blond and blue-eyed, but halfway to adulthood, and suddenly, it seemed, a lot more dangerous.
"You look shocked," Elle observed, her mouth curving into a fascinated smile as she peered inquisitively into Angela's face. She barely came up to Angela's nose.
"You've grown," Angela said. "Almost didn't recognise you." But that was a lie, because Angela was sure she could pick out this girl in any crowd, at any time.
"Well, it's certainly been a while," Elle laughed, giving Angela a quick, tight hug. The contact sent sparks down Angela's spine. Angela tried to step away from Elle's scrutiny, rather surprised at the girl's forwardness, but Elle's grip was insistent.
"I'm surprised you even remember me," said Angela, especially given all that the girl must have experienced up till now: the steady stream of researchers and psychiatrists that had come and gone, the test subjects she must have met and forgotten.
"You're the only person that's ever visited," Elle explained, casually playing with the buttons and lapels of Angela's coat, "and you bring me something every time. What do you have for me this time?"
"Um," Angela said. She hadn't thought of bringing anything. Teenagers were notoriously hard to impress to begin with, and what could she get a fifteen-year old girl she barely knew, anyway? "I suppose you've already tired of everything else you have."
Elle pulled back finally, giving Angela a thoughtful look. "You must be wondering what happened to the violin. Did Elle break it in a tantrum? Set it on fire?"
"I was thinking no such thing," said Angela assuringly, although the thought had crossed her mind several times throughout the years. Elle retrieved a violin case from under her bed and defiantly held up its contents.
"That's not the same violin," Angela pointed out.
"Yeah, well, I outgrew the other one," Elle said defensively, "even before the accident."
"Your father bought that for you?" Angela tried and failed to suppress a smile. The child was still in there, lurking just under the surface of the young woman. "I'm impressed you kept up with it."
In response, Elle raised the violin to her chin and began to play an instantly recognisable Bach's Partita No. 3, Gavotte en Rondeau. It was admittedly shaky and somewhat off-pitch, but the girl's earnestness and hard-work were obvious. Angela politely applauded when the girl was done.
"See? I can do something when I put my mind to it," said Elle. "Now where's my reward?"
Evidence that the girl was well accustomed to the carrot-stick school of motivation. Angela dug around in her handbag and managed to find a CD.
"Mendelssohn, Tchaikovsky Violin Concertos," Elle read. "Philadelphia Orchestra with Isaac Stern. This looks old."
"It is old," Angela admitted. "But it's one of my favourite recordings of arguably two of the most-loved violin concertos in the world."
"Is that so?" Elle dangled it from her fingers. "I guess I'll have to give it a try, then."
Angela looked around the room. "Where's your CD player? Don't tell me. Accident?"
"Ah... well. Let's not talk about me," Elle said.
"Okay, then," Angela pulled a picture out of her pocketbook. "There's Nathan, and there's Peter. All grown up now. Peter wants to be a nurse."
"A nurse," Elle wrinkled her nose. "Boring. Tell me about you now. Tell me everything you've been up to since I last saw you." She pulled Angela by the hand towards her bed and made her sit down, before curling up next to her.
Angela shrugged. "There's not that much to tell." There also wasn't much she was permitted to tell, either.
"But you're my only link to the outside world," Elle said, eyes large and round, resting her head against Angela's shoulder.
The girl sure knew the right buttons to press; Angela had to give her that.
She told Bob as much, on her way out. "That's all you have to say?" said Bob, leaning back in his chair. Angela looked at him uncomprehendingly. He tossed a manila folder across the desk, and Angela flipped it open and began to read.
"You can't be serious," Angela said in disbelief after a few minutes. "Sociopath with paranoid delusions? Elle? Who came up with this drivel?"
"I'd like to say I feel the same way you do," Bob said. "Unfortunately, every doctor that has examined her has come to the same conclusion."
"I don't believe this," Angela declared, disgustedly throwing the folder onto the table. "Not a word of it."
"Well then," Bob twirled a pen in his fingers, "she's sure got you fooled, huh?"
Angela drew herself up to her full height, giving him the frostiest glare she could summon, and stormed out of his office.
~~~~~
It had not quite been a full year before Angela next saw Elle again. This time, Bob was the one who called her.
"There's been a breakthrough in her progress," he informed her over the phone. "Would you like to see a demonstration?"
When Angela arrived, one week after the phone call, she was not the only one there. Bob had invited several other Company employees to witness what their next generation might be capable of. Angela supposed she was not the only concerned parent among them all. She nodded briefly at them as they waited outside the experiment room, not very interested in making small talk. She realised that she was nervous for what she was about to see.
Through the large observational window, Angela could see technicians and white-robed researchers fussing about the room, taping transparent insulating material around the floor and around the monitoring equipment. Every so often, Angela could hear their muffled speech and the crinkling of plastic filtering through the speakers to where they were waiting.
Soon, with the exception of two metal blocks, on opposite sides of the room, the entire room looked like it was covered in transparent wrap. Angela assumed those two blocks, taller than and twice as wide as a human, were going to be the highlights of the testing.
Once everything was covered and ready, the men left through the room's only exit, a door on the far wall of the experiment room, opposite to the window Angela and the others were outside of. After a few moments, the technicians emerged behind them. Some of them positioned themselves in front of the monitoring equipment scattered around them, while others moved to watch through the window. Bob stood next to Angela. He pressed a button and leaned into a microphone.
"Okay, we're ready for you."
The door opened; in walked Elle, and the group's immediate reaction was of varying discomfort. Angela gave a stunned gasp. Save the wires and connectors taped to her skin, running criss-cross over her head and face to the rest of her body, Elle was as naked as the day she was born.
"Her clothes burn off otherwise," Bob said, as Elle smiled and waved at her audience. "We save a ton of money this way, not to mention it helps prevent a lot of wasted cotton." At that moment, Elle caught Angela's eye and her smile brightened. She waved vigorously. Keeping her eyes firmly on the girl's face, out of respect and simmering rage, Angela plastered a smile on her face and waved back.
"Do you mean to tell me," she said through clenched teeth, fighting to keep the smile in place, "that ever since this girl was a child, during every single one of her so-called testing sessions," it was hard to keep her voice steady, "she has been paraded around without a strip of clothing, in front of your all-male staff?" Her voice rose shrilly. "That is your _daughter_, for God's sake."
"I'm well aware of that," Bob said calmly.
Angela stared at him. Had this what Kaito Nakamura had meant when he had told her, once in the past, that to save what is important to you, one must first cut out their own heart? Angela didn't buy it. If you had no heart, how could you know to love what was important to you -- and if you did not love that which was important to you, how could you save them?
Bob pressed the button on the microphone again. "Elle, can you hear me?"
"You're a little LOUD," Elle responded, her voice tinny through the speakers. "Where's the music?" Bob sighed, suddenly shifting into weary-parent mode and gestured to a technician. The strains of Tchaikovsky's Concerto in D major, first movement, could be heard coming from the experiment room.
"What's this for?" said Angela.
"She just decided one day, out of the blue, that she wanted music during the testing sessions -- insists it helps her concentrate," Bob sighed, sounding like a father who had decided the battle was not worth fighting. "Making sure the sound system doesn't short out constantly is no walk in the park." Angela watched as the girl closed her eyes and lifted her arms, listening to the music swell around her. "She's rather partial to string concertos," Bob added neutrally.
"Elle, let's get started," he said into the microphone, and turned to address the rest of the room. "As you all know, Elle's power is to generate a voltage difference between her and the environment, and perform a spontaneous or continuous electrical discharge. She is like a generator and capacitor all in one. Elle, Level two, if you will." Angela watched as sparks of electricity darted from Elle's skin and flew in straight paths from her body, striking various corners of the room, leaving scorch marks where they landed.
"You will notice two things," Bob pointed out. "Firstly, every inch of her skin is capable of discharging electricity -- this also means that when she attempts this, the electricity leaves from every inch of her skin. Thus the burnt clothes."
Someone asked, "How's her hair stay unharmed?" and everyone in the group except Angela chuckled.
"It wasn't always like that. We can only surmise that over time her hair developed a conductivity to electricity, or, simply became immune to it," said Bob. "At any rate. The second thing of note is that the electricity leaves her body in every direction -- that is to say, there is no directional control over this power by default. Everyone, you may want to cover your eyes. Elle, Level five."
This time, intense lightning zapped from Elle in all directions; the crackling in the air completely drowned out the music playing through the speakers. Elle was illuminated, for a moment, the lightning rod in the centre of the room, and everyone took a step back as a smattering of electricity smacked into the window. Scorch marks were now visible nearly everywhere in the room, including the window they were looking through, but they were not dense enough to obstruct the entire view. Angela could see Elle smiling coyly at her through the window, as if to say, see what I can do?
Bob cleared his throat. "This is at its best, pure chaos. At its worst, it is wanton destruction. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Uncontainable." Angela's knees grew weak. Then Bob smiled. "However, if we can channel this chaotic energy into a single focussed point, it has the potential to become a useful tool. A lethal tool, but useful nonetheless. Elle, if you will."
Elle turned away from the window, then, and faced the metal block to Angela's right. Exerting visible effort, she squeezed her fists, keeping her arms at her side. Stray bolts of electricity shot from the backs of her arms and legs, striking the ground harmlessly, but by far the majority of her power was concentrated forward. Continuous, uninterrupted streams of lightning flowed from the front of her body and struck the metal block, so concentrated that it looked like a human-sized energy mass flowing continuously.
"Good work," said Bob loudly. "Now the other."
The stream of energy suddenly dimmed slightly, and the stray bolts of light bouncing off Elle's back now became energy beams equal in magnitude to the ones exiting from her front. Now there were two huge energy masses striking both metal blocks, and from where Angela stood, it looked like a wall of electric energy, five-foot high, streaming from a pale, human young woman at its centre.
"Crank it up, Elle. And turn to face us if you can."
The light leaving Elle's body intensified, and she slowly, painstakingly rotated her body ninety degrees to face the window. She was visibly struggling to keep her the wall of energy under control and pointed in the right direction. Every so often, the ends of the walls danced dangerously close to the edge of the metal blocks, threatening to spill off and strike the wall beyond. Finally, she was facing the window head-on, her body heaving with effort, her face contorted into a grimace. Angela realised she was in pain.
"Good job, Elle," Bob shouted to be heard above the crackling. "Turn it off." The wall of light disappeared, and the girl sank to her knees, her chest heaving. Someone tapped a button and the classical music went silent. The technicians applauded and cheered. Elle looked up and acknowledged her audience with an ugly grin.
"What was that? A Level ten?" someone joked.
"Level four," Bob said soberly. "You do not want to see a Level ten. Now, if you would follow me, we can all take a look at the numbers in some detail and discuss some applications of this power." The Company members shuffled after Bob, save Angela, who was watching the solitary girl in the experiment room struggle to her feet.
"Why is Elle still in there?" she asked.
"The air in that room still carries enough electricity to kill an ox," Bob said. "She needs time to discharge, along with the room, before she comes out." Bob glanced at Angela. "If you'd prefer to stay and keep her company --"
"I would," said Angela tightly. Bob looked at her for a moment longer, then looked at Elle, then left.
Angela picked up the microphone. "Can you hear me?" Elle nodded and smiled. She made her way slowly to the window and plastered her upper body against the glass, squishing her breasts out of shape.
"So what did you think?" her voice came over the speakers. She smiled rakishly. "I'm pretty amazing, huh?"
"Yes, you are," Angela said, swallowing a lump in her throat. "You're pretty amazing." She touched Elle's hand through the glass, wanting no more than to take the girl in her arms and hold her. Releasing a shuddering breath, she pressed her forehead to the glass, meeting Elle's on the other side.
"Why are you crying?" Elle said, sounding genuinely surprised. Angela lowered the microphone and covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her sobs.
"I'm so sorry," Angela said, but of course Elle couldn't hear her.
~~~~~
After that, Angela began to visit a lot more frequently, partly out of guilt, partly out of compassion, and partly because it seemed like Elle could use a friendly face. She always made sure to stop by when she knew Elle was not undergoing a testing session.
"Aww, you missed something amazing," Elle grinned said one day. "I want to show you what I can do now."
"That's okay. Once was enough," Angela said.
"Don't be shy. Look. Watch." Elle positioned her hand in front of a metal tray. She clenched her teeth, and a small ball of electricity formed in her hand and darted towards the tray.
"Should you be doing this in your bedroom?" Angela said, getting to her feet and making sure the exit was in close reach.
"I'm careful," Elle said. "But see? I can concentrate it in my hands now. It's so nice not to have to worry about burning my clothes."
"That's ... very impressive." Angela let Elle tug her onto the bed again, and wondered if she should ask Elle to give her some space. Elle was forever touching some part of her, playing with her hair, or earrings, or her clothing, and she wasn't always careful, so Angela would often find herself being shocked or zapped in some way or another. It didn't hurt too much, but it was just startling enough to keep her in a state of heightened alert.
One day, as Elle wrapped her arms around her neck, Angela finally asked, "Why are you always touching me?" It was one thing for a child of eleven to be so clingy, but for a young woman of seventeen, it felt a little out-of-place.
"Because I like touching you," Elle said, eyes round and a little sad. "Are you angry with me?"
"No, no," Angela said carefully. "I was just curious, that's all."
"Touching is nice," Elle said, rather mournfully. "No one else lets me touch them. No one else ever touches me. You're the only one. You're the only one who's never been afraid of me." And she pressed her face in the crook of Angela's neck.
Angela froze. It had been some time since her sons had outgrown hugs and physical displays of affection, so she felt a little out of practice, but after a while her arms circled Elle's back and returned the hug. At that, Elle sent a surge of electricity through Angela that made the back of her scalp prickle, and all the hairs on her body stood on end.
Bob commented to Angela when she left, "Are you comfortable letting her get so physical with you? She can kill you at any time, you know." Naturally, he had a direct video feed of everything going on in Elle's room.
"No one, not even her own father, will trust her," Angela glared. "And you wonder why she's the way she is? She needs love, Bob. Physical contact. A reassuring hug at the end of a long day, a kiss goodnight. She's never gotten these things, but by God, someone has to give them to her, and if not you, then I will."
And so from then on, whenever Angela visited, she would just hold the girl and let the girl hold her back in silence. They had long run out of things to tell each other, at any rate, and the quiet giggles and pleased noises Elle made at the contact substituted for their dialogue. Certainly, Angela found it strange, but then again nothing had ever been normal with Elle. Probably this was too little too late, and it was never going to be enough to fill the void in Elle's heart, but Angela hoped that it was better than nothing.
One day, Angela realised that perhaps Bob had legitimate cause for concern when Elle began to trace her lips along her jawline. Before she realised what was happening, Elle had kissed her on the mouth.
"Elle --" Angela leaned back, a little stunned at the act, and the jolt of electricity that had stung her mouth.
"What's wrong?" Elle said in alarm, realising Angela had frozen rigidly. "Did I hurt you?" Angela shook her head, but before she could explain, Elle smiled, "I'm glad, because this feels good," and kissed her again.
"Ah -- Elle -- you should stop doing that," Angela said, attempting to extricate herself from Elle's arms.
"Why?" Elle said petulantly. "You said it didn't hurt."
"No, but --" Angela floundered. "It's not very appropriate."
"What isn't?" Elle frowned.
"This -- kiss. You kissing me."
"What's not appropriate about it?"
This was not a question Angela was prepared for. "Ah, well, you see," Angela cursed Bob for never giving Elle the birds and the bees talk, "people only kiss when they like each other very much."
"Well, I like you," said Elle, matter-of-factly. "I like you a lot. Don't you like me?"
Oh, good God.
"I -- like you," Angela said forcefully. "But it's has to be a special kind of like for people to kiss each other. Do you understand?"
"I don't like anyone else the way I like you," Elle said. "Is that special enough?"
"I don't -- I don't know," Angela said feebly. "Elle, you see, this kissing thing. It usually happens between a man and a woman." Oh, for God's sake, now she sounded like a bigot, which was the last thing she wanted, especially in front of an impressionable young girl.
"Really?" Elle's eyes widened. "Why is that?"
It had been so much easier with her own children. But then again, neither of her sons had ever tried to kiss her the way Elle had just did.
"Sometimes, two men and two women can kiss, too. But only in very very special circumstances," Angela tried to explain.
"I'm special, aren't I?" Elle grinned, kissing her again, and this time, the jolt in Angela's stomach that had nothing to do with electricity.
Fuck. Holy mother of god. She was a married woman, with two sons, and Elle's hands were on her face, on her neck, and Angela arched her body into the girl's, and oh God, she was kissing the girl back.
This wasn't happening.
"Elle, we can't," Angela gasped, and froze. We. We can't. Not you can't, but we can't, and when had this become a we? _How long_ had this been a we? Oh god.
"Why not?" The look of hurt in Elle's eyes made Angela's stomach clench. "You don't want to kiss me?"
Angela steadfastly refused to think about the answer to that question. "You're just a child," she croaked. Yes, Angela, a child, a goddamn child, just look at her --
"I'm not a child," Elle shouted, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Ask my father. He says I'm nearly an adult woman. Just ask him. He's always saying I need to act my age and be like a grown-up." Elle thought furiously. "Does that mean we can kiss when I'm a proper grown up?"
God. Elle's father. "Your father would not be happy," Angela said.
But Elle wasn't listening. "I can just kiss you once I'm eighteen, right?" she realised. "I can wait." And she flung her arms around the woman joyously. "Come see me on my birthday!"
There was a sharp rap at the door. Angela straightened immediately. She knew what that meant.
"Elle, I have to go, okay?" Angela whispered. "Your father wants me."
"Am I in trouble?" Elle swallowed. This was the first time Angela had left at someone else's bidding. "Will I see you again?"
"Yes," said Angela, and she pressed her lips to Elle's forehead. "I'll see you next time."
Once Bob saw Angela emerge from the room, he immediately strode down the hallway. Angela had to hurry to keep up.
"You listen to me, Angela Petrelli," he said. "The only reason I let you anywhere near my daughter is because you've been good to her. She likes you. You seemed like the only person capable of stablising her. But now look what's happened." He snorted angrily.
"I didn't do anything," Angela said, sounding more outraged than she felt, "but none of this would have happened if you had taken the time to talk to her about these -- these matters."
"What matters?" Bob cried. "She's just a child."
"Oh for heaven's sake, she's a young woman," Angela responded. "Have you no eyes? It's only human to want to reach out and touch someone."
"Then what do you suggest I do?" Bob rounded on her, his eyes wild. "Find her some nubile young man and let her have her way with him?"
"I'm not suggesting anything of the sort," Angela snapped.
"Obviously not. Her tastes clearly run much older, for the same gender, too," Bob glared at her. "Oh, Elle. My little girl."
"Stop being ridiculous," Angela hissed. "She's just young and confused and doesn't know what to do with her ... urges. Just give her some time. Everything will work itself out." She swallowed. "I probably shouldn't see her for a while."
"I think that's probably for the best," Bob said coldly.
~~~~~
Several months later, Bob called.
"How has she been?" Angela said.
Bob was silent for a moment. "Are you free next Thursday? It's Elle's birthday. She says she wants you here."
Angela nearly dropped the phone. She couldn't imagine that Bob would let Elle see her if he knew of Elle's intentions. "Do you know why?"
"She didn't say." Bob sighed. "She's been rather ... ill-tempered lately." Ever since she last saw you, he did not add, even though both of them knew it to be the truth.
"I'll be there," Angela said, and Bob hung up.
When she got there, Bob escorted her to a different room than usual. It looked like the type of room used for questioning. Elle was seated behind a plastic table, and Angela sat across from her. Bob gave Angela a look, then glanced at Elle, and left the room.
"Happy birthday," Angela said. Elle did not look very happy.
"They're watching us," she said sullenly, and Angela nodded. "Dad said that if I touch you, he's never going to let me see you again." Angela nodded again. Bob had told her as much, outside the room.
"I don't understand," Elle wailed. "I wasn't hurting you. What did I do wrong? No one will tell me."
"It's okay, Elle," Angela said soothingly. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then why are they punishing me?" Elle looked bewildered. "Are you angry? Are you angry with me? Is that why you stopped coming?"
"I could never be angry at you." And even as Angela said the words, she knew they were the godforsaken truth. "You asked me to come, right? And I came. I'm here now." She smiled what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Your father said it's okay for me to keep coming back. Isn't that nice?"
"I don't know," said Elle. "I thought it would be, but it feels like torture to see you so close and not be able to touch you. I don't know if I can put up with that forever. Lift your feet off the ground."
"What?"
"Do it, now." Angela did, mystified, and instantly, spidery strands of electricity instantaneously burst from Elle's feet, spreading over the floor, carpeted every square inch, every wall, of the room. The sight was blinding and magical, and it was the most beautiful thing Angela had ever seen.
The lights went out, as did the cameras and recording equipment.
There was a loud banging on the door outside. "Angela? Angela!" Bob's voice shouted. "Shit, the door's been melted shut --"
"I'm alive," Angela quavered in the darkness, balancing on her seat, afraid to put her feet on the ground.
"If you come in, I'll kill her," Elle called. The banging stopped.
Angela breathed in sharply. "What do you want?"
"I want to touch you," Elle said simply. "I want to touch you all over, and kiss you all over, and I want you to do the same to me."
Angela made a strangled noise. Those words had electrified her more than any of Elle's touches ever had. Bob would probably kill her if he knew.
"I couldn't do it with them watching me, though." Angela heard Elle pad silently towards her, and suddenly felt the familiar tingle of Elle's fingers on her neck.
"Do you realise what you've done?" Angela breathed, leaning into the touch against her will.
"I'll probably never see you again," Elle said casually. "But if I can't touch you, there's no point in seeing you." And then Angela felt a small, warm mouth devouring her own, and she whimpered.. After a moment, Elle pulled back. "Well?"
"Well, what?" Angela managed.
"I don't want to hurt you," Elle said. "I'll stop any time you tell me to."
"I don't believe you," Angela said.
"I mean it when I say I don't want to hurt you." Elle kissed her again, and Angela felt Elle's mouth smile against her own. "But you won't tell me to stop, will you?" She tugged Angela out of her chair and pushed her against the table. "Because -- you are enjoying this -- as much as I am."
"Yes," Angela sighed, surrendering to Elle's embrace. Elle burned a straight line down Angela's clothing with an electrified finger, and pulled the fabric from Angela's body. Angela heard a zap, and the smell of burning cotton, and Elle was completely naked as well. She pressed her body flush against Angela's.
"Oh," Elle sounded like she was about to cry. "This feels like heaven."
Angela kissed Elle's face and mouth and neck in response, and Elle moaned, the sound sending shivers down Angela's spine. She wanted this, she realised. The boundary had already been crossed, the limits already breached; she might as well go all the way. Or perhaps Angela had already made this decision long ago. She wasn't sure. She didn't want to think about it.
She pushed Elle against the table and kissed her way down Elle's body. Her breasts were small and firm, and Elle arched towards her mouth. When she took a nipple between her lips, Elle gave off a wave of small electric shocks. Angela wondered if she was going to be a burnt carcass by the time this was all over.
"Don't stop," Elle gasped. "Please don't stop. Oh, please, kiss me again." Angela straightened and kissed Elle on the lips. Her fingers crept down to the spot between Elle's legs. The girl was wet, and ready. "Touch me," the girl moaned, and Angela plunged a finger inside her. Elle screamed and spasmed, and the resultant electric shock nearly knocked Angela out cold.
When Angela opened her eyes groggily, she was lying on the floor. It felt cold beneath her back. Elle's face was right in front of her, illuminated by a ball of light on the tip of her finger.
"You're not dead, are you?" Elle whispered in concern, throwing her arms around her. "I was worried for a second."
"I don't think I can move," Angela croaked, tempted to laugh. Shocked to death by a girl's orgasm. Her husband would die of shame.
"That's okay," Elle said, lying down next to her. "It's my turn to touch you now."
The girl danced her fingers and mouth along Angela's body, marveling at the weight of another person's breasts in her palms, the feeling of skin not her own, the taste and smell of sweat and lust and fear. She regulated the amount of electricity flowing from her to a gentle, thrumming pulse, and Angela's senses were pushed to the brink of ecstasy. She had never felt more alive.
When Elle's hand moved between Angela's legs, instead of stroking her fingers up and down through her wetness, Elle just held her fingers in place, stimulating Angela's aching clitoris with her power again and again and again. Twitching and moaning like a helpless marionette, Angela thought she was going to die from pleasure. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.
"Stop, please," she groaned, and the waves of electricity subsided, like a warm wave receding from a beach. "Oh, my god."
Elle pressed her cheek against Angela's shoulder. "I think I love you." Angela sighed, and rubbed Elle's back. "I'll never love anyone like I love you."
"You're still young," Angela said.
"If I ever get out of here, I'll come find you," Elle breathed against Angela's throat. "And then we'll do this again. Promise?"
So young, Angela thought, wanting to cry.
They lay there, entwined together for hours before they fell asleep.
~~~~~
Angela awoke to the sound of the door being rammed down, and her eyes flew open. Footsteps stamped against the floor and rang inside her ears. Security guards marched into the room, followed by Bob -- and Arthur. Her husband.
"Get up," Bob jerked his daughter to her feet, and she was roughly escorted out of the room. Angela caught a look of desperation in Elle's face before she disappeared. Bob glared at Angela, who was trying to cover herself with pieces of clothing.
"I will only ask you this once," Bob said. He was furious. "At any time, were you forced to do anything against your will?"
This was her chance, Angela realised, as Arthur looked at her with sorrow-filled eyes, to pin the blame entirely on Elle, to chalk this up to her delusions and her youth. This was her chance to put this entire episode behind her.
"No," Angela heard herself saying. "It's not Elle's fault. It's mine. I led her on." Arthur spun on his heel and left the room.
Bob kicked a chair over. "I don't believe you," he spat. "You have too much self-esteem to do something like this. Shit, Angela, I can't believe this. That's my daughter. Can you imagine if I tried something like this to Peter? Would you ever forgive me? Think about that. That's how I feel right now."
Angela refused to entertain that thought, and instead followed Bob warily with her eyes. "What are you going to do to her?"
"You'll find out soon enough," said Bob. Right on cue, a lanky, dark-skinned man entered the room. Bob turned to him. "Is it done?" The dark-skinned man nodded.
"No," Angela stared. "You wouldn't."
"You're bad for my daughter, Angela," Bob said, running a hand over his bald spot. "You must agree, the best way is to eradicate the root of evil. If we can't kill you, erasing all memory of you from her is the next best thing." Bob nodded, and the Haitian approached Angela, his hands outstretched.
"No," Angela cried, scrabbling backwards. "Don't take her from me. Please."
Bob looked at Angela in wonderment. "Have you lost your mind, woman? Has your brain been shocked into mincemeat?"
"I don't know," Angela said in despair. She could never cut out her heart. She would cradle her heart closely, even if it was bruised and battered and bleeding, so that she would always know to love what she sought to protect. "I will never appear again in front of her for as long as I live. Just don't take my memories of her."
Bob cleared his throat, and the Haitian halted. "You will never come to this facility again, as long as Elle is here," Bob said.
Angela nodded. "I understand." She turned to the Haitian. "Can you do one thing for me?" she begged. "Can you go to my husband, and --" she couldn't continue.
The Haitian looked at her appraisingly. Bob sighed. "I doubt this will ruin your marriage, but it's better to be safe than sorry." The Haitian nodded and left. Angela curled up into a ball and hugged her knees.
"I just wanted her to be protected," Angela said softly. "Loved."
"You've done enough," Bob said heavily. He gestured, and someone brought him a set of hospital clothing. He tossed it at Angela's feet. "Get dressed. Then get out of here."
A few minutes later, Arthur came in and gave her a hug. "You've gone through a rough time," he said, kissing her forehead comfortingly. "Let's go."
On their way out, they passed Elle being escorted by Bob in the opposite direction. The girl did not so much as glance in their direction, and Angela knew that whatever there had been between them was well and truly over.
"Wait," Bob said, and Angela halted. "Elle, I want you to meet a friend of mine." Elle stopped and looked Angela in the face. She showed no sign recognising her. "Do you know who this is, Elle?"
"Uh, one of your friends?" said Elle, exhibiting the exasperation of a teenager who had just been asked a dumb question. "Should I know her?"
"It doesn't matter," Angela said. "You'll never see me again."
"Well, in that case," Elle said briskly, "nice meeting you." She extended her hand for a handshake, and Angela hesitated before taking it. A low shock of energy traveled down her arm, and she jumped back.
"Haha," Elle cackled, "gotcha."
"Elle," Bob said sharply.
"What?" Elle said.
Angela stared at her. Had it been a sign? Did it mean something? She couldn't tell. And she'd never know.
"Come on, Angela," Arthur said, glaring at Bob and his daughter, "let's go." He put an arm around his wife and they left the facility, arm in arm. "Let's put all this behind us, shall we?" Arthur smiled encouragingly.
"Yes, let's," Angela smiled back. She did not know what her husband believed. She would never ask.
~~~~~
Thanks for reading.
Title: Electric Potential
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Angela Petrelli/Elle Bishop
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: All parties are of legal age by the time it's important.
The first time Angela Petrelli met her, she was still a child.
"I did what was necessary," Bob said, impassively. They stood side by side, looking through the two-way mirror at the lone girl curled up on the bed in the corner of the room. "When the time comes, you, too, will find it in yourself to do what you must."
Angela hoped that day was very far away. For now, she was here for one reason alone: to see, with her own eyes, what might come to pass; if she might one day become the mother of a child like this. She had always wanted a daughter, and the thought of her own sons possibly ending up here at this age -- well. Not a thought she cared to entertain for too long.
The girl looked up at their entrance, her blue eyes wary with distrust. "Who are you?" she asked, calmly but hoarsely.
"Elle, this is Angela," Bob gestured to the woman at his side. "She's here to see you."
"Is she a doctor?"
"No, I'm not," Angela said, and the girl turned to look at her. "But I've heard a lot about you, and I thought I might say hello. You have a beautiful name," Angela told her.
"Thank you," Elle said politely. "It's nice to meet you, Angela." She extended her hand for a handshake, and without thinking, Angela shook it. Immediately she felt the girl deliver a tentative jolt of electricity along her arm, and she spasmed violently. Fortunately, she had enough presence of mind not to scream, or fall backwards and pull the girl with her, still holding her hand.
"Elle," Bob said sharply.
"I'm fine," Angela said calmly, fixing a smile on her face and her eyes on the girl. "She was just having a bit of fun, weren't you?"
"A bit of fun," Elle repeated.
"Can I have a moment alone with her?" Angela said, not breaking eye contact with the girl.
"Are you sure?" Bob muttered. Angela's smile did not waver, and after a moment, the girl returned it. Angela had never seen a child smile with such pain. Bob sighed. "Now, Elle. Angela's a good friend of mine, okay?" There was a warning tone in his voice. "Can I trust you to behave?
"Yes, Daddy."
"Good. I'll give you two a moment." Bob left the room, but Angela could sense his watery, unwavering gaze through the two-way mirror.
Finally releasing the girl's hand, Angela eased herself onto the bed next to the girl . Her limp, blond hair fell over her small shoulders, and her pale limbs poked out from the white hospital clothing that was a size too small. There were bandages and tubes taped to the girl's arms.
"How old are you?" Angela said, even though she knew the answer already.
"Eight and a half," said Elle.
"My, what a big girl you are," Angela marveled. "I have a son about your age."
"Really? How old?"
"Eleven."
Elle snorted with laughter. "That's not my age at all." But she sat up straighter. "What's his name?"
"Peter. Peter Petrelli."
"Peter Petrelli," Elle repeated. "That's a beautiful name, too."
Angela smiled. "Thank you. Would you like to see a photo of him?" She fished her pocketbook out of her handbag and opened it. "See? That's him right there." Elle wrinkled her nose at the sight of the boy, and Angela chuckled in spite of herself.
"It gets so boring around here," Elle said, exhibiting the first visible sign of moodiness Angela had seen since first entering the room. "Can I meet him sometime?"
I should hope not, Angela thought, then kicked herself, before remembering that Elle wasn't a mind reader. "We'll see. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"
They talked for about half an hour, and in that time, Angela learnt things about Elle that she already knew -- she was bright, intelligent, selfish and prone to mood swings; she was 'special' and that's why she was here. She also learnt things that she hadn't known: for example, Elle liked reading, horses, singing, New Kids on the Block and her father. She did not like swimming, Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles, crowded places, and tests. She couldn't wait to get home. She missed her grandmother. Angela did not ask her to clarify what she meant by 'tests.'
"Well, it's about time I should go," Angela said, glancing at her reflection in the two-way mirror.
"Oh, okay," said Elle, looking disappointed. "Um, will I see you again?"
Angela opened her mouth to say no, sorry, but the words that came out instead were "I'll try to stop by the next time I'm in town."
"Well?" Bob said, outside the room. "See what you came to see?"
"You be gentle with her," Angela said. "Don't hurt her."
Bob looked away.
~~~~~
True to her word, Angela stopped to see the girl again one year later, on her regular visit to the facility. Bob did not show her in, seeming extremely reluctant to do so, but Angela remembered the way. Upon entering the room, the difference in Elle was immediately visible. Her hair was fuzzy and short, as if it were still growing back after being shaved off. She had lost weight.
Elle turned her head slowly towards Angela. "I remember you," she said quietly. Whatever light that still had been in her eyes one year ago had vanished, to be replaced with something haunted and ugly. Angela thought to herself that no child should ever wear an expression so tormented. "You said you'd stop by." The tone was not accusatory, merely weary.
"My home is rather far, so I don't get to come out here as often as I'd like." Angela swallowed, wondering why she'd felt the need to provide an excuse. "Last time I saw you, you had mentioned that you liked to read, didn't you? So I brought you some books to help you pass the time."
The girl looked around. "Where are they?"
"Outside. They'll bring them in soon," said Angela. She didn't mention that they were being screened for 'hazardous' components, although what could possibly be hazardous about a pile of old paperbacks and hardcovers was beyond her. After that, they would only give Elle one book at a time, so that in the worst case, any conflagration she could start would be small and containable. "You remember my son, Peter? I had him pick out some of his old books that he read when he was your age. I think you might like them."
"Peter," the girl said, reaching for Angela, who took her hand and squeezed. A faint shock buzzed through her hand, lighting the nerves along her arm and shoulders, down her back. "Tell me about him."
So Angela did, telling her stories about her son, both her sons, their family, their two dogs, the picnic they had just gone on last week, the science project Peter had done last month, the types of things they did outside these walls. All the while, she knew that she was reminding Elle of all the things she was incapable of doing.
Elle listened quietly, nodding in all the right places. She did not ask if she could see Peter. She did not ask when or if she could do the same things.
When the time came to leave, Angela couldn't leave fast enough.
"Will I see you again?" Elle said.
"I'll try to stop by the next time I'm in town," Angela managed, and fled.
~~~~~
Angela found an excuse not to stop by the facility the next year, unable to imagine going there and successfully avoiding the girl; instead, she shipped Bob several pounds of books and hoped they would find her way to the girl eventually. The guilt weighed on her all year, and so she decided not to skip the next scheduled facility visit.
"Angela!" Elle greeted her cheerfully, running up and giving her a (shock-free) hug.
"Elle ... you look ... rather well." Angela was quite surprised. Three separate visits; three different Elles. This Elle had shoulder-length hair tied back in a ponytail, had grown a few inches, and looked fuller and healthier than Angela had ever seen. She was wearing actual clothes, not some shapeless hospital suit. Her room had been redecorated; several posters covered the previously bare walls, and there was actual furniture consisting of a desk, a chair, some bookshelves and a wardrobe.
"So I think I get the pattern now," Elle said, pretending to think. "First it was one year, then two -- so the next time you'll will be, what, in three years?"
"Possibly," Angela said. "I'm actually going overseas on business." Company business. "I'm not sure how long it will be before I return to the country."
"O-Oh," said Elle. "Are you taking Peter -- your family with you?"
"No, I'm going alone," Angela said. She was going to miss them terribly. "I'm sorry," she added inexplicably.
"Why?" Elle stared.
"Well, I ... I suppose it's because I won't be able to give you any more books," Angela said. "Did you get the books I sent last year?"
"Right there," Elle pointed to the bookshelf in the corner lined with dogeared, dusty books; it looked to be about half of what Angela had given the girl in total.
"Where are the other books?" Angela said.
"Um ... there was a little accident," Elle said. Angela raised an eyebrow. "Several ... little accidents. Then I accidentally, er, lost one of my favourites, and they refused to replace it, so I was very, very careful after that. And then they let me have all this stuff in here." She waved her hands and spun around the room. "What do you think? Doesn't it look so much nicer?"
"It does," Angela agreed.
"Dad did it for my birthday. Guess how old I am!"
"Well now," Angela played along. "Eleven?"
"Yes! Finally," Elle nodded. Then she giggled. "Do you remember when you first told me about Peter, and you told me he was eleven?" Angela nodded. "Well, this is going to sound kind of silly. But I used to think that if I grew up fast enough, I could catch up to Peter one day and be old enough to play with him." Elle covered her mouth with her hands and laughed. "It actually took me several weeks to figure it how stupid that idea was."
Recalling that there were no other children of Elle's age in the facility, and that she never saw anyone other than Bob and the facility doctors, Angela suddenly felt rather melancholy.
"Well? What do you have for me this time?" Elle said eagerly. "More books?"
"Actually, I thought I'd try something a little different," Angela said, reaching for the case at her feet and hefting it onto the desk. "Although there will be more books for you later."
"What's this?" said Elle, as Angela unclasped the latches.
"This is Peter's old violin." Angela lifted it out of the case and placed it in Elle's hands.
"I don't know how to play this!" Elle said, looking appalled.
"Do you want to teach yourself?" Angela smiled. "It's something you can do in your free time," which Elle had in abundance, she did not point out, "but if not, you can have a little accident with it," she said teasingly. "I don't mind. It's yours now."
Elle looked torn, and finally looked resigned. "Well, I might as well. Got nothing better to do, right?"
"Good, because I also brought you these." Angela emptied a bag of books onto the desk, with names such as 'The Art of Violin Playing,' 'Teach Yourself Violin,' and a host of other similarly-titled books, along with several books of sheet music and a music stand. "If I remember correctly, you already know how to read sheet music, don't you?"
"A little, but that was years ago," Elle said. "What's this tape under the strings?"
"It's for fingering," Angela said, taking the violin from her and demonstrating. "It'll help you remember where to position your fingers. Once you get used to where the notes are, you can take it off." She placed the violin under her chin, cocked the bow, and played a short melody. Elle looked impressed.
"This all looks so hard," she said, flipping through the books. "I'm never going to learn, am I?"
Angela replaced the violin in the case thoughtfully. Without anyone to teach her the proper technique and supervise, the girl would probably develop a ton of bad habits and incorrect postures, become extremely confused, and eventually get sick of it. Of course, in place of a proper teacher, there were visual and audio aids that could be used, but Elle's tendency to emit a steady electric current even when at rest could potentially cause ... problems.
"How's your control?" Angela took Elle's hand. The gentle tingle of electricity strummed pleasantly against Angela's skin, and she thought to herself that Elle would make a great masseuse. Then, suddenly the buzzing sensation disappeared completely. Elle's face showed no sign of strain as she suppressed her power.
"Not bad," said Angela. "You think your dad would trust you with electronic equipment in here?"
"Like what?" Elle grinned.
"CD player, TV, VCR ... that sort of thing."
The shock of excitment Elle emitted was so strong that Angela actually yelped and fell to the ground. A stray bolt fell onto a book on the table and Elle patted it out with her hands before it could do too much damage, or before the sprinklers could activate. Angela groaned and tried to get up.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Elle laughed, helping her up, "I'm sorry, I really am -- and I'm never sorry!"
"You'll have to control yourself better than that, young lady," Angela said, trying to sound disapproving, but the girl's laughter was infectious, and Angela found herself laughing along. "Well, why don't you try the violin for a few weeks, and see if it interests you; if it does, I'll talk to your father about getting you some videos and CDs of people playing the violin, so you can watch and listen to how it's really done. How does that sound?"
Elle's grin grew shark-like.
"I hate to break it to you, but your father will probably be able to tell if you're faking an interest in the violin just to get a TV in here."
"I'll just have to be less obvious about it, then," Elle laughed. "Come on, show me, show me how to play!" She picked up the violin and imitated Angela's posture. "Like this?"
Angela showed Elle how to hold the bow correctly with her right hand, fixed the angle of the wrist holding the violin, and straightened her back. Then, placing one hand over Elle's right hand and the other under her left, she gently guided Elle's movements against the violin strings. The look of delight on Elle's face when she played a low, steady, E note filled Angela with pleasure. She talked Elle through the basics, showing her how to play individual notes and scales, and a few hours had passed before Angela realised how long she'd stayed.
"That should be enough to get you started for now." Angela glanced at her watch and stood to leave. She was surprised Bob hadn't come in and and dragged her out of there already.
"Really? I don't feel ready yet," Elle said, her brow furrowing. "Could you show me a little more?"
"I really should get going." Elle's face fell, and Angela found herself saying, "I'm in town for a couple of days, though, so maybe I could stop by again tomorrow. Only if that's okay with your dad, of course. And with you."
"Yeah," Elle said tentatively, her relief evident, "that would be okay by me," and Angela felt happy and sad all at once.
When Angela stopped by Bob's office before she left, Bob said simply, "I haven't seen her smile like that in years. We'll make time for you two tomorrow." Before Angela could thank him, he added, "we can always step up her testing afterwards."
Throughout the next two days, Angela taught Elle as much as she could, made her laugh, and laughed with her, but Bob's words hung over her like a dark cloud and stayed with her long after she left.
~~~~~
Company work was trying, and kept Angela abroad for months at a time, so whenever she had a chance to return to the country, she spent all her time with her family. Her sons were the one bright spot in her life, keeping the darkness at bay, and when she was with them she was able to forget, if only for a moment, their possible fate.
Yet, from time to time, she found herself wondering about Elle -- if she was getting the books and CDs and tapes she shipped to her father annually, if the violin had been burnt to a crisp by now, if the girl was even alive... though of course she would be alive, Angela told herself, for Bob would have informed them otherwise, wouldn't he? But he had always been unforthcoming on the topic of facility 'subjects,' and that went double for his daughter, but yet ...
Angela could not help but be flummoxed as to why among all subjects in the facility, she had shown particular interest in this one, who wasn't particularly unique -- she was not the only child in the facility, and not the only girl. But she was a child of one of the Twelve, and that, perhaps, made all the difference.
So it happened that it was not three, but a full four years before Angela next saw Elle, and she almost could not believe her eyes. Gone was the blond, blue-eyed little girl that had occupied a corner in the back of Angela's mind for the past four years. In her place was a taller, slender young woman, still growing, still blond and blue-eyed, but halfway to adulthood, and suddenly, it seemed, a lot more dangerous.
"You look shocked," Elle observed, her mouth curving into a fascinated smile as she peered inquisitively into Angela's face. She barely came up to Angela's nose.
"You've grown," Angela said. "Almost didn't recognise you." But that was a lie, because Angela was sure she could pick out this girl in any crowd, at any time.
"Well, it's certainly been a while," Elle laughed, giving Angela a quick, tight hug. The contact sent sparks down Angela's spine. Angela tried to step away from Elle's scrutiny, rather surprised at the girl's forwardness, but Elle's grip was insistent.
"I'm surprised you even remember me," said Angela, especially given all that the girl must have experienced up till now: the steady stream of researchers and psychiatrists that had come and gone, the test subjects she must have met and forgotten.
"You're the only person that's ever visited," Elle explained, casually playing with the buttons and lapels of Angela's coat, "and you bring me something every time. What do you have for me this time?"
"Um," Angela said. She hadn't thought of bringing anything. Teenagers were notoriously hard to impress to begin with, and what could she get a fifteen-year old girl she barely knew, anyway? "I suppose you've already tired of everything else you have."
Elle pulled back finally, giving Angela a thoughtful look. "You must be wondering what happened to the violin. Did Elle break it in a tantrum? Set it on fire?"
"I was thinking no such thing," said Angela assuringly, although the thought had crossed her mind several times throughout the years. Elle retrieved a violin case from under her bed and defiantly held up its contents.
"That's not the same violin," Angela pointed out.
"Yeah, well, I outgrew the other one," Elle said defensively, "even before the accident."
"Your father bought that for you?" Angela tried and failed to suppress a smile. The child was still in there, lurking just under the surface of the young woman. "I'm impressed you kept up with it."
In response, Elle raised the violin to her chin and began to play an instantly recognisable Bach's Partita No. 3, Gavotte en Rondeau. It was admittedly shaky and somewhat off-pitch, but the girl's earnestness and hard-work were obvious. Angela politely applauded when the girl was done.
"See? I can do something when I put my mind to it," said Elle. "Now where's my reward?"
Evidence that the girl was well accustomed to the carrot-stick school of motivation. Angela dug around in her handbag and managed to find a CD.
"Mendelssohn, Tchaikovsky Violin Concertos," Elle read. "Philadelphia Orchestra with Isaac Stern. This looks old."
"It is old," Angela admitted. "But it's one of my favourite recordings of arguably two of the most-loved violin concertos in the world."
"Is that so?" Elle dangled it from her fingers. "I guess I'll have to give it a try, then."
Angela looked around the room. "Where's your CD player? Don't tell me. Accident?"
"Ah... well. Let's not talk about me," Elle said.
"Okay, then," Angela pulled a picture out of her pocketbook. "There's Nathan, and there's Peter. All grown up now. Peter wants to be a nurse."
"A nurse," Elle wrinkled her nose. "Boring. Tell me about you now. Tell me everything you've been up to since I last saw you." She pulled Angela by the hand towards her bed and made her sit down, before curling up next to her.
Angela shrugged. "There's not that much to tell." There also wasn't much she was permitted to tell, either.
"But you're my only link to the outside world," Elle said, eyes large and round, resting her head against Angela's shoulder.
The girl sure knew the right buttons to press; Angela had to give her that.
She told Bob as much, on her way out. "That's all you have to say?" said Bob, leaning back in his chair. Angela looked at him uncomprehendingly. He tossed a manila folder across the desk, and Angela flipped it open and began to read.
"You can't be serious," Angela said in disbelief after a few minutes. "Sociopath with paranoid delusions? Elle? Who came up with this drivel?"
"I'd like to say I feel the same way you do," Bob said. "Unfortunately, every doctor that has examined her has come to the same conclusion."
"I don't believe this," Angela declared, disgustedly throwing the folder onto the table. "Not a word of it."
"Well then," Bob twirled a pen in his fingers, "she's sure got you fooled, huh?"
Angela drew herself up to her full height, giving him the frostiest glare she could summon, and stormed out of his office.
~~~~~
It had not quite been a full year before Angela next saw Elle again. This time, Bob was the one who called her.
"There's been a breakthrough in her progress," he informed her over the phone. "Would you like to see a demonstration?"
When Angela arrived, one week after the phone call, she was not the only one there. Bob had invited several other Company employees to witness what their next generation might be capable of. Angela supposed she was not the only concerned parent among them all. She nodded briefly at them as they waited outside the experiment room, not very interested in making small talk. She realised that she was nervous for what she was about to see.
Through the large observational window, Angela could see technicians and white-robed researchers fussing about the room, taping transparent insulating material around the floor and around the monitoring equipment. Every so often, Angela could hear their muffled speech and the crinkling of plastic filtering through the speakers to where they were waiting.
Soon, with the exception of two metal blocks, on opposite sides of the room, the entire room looked like it was covered in transparent wrap. Angela assumed those two blocks, taller than and twice as wide as a human, were going to be the highlights of the testing.
Once everything was covered and ready, the men left through the room's only exit, a door on the far wall of the experiment room, opposite to the window Angela and the others were outside of. After a few moments, the technicians emerged behind them. Some of them positioned themselves in front of the monitoring equipment scattered around them, while others moved to watch through the window. Bob stood next to Angela. He pressed a button and leaned into a microphone.
"Okay, we're ready for you."
The door opened; in walked Elle, and the group's immediate reaction was of varying discomfort. Angela gave a stunned gasp. Save the wires and connectors taped to her skin, running criss-cross over her head and face to the rest of her body, Elle was as naked as the day she was born.
"Her clothes burn off otherwise," Bob said, as Elle smiled and waved at her audience. "We save a ton of money this way, not to mention it helps prevent a lot of wasted cotton." At that moment, Elle caught Angela's eye and her smile brightened. She waved vigorously. Keeping her eyes firmly on the girl's face, out of respect and simmering rage, Angela plastered a smile on her face and waved back.
"Do you mean to tell me," she said through clenched teeth, fighting to keep the smile in place, "that ever since this girl was a child, during every single one of her so-called testing sessions," it was hard to keep her voice steady, "she has been paraded around without a strip of clothing, in front of your all-male staff?" Her voice rose shrilly. "That is your _daughter_, for God's sake."
"I'm well aware of that," Bob said calmly.
Angela stared at him. Had this what Kaito Nakamura had meant when he had told her, once in the past, that to save what is important to you, one must first cut out their own heart? Angela didn't buy it. If you had no heart, how could you know to love what was important to you -- and if you did not love that which was important to you, how could you save them?
Bob pressed the button on the microphone again. "Elle, can you hear me?"
"You're a little LOUD," Elle responded, her voice tinny through the speakers. "Where's the music?" Bob sighed, suddenly shifting into weary-parent mode and gestured to a technician. The strains of Tchaikovsky's Concerto in D major, first movement, could be heard coming from the experiment room.
"What's this for?" said Angela.
"She just decided one day, out of the blue, that she wanted music during the testing sessions -- insists it helps her concentrate," Bob sighed, sounding like a father who had decided the battle was not worth fighting. "Making sure the sound system doesn't short out constantly is no walk in the park." Angela watched as the girl closed her eyes and lifted her arms, listening to the music swell around her. "She's rather partial to string concertos," Bob added neutrally.
"Elle, let's get started," he said into the microphone, and turned to address the rest of the room. "As you all know, Elle's power is to generate a voltage difference between her and the environment, and perform a spontaneous or continuous electrical discharge. She is like a generator and capacitor all in one. Elle, Level two, if you will." Angela watched as sparks of electricity darted from Elle's skin and flew in straight paths from her body, striking various corners of the room, leaving scorch marks where they landed.
"You will notice two things," Bob pointed out. "Firstly, every inch of her skin is capable of discharging electricity -- this also means that when she attempts this, the electricity leaves from every inch of her skin. Thus the burnt clothes."
Someone asked, "How's her hair stay unharmed?" and everyone in the group except Angela chuckled.
"It wasn't always like that. We can only surmise that over time her hair developed a conductivity to electricity, or, simply became immune to it," said Bob. "At any rate. The second thing of note is that the electricity leaves her body in every direction -- that is to say, there is no directional control over this power by default. Everyone, you may want to cover your eyes. Elle, Level five."
This time, intense lightning zapped from Elle in all directions; the crackling in the air completely drowned out the music playing through the speakers. Elle was illuminated, for a moment, the lightning rod in the centre of the room, and everyone took a step back as a smattering of electricity smacked into the window. Scorch marks were now visible nearly everywhere in the room, including the window they were looking through, but they were not dense enough to obstruct the entire view. Angela could see Elle smiling coyly at her through the window, as if to say, see what I can do?
Bob cleared his throat. "This is at its best, pure chaos. At its worst, it is wanton destruction. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Uncontainable." Angela's knees grew weak. Then Bob smiled. "However, if we can channel this chaotic energy into a single focussed point, it has the potential to become a useful tool. A lethal tool, but useful nonetheless. Elle, if you will."
Elle turned away from the window, then, and faced the metal block to Angela's right. Exerting visible effort, she squeezed her fists, keeping her arms at her side. Stray bolts of electricity shot from the backs of her arms and legs, striking the ground harmlessly, but by far the majority of her power was concentrated forward. Continuous, uninterrupted streams of lightning flowed from the front of her body and struck the metal block, so concentrated that it looked like a human-sized energy mass flowing continuously.
"Good work," said Bob loudly. "Now the other."
The stream of energy suddenly dimmed slightly, and the stray bolts of light bouncing off Elle's back now became energy beams equal in magnitude to the ones exiting from her front. Now there were two huge energy masses striking both metal blocks, and from where Angela stood, it looked like a wall of electric energy, five-foot high, streaming from a pale, human young woman at its centre.
"Crank it up, Elle. And turn to face us if you can."
The light leaving Elle's body intensified, and she slowly, painstakingly rotated her body ninety degrees to face the window. She was visibly struggling to keep her the wall of energy under control and pointed in the right direction. Every so often, the ends of the walls danced dangerously close to the edge of the metal blocks, threatening to spill off and strike the wall beyond. Finally, she was facing the window head-on, her body heaving with effort, her face contorted into a grimace. Angela realised she was in pain.
"Good job, Elle," Bob shouted to be heard above the crackling. "Turn it off." The wall of light disappeared, and the girl sank to her knees, her chest heaving. Someone tapped a button and the classical music went silent. The technicians applauded and cheered. Elle looked up and acknowledged her audience with an ugly grin.
"What was that? A Level ten?" someone joked.
"Level four," Bob said soberly. "You do not want to see a Level ten. Now, if you would follow me, we can all take a look at the numbers in some detail and discuss some applications of this power." The Company members shuffled after Bob, save Angela, who was watching the solitary girl in the experiment room struggle to her feet.
"Why is Elle still in there?" she asked.
"The air in that room still carries enough electricity to kill an ox," Bob said. "She needs time to discharge, along with the room, before she comes out." Bob glanced at Angela. "If you'd prefer to stay and keep her company --"
"I would," said Angela tightly. Bob looked at her for a moment longer, then looked at Elle, then left.
Angela picked up the microphone. "Can you hear me?" Elle nodded and smiled. She made her way slowly to the window and plastered her upper body against the glass, squishing her breasts out of shape.
"So what did you think?" her voice came over the speakers. She smiled rakishly. "I'm pretty amazing, huh?"
"Yes, you are," Angela said, swallowing a lump in her throat. "You're pretty amazing." She touched Elle's hand through the glass, wanting no more than to take the girl in her arms and hold her. Releasing a shuddering breath, she pressed her forehead to the glass, meeting Elle's on the other side.
"Why are you crying?" Elle said, sounding genuinely surprised. Angela lowered the microphone and covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her sobs.
"I'm so sorry," Angela said, but of course Elle couldn't hear her.
~~~~~
After that, Angela began to visit a lot more frequently, partly out of guilt, partly out of compassion, and partly because it seemed like Elle could use a friendly face. She always made sure to stop by when she knew Elle was not undergoing a testing session.
"Aww, you missed something amazing," Elle grinned said one day. "I want to show you what I can do now."
"That's okay. Once was enough," Angela said.
"Don't be shy. Look. Watch." Elle positioned her hand in front of a metal tray. She clenched her teeth, and a small ball of electricity formed in her hand and darted towards the tray.
"Should you be doing this in your bedroom?" Angela said, getting to her feet and making sure the exit was in close reach.
"I'm careful," Elle said. "But see? I can concentrate it in my hands now. It's so nice not to have to worry about burning my clothes."
"That's ... very impressive." Angela let Elle tug her onto the bed again, and wondered if she should ask Elle to give her some space. Elle was forever touching some part of her, playing with her hair, or earrings, or her clothing, and she wasn't always careful, so Angela would often find herself being shocked or zapped in some way or another. It didn't hurt too much, but it was just startling enough to keep her in a state of heightened alert.
One day, as Elle wrapped her arms around her neck, Angela finally asked, "Why are you always touching me?" It was one thing for a child of eleven to be so clingy, but for a young woman of seventeen, it felt a little out-of-place.
"Because I like touching you," Elle said, eyes round and a little sad. "Are you angry with me?"
"No, no," Angela said carefully. "I was just curious, that's all."
"Touching is nice," Elle said, rather mournfully. "No one else lets me touch them. No one else ever touches me. You're the only one. You're the only one who's never been afraid of me." And she pressed her face in the crook of Angela's neck.
Angela froze. It had been some time since her sons had outgrown hugs and physical displays of affection, so she felt a little out of practice, but after a while her arms circled Elle's back and returned the hug. At that, Elle sent a surge of electricity through Angela that made the back of her scalp prickle, and all the hairs on her body stood on end.
Bob commented to Angela when she left, "Are you comfortable letting her get so physical with you? She can kill you at any time, you know." Naturally, he had a direct video feed of everything going on in Elle's room.
"No one, not even her own father, will trust her," Angela glared. "And you wonder why she's the way she is? She needs love, Bob. Physical contact. A reassuring hug at the end of a long day, a kiss goodnight. She's never gotten these things, but by God, someone has to give them to her, and if not you, then I will."
And so from then on, whenever Angela visited, she would just hold the girl and let the girl hold her back in silence. They had long run out of things to tell each other, at any rate, and the quiet giggles and pleased noises Elle made at the contact substituted for their dialogue. Certainly, Angela found it strange, but then again nothing had ever been normal with Elle. Probably this was too little too late, and it was never going to be enough to fill the void in Elle's heart, but Angela hoped that it was better than nothing.
One day, Angela realised that perhaps Bob had legitimate cause for concern when Elle began to trace her lips along her jawline. Before she realised what was happening, Elle had kissed her on the mouth.
"Elle --" Angela leaned back, a little stunned at the act, and the jolt of electricity that had stung her mouth.
"What's wrong?" Elle said in alarm, realising Angela had frozen rigidly. "Did I hurt you?" Angela shook her head, but before she could explain, Elle smiled, "I'm glad, because this feels good," and kissed her again.
"Ah -- Elle -- you should stop doing that," Angela said, attempting to extricate herself from Elle's arms.
"Why?" Elle said petulantly. "You said it didn't hurt."
"No, but --" Angela floundered. "It's not very appropriate."
"What isn't?" Elle frowned.
"This -- kiss. You kissing me."
"What's not appropriate about it?"
This was not a question Angela was prepared for. "Ah, well, you see," Angela cursed Bob for never giving Elle the birds and the bees talk, "people only kiss when they like each other very much."
"Well, I like you," said Elle, matter-of-factly. "I like you a lot. Don't you like me?"
Oh, good God.
"I -- like you," Angela said forcefully. "But it's has to be a special kind of like for people to kiss each other. Do you understand?"
"I don't like anyone else the way I like you," Elle said. "Is that special enough?"
"I don't -- I don't know," Angela said feebly. "Elle, you see, this kissing thing. It usually happens between a man and a woman." Oh, for God's sake, now she sounded like a bigot, which was the last thing she wanted, especially in front of an impressionable young girl.
"Really?" Elle's eyes widened. "Why is that?"
It had been so much easier with her own children. But then again, neither of her sons had ever tried to kiss her the way Elle had just did.
"Sometimes, two men and two women can kiss, too. But only in very very special circumstances," Angela tried to explain.
"I'm special, aren't I?" Elle grinned, kissing her again, and this time, the jolt in Angela's stomach that had nothing to do with electricity.
Fuck. Holy mother of god. She was a married woman, with two sons, and Elle's hands were on her face, on her neck, and Angela arched her body into the girl's, and oh God, she was kissing the girl back.
This wasn't happening.
"Elle, we can't," Angela gasped, and froze. We. We can't. Not you can't, but we can't, and when had this become a we? _How long_ had this been a we? Oh god.
"Why not?" The look of hurt in Elle's eyes made Angela's stomach clench. "You don't want to kiss me?"
Angela steadfastly refused to think about the answer to that question. "You're just a child," she croaked. Yes, Angela, a child, a goddamn child, just look at her --
"I'm not a child," Elle shouted, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Ask my father. He says I'm nearly an adult woman. Just ask him. He's always saying I need to act my age and be like a grown-up." Elle thought furiously. "Does that mean we can kiss when I'm a proper grown up?"
God. Elle's father. "Your father would not be happy," Angela said.
But Elle wasn't listening. "I can just kiss you once I'm eighteen, right?" she realised. "I can wait." And she flung her arms around the woman joyously. "Come see me on my birthday!"
There was a sharp rap at the door. Angela straightened immediately. She knew what that meant.
"Elle, I have to go, okay?" Angela whispered. "Your father wants me."
"Am I in trouble?" Elle swallowed. This was the first time Angela had left at someone else's bidding. "Will I see you again?"
"Yes," said Angela, and she pressed her lips to Elle's forehead. "I'll see you next time."
Once Bob saw Angela emerge from the room, he immediately strode down the hallway. Angela had to hurry to keep up.
"You listen to me, Angela Petrelli," he said. "The only reason I let you anywhere near my daughter is because you've been good to her. She likes you. You seemed like the only person capable of stablising her. But now look what's happened." He snorted angrily.
"I didn't do anything," Angela said, sounding more outraged than she felt, "but none of this would have happened if you had taken the time to talk to her about these -- these matters."
"What matters?" Bob cried. "She's just a child."
"Oh for heaven's sake, she's a young woman," Angela responded. "Have you no eyes? It's only human to want to reach out and touch someone."
"Then what do you suggest I do?" Bob rounded on her, his eyes wild. "Find her some nubile young man and let her have her way with him?"
"I'm not suggesting anything of the sort," Angela snapped.
"Obviously not. Her tastes clearly run much older, for the same gender, too," Bob glared at her. "Oh, Elle. My little girl."
"Stop being ridiculous," Angela hissed. "She's just young and confused and doesn't know what to do with her ... urges. Just give her some time. Everything will work itself out." She swallowed. "I probably shouldn't see her for a while."
"I think that's probably for the best," Bob said coldly.
~~~~~
Several months later, Bob called.
"How has she been?" Angela said.
Bob was silent for a moment. "Are you free next Thursday? It's Elle's birthday. She says she wants you here."
Angela nearly dropped the phone. She couldn't imagine that Bob would let Elle see her if he knew of Elle's intentions. "Do you know why?"
"She didn't say." Bob sighed. "She's been rather ... ill-tempered lately." Ever since she last saw you, he did not add, even though both of them knew it to be the truth.
"I'll be there," Angela said, and Bob hung up.
When she got there, Bob escorted her to a different room than usual. It looked like the type of room used for questioning. Elle was seated behind a plastic table, and Angela sat across from her. Bob gave Angela a look, then glanced at Elle, and left the room.
"Happy birthday," Angela said. Elle did not look very happy.
"They're watching us," she said sullenly, and Angela nodded. "Dad said that if I touch you, he's never going to let me see you again." Angela nodded again. Bob had told her as much, outside the room.
"I don't understand," Elle wailed. "I wasn't hurting you. What did I do wrong? No one will tell me."
"It's okay, Elle," Angela said soothingly. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then why are they punishing me?" Elle looked bewildered. "Are you angry? Are you angry with me? Is that why you stopped coming?"
"I could never be angry at you." And even as Angela said the words, she knew they were the godforsaken truth. "You asked me to come, right? And I came. I'm here now." She smiled what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Your father said it's okay for me to keep coming back. Isn't that nice?"
"I don't know," said Elle. "I thought it would be, but it feels like torture to see you so close and not be able to touch you. I don't know if I can put up with that forever. Lift your feet off the ground."
"What?"
"Do it, now." Angela did, mystified, and instantly, spidery strands of electricity instantaneously burst from Elle's feet, spreading over the floor, carpeted every square inch, every wall, of the room. The sight was blinding and magical, and it was the most beautiful thing Angela had ever seen.
The lights went out, as did the cameras and recording equipment.
There was a loud banging on the door outside. "Angela? Angela!" Bob's voice shouted. "Shit, the door's been melted shut --"
"I'm alive," Angela quavered in the darkness, balancing on her seat, afraid to put her feet on the ground.
"If you come in, I'll kill her," Elle called. The banging stopped.
Angela breathed in sharply. "What do you want?"
"I want to touch you," Elle said simply. "I want to touch you all over, and kiss you all over, and I want you to do the same to me."
Angela made a strangled noise. Those words had electrified her more than any of Elle's touches ever had. Bob would probably kill her if he knew.
"I couldn't do it with them watching me, though." Angela heard Elle pad silently towards her, and suddenly felt the familiar tingle of Elle's fingers on her neck.
"Do you realise what you've done?" Angela breathed, leaning into the touch against her will.
"I'll probably never see you again," Elle said casually. "But if I can't touch you, there's no point in seeing you." And then Angela felt a small, warm mouth devouring her own, and she whimpered.. After a moment, Elle pulled back. "Well?"
"Well, what?" Angela managed.
"I don't want to hurt you," Elle said. "I'll stop any time you tell me to."
"I don't believe you," Angela said.
"I mean it when I say I don't want to hurt you." Elle kissed her again, and Angela felt Elle's mouth smile against her own. "But you won't tell me to stop, will you?" She tugged Angela out of her chair and pushed her against the table. "Because -- you are enjoying this -- as much as I am."
"Yes," Angela sighed, surrendering to Elle's embrace. Elle burned a straight line down Angela's clothing with an electrified finger, and pulled the fabric from Angela's body. Angela heard a zap, and the smell of burning cotton, and Elle was completely naked as well. She pressed her body flush against Angela's.
"Oh," Elle sounded like she was about to cry. "This feels like heaven."
Angela kissed Elle's face and mouth and neck in response, and Elle moaned, the sound sending shivers down Angela's spine. She wanted this, she realised. The boundary had already been crossed, the limits already breached; she might as well go all the way. Or perhaps Angela had already made this decision long ago. She wasn't sure. She didn't want to think about it.
She pushed Elle against the table and kissed her way down Elle's body. Her breasts were small and firm, and Elle arched towards her mouth. When she took a nipple between her lips, Elle gave off a wave of small electric shocks. Angela wondered if she was going to be a burnt carcass by the time this was all over.
"Don't stop," Elle gasped. "Please don't stop. Oh, please, kiss me again." Angela straightened and kissed Elle on the lips. Her fingers crept down to the spot between Elle's legs. The girl was wet, and ready. "Touch me," the girl moaned, and Angela plunged a finger inside her. Elle screamed and spasmed, and the resultant electric shock nearly knocked Angela out cold.
When Angela opened her eyes groggily, she was lying on the floor. It felt cold beneath her back. Elle's face was right in front of her, illuminated by a ball of light on the tip of her finger.
"You're not dead, are you?" Elle whispered in concern, throwing her arms around her. "I was worried for a second."
"I don't think I can move," Angela croaked, tempted to laugh. Shocked to death by a girl's orgasm. Her husband would die of shame.
"That's okay," Elle said, lying down next to her. "It's my turn to touch you now."
The girl danced her fingers and mouth along Angela's body, marveling at the weight of another person's breasts in her palms, the feeling of skin not her own, the taste and smell of sweat and lust and fear. She regulated the amount of electricity flowing from her to a gentle, thrumming pulse, and Angela's senses were pushed to the brink of ecstasy. She had never felt more alive.
When Elle's hand moved between Angela's legs, instead of stroking her fingers up and down through her wetness, Elle just held her fingers in place, stimulating Angela's aching clitoris with her power again and again and again. Twitching and moaning like a helpless marionette, Angela thought she was going to die from pleasure. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.
"Stop, please," she groaned, and the waves of electricity subsided, like a warm wave receding from a beach. "Oh, my god."
Elle pressed her cheek against Angela's shoulder. "I think I love you." Angela sighed, and rubbed Elle's back. "I'll never love anyone like I love you."
"You're still young," Angela said.
"If I ever get out of here, I'll come find you," Elle breathed against Angela's throat. "And then we'll do this again. Promise?"
So young, Angela thought, wanting to cry.
They lay there, entwined together for hours before they fell asleep.
~~~~~
Angela awoke to the sound of the door being rammed down, and her eyes flew open. Footsteps stamped against the floor and rang inside her ears. Security guards marched into the room, followed by Bob -- and Arthur. Her husband.
"Get up," Bob jerked his daughter to her feet, and she was roughly escorted out of the room. Angela caught a look of desperation in Elle's face before she disappeared. Bob glared at Angela, who was trying to cover herself with pieces of clothing.
"I will only ask you this once," Bob said. He was furious. "At any time, were you forced to do anything against your will?"
This was her chance, Angela realised, as Arthur looked at her with sorrow-filled eyes, to pin the blame entirely on Elle, to chalk this up to her delusions and her youth. This was her chance to put this entire episode behind her.
"No," Angela heard herself saying. "It's not Elle's fault. It's mine. I led her on." Arthur spun on his heel and left the room.
Bob kicked a chair over. "I don't believe you," he spat. "You have too much self-esteem to do something like this. Shit, Angela, I can't believe this. That's my daughter. Can you imagine if I tried something like this to Peter? Would you ever forgive me? Think about that. That's how I feel right now."
Angela refused to entertain that thought, and instead followed Bob warily with her eyes. "What are you going to do to her?"
"You'll find out soon enough," said Bob. Right on cue, a lanky, dark-skinned man entered the room. Bob turned to him. "Is it done?" The dark-skinned man nodded.
"No," Angela stared. "You wouldn't."
"You're bad for my daughter, Angela," Bob said, running a hand over his bald spot. "You must agree, the best way is to eradicate the root of evil. If we can't kill you, erasing all memory of you from her is the next best thing." Bob nodded, and the Haitian approached Angela, his hands outstretched.
"No," Angela cried, scrabbling backwards. "Don't take her from me. Please."
Bob looked at Angela in wonderment. "Have you lost your mind, woman? Has your brain been shocked into mincemeat?"
"I don't know," Angela said in despair. She could never cut out her heart. She would cradle her heart closely, even if it was bruised and battered and bleeding, so that she would always know to love what she sought to protect. "I will never appear again in front of her for as long as I live. Just don't take my memories of her."
Bob cleared his throat, and the Haitian halted. "You will never come to this facility again, as long as Elle is here," Bob said.
Angela nodded. "I understand." She turned to the Haitian. "Can you do one thing for me?" she begged. "Can you go to my husband, and --" she couldn't continue.
The Haitian looked at her appraisingly. Bob sighed. "I doubt this will ruin your marriage, but it's better to be safe than sorry." The Haitian nodded and left. Angela curled up into a ball and hugged her knees.
"I just wanted her to be protected," Angela said softly. "Loved."
"You've done enough," Bob said heavily. He gestured, and someone brought him a set of hospital clothing. He tossed it at Angela's feet. "Get dressed. Then get out of here."
A few minutes later, Arthur came in and gave her a hug. "You've gone through a rough time," he said, kissing her forehead comfortingly. "Let's go."
On their way out, they passed Elle being escorted by Bob in the opposite direction. The girl did not so much as glance in their direction, and Angela knew that whatever there had been between them was well and truly over.
"Wait," Bob said, and Angela halted. "Elle, I want you to meet a friend of mine." Elle stopped and looked Angela in the face. She showed no sign recognising her. "Do you know who this is, Elle?"
"Uh, one of your friends?" said Elle, exhibiting the exasperation of a teenager who had just been asked a dumb question. "Should I know her?"
"It doesn't matter," Angela said. "You'll never see me again."
"Well, in that case," Elle said briskly, "nice meeting you." She extended her hand for a handshake, and Angela hesitated before taking it. A low shock of energy traveled down her arm, and she jumped back.
"Haha," Elle cackled, "gotcha."
"Elle," Bob said sharply.
"What?" Elle said.
Angela stared at her. Had it been a sign? Did it mean something? She couldn't tell. And she'd never know.
"Come on, Angela," Arthur said, glaring at Bob and his daughter, "let's go." He put an arm around his wife and they left the facility, arm in arm. "Let's put all this behind us, shall we?" Arthur smiled encouragingly.
"Yes, let's," Angela smiled back. She did not know what her husband believed. She would never ask.
~~~~~
Thanks for reading.