[heroes] band aid covers the bullet hole
Title: band aid covers the bullet hole
Author: trysts
Rating: PG-13
Series: meet me in the dark | creep
Character/Pairing: Elle, Bob Bishop, and Sylar by proxy
Spoilers/Warnings: some dark themes
Author's Notes: AU from 1x09, sequel to meet me in the dark and creep. Part of the now tentatively named series "Sensitivity to Light", which will span from S1 to S3, Volume 4 "Fugatives". Totally and completely AU. Title taken from Scarling.
There were times when Elle was glad her father wasn’t like other fathers, wasn’t like Claire-bear’s father. Most of the time she wished that he was, strong and supporting instead of critical and always pressing his lips together in that line white line of disapproval. Most of the time.
Not this time.
Because she thought that if her father spoke a word, even a supporting word, pressed a hand against her arm, she would just explode into a cloud of electrical outbursts. She was too wired to do anything more than bounce her knee and bite her nails, a nasty habit she thought she’d gotten rid of years ago.
But she was reverting back, back to the little girl who used to pound on the door of her room because it was locked and no one answered her and she hadn’t seen her daddy in days.
“Elle,” her father snapped and she jolted nearly to the roof. He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Two minutes.”
Her eyes darted toward the desk and then guilty away, pressing her lips together to keep from moaning in terror. This couldn’t possibly be happening, not to her. The first time she ever did anything and she was going to get in trouble.
Electricity hummed up and down her arms, but it didn’t soothe her like it normally did, instead it only made her nerves pump faster through her blood.
She wished someone else was here with her. Eden, maybe. Elle didn’t particularly like Eden, but other than Claire-bear, Elle didn’t even know a lot of other girls-and technically, Elle didn’t even know Claire; a few weeks tailing the cheerleader didn’t really count-and this seemed to be, to her, a definite girl thing.
“Daddy,” she said softly, rubbing her aching eyes. She’d been up all night since she’d finally started to figure out what was wrong with her. “Daddy, I’m-”
“It’s not your fault, Elle,” he said for twentieth time that day, because Elle kept trying to apologize.
The worse part was that it was Elle’s fault, and she hadn’t come clean about it. She didn’t honestly think she ever would, and knowing that put a heavy weight on her chest. Such a weight that she had thought that was what had been wrong with her for the past four weeks, hadn’t even thought of this path until she’d sat down and watched a soap opera on TV, and had thought: oh God, please-
Then Elle had told her father. She wasn’t used to keeping big secrets from him, and one was more than enough.
Now here they both sat, across from her daddy’s desk, staring at Elle’s future, counting backwards.
Please, Elle prayed, her thoughts bumping loudly against her head, her hands twisting in her lap. Please.
“Time,” her father said and stood, grabbing it off the desk. Nausea rolled in Elle’s stomach as her father went pale, his lips pressing together, and he slowly handed it over to her.
“Two lines,” she murmured, her voice hoarse from all the tears she had shed while her father had gone out shopping and she had waited in his office like she had when she had been younger, and she had to get reprimanded. “What does that mean?”
“You’re pregnant, Elle.”
Two little words shouldn’t cause the end of the world, but they did. You’re pregnant.
A strange gulping noise made its way out of Elle’s throat and she shoved her head roughly between her knees, sucking in air like a fish yanked out of the water. Her mind was exploding, and all she could see was blue.
“Stop it, Elle!”
She hadn’t realized that she was pouring out electrical currents, throwing them violently in the carpet, sending them shooting out from her hair and fingertips. She sucked in another hard breath, felt her air constrict in her lungs, and pulled in her sparks.
“Daddy,” she said, and it came out as a hiccupping sob. “Daddy.”
A hand ran through her hair, and her daddy said, “It’s okay, Elle. We’re going to figure this out. It’s okay. He can’t hurt you, remember?”
Sylar. She remembered. Remember a whole lot better than her daddy thought. Remembered that halfway through Sylar hadn’t had to force her to do anything. That she had enjoyed it, liked being pinned between him and the rough wall, liked his body pressed up into her, his hot breath on her neck.
Remembered that she sort of wished Bennet hadn’t ever shown up in the first place.
And now-oh God, what am I going to do?-Elle was carrying Sylar’s baby. It would have been one thing if Gabriel Grey had made love to her and she wound up pregnant, but Gabriel Grey was dead and the only thing in his place was a monster and it scared Elle.
The baby was hers, too. Hers and Sylar. Would good could possibly come from it?
The little thought wormed in her head that it didn’t have to come at all. There were so many options these days, so many ways. Elle didn’t even need a doctor. She was sure a good enough jolt to her abdomen could get rid of all her problems. Get rid of this giant mess.
But the thought died just as quickly as it spawned. Something inside Elle rebelled at the idea. Kill her baby? It was hers! She couldn’t kill it! It was the only thing in the world that was just hers, that could be hers alone, that she didn’t have to share with anyone.
Sylar never had to find out, Elle promised herself. He was far away in Texas, and maybe they’d even kill him there. The thought four weeks ago had terrified her, and she still wasn’t sure why, but now she almost wished he was dead, so it could be just the baby and her.
“I’m sorry, Elle,” her father said, and he sounded so old. “Why don’t you go to room and rest? I need to make some calls.”
“Okay, Daddy.” She stood quietly, one hand touching her stomach as she stood. She knew who her father was going to call. Queen Bitch Petrelli. Elle hated her, her and Lindermen who never understood anything.
But Elle would fix it. She would explain to her father, explain how Elle wanted to keep the baby all to herself, even if it showed special powers, she wanted this all to herself, only for her, only for Elle. Her daddy would understand, and if she did her jobs real, real well she’d probably get to keep her baby.
Elle would worry about that later. Right now she wanted to sleep, maybe dream about her baby, maybe dream about Sylar again, kissing her all over.
On her way out the door, Elle dumped her pregnancy test into the trash can.
Author: trysts
Rating: PG-13
Series: meet me in the dark | creep
Character/Pairing: Elle, Bob Bishop, and Sylar by proxy
Spoilers/Warnings: some dark themes
Author's Notes: AU from 1x09, sequel to meet me in the dark and creep. Part of the now tentatively named series "Sensitivity to Light", which will span from S1 to S3, Volume 4 "Fugatives". Totally and completely AU. Title taken from Scarling.
There were times when Elle was glad her father wasn’t like other fathers, wasn’t like Claire-bear’s father. Most of the time she wished that he was, strong and supporting instead of critical and always pressing his lips together in that line white line of disapproval. Most of the time.
Not this time.
Because she thought that if her father spoke a word, even a supporting word, pressed a hand against her arm, she would just explode into a cloud of electrical outbursts. She was too wired to do anything more than bounce her knee and bite her nails, a nasty habit she thought she’d gotten rid of years ago.
But she was reverting back, back to the little girl who used to pound on the door of her room because it was locked and no one answered her and she hadn’t seen her daddy in days.
“Elle,” her father snapped and she jolted nearly to the roof. He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Two minutes.”
Her eyes darted toward the desk and then guilty away, pressing her lips together to keep from moaning in terror. This couldn’t possibly be happening, not to her. The first time she ever did anything and she was going to get in trouble.
Electricity hummed up and down her arms, but it didn’t soothe her like it normally did, instead it only made her nerves pump faster through her blood.
She wished someone else was here with her. Eden, maybe. Elle didn’t particularly like Eden, but other than Claire-bear, Elle didn’t even know a lot of other girls-and technically, Elle didn’t even know Claire; a few weeks tailing the cheerleader didn’t really count-and this seemed to be, to her, a definite girl thing.
“Daddy,” she said softly, rubbing her aching eyes. She’d been up all night since she’d finally started to figure out what was wrong with her. “Daddy, I’m-”
“It’s not your fault, Elle,” he said for twentieth time that day, because Elle kept trying to apologize.
The worse part was that it was Elle’s fault, and she hadn’t come clean about it. She didn’t honestly think she ever would, and knowing that put a heavy weight on her chest. Such a weight that she had thought that was what had been wrong with her for the past four weeks, hadn’t even thought of this path until she’d sat down and watched a soap opera on TV, and had thought: oh God, please-
Then Elle had told her father. She wasn’t used to keeping big secrets from him, and one was more than enough.
Now here they both sat, across from her daddy’s desk, staring at Elle’s future, counting backwards.
Please, Elle prayed, her thoughts bumping loudly against her head, her hands twisting in her lap. Please.
“Time,” her father said and stood, grabbing it off the desk. Nausea rolled in Elle’s stomach as her father went pale, his lips pressing together, and he slowly handed it over to her.
“Two lines,” she murmured, her voice hoarse from all the tears she had shed while her father had gone out shopping and she had waited in his office like she had when she had been younger, and she had to get reprimanded. “What does that mean?”
“You’re pregnant, Elle.”
Two little words shouldn’t cause the end of the world, but they did. You’re pregnant.
A strange gulping noise made its way out of Elle’s throat and she shoved her head roughly between her knees, sucking in air like a fish yanked out of the water. Her mind was exploding, and all she could see was blue.
“Stop it, Elle!”
She hadn’t realized that she was pouring out electrical currents, throwing them violently in the carpet, sending them shooting out from her hair and fingertips. She sucked in another hard breath, felt her air constrict in her lungs, and pulled in her sparks.
“Daddy,” she said, and it came out as a hiccupping sob. “Daddy.”
A hand ran through her hair, and her daddy said, “It’s okay, Elle. We’re going to figure this out. It’s okay. He can’t hurt you, remember?”
Sylar. She remembered. Remember a whole lot better than her daddy thought. Remembered that halfway through Sylar hadn’t had to force her to do anything. That she had enjoyed it, liked being pinned between him and the rough wall, liked his body pressed up into her, his hot breath on her neck.
Remembered that she sort of wished Bennet hadn’t ever shown up in the first place.
And now-oh God, what am I going to do?-Elle was carrying Sylar’s baby. It would have been one thing if Gabriel Grey had made love to her and she wound up pregnant, but Gabriel Grey was dead and the only thing in his place was a monster and it scared Elle.
The baby was hers, too. Hers and Sylar. Would good could possibly come from it?
The little thought wormed in her head that it didn’t have to come at all. There were so many options these days, so many ways. Elle didn’t even need a doctor. She was sure a good enough jolt to her abdomen could get rid of all her problems. Get rid of this giant mess.
But the thought died just as quickly as it spawned. Something inside Elle rebelled at the idea. Kill her baby? It was hers! She couldn’t kill it! It was the only thing in the world that was just hers, that could be hers alone, that she didn’t have to share with anyone.
Sylar never had to find out, Elle promised herself. He was far away in Texas, and maybe they’d even kill him there. The thought four weeks ago had terrified her, and she still wasn’t sure why, but now she almost wished he was dead, so it could be just the baby and her.
“I’m sorry, Elle,” her father said, and he sounded so old. “Why don’t you go to room and rest? I need to make some calls.”
“Okay, Daddy.” She stood quietly, one hand touching her stomach as she stood. She knew who her father was going to call. Queen Bitch Petrelli. Elle hated her, her and Lindermen who never understood anything.
But Elle would fix it. She would explain to her father, explain how Elle wanted to keep the baby all to herself, even if it showed special powers, she wanted this all to herself, only for her, only for Elle. Her daddy would understand, and if she did her jobs real, real well she’d probably get to keep her baby.
Elle would worry about that later. Right now she wanted to sleep, maybe dream about her baby, maybe dream about Sylar again, kissing her all over.
On her way out the door, Elle dumped her pregnancy test into the trash can.