Everything Goes Dark 4/7
Title: Everything Goes Dark 4/7
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Beta: Matt and Chris
Pairings: Elle/Claire, hints at Nathan/Peter
Overall Pairings: Elle/Eden, Elle/Claire, Sylar/Mohinder, Peter/Sylar, Nathan/Peter, Elle/Adam, and Claire/Peter (unrequited)
Characters: Claire, Elle, Peter, and Hiro
Genre: Drama, Angst, Dark Future Fic
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An AU fic based on the Five Years Gone Verse
Word Count: A little over 2,900
Spoilers: Light spoilers for Volumes 1 and 2
Overall Warnings: Violence, Character Death, Sex, Incest (Graphic Only In Chapter 2), Non-Con (Only In Chapter 6)
Notes: Dedicated to slavefaith. And a big thank you to ladywilde80 for helping me with the inspiration and to Matt and Chris for giving me the courage to post! Constructive criticism is always loved and comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too. Title from "Everything Goes Dark" by The Hoosiers
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, if I did, well...wouldn't Heroes be interesting?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Everything Goes Dark 4/7:
Although Claire made an effort to let Andy down nicely, he was understandably disappointed by her refusal. No matter what she said, he simply did not give up. He kept eying her, asking if she'd changed her mind yet. Frankly, he was beginning to agitate her.
When Elle found out, she straightened out the issue real quick. She spent an entire day glaring at him from her usual seat, fingers sparking blue whenever she caught him so much as staring in Claire's direction. There was no exception for that rule.
Claire ordered her not to use any powers, even for her, so Elle was forced to accomplish her mission the old fashioned way.
Claire had no idea that while she was collecting dirty dishes from the tables, Elle had abandoned her post to follow Andy into the back room., fingers curled none too gently around his throat, eyes hard as steal; brazen.
“Don't look at her, don't so much as think about her. She's mine. Got it?”
And that was that. Problem solved.
Andy was too scared to even talk to her. It was sort of sad, but Claire sympathized; Elle could be damn intimidating.
After that tiny obstacle, it was pretty much free sailing. They spent virtually every second together, and neither complained about having no time to themselves. Elle was the most enthusiastic of the two. When they sat together to watch a movie, Elle had to be touching her; whether it was holding hands or mere fingers on her arm.
In Elle's mind, contact was essential. And Claire definitely didn't object; nonetheless, she did sometimes have to act as the bad guy and tone it down in public. After all, society remained brutal towards anyone who didn't fit in their quaint little categories.
In spite of all of society's restrictions, she still found herself behaving like an addict.
She got twitchy at work because she couldn't wait to go home and see Elle, or became pissy when Elle didn't visit her at work every few days - or, as her condition deteriorated, every day.
Despite being so clingy, things couldn't have been going better. They were, however, attempting to take things slow, as both were afraid to upset their unanticipated equilibrium and screw it all up. Even with their apprehensive restraint, their relationship progressed naturally.
First base transformed into a tentative second and then, in a fit of passion, a very daring third.
Deft fingers tore apart the buttons and zippers holding clothes at the seams, freeing flesh into the chilly air only to be warmed once more by the gentle caress of equally flushed skin. Sweetly tinged mouths on yielding lips and gooseflesh, stoking the fire; doubt tossed aside.
Elle led the way, allowing Claire to enjoy the sensation of utter mystery, feeding off of her provocative moans and whispers of adoration.
Electrically charged fingertips explored the most intimate of secrets; a perpetual array of indulgence and gratification, alight with devotion and heady lust.
The sweet, spontaneous union completed the puzzle for the two; answering all unresolved questions of “is this right?” with an utterly distinct “yes.”
------------------------
They felt as though life, even as fugitives, was sheer Nirvana. Of course, as was their fate, right when they settled down, all hell broke loose.
Elle and Claire sat on the couch, clutching at each other's hands as it was announced: Nathan Petrelli's first act as President would be the commencement of the Linderman Acts. All Specials would be rounded up, tagged, cast in a database and tracked. They could not marry, they could not produce offspring.
Families were torn apart, lives destroyed, and all Elle and Claire could do was watch it unfurl right before their eyes.
The mayhem spread as far as the irrelevant town of Midland. Right down the road a man was shot for trying to get his wife back from the police. Assault, they'd claimed. Bullshit. It was all bullshit.
Not only did indignation infest itself, but also fear. Their abilities couldn't help them if they were up against a whole group of specially trained police; they'd be done for.
Claire's father contacted them immediately, ordering them to stay where they were, that the identities he'd set up should be enough to protect them. He mailed them a couple extra bottles of the liquid that would alter their blood smears, suggesting they keep at least two containers on them at all times.
He informed them to brace themselves. Circumstances were going to get even more disconcerting.
Being careful was of utmost importance; both understood this and did what they had to in order to hang on to what they had established together.
------------------------
The crisp reverberation of a knock at the door woke Elle. She groaned at the unwelcome wake-up call, her arms tightening around Claire's half naked form. Claire, alerted by both the intrusive sound and Elle's unhappy grip, was up in the blink of an eye. Her movement caused Elle to jolt up as well. They looked at each other, grogginess vanishing.
Claire tossed on a t-shirt over her black satin underwear before grabbing a gun from the frame of the bed. Elle wasn't quite as worried about her appearance. She was a-okay in underwear as long as she had her powers to protect her. Despite her unabashed confidence, Claire wasted no time throwing a shirt at her.
“Put it on. We can't be certain of who that is. It could be my father.”
Elle sighed, but gave in. After all, she didn't want to freak out poor, oblivious Papa Bennet. When her attire appeased Claire's request, she followed the girl out to the living room. It turned out that they didn't need to answer the door at all; their guests were already waiting for them.
Peter Petrelli, a Peter that Claire didn't entirely recognize. He was sporting a slicked-back haircut and a face equipped with an ominous scar while being discretely devoid of hope, stood patiently in the living room.
With him was a Japanese man with the countenance of an optimist whose life had been mangled until it was reduced to something indiscernible; similar to so many of their kind. He also had a semblance of a patched beard on his chin and wore a Samurai sword on his back. Elle was instantly intrigued by that, big and shiny as it was.
Though her interest was peaked, her gun remained primed and aimed at Peter, who was unquestionably the one in charge.
“You can tell your friend to put down the gun. I don't feel like getting shot. It stings,” Peter said nonchalantly.
Claire smiled so widely that each flawless white tooth was visible. She bounded forward and enveloped the man in her arms, “Peter! I thought you were dead!”
“You should have known differently, Claire.”
Elle gaped, “Peter? Peter Petrelli?” She remembered seeing his name in the files kept in Company possession. She'd studied up on the Petrelli's when her hatred for Nathan had become inescapable. Peter was his brother, an empath. She knew full well he was Claire's Uncle as well, but the way she looked at him unsettled her.
She was not familiar with the man he had come with. She really didn't care. Peter had her complete attention. The two had since ended their embrace, but Elle had yet to lower the gun.
Claire walked over to her and placed a hand around the cold muzzle of the weapon, frowning, “Elle, he's not competition.” Not anymore. She had Elle and that was enough for her.
Elle detected no lies in her eye. Contented, she finally uncocked the gun and let it drop to her side. Desiring a distraction, she focused on the man with the sword instead. “Who're you?”
“My name is Hiro Nakamura. It's nice to meet you both, especially you, Claire.” His voice, shaped by broken syllables, was residual of his native language. He obviously had not left his original accent behind even if he had clearly been Americanized. Elle respected that.
It didn't take long for her to fully process the consequences of his words. “Nakamura... Kaito's son, right?”
The man merely nodded.
“I know why you two are here,” Elle said, “You want to take down Nathan.”
Peter winced at the name, gritting his teeth defensively, “That man is not Nathan. Nathan is dead... It's Sylar. He killed Nathan, somehow got the ability over illusions and he's now parading around as my brother."
Elle's heart ceased beating in an instant. Sylar was involved in all of this? This had to be some cruel joke...
“How can you be so sure?” Claire asked.
“I heard it in his mind. I could just.. tell.” There was profound sorrow in Peter's voice and Claire's heart hurt for him. She'd never brought up what she'd seen that day and she never would. Even if Nathan was indeed deceased, her decision endured. Peter would not require a reminder anyways, not to mention it would serve no purpose.
Peter's grief suddenly burgeoned into a deeper anguish, apparent in his bleeding brown eyes, and as a result, she realized that, somehow, he had perceived what she was thinking. Claire went bug-eyed, hastily trying to fix whatever damage she'd induced. “Peter...”
He raised a hand, silencing her, “No. We won't discuss it now. Or ever. Please.”
She nodded without reluctance, “Alright. Do you two need anything? Water, something to eat?”
“Water would be nice, if it's no trouble,” Hiro asked almost too politely.
Claire glanced at Elle to ask her to go get Hiro a drink, but her manners were forgotten once she saw the girl's posture. She was staring past the men, arms slumped, eyes lost in thought.
Claire placed a hand on her shoulder, “Elle?”
She shuddered at her touch, pulling her eyes from nowhere back to reality, to Claire. “Sorry. I...”
Claire narrowed her eyes curiously but her girlfriend evidently did not wish to speak about it. She simply nodded and went to get the glass herself while Elle took a seat on the couch.
Her eyes drifted to Peter, dormant wrath viable once more. “You said Nathan is really Sylar?”
“Yes,” Peter answered cautiously.
“And you're going to kill him?” Elle was quite certain of what he was going to reply with, but she thought she'd ask nevertheless.
“That's what we're hoping, yes.”
“Then I'm coming with you.”
“Wait just a god damn second!” Claire exclaimed from the doorway, stalking forward to roughly hand Hiro his drink before marching over to Elle. “I'm not letting you put yourself in that much danger.”
Elle bristled and rose to her feet, eyes narrowed, “Yes, you can and you will. I have to do this.”
It was all her fault. If she hadn't fucked up and gotten hurt, Eden would have never fathomed taking Sylar on by herself and he would never escaped to wreak this chaos.
She was leaving Claire in the dark on the matter of why it was so imperative, she knew that. She'd told her about Eden, but she never who had killed her and on what grounds. She was too ashamed of the truth.
“Like Hell you do!” Claire said, voice raised an octave higher than normal.
“You two, please stop fighting and hear us out. We came here for more than to tell you what was going on, you know,” Peter interjected, attempting to break up the quarrel before it had the chance to intensify and a neighbor came to investigate.
Claire and Elle both gave him death glares but sat down, side by side on the couch.
Peter took a chair. Hiro stayed standing.
“Sylar has gathered a good number of Specials to his side. But one of his most crucial assets is a human scientist, Mohinder Suresh. I met the man prior to all of this. I'm positive he's under the impression that he is doing the right thing and working for a respectable man. I'm entirely convinced that if we reveal the truth to him, he'll join our cause.”
“Why is he so important?” Claire inquired.
“Because Suresh is working on a cure. An injection that will rid us of our abilities. Imagine a world where one person had control over such an influential weapon. There would be no one to fight him. He'd be the only person with abilities; he'd become dictator of not just the U.S., but of the world. We have to stop him.”
Elle shrugged, “Why don't you just kill Suresh?”
Peter rounded on her, eyes narrowed, “Because he's a good man.”
Elle simply could not comprehend his do-gooder nature. She'd been taught logic and that cold and calculated deeds would win any proposed battle. “War demands sacrifices.”
“No,” Peter pressed, “We can get him to work with us. He doesn't deserve to die.”
“So, let me get this straight. You are planning to kidnap a man who is probably just as well protected as Sylar and walk out with him? You aren't even going to go after Sylar, are you?” Elle's voice dripped with disdain; she'd previously been given plenty of excuses not to be a fan of this Peter Petrelli and his nonsensical scheme just bolstered her judgment.
Peter shook his head, “We can't. Not without Mohinder. That's why he's so vital. We need that cure for ourselves...”
“Can't you just kill Sylar? He may have a lot of abilities, but surely not as many as you. And you're immortal,” Claire added.
“He..” Peter bit his lip, as if he was too embarrassed to continue. Eventually, he admitted defeat, “He is too.”
Claire's went stiff, eyes narrowed in disbelief, “What? How?!”
Elle provided this answer with bitter determination, “Adam Monroe.” The name brought back so many memories. She still recalled the feel of him, the primal delight she'd found in his arms. Nothing compared to Eden or Claire, but he had been her first lover, if he could be called that, and therefore deserved at least a moment of her time.
“He's an immortal like you, Claire. Nearly 400 years old. He was taken to Nathan by an ex employee of my father right before I came here. He's also a founder of the Company. I guarantee that he's still alive and being used for his knowledge as well as his ability. If you get Suresh, you have to get Adam too.”
This information seemed new to Peter and his eyes lit up, “Adam Monroe... Thank you.”
Elle nodded, “Now, you two, I assume, came here for Claire's help with this insane plan?” She doubted they'd been expecting a second girl, the idea of their confusion sort of made her smile. “If you want her, you get me too.”
She raised her hand, crackling lighting in her hand. Claire grasped her wrists and yanked her hand down.
“Show off,” Claire muttered.
Elle smirked, quite proud of that fact.
Peter raised his own hand and closed his eyes, mimicking her lightning, wearing a haughty expression. He opened one eye so he could gage her reaction, remnants of his old, carefree nature glimmering free.
Elle ascended, vindictive, taking it as a challenge. He may have been able to copy her ability, but there was no way he was as efficient and deadly as she was.
Claire forced her down, huffing at Peter, “Oh quit it. I see, even with that new 'I'm-not-taking-any-bullshit' appearance of yours, Peter, you're still capable of immaturity.” She'd expected that from Elle, but not from her Uncle.
Peter laughed, the sound coming out gruff, as if he had not uttered a cheerful noise in years.
Hiro finally took a step forward, wishing for this reunion to be finished. They had but little time. “Will you help us, or not?”
Elle didn't even hesitate, “Yes.”
“Elle! Can't we think about this first?” Claire reasoned.
“What's there to think about, Claire? You can't die and I'm an experienced Company Agent. We can do this.”
She scoffed, "Experienced? You didn't work there that long, Elle.”
“Don't you dare... Come on. You've seen the news. Panic everywhere. People, our people, are dying because of Sylar. Because no one is doing anything to help. You've got to want to change that. I know you do!” Elle begged, eyes wide, unnaturally noble. It was unmistakable; she didn't want to do this for wholly selfish justifications.
That was a new one. And it was all it took to sway her opinion.
Claire released a trembling breath, closing her eyes for a second. “We'll do it.”
“Great. “ Peter stood, “We need to get out of here as soon as possible. I doubt either of you have had to fight for your life in quite some time, so you'll both need a bit of practice before we attempt anything too significant.”
Elle looked between the two, “We'll pack tonight. Do you want to stay, or come back later?”
“We'll return for you tomorrow. Sleep and then prepare.”
Elle felt a bit odd, like she was in a movie and was gearing up for World War III or something. And then she realized... she was.
Chapter Five
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Beta: Matt and Chris
Pairings: Elle/Claire, hints at Nathan/Peter
Overall Pairings: Elle/Eden, Elle/Claire, Sylar/Mohinder, Peter/Sylar, Nathan/Peter, Elle/Adam, and Claire/Peter (unrequited)
Characters: Claire, Elle, Peter, and Hiro
Genre: Drama, Angst, Dark Future Fic
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An AU fic based on the Five Years Gone Verse
Word Count: A little over 2,900
Spoilers: Light spoilers for Volumes 1 and 2
Overall Warnings: Violence, Character Death, Sex, Incest (Graphic Only In Chapter 2), Non-Con (Only In Chapter 6)
Notes: Dedicated to slavefaith. And a big thank you to ladywilde80 for helping me with the inspiration and to Matt and Chris for giving me the courage to post! Constructive criticism is always loved and comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too. Title from "Everything Goes Dark" by The Hoosiers
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, if I did, well...wouldn't Heroes be interesting?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Everything Goes Dark 4/7:
Although Claire made an effort to let Andy down nicely, he was understandably disappointed by her refusal. No matter what she said, he simply did not give up. He kept eying her, asking if she'd changed her mind yet. Frankly, he was beginning to agitate her.
When Elle found out, she straightened out the issue real quick. She spent an entire day glaring at him from her usual seat, fingers sparking blue whenever she caught him so much as staring in Claire's direction. There was no exception for that rule.
Claire ordered her not to use any powers, even for her, so Elle was forced to accomplish her mission the old fashioned way.
Claire had no idea that while she was collecting dirty dishes from the tables, Elle had abandoned her post to follow Andy into the back room., fingers curled none too gently around his throat, eyes hard as steal; brazen.
“Don't look at her, don't so much as think about her. She's mine. Got it?”
And that was that. Problem solved.
Andy was too scared to even talk to her. It was sort of sad, but Claire sympathized; Elle could be damn intimidating.
After that tiny obstacle, it was pretty much free sailing. They spent virtually every second together, and neither complained about having no time to themselves. Elle was the most enthusiastic of the two. When they sat together to watch a movie, Elle had to be touching her; whether it was holding hands or mere fingers on her arm.
In Elle's mind, contact was essential. And Claire definitely didn't object; nonetheless, she did sometimes have to act as the bad guy and tone it down in public. After all, society remained brutal towards anyone who didn't fit in their quaint little categories.
In spite of all of society's restrictions, she still found herself behaving like an addict.
She got twitchy at work because she couldn't wait to go home and see Elle, or became pissy when Elle didn't visit her at work every few days - or, as her condition deteriorated, every day.
Despite being so clingy, things couldn't have been going better. They were, however, attempting to take things slow, as both were afraid to upset their unanticipated equilibrium and screw it all up. Even with their apprehensive restraint, their relationship progressed naturally.
First base transformed into a tentative second and then, in a fit of passion, a very daring third.
Deft fingers tore apart the buttons and zippers holding clothes at the seams, freeing flesh into the chilly air only to be warmed once more by the gentle caress of equally flushed skin. Sweetly tinged mouths on yielding lips and gooseflesh, stoking the fire; doubt tossed aside.
Elle led the way, allowing Claire to enjoy the sensation of utter mystery, feeding off of her provocative moans and whispers of adoration.
Electrically charged fingertips explored the most intimate of secrets; a perpetual array of indulgence and gratification, alight with devotion and heady lust.
The sweet, spontaneous union completed the puzzle for the two; answering all unresolved questions of “is this right?” with an utterly distinct “yes.”
------------------------
They felt as though life, even as fugitives, was sheer Nirvana. Of course, as was their fate, right when they settled down, all hell broke loose.
Elle and Claire sat on the couch, clutching at each other's hands as it was announced: Nathan Petrelli's first act as President would be the commencement of the Linderman Acts. All Specials would be rounded up, tagged, cast in a database and tracked. They could not marry, they could not produce offspring.
Families were torn apart, lives destroyed, and all Elle and Claire could do was watch it unfurl right before their eyes.
The mayhem spread as far as the irrelevant town of Midland. Right down the road a man was shot for trying to get his wife back from the police. Assault, they'd claimed. Bullshit. It was all bullshit.
Not only did indignation infest itself, but also fear. Their abilities couldn't help them if they were up against a whole group of specially trained police; they'd be done for.
Claire's father contacted them immediately, ordering them to stay where they were, that the identities he'd set up should be enough to protect them. He mailed them a couple extra bottles of the liquid that would alter their blood smears, suggesting they keep at least two containers on them at all times.
He informed them to brace themselves. Circumstances were going to get even more disconcerting.
Being careful was of utmost importance; both understood this and did what they had to in order to hang on to what they had established together.
------------------------
The crisp reverberation of a knock at the door woke Elle. She groaned at the unwelcome wake-up call, her arms tightening around Claire's half naked form. Claire, alerted by both the intrusive sound and Elle's unhappy grip, was up in the blink of an eye. Her movement caused Elle to jolt up as well. They looked at each other, grogginess vanishing.
Claire tossed on a t-shirt over her black satin underwear before grabbing a gun from the frame of the bed. Elle wasn't quite as worried about her appearance. She was a-okay in underwear as long as she had her powers to protect her. Despite her unabashed confidence, Claire wasted no time throwing a shirt at her.
“Put it on. We can't be certain of who that is. It could be my father.”
Elle sighed, but gave in. After all, she didn't want to freak out poor, oblivious Papa Bennet. When her attire appeased Claire's request, she followed the girl out to the living room. It turned out that they didn't need to answer the door at all; their guests were already waiting for them.
Peter Petrelli, a Peter that Claire didn't entirely recognize. He was sporting a slicked-back haircut and a face equipped with an ominous scar while being discretely devoid of hope, stood patiently in the living room.
With him was a Japanese man with the countenance of an optimist whose life had been mangled until it was reduced to something indiscernible; similar to so many of their kind. He also had a semblance of a patched beard on his chin and wore a Samurai sword on his back. Elle was instantly intrigued by that, big and shiny as it was.
Though her interest was peaked, her gun remained primed and aimed at Peter, who was unquestionably the one in charge.
“You can tell your friend to put down the gun. I don't feel like getting shot. It stings,” Peter said nonchalantly.
Claire smiled so widely that each flawless white tooth was visible. She bounded forward and enveloped the man in her arms, “Peter! I thought you were dead!”
“You should have known differently, Claire.”
Elle gaped, “Peter? Peter Petrelli?” She remembered seeing his name in the files kept in Company possession. She'd studied up on the Petrelli's when her hatred for Nathan had become inescapable. Peter was his brother, an empath. She knew full well he was Claire's Uncle as well, but the way she looked at him unsettled her.
She was not familiar with the man he had come with. She really didn't care. Peter had her complete attention. The two had since ended their embrace, but Elle had yet to lower the gun.
Claire walked over to her and placed a hand around the cold muzzle of the weapon, frowning, “Elle, he's not competition.” Not anymore. She had Elle and that was enough for her.
Elle detected no lies in her eye. Contented, she finally uncocked the gun and let it drop to her side. Desiring a distraction, she focused on the man with the sword instead. “Who're you?”
“My name is Hiro Nakamura. It's nice to meet you both, especially you, Claire.” His voice, shaped by broken syllables, was residual of his native language. He obviously had not left his original accent behind even if he had clearly been Americanized. Elle respected that.
It didn't take long for her to fully process the consequences of his words. “Nakamura... Kaito's son, right?”
The man merely nodded.
“I know why you two are here,” Elle said, “You want to take down Nathan.”
Peter winced at the name, gritting his teeth defensively, “That man is not Nathan. Nathan is dead... It's Sylar. He killed Nathan, somehow got the ability over illusions and he's now parading around as my brother."
Elle's heart ceased beating in an instant. Sylar was involved in all of this? This had to be some cruel joke...
“How can you be so sure?” Claire asked.
“I heard it in his mind. I could just.. tell.” There was profound sorrow in Peter's voice and Claire's heart hurt for him. She'd never brought up what she'd seen that day and she never would. Even if Nathan was indeed deceased, her decision endured. Peter would not require a reminder anyways, not to mention it would serve no purpose.
Peter's grief suddenly burgeoned into a deeper anguish, apparent in his bleeding brown eyes, and as a result, she realized that, somehow, he had perceived what she was thinking. Claire went bug-eyed, hastily trying to fix whatever damage she'd induced. “Peter...”
He raised a hand, silencing her, “No. We won't discuss it now. Or ever. Please.”
She nodded without reluctance, “Alright. Do you two need anything? Water, something to eat?”
“Water would be nice, if it's no trouble,” Hiro asked almost too politely.
Claire glanced at Elle to ask her to go get Hiro a drink, but her manners were forgotten once she saw the girl's posture. She was staring past the men, arms slumped, eyes lost in thought.
Claire placed a hand on her shoulder, “Elle?”
She shuddered at her touch, pulling her eyes from nowhere back to reality, to Claire. “Sorry. I...”
Claire narrowed her eyes curiously but her girlfriend evidently did not wish to speak about it. She simply nodded and went to get the glass herself while Elle took a seat on the couch.
Her eyes drifted to Peter, dormant wrath viable once more. “You said Nathan is really Sylar?”
“Yes,” Peter answered cautiously.
“And you're going to kill him?” Elle was quite certain of what he was going to reply with, but she thought she'd ask nevertheless.
“That's what we're hoping, yes.”
“Then I'm coming with you.”
“Wait just a god damn second!” Claire exclaimed from the doorway, stalking forward to roughly hand Hiro his drink before marching over to Elle. “I'm not letting you put yourself in that much danger.”
Elle bristled and rose to her feet, eyes narrowed, “Yes, you can and you will. I have to do this.”
It was all her fault. If she hadn't fucked up and gotten hurt, Eden would have never fathomed taking Sylar on by herself and he would never escaped to wreak this chaos.
She was leaving Claire in the dark on the matter of why it was so imperative, she knew that. She'd told her about Eden, but she never who had killed her and on what grounds. She was too ashamed of the truth.
“Like Hell you do!” Claire said, voice raised an octave higher than normal.
“You two, please stop fighting and hear us out. We came here for more than to tell you what was going on, you know,” Peter interjected, attempting to break up the quarrel before it had the chance to intensify and a neighbor came to investigate.
Claire and Elle both gave him death glares but sat down, side by side on the couch.
Peter took a chair. Hiro stayed standing.
“Sylar has gathered a good number of Specials to his side. But one of his most crucial assets is a human scientist, Mohinder Suresh. I met the man prior to all of this. I'm positive he's under the impression that he is doing the right thing and working for a respectable man. I'm entirely convinced that if we reveal the truth to him, he'll join our cause.”
“Why is he so important?” Claire inquired.
“Because Suresh is working on a cure. An injection that will rid us of our abilities. Imagine a world where one person had control over such an influential weapon. There would be no one to fight him. He'd be the only person with abilities; he'd become dictator of not just the U.S., but of the world. We have to stop him.”
Elle shrugged, “Why don't you just kill Suresh?”
Peter rounded on her, eyes narrowed, “Because he's a good man.”
Elle simply could not comprehend his do-gooder nature. She'd been taught logic and that cold and calculated deeds would win any proposed battle. “War demands sacrifices.”
“No,” Peter pressed, “We can get him to work with us. He doesn't deserve to die.”
“So, let me get this straight. You are planning to kidnap a man who is probably just as well protected as Sylar and walk out with him? You aren't even going to go after Sylar, are you?” Elle's voice dripped with disdain; she'd previously been given plenty of excuses not to be a fan of this Peter Petrelli and his nonsensical scheme just bolstered her judgment.
Peter shook his head, “We can't. Not without Mohinder. That's why he's so vital. We need that cure for ourselves...”
“Can't you just kill Sylar? He may have a lot of abilities, but surely not as many as you. And you're immortal,” Claire added.
“He..” Peter bit his lip, as if he was too embarrassed to continue. Eventually, he admitted defeat, “He is too.”
Claire's went stiff, eyes narrowed in disbelief, “What? How?!”
Elle provided this answer with bitter determination, “Adam Monroe.” The name brought back so many memories. She still recalled the feel of him, the primal delight she'd found in his arms. Nothing compared to Eden or Claire, but he had been her first lover, if he could be called that, and therefore deserved at least a moment of her time.
“He's an immortal like you, Claire. Nearly 400 years old. He was taken to Nathan by an ex employee of my father right before I came here. He's also a founder of the Company. I guarantee that he's still alive and being used for his knowledge as well as his ability. If you get Suresh, you have to get Adam too.”
This information seemed new to Peter and his eyes lit up, “Adam Monroe... Thank you.”
Elle nodded, “Now, you two, I assume, came here for Claire's help with this insane plan?” She doubted they'd been expecting a second girl, the idea of their confusion sort of made her smile. “If you want her, you get me too.”
She raised her hand, crackling lighting in her hand. Claire grasped her wrists and yanked her hand down.
“Show off,” Claire muttered.
Elle smirked, quite proud of that fact.
Peter raised his own hand and closed his eyes, mimicking her lightning, wearing a haughty expression. He opened one eye so he could gage her reaction, remnants of his old, carefree nature glimmering free.
Elle ascended, vindictive, taking it as a challenge. He may have been able to copy her ability, but there was no way he was as efficient and deadly as she was.
Claire forced her down, huffing at Peter, “Oh quit it. I see, even with that new 'I'm-not-taking-any-bullshit' appearance of yours, Peter, you're still capable of immaturity.” She'd expected that from Elle, but not from her Uncle.
Peter laughed, the sound coming out gruff, as if he had not uttered a cheerful noise in years.
Hiro finally took a step forward, wishing for this reunion to be finished. They had but little time. “Will you help us, or not?”
Elle didn't even hesitate, “Yes.”
“Elle! Can't we think about this first?” Claire reasoned.
“What's there to think about, Claire? You can't die and I'm an experienced Company Agent. We can do this.”
She scoffed, "Experienced? You didn't work there that long, Elle.”
“Don't you dare... Come on. You've seen the news. Panic everywhere. People, our people, are dying because of Sylar. Because no one is doing anything to help. You've got to want to change that. I know you do!” Elle begged, eyes wide, unnaturally noble. It was unmistakable; she didn't want to do this for wholly selfish justifications.
That was a new one. And it was all it took to sway her opinion.
Claire released a trembling breath, closing her eyes for a second. “We'll do it.”
“Great. “ Peter stood, “We need to get out of here as soon as possible. I doubt either of you have had to fight for your life in quite some time, so you'll both need a bit of practice before we attempt anything too significant.”
Elle looked between the two, “We'll pack tonight. Do you want to stay, or come back later?”
“We'll return for you tomorrow. Sleep and then prepare.”
Elle felt a bit odd, like she was in a movie and was gearing up for World War III or something. And then she realized... she was.
Chapter Five