Brackets (2/3)
title: Brackets
fandom: Heroes
summary: When Matt Parkman has a vision of Elle Bishop holding a key to the end of the manhunt, he urges the others to devise a plan to save Elle from her death. What Matt doesn't tell them, however, gives way to another, more complicated journey for Elle Bishop, along with making her a larger target if Sylar were to find everything out.
characters: Elle Bishop, Peter Petrelli, Claire Bennet + main ensemble (to a lesser degree)
genre: Action/Drama/Friendship/General
rating: T
note: Spoilers up through 3x24, AU from Volume Four. The third part explores Elle's past more than this and the first part, just FYI. Thanks for the wonderful response to the first installment. Hope you continue to enjoy. Final part should be up tomorrow. :)
parts: one. two. three.
~*~two months later
“You know, you’re far along enough for me to check for the baby’s gender.”
Elle stared at Whitney for a good minute or so before blinking and saying, “you mean if it’s a boy or a girl?”
Whitney, or Dr. Delaney as she was known to most others, laughed and pulled the microphone of the ultrasound machine from Elle’s stomach. “Yes, that.”
“Okay,” Elle said.
“You sure you want to know?”
Elle nodded more enthusiastically and smiled. “Yeah, I want to know.”
Whitney pressed the microphone back on Elle’s stomach and rolled it down her abdomen as she looked at the screen. It didn’t take her long to get just the shot she needed to tell what the baby was, and confidently, she said to Elle, “you’re having a boy.”
Elle’s heart began pounding mildly rapidly at the news, and her smile stretched wider. “A boy,” she whispered and with a tentative move, touched her stomach, “it’s a he.”
**
Elle shook the key chain in her hand, and smiled at Whitney.
“Thanks so much for everything, Whit.”
The young woman smiled in turn, and enveloped Elle in a hug.
Elle returned the hug, pulled back, and expressed, “is it okay if I’m a little scared? I don’t even know where I’m going. They just sent a note telling me to drive along the 22 highway.”
“If you’re not scared, you’re not human,” Whitney shrugged, and strangely enough, that helped Elle a little.
Elle gave Whitney a quick wink and thumbs up, got in the car, and began her drive. Wherever she was going, she hoped there would be people just as nice and non judgmental as Whitney. Surprisingly, Elle had enjoyed her stay with the girl, daughter of the man Nathan Petrelli had entrusted her to, but despite lending herself to a friendship, Elle made sure not to grow too attached. It wasn’t exactly hard, considering that as a child, Elle was switched around schools and homes so often, she feared getting to know anyone. That and it seemed like others were afraid to get to know her, but Whitney wasn’t like that.
So Elle felt proud of herself when she drove away from Whitney, not a panic attack or tear in sight. She didn’t know what or who it was that nagging at her to act a little more grown-up, though she had an inkling it was that boy inside her forcing her to be cautionary about other things, nevertheless it felt nice to be on the right side of self-confidence. A little boring, but a little nice too.
*
Elle drove onto the highway and down it for 12 minutes, until she spotted a short blonde girl standing off to the side, against the rails of the freeway.
Elle squinted, making sure it was the person she thought it was, and although still not absolutely sure, she thought it her best bet and she slowed down and drove over onto the shoulder. Upon stopping, Elle could clearly tell it was Claire.
Claire stood upright when the car stopped, and she waited by the rails until the person stepped out and made her way over.
“Hey,” Claire greeted her, moving her body to the side which made her small luggage bag visible to Elle. And something else was clearly visible to Claire now--Elle’s baby bump.
Claire grinned whilst looking at the bump. “How many months are you now?”
“Five months. Almost six.”
The two girls looked intently at each other a bit, then Claire laughed.
“We’ve got a long drive, so we should probably get going.”
“Where we going?” Elle asked.
“Um, to Michigan.”
“Michigan?” Elle yelled, “but that’s so…blah.”
“Yeah well, it’s where Mohinder is, which Nathan and my dad think is just perfect. So…?”
Elle rolled her eyes. “So Michigan it is.”
***
Elle had expected things to be out of sort with Claire.
It was so bad at the beginning, that Elle nearly forgot to enjoy the fact that her room in Michigan was more vast than any room she had before, and it was a two story house to boot. It wasn’t an average large house, but it was to Elle considering that there were only two and a half occupants.
Most days, Elle stayed on the second floor, in the living room where she had a mini-refrigerator installed along with a television (it took nothing more than a threat or two to Nathan Petrelli to provide her with better homely and clothing provisions for this to happen - it would seem as though the man was familiar with the wrath of a pregnant woman).
When that got boring, she headed downstairs and out back to a leftover tool shed from the previous owners. And what she did there was what a lot of her arguments with Elle stemmed from.
Elle thought that because the little teenager had her own desire to use her powers, she would understand Elle’s own familiar wants. So what if Elle went out back to zap some annoying bugs, some inconsequential soda cans, some ugly trash bins?
But any time Claire found out what Elle was doing, she threw a fit, saying someday someone would see her and their cover would be blown. As if she was going to go any further to distance herself from her prior identity. She was going to have a kid. She didn’t have her daddy, so she didn’t owe anyone anything anymore. As it was, everyone just should have been pleased at her not running to Sylar.
Claire, on the other hand, had even gone and dyed her hair brown at her adoptive father’s urging, but Elle was having none of that. It was enough that she had to deal with the natural physical changes of her pregnancy. Besides, the neighbors were more than a dozen feet away (it wasn’t what Elle had envisioned as a neighborhood, but Claire said places like these were less populated and active).
The tool shed and late nights for her to zap things, however, were not enough for Elle. She and Claire were having trouble finding solid ground. Sure, there were the attempts at communication, but both girls were too frustrated with feeling so useless that they lashed out at each other despite them having the capacity to get along. So Elle didn’t have anyone to entertain her. Not even Mohinder, because he never came by. Elle and Claire only saw him once every few weeks, when they drove down to his makeshift lab for him to check on Elle’s baby.
It wasn’t until Elle was in the middle of her seven months of pregnancy, that Elle and Claire found themselves spending more than ten minutes in the same room with each other.
The stairs were starting to be a tad too much for Elle, not that she ever said so--Claire had to come to her own realization of this when she noticed that it took Elle longer to climb the stairs. That and Elle gripped the stair railing pretty tightly and kept huffing every fifth step or so.
After a few times of witnessing this, Claire climbed up behind Elle, cleared her throat, and said, “need some help?”
“What?” Elle muttered, then, “no.”
She kept climbing, Claire slurred, “fine” and left her be.
Claire let Elle go on climbing without her help for another couple of weeks, but in between, she did other things to help out Elle. Things such stock more food in the refrigerator downstairs and leave the one upstairs more empty so Elle didn’t have an excuse to go upstairs. Claire also abdicated the remote control of the television downstairs to Elle more often and made sure to stay out of Elle’s way when she was walking around with her frustrated face.
Elle realized what Claire was doing, but she didn’t complain. She was getting her way without a fight, and Elle could not object to that.
At eight months, Claire stopped taking no for an answer, and began helping Elle up the stairs. It took several turns for Elle to finally voice a thank you, and it took several more turns after than for Claire to throw up her hands and say Elle had to stop going upstairs.
“But the fridge and television and no you are--”
“I know,” Claire clicked her tongue, “but you’re eight months pregnant. So just…move in to the other bedroom downstairs. At least until the baby is born. I’ll even move upstairs if you want to.”
Elle nearly said yes, but strangely enough, she felt a pang of guilt at that. “Nah, you don’t have to,” Elle replied while looking out the window, “just help me move my stuff downstairs.”
“Cool,” Claire smiled, momentarily forgetting the amount of clothing Elle had in her clothing. She would be reminded soon enough.
*
“Just one more push, Elle, come on,” Claire urged, prompting Elle to shoot her a killer glance.
“I heard Mohinder the first time,” Elle gritted through her teeth and dug her fingernails into Claire’s hand. Claire flinched more at the look than Elle’s grip.
“Okay, Elle,” Mohinder declared in a low voice, not wanting to convey any overly-urgent tone to further aggravate Elle.
Elle heaved, grunted, and pushed. Claire watched in amazement and momentary discomfort as Mohinder helped ease out the last of the baby’s body.
Elle’s head rolled back, and she let out a giant sigh as her hand went limp. “Oh God…” Elle murmured tiredly when the baby let out a cry.
Mohinder laughed at the baby’s cry, glad he managed to get the results he’d been taught he should get from a birth. He got up and softly treaded to a bin of water he had set up, and Elle raised her head, not losing sight of Mohinder or the baby.
When Mohinder returned with the baby wrapped in a light blanket, Elle focused on the baby apprehensively, and she sat up against Claire.
Claire shifted in her seat and pulled the pillow between her and Elle more up to cover Elle’s back. Claire watched as Elle’s eyes dilated when Mohinder outstretched the baby to her.
“I…” Elle trailed off, eyes fixated on the child.
“Here,” Claire instructed Mohinder, and she pulled up her knees to serve as a board to Elle’s back and stretched out her arms. Mohinder carefully handed the baby to Claire, the baby brushing Elle’s arms as he was handed over.
Claire rocked the baby a bit before turning her body more to Elle’s.
“I think he wants his mommy.”
Elle licked her licks and swallowed the lump in her throat. She sat frozen for a few seconds, then nodded. She stuck out her arms like Claire had, cradled the head carefully, and leaned the baby into her body until she got into a comfortable position. Finally in her arms, Elle smiled widely at the baby and pressed her lips to his forehead. “Hey baby,” she whispered, feeling like a part of something real for once.
**
Elle whistled to her baby as she changed his diaper, but the changing process kept getting interrupted by her tendency to get distracted by the faces he kept making.
He turned two months just the day before, and he looked nothing like he had as a newborn. Except for the blue eyes. And now he made those faces that amused Elle to no end.
“Aren’t you just an adorable little puppy?” Elle giggled as she nuzzled the baby.
She returned to wiping him clean, and then heard a small commotion coming from the porch. Elle turned her head and peered to catch what was going on inside. Within seconds, Claire came inside, and behind her was Peter.
“Peter,” Elle uttered, surprised at the visit. Only Noah had come to visit in her and Claire’s months there, and that was only once, a couple of weeks before Elle gave birth.
“Hey,” he smiled at her, and then his attention went to the baby.
He walked over to Elle and the baby, and kneeled down.
Elle watched Peter, once again forgetting that she was changing the baby’s diaper, which Peter noticed.
“I can finish up if you want,” Peter offered.
“Oh, no, I can--”
But Peter’s hands were already fast at work as he leaned over into her space, reached for the baby powder, sprinkled a little on the baby, grabbed the clean diaper, and fastened it on the baby. He did so in a motion so quick, it took Elle five weeks to master the record time.
“Practice much?” she smirked.
“Yeah, actually in nursing school,” Peter admitted, causing Elle to laugh.
Peter blushed and looked back down at the baby.
“Can I hold him?”
“You changed his diaper. You really have to ask?”
Peter grinned at her. He picked up the baby, stood up, and bounced him lightly on his hip. When he got a laugh out of the baby, he looked over at Elle.
“What’s his name?”
“Mason, his name’s Mason.”
“Elle picked the name because it was the first to lose her roll call of ‘eenie meenie miny moe’,” Claire stifled a laugh.
“That is not true,” Elle shook her head, but didn’t offer up any other explanation as to the baby’s naming.
Peter looked back at the baby and smiled. He had his mother’s eyes and nose. In fact, he aside from his ears, his facial features resembled his mother’s very much, but the nose and eyes stuck out the most to him. He was a beautiful kid.
“So why are you here, Peter?” Elle cocked an eyebrow at him.
Peter’s smile tightened and his throat strained. “I just wanted to make sure you were all doing well.”
“We’re fine,” Elle said in a curt tone, “that’s why you all sent us out here, instead of fighting by your side, right?”
“Elle, not now,” Claire hissed.
“He’s not here just to make sure we’re good!” Elle screamed. Mason began crying in Peter’s arms, and Elle took an intake of breath. She walked up to Peter and took Mason in her arms, before trudging upstairs.
“How is she, really?” Peter asked when Elle was out of earshot.
“She’s a lot better than you would expect. She gets angry and tired with the baby a lot, but it doesn’t stop her from trying and just doing what she has to do,” Claire mused.
“I’m glad.”
“Yeah. Peter, why are you really here? You haven’t come out to see us before.”
Peter looked around the house, rubbed the back of his head, and whispered, “Sylar’s looking for you. He’s got some new plan to seek you out…he thinks you’re his missing piece, because you both…neither of you can die.”
Claire didn’t know whether to laugh at the notion of missing pieces or to go aghast with the fact that if the world were to end, she and Sylar would still be left standing among no one else.
Claire swallowed both reactions down and calmly asked, “so what do we do? Do we move? Do we finally fight him?”
“For now, you two stay here.”
“But we can’t just sit here and--”
“We’re going to fight him, Claire, but we’re not going into it blindly. I swear that I’ll come back when we’re ready to set something in motion.”
“And Elle? Sylar still has no idea about--”
“No. And we’re keeping it that way. The last thing we need is for him to find out he has a son.”
***
Sylar brushed his fingers through various objects within the small apartment that was Peter Petrelli’s, attempting to find anything that could lead him to Claire’s whereabouts.
He walked without making a sound to what was probably Peter’s bedroom, pushed open the door, and stepped inside, his eyes taking in the contents. Like the rest of the apartment, there was nothing but a trinket or two, each courtesy Angela Petrelli. Nothing showed anything except that they were bought at some different part of the country, and were mailed to Peter.
Sylar sighed, irritated at the lack of information in the man’s apartment. Peter had always struck him as more the sentimental type, to keep things around that reminded him of home.
And then Sylar spotted the few clothing items lined in the small closet to the right of the bedroom, and he grinned. Nothing like clothing to get some history of a person.
Sylar treaded to the items, brushed his fingers along a dress shirt hanging, but the price tag hanging from the collar added to the fact that it had yet to be worn. There was, however, a rumpled coat jacket hanging that looked far from new. All Sylar had to do was press his fingers against the jacket’s sleeve, and in a flash, all sort of past happenings whirled through his brain. He stopped from going any further when he got the image of Peter hugging none other than Claire, and Sylar grinned to himself.
He managed to get the image of the house Claire and Peter were standing in front of when they met, along with the word “Michigan”. It was all he needed to transport. That and a little shape shifting to make himself Peter. He shape shifted, pulled Peter’s jacket from the rack, pulled it over himself, and transported to the place Claire Bennet most likely was.
*
Masked as Peter Petrelli, Sylar walked up the small steps of the same steps Peter had been met on by Claire. He had to hide his smile, so as to not appear too eager or suspicious. At the door, Sylar peered in, but didn’t see anyone. He almost forcibly opened the door, but he remembered that he had to be Peter. At least for now.
He knocked on the door three times, stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, and waited. Unfortunately, no one seemed to be coming for the door, so he opened the palm of his hand to open the door, but just then, the door flew open.
“Peter, what are you doing here?”
Sylar was struck by the visage before him, causing her words to be lost on him. Elle stood in front of him hair tussled in a messy pony tail, yellow cleaning gloves on her hands, and furrowed brows directed at him.
“Oh,” Sylar breathed in and out, “I was just--”
“Checking up on us?” Elle rolled her eyes, but opened the door more to let him. Slowly, Sylar walked in. He smoothed down the rising anger within himself, and remained pacified. Elle was alive, but Peter apparently wouldn’t be fazed by this so he couldn’t either.
Elle quickly walked past him, and he followed her through the living room to the kitchen, where she seemed to be cleaning.
“How are you, Elle?”
Elle snapped off the gloves, turned on the faucet sink, and rinsed her hands. “Fine,” she answered, not paying any particular attention.
She turned off the faucet, reached for a hand cloth, and eyed him. “But I know what you’re really here for.”
“What would that be?”
Elle squinted at Peter for a second, the manner in which he was speaking throwing her off a bit, but she chalked it off to her just being irritated by him.
“You’re here for Claire. I heard you last time. Talking about how you would come see her when you were ready to ‘set some plan in motion’ to finally stop Sylar.”
Elle studied Peter as the muscles in his face relaxed and clearly fought down a smile or something, and all too slowly, he responded, “yes, that.”
Peter cleared his throat, and asked, “where is Claire, anyway?”
He walked closer to where Elle was standing, and it disconcerted her. Something felt off in the way he was acting.
“Getting groceries. Her turn to do the shopping, my turn to clean the kitchen,” she said as if it were all normal routine.
He stood just inches from where Elle was putting away the dishes, and as Elle raised a glass, she looked at the reflection of the glass to see Peter’s cheekbones twist for the briefest of seconds. Elle shoved the glass into the cupboard, planted on a grin, and turned to…Peter.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“Nothing, you’re just acting a little weird. But you always are,” she shrugged him off and walked away from him when thankfully, the phone in her jeans pocket rang.
*
Peter first noticed that there was something off in his apartment when he saw his bedroom door to be open. He recalled closing it that morning, and he walked in slowly, wondering if someone was there, or if someone had been there. Everything looked to be in place there, though, and he couldn’t sense anyone inside.
But when he took a look at his closet and saw that his coat was gone, he knew someone had in fact been there.
Having acquired a few of Sylar’s own abilities in their last meeting, Peter took to touching the own objects in his room, and upon touching one of his mother’s trinkets, he saw that Sylar had been there.
He immediately called Claire.
*
Claire stopped in the middle of the street when her phone rang, and she pushed the stroller with Mason in it to the side as she answered.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Claire, listen, where are you right now?”
“Where I have been for the last several months.”
“Are you at the house?” he asked, his voice full of concern and fear.
“No, no, I went out to grab some groceries. Why?”
“Sylar knows where you’re living. He’s gone there. Where’s Elle?”
Claire’s heart stopped for a moment, and her eyes dilated. “At the house.”
“You have to warn her.”
Claire nodded, but realized Peter couldn’t see that. “Yeah, yeah,” Claire said quickly before ending his call and calling up Elle.
Simultaneously, Claire hurriedly pushed Mason further down the street and into the nearly always abandoned bookstore. She hid herself and Mason behind one of the bookshelves, anxiously waited for Elle to answer, and when Elle did answer, she said in the lowest of whispers, “Elle, you’re in danger.”
*
At the words that sprung to her ears when she flipped her phone open and said, “hello,” Elle responded with only one thing - “yeah.”
Elle remained stoic as the more words rushed from Claire’s mouth - “Sylar was in Peter’s apartment and is at the house right now.”
“Silly, Claire,” Elle did her best to giggle, “well Peter’s here so just forget the tomatoes and hurry up.”
“Elle, listen, that’s Sylar.”
Elle paused to answer. “Yeah, I know. Laters.”
Elle flipped her phone shut, stared at it for a few seconds, pondering if she should attack or explain, when she remembered Mason, and she made her decision. She shoved the phone back into her pocket.
Turning to Sylar, Elle played off the call by saying, “She’s so annoying.”
“She’s my niece,” he said.
“Whatever,” she sighed, walking around Sylar. In an instant, she turned back on her heel, and blasted him with a full force shock of electricity.
He screamed, but quickly recovered from the shock, and sent him one all his own. Elle quickly ducked behind a counter, only to hear him give a laugh that devolved from Peter’s voice to Sylar’s.
Elle took a deep breath, jumped back up, and looked over to where she had heard the laugh, but he wasn’t in sight. She make a quick turn, but still, she couldn’t see him, and she backed up against the counter, afraid of what he was going to do next. She walked away from the counter, and began heading towards the front door, when she felt his hand at the base of her neck.
“So you’re alive,” he whispered near her ear. Elle jumped, and started breathing heavily.
“I…,” Elle breathed heaved, not enough air making it to her lungs, “they…said you…were…going to kil me,” she said it in the quickest possible snap.
“And you believed them?” he grunted. Elle whispered, “no” but at the same time, she began trembling in his lock, and with a laugh, he said, “don’t tell me you’re scared.”
She jabbed her elbow into his stomach, and aside from a small flinch, it didn’t affect him. It only made him grip her neck harder.
“You really shouldn’t fight this, Elle. It really is your own fault.”
He turned her around, smirked, and raised a finger to her forehead, when Peter called out, “leave her alone!”
Sylar turned his head to Peter, but had no intention to listen, as Elle knew, so at his distraction, she let electricity overcome and encompass the whole of her body, causing the same to happen to him.
He shook her off and threw her across the room.
Elle, slightly daze, began getting up as Peter and Sylar walked towards each other, preparing to fight each other.
Elle slowly made her own way to Sylar, but Peter yelled, “Elle, get out!”
Elle’s face contorted at the order, but Peter sent her thought, “find Claire” and she knew what he meant by that--find Claire who has your son.
Elle looked to Peter and the door, wanting to fight but also wanting to protect her son.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Sylar said, pulling Elle back in his direction, but Peter pulled one of the doors of its hinges and tossed it in Sylar’s direction.
Sylar fell under the weight of it, and before Elle could even run, she felt herself out of sorts as she stood in the house she had made her home for several months in once second, and in the next second, she was standing on a terrace overlooking a slew of small tones. On top of that it was snowing, and she was without a sweater.
Elle looked around her surroundings, confused as to where she was, and just as suddenly as she had appeared, Claire and her son’s stroller appeared as well.
Claire looked just as confused, and both girls looked at each other, wondering if they had an answer.
“Wha--” Claire began, but Elle immediately shrugged.
She jogged over to the stroller, pulled back the covering, and sighed in relief when all there was, was her son soundly sleeping. Elle pulled the cover back down, and sat down next to Claire, and they huddled together.
They only had to wait a minute or two for Peter to appear and for them to begin their barrage of questioning.
*
Ten minutes later, Claire, Peter, Elle, and Mason were sitting in a small restaurant, with only a few other customers with them.
The waitress brought each of them hot cocoa, and after sipping some, Claire said, “so we’re in Canada.”
“Because you decided to transport us without our consent,” Elle added.
“Since you’ve got your abilities back, you really think you can just do that,” Claire complained.
Peter leaned back in his seat, knowing it best not to explain himself anymore. Whatever he said, they wouldn’t like it.
“You think you can go back for my clothes?” Elle suddenly asked.
Peter laughed at that, and then Claire joined in. Elle crossed her arms over her chest and gawked at them.
“I was not joking,” she muttered before drinking down her hot cocoa.
When they were done laughing, Claire pondered, “so what do we do now?”
Peter sat upright in his seat, leaned forward, rasped his knuckle against the table twice, then looked at Claire.
“I’m taking you back to your dad. He says you and he need to figure out a different way to handle the Sylar situation.”
Claire glanced at Elle for a second before turning to look at her hands in her lap. “Okay,” she said in a meek whisper.
Peter turned his eyes to Elle. “What do you say to staying in Canada, Elle? I’ve got some money to rent out a place, and I’ll stay with you awhile to set things up. But then you’ll be on your own.”
Elle parted her mouth slightly, and squinted her eyes at Peter. “You’re not going to annoy me about electrifying any pesty bugs that intrude this place we rent, are you?”
Not entirely catching her meaning, but inferring that Elle wanted freedom more than anything, he didn’t see a problem with her using her powers to kill insects, so he said, “I wouldn’t try to stop you.”
“Peter, you shouldn’t--” Claire warned him, but before Claire could finish her warning, Elle jumped out of her seat, ran over to Peter’s, and hugged him from behind.
Claire rubbed her head in her hands and shook her head at Peter. He had no idea what he was in for--Elle took a lot of getting used to and readjustment, something she had surprisingly underestimated when she had gone to live with her.
“Thank you, Peter!” she exclaimed before unwrapping her arms from his torso, shaking his hair with her hand, and zapping his neck.
Peter’s face twisted at the zap, and he gaped at Claire when she chuckled. Perhaps Elle hadn’t solely been referring to insects when she said “bugs” he suddenly realized.
Claire grinned, “You two are going to have so much fun.”
fandom: Heroes
summary: When Matt Parkman has a vision of Elle Bishop holding a key to the end of the manhunt, he urges the others to devise a plan to save Elle from her death. What Matt doesn't tell them, however, gives way to another, more complicated journey for Elle Bishop, along with making her a larger target if Sylar were to find everything out.
characters: Elle Bishop, Peter Petrelli, Claire Bennet + main ensemble (to a lesser degree)
genre: Action/Drama/Friendship/General
rating: T
note: Spoilers up through 3x24, AU from Volume Four. The third part explores Elle's past more than this and the first part, just FYI. Thanks for the wonderful response to the first installment. Hope you continue to enjoy. Final part should be up tomorrow. :)
parts: one. two. three.
~*~two months later
“You know, you’re far along enough for me to check for the baby’s gender.”
Elle stared at Whitney for a good minute or so before blinking and saying, “you mean if it’s a boy or a girl?”
Whitney, or Dr. Delaney as she was known to most others, laughed and pulled the microphone of the ultrasound machine from Elle’s stomach. “Yes, that.”
“Okay,” Elle said.
“You sure you want to know?”
Elle nodded more enthusiastically and smiled. “Yeah, I want to know.”
Whitney pressed the microphone back on Elle’s stomach and rolled it down her abdomen as she looked at the screen. It didn’t take her long to get just the shot she needed to tell what the baby was, and confidently, she said to Elle, “you’re having a boy.”
Elle’s heart began pounding mildly rapidly at the news, and her smile stretched wider. “A boy,” she whispered and with a tentative move, touched her stomach, “it’s a he.”
**
Elle shook the key chain in her hand, and smiled at Whitney.
“Thanks so much for everything, Whit.”
The young woman smiled in turn, and enveloped Elle in a hug.
Elle returned the hug, pulled back, and expressed, “is it okay if I’m a little scared? I don’t even know where I’m going. They just sent a note telling me to drive along the 22 highway.”
“If you’re not scared, you’re not human,” Whitney shrugged, and strangely enough, that helped Elle a little.
Elle gave Whitney a quick wink and thumbs up, got in the car, and began her drive. Wherever she was going, she hoped there would be people just as nice and non judgmental as Whitney. Surprisingly, Elle had enjoyed her stay with the girl, daughter of the man Nathan Petrelli had entrusted her to, but despite lending herself to a friendship, Elle made sure not to grow too attached. It wasn’t exactly hard, considering that as a child, Elle was switched around schools and homes so often, she feared getting to know anyone. That and it seemed like others were afraid to get to know her, but Whitney wasn’t like that.
So Elle felt proud of herself when she drove away from Whitney, not a panic attack or tear in sight. She didn’t know what or who it was that nagging at her to act a little more grown-up, though she had an inkling it was that boy inside her forcing her to be cautionary about other things, nevertheless it felt nice to be on the right side of self-confidence. A little boring, but a little nice too.
*
Elle drove onto the highway and down it for 12 minutes, until she spotted a short blonde girl standing off to the side, against the rails of the freeway.
Elle squinted, making sure it was the person she thought it was, and although still not absolutely sure, she thought it her best bet and she slowed down and drove over onto the shoulder. Upon stopping, Elle could clearly tell it was Claire.
Claire stood upright when the car stopped, and she waited by the rails until the person stepped out and made her way over.
“Hey,” Claire greeted her, moving her body to the side which made her small luggage bag visible to Elle. And something else was clearly visible to Claire now--Elle’s baby bump.
Claire grinned whilst looking at the bump. “How many months are you now?”
“Five months. Almost six.”
The two girls looked intently at each other a bit, then Claire laughed.
“We’ve got a long drive, so we should probably get going.”
“Where we going?” Elle asked.
“Um, to Michigan.”
“Michigan?” Elle yelled, “but that’s so…blah.”
“Yeah well, it’s where Mohinder is, which Nathan and my dad think is just perfect. So…?”
Elle rolled her eyes. “So Michigan it is.”
***
Elle had expected things to be out of sort with Claire.
It was so bad at the beginning, that Elle nearly forgot to enjoy the fact that her room in Michigan was more vast than any room she had before, and it was a two story house to boot. It wasn’t an average large house, but it was to Elle considering that there were only two and a half occupants.
Most days, Elle stayed on the second floor, in the living room where she had a mini-refrigerator installed along with a television (it took nothing more than a threat or two to Nathan Petrelli to provide her with better homely and clothing provisions for this to happen - it would seem as though the man was familiar with the wrath of a pregnant woman).
When that got boring, she headed downstairs and out back to a leftover tool shed from the previous owners. And what she did there was what a lot of her arguments with Elle stemmed from.
Elle thought that because the little teenager had her own desire to use her powers, she would understand Elle’s own familiar wants. So what if Elle went out back to zap some annoying bugs, some inconsequential soda cans, some ugly trash bins?
But any time Claire found out what Elle was doing, she threw a fit, saying someday someone would see her and their cover would be blown. As if she was going to go any further to distance herself from her prior identity. She was going to have a kid. She didn’t have her daddy, so she didn’t owe anyone anything anymore. As it was, everyone just should have been pleased at her not running to Sylar.
Claire, on the other hand, had even gone and dyed her hair brown at her adoptive father’s urging, but Elle was having none of that. It was enough that she had to deal with the natural physical changes of her pregnancy. Besides, the neighbors were more than a dozen feet away (it wasn’t what Elle had envisioned as a neighborhood, but Claire said places like these were less populated and active).
The tool shed and late nights for her to zap things, however, were not enough for Elle. She and Claire were having trouble finding solid ground. Sure, there were the attempts at communication, but both girls were too frustrated with feeling so useless that they lashed out at each other despite them having the capacity to get along. So Elle didn’t have anyone to entertain her. Not even Mohinder, because he never came by. Elle and Claire only saw him once every few weeks, when they drove down to his makeshift lab for him to check on Elle’s baby.
It wasn’t until Elle was in the middle of her seven months of pregnancy, that Elle and Claire found themselves spending more than ten minutes in the same room with each other.
The stairs were starting to be a tad too much for Elle, not that she ever said so--Claire had to come to her own realization of this when she noticed that it took Elle longer to climb the stairs. That and Elle gripped the stair railing pretty tightly and kept huffing every fifth step or so.
After a few times of witnessing this, Claire climbed up behind Elle, cleared her throat, and said, “need some help?”
“What?” Elle muttered, then, “no.”
She kept climbing, Claire slurred, “fine” and left her be.
Claire let Elle go on climbing without her help for another couple of weeks, but in between, she did other things to help out Elle. Things such stock more food in the refrigerator downstairs and leave the one upstairs more empty so Elle didn’t have an excuse to go upstairs. Claire also abdicated the remote control of the television downstairs to Elle more often and made sure to stay out of Elle’s way when she was walking around with her frustrated face.
Elle realized what Claire was doing, but she didn’t complain. She was getting her way without a fight, and Elle could not object to that.
At eight months, Claire stopped taking no for an answer, and began helping Elle up the stairs. It took several turns for Elle to finally voice a thank you, and it took several more turns after than for Claire to throw up her hands and say Elle had to stop going upstairs.
“But the fridge and television and no you are--”
“I know,” Claire clicked her tongue, “but you’re eight months pregnant. So just…move in to the other bedroom downstairs. At least until the baby is born. I’ll even move upstairs if you want to.”
Elle nearly said yes, but strangely enough, she felt a pang of guilt at that. “Nah, you don’t have to,” Elle replied while looking out the window, “just help me move my stuff downstairs.”
“Cool,” Claire smiled, momentarily forgetting the amount of clothing Elle had in her clothing. She would be reminded soon enough.
*
“Just one more push, Elle, come on,” Claire urged, prompting Elle to shoot her a killer glance.
“I heard Mohinder the first time,” Elle gritted through her teeth and dug her fingernails into Claire’s hand. Claire flinched more at the look than Elle’s grip.
“Okay, Elle,” Mohinder declared in a low voice, not wanting to convey any overly-urgent tone to further aggravate Elle.
Elle heaved, grunted, and pushed. Claire watched in amazement and momentary discomfort as Mohinder helped ease out the last of the baby’s body.
Elle’s head rolled back, and she let out a giant sigh as her hand went limp. “Oh God…” Elle murmured tiredly when the baby let out a cry.
Mohinder laughed at the baby’s cry, glad he managed to get the results he’d been taught he should get from a birth. He got up and softly treaded to a bin of water he had set up, and Elle raised her head, not losing sight of Mohinder or the baby.
When Mohinder returned with the baby wrapped in a light blanket, Elle focused on the baby apprehensively, and she sat up against Claire.
Claire shifted in her seat and pulled the pillow between her and Elle more up to cover Elle’s back. Claire watched as Elle’s eyes dilated when Mohinder outstretched the baby to her.
“I…” Elle trailed off, eyes fixated on the child.
“Here,” Claire instructed Mohinder, and she pulled up her knees to serve as a board to Elle’s back and stretched out her arms. Mohinder carefully handed the baby to Claire, the baby brushing Elle’s arms as he was handed over.
Claire rocked the baby a bit before turning her body more to Elle’s.
“I think he wants his mommy.”
Elle licked her licks and swallowed the lump in her throat. She sat frozen for a few seconds, then nodded. She stuck out her arms like Claire had, cradled the head carefully, and leaned the baby into her body until she got into a comfortable position. Finally in her arms, Elle smiled widely at the baby and pressed her lips to his forehead. “Hey baby,” she whispered, feeling like a part of something real for once.
**
Elle whistled to her baby as she changed his diaper, but the changing process kept getting interrupted by her tendency to get distracted by the faces he kept making.
He turned two months just the day before, and he looked nothing like he had as a newborn. Except for the blue eyes. And now he made those faces that amused Elle to no end.
“Aren’t you just an adorable little puppy?” Elle giggled as she nuzzled the baby.
She returned to wiping him clean, and then heard a small commotion coming from the porch. Elle turned her head and peered to catch what was going on inside. Within seconds, Claire came inside, and behind her was Peter.
“Peter,” Elle uttered, surprised at the visit. Only Noah had come to visit in her and Claire’s months there, and that was only once, a couple of weeks before Elle gave birth.
“Hey,” he smiled at her, and then his attention went to the baby.
He walked over to Elle and the baby, and kneeled down.
Elle watched Peter, once again forgetting that she was changing the baby’s diaper, which Peter noticed.
“I can finish up if you want,” Peter offered.
“Oh, no, I can--”
But Peter’s hands were already fast at work as he leaned over into her space, reached for the baby powder, sprinkled a little on the baby, grabbed the clean diaper, and fastened it on the baby. He did so in a motion so quick, it took Elle five weeks to master the record time.
“Practice much?” she smirked.
“Yeah, actually in nursing school,” Peter admitted, causing Elle to laugh.
Peter blushed and looked back down at the baby.
“Can I hold him?”
“You changed his diaper. You really have to ask?”
Peter grinned at her. He picked up the baby, stood up, and bounced him lightly on his hip. When he got a laugh out of the baby, he looked over at Elle.
“What’s his name?”
“Mason, his name’s Mason.”
“Elle picked the name because it was the first to lose her roll call of ‘eenie meenie miny moe’,” Claire stifled a laugh.
“That is not true,” Elle shook her head, but didn’t offer up any other explanation as to the baby’s naming.
Peter looked back at the baby and smiled. He had his mother’s eyes and nose. In fact, he aside from his ears, his facial features resembled his mother’s very much, but the nose and eyes stuck out the most to him. He was a beautiful kid.
“So why are you here, Peter?” Elle cocked an eyebrow at him.
Peter’s smile tightened and his throat strained. “I just wanted to make sure you were all doing well.”
“We’re fine,” Elle said in a curt tone, “that’s why you all sent us out here, instead of fighting by your side, right?”
“Elle, not now,” Claire hissed.
“He’s not here just to make sure we’re good!” Elle screamed. Mason began crying in Peter’s arms, and Elle took an intake of breath. She walked up to Peter and took Mason in her arms, before trudging upstairs.
“How is she, really?” Peter asked when Elle was out of earshot.
“She’s a lot better than you would expect. She gets angry and tired with the baby a lot, but it doesn’t stop her from trying and just doing what she has to do,” Claire mused.
“I’m glad.”
“Yeah. Peter, why are you really here? You haven’t come out to see us before.”
Peter looked around the house, rubbed the back of his head, and whispered, “Sylar’s looking for you. He’s got some new plan to seek you out…he thinks you’re his missing piece, because you both…neither of you can die.”
Claire didn’t know whether to laugh at the notion of missing pieces or to go aghast with the fact that if the world were to end, she and Sylar would still be left standing among no one else.
Claire swallowed both reactions down and calmly asked, “so what do we do? Do we move? Do we finally fight him?”
“For now, you two stay here.”
“But we can’t just sit here and--”
“We’re going to fight him, Claire, but we’re not going into it blindly. I swear that I’ll come back when we’re ready to set something in motion.”
“And Elle? Sylar still has no idea about--”
“No. And we’re keeping it that way. The last thing we need is for him to find out he has a son.”
***
Sylar brushed his fingers through various objects within the small apartment that was Peter Petrelli’s, attempting to find anything that could lead him to Claire’s whereabouts.
He walked without making a sound to what was probably Peter’s bedroom, pushed open the door, and stepped inside, his eyes taking in the contents. Like the rest of the apartment, there was nothing but a trinket or two, each courtesy Angela Petrelli. Nothing showed anything except that they were bought at some different part of the country, and were mailed to Peter.
Sylar sighed, irritated at the lack of information in the man’s apartment. Peter had always struck him as more the sentimental type, to keep things around that reminded him of home.
And then Sylar spotted the few clothing items lined in the small closet to the right of the bedroom, and he grinned. Nothing like clothing to get some history of a person.
Sylar treaded to the items, brushed his fingers along a dress shirt hanging, but the price tag hanging from the collar added to the fact that it had yet to be worn. There was, however, a rumpled coat jacket hanging that looked far from new. All Sylar had to do was press his fingers against the jacket’s sleeve, and in a flash, all sort of past happenings whirled through his brain. He stopped from going any further when he got the image of Peter hugging none other than Claire, and Sylar grinned to himself.
He managed to get the image of the house Claire and Peter were standing in front of when they met, along with the word “Michigan”. It was all he needed to transport. That and a little shape shifting to make himself Peter. He shape shifted, pulled Peter’s jacket from the rack, pulled it over himself, and transported to the place Claire Bennet most likely was.
*
Masked as Peter Petrelli, Sylar walked up the small steps of the same steps Peter had been met on by Claire. He had to hide his smile, so as to not appear too eager or suspicious. At the door, Sylar peered in, but didn’t see anyone. He almost forcibly opened the door, but he remembered that he had to be Peter. At least for now.
He knocked on the door three times, stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, and waited. Unfortunately, no one seemed to be coming for the door, so he opened the palm of his hand to open the door, but just then, the door flew open.
“Peter, what are you doing here?”
Sylar was struck by the visage before him, causing her words to be lost on him. Elle stood in front of him hair tussled in a messy pony tail, yellow cleaning gloves on her hands, and furrowed brows directed at him.
“Oh,” Sylar breathed in and out, “I was just--”
“Checking up on us?” Elle rolled her eyes, but opened the door more to let him. Slowly, Sylar walked in. He smoothed down the rising anger within himself, and remained pacified. Elle was alive, but Peter apparently wouldn’t be fazed by this so he couldn’t either.
Elle quickly walked past him, and he followed her through the living room to the kitchen, where she seemed to be cleaning.
“How are you, Elle?”
Elle snapped off the gloves, turned on the faucet sink, and rinsed her hands. “Fine,” she answered, not paying any particular attention.
She turned off the faucet, reached for a hand cloth, and eyed him. “But I know what you’re really here for.”
“What would that be?”
Elle squinted at Peter for a second, the manner in which he was speaking throwing her off a bit, but she chalked it off to her just being irritated by him.
“You’re here for Claire. I heard you last time. Talking about how you would come see her when you were ready to ‘set some plan in motion’ to finally stop Sylar.”
Elle studied Peter as the muscles in his face relaxed and clearly fought down a smile or something, and all too slowly, he responded, “yes, that.”
Peter cleared his throat, and asked, “where is Claire, anyway?”
He walked closer to where Elle was standing, and it disconcerted her. Something felt off in the way he was acting.
“Getting groceries. Her turn to do the shopping, my turn to clean the kitchen,” she said as if it were all normal routine.
He stood just inches from where Elle was putting away the dishes, and as Elle raised a glass, she looked at the reflection of the glass to see Peter’s cheekbones twist for the briefest of seconds. Elle shoved the glass into the cupboard, planted on a grin, and turned to…Peter.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“Nothing, you’re just acting a little weird. But you always are,” she shrugged him off and walked away from him when thankfully, the phone in her jeans pocket rang.
*
Peter first noticed that there was something off in his apartment when he saw his bedroom door to be open. He recalled closing it that morning, and he walked in slowly, wondering if someone was there, or if someone had been there. Everything looked to be in place there, though, and he couldn’t sense anyone inside.
But when he took a look at his closet and saw that his coat was gone, he knew someone had in fact been there.
Having acquired a few of Sylar’s own abilities in their last meeting, Peter took to touching the own objects in his room, and upon touching one of his mother’s trinkets, he saw that Sylar had been there.
He immediately called Claire.
*
Claire stopped in the middle of the street when her phone rang, and she pushed the stroller with Mason in it to the side as she answered.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Claire, listen, where are you right now?”
“Where I have been for the last several months.”
“Are you at the house?” he asked, his voice full of concern and fear.
“No, no, I went out to grab some groceries. Why?”
“Sylar knows where you’re living. He’s gone there. Where’s Elle?”
Claire’s heart stopped for a moment, and her eyes dilated. “At the house.”
“You have to warn her.”
Claire nodded, but realized Peter couldn’t see that. “Yeah, yeah,” Claire said quickly before ending his call and calling up Elle.
Simultaneously, Claire hurriedly pushed Mason further down the street and into the nearly always abandoned bookstore. She hid herself and Mason behind one of the bookshelves, anxiously waited for Elle to answer, and when Elle did answer, she said in the lowest of whispers, “Elle, you’re in danger.”
*
At the words that sprung to her ears when she flipped her phone open and said, “hello,” Elle responded with only one thing - “yeah.”
Elle remained stoic as the more words rushed from Claire’s mouth - “Sylar was in Peter’s apartment and is at the house right now.”
“Silly, Claire,” Elle did her best to giggle, “well Peter’s here so just forget the tomatoes and hurry up.”
“Elle, listen, that’s Sylar.”
Elle paused to answer. “Yeah, I know. Laters.”
Elle flipped her phone shut, stared at it for a few seconds, pondering if she should attack or explain, when she remembered Mason, and she made her decision. She shoved the phone back into her pocket.
Turning to Sylar, Elle played off the call by saying, “She’s so annoying.”
“She’s my niece,” he said.
“Whatever,” she sighed, walking around Sylar. In an instant, she turned back on her heel, and blasted him with a full force shock of electricity.
He screamed, but quickly recovered from the shock, and sent him one all his own. Elle quickly ducked behind a counter, only to hear him give a laugh that devolved from Peter’s voice to Sylar’s.
Elle took a deep breath, jumped back up, and looked over to where she had heard the laugh, but he wasn’t in sight. She make a quick turn, but still, she couldn’t see him, and she backed up against the counter, afraid of what he was going to do next. She walked away from the counter, and began heading towards the front door, when she felt his hand at the base of her neck.
“So you’re alive,” he whispered near her ear. Elle jumped, and started breathing heavily.
“I…,” Elle breathed heaved, not enough air making it to her lungs, “they…said you…were…going to kil me,” she said it in the quickest possible snap.
“And you believed them?” he grunted. Elle whispered, “no” but at the same time, she began trembling in his lock, and with a laugh, he said, “don’t tell me you’re scared.”
She jabbed her elbow into his stomach, and aside from a small flinch, it didn’t affect him. It only made him grip her neck harder.
“You really shouldn’t fight this, Elle. It really is your own fault.”
He turned her around, smirked, and raised a finger to her forehead, when Peter called out, “leave her alone!”
Sylar turned his head to Peter, but had no intention to listen, as Elle knew, so at his distraction, she let electricity overcome and encompass the whole of her body, causing the same to happen to him.
He shook her off and threw her across the room.
Elle, slightly daze, began getting up as Peter and Sylar walked towards each other, preparing to fight each other.
Elle slowly made her own way to Sylar, but Peter yelled, “Elle, get out!”
Elle’s face contorted at the order, but Peter sent her thought, “find Claire” and she knew what he meant by that--find Claire who has your son.
Elle looked to Peter and the door, wanting to fight but also wanting to protect her son.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Sylar said, pulling Elle back in his direction, but Peter pulled one of the doors of its hinges and tossed it in Sylar’s direction.
Sylar fell under the weight of it, and before Elle could even run, she felt herself out of sorts as she stood in the house she had made her home for several months in once second, and in the next second, she was standing on a terrace overlooking a slew of small tones. On top of that it was snowing, and she was without a sweater.
Elle looked around her surroundings, confused as to where she was, and just as suddenly as she had appeared, Claire and her son’s stroller appeared as well.
Claire looked just as confused, and both girls looked at each other, wondering if they had an answer.
“Wha--” Claire began, but Elle immediately shrugged.
She jogged over to the stroller, pulled back the covering, and sighed in relief when all there was, was her son soundly sleeping. Elle pulled the cover back down, and sat down next to Claire, and they huddled together.
They only had to wait a minute or two for Peter to appear and for them to begin their barrage of questioning.
*
Ten minutes later, Claire, Peter, Elle, and Mason were sitting in a small restaurant, with only a few other customers with them.
The waitress brought each of them hot cocoa, and after sipping some, Claire said, “so we’re in Canada.”
“Because you decided to transport us without our consent,” Elle added.
“Since you’ve got your abilities back, you really think you can just do that,” Claire complained.
Peter leaned back in his seat, knowing it best not to explain himself anymore. Whatever he said, they wouldn’t like it.
“You think you can go back for my clothes?” Elle suddenly asked.
Peter laughed at that, and then Claire joined in. Elle crossed her arms over her chest and gawked at them.
“I was not joking,” she muttered before drinking down her hot cocoa.
When they were done laughing, Claire pondered, “so what do we do now?”
Peter sat upright in his seat, leaned forward, rasped his knuckle against the table twice, then looked at Claire.
“I’m taking you back to your dad. He says you and he need to figure out a different way to handle the Sylar situation.”
Claire glanced at Elle for a second before turning to look at her hands in her lap. “Okay,” she said in a meek whisper.
Peter turned his eyes to Elle. “What do you say to staying in Canada, Elle? I’ve got some money to rent out a place, and I’ll stay with you awhile to set things up. But then you’ll be on your own.”
Elle parted her mouth slightly, and squinted her eyes at Peter. “You’re not going to annoy me about electrifying any pesty bugs that intrude this place we rent, are you?”
Not entirely catching her meaning, but inferring that Elle wanted freedom more than anything, he didn’t see a problem with her using her powers to kill insects, so he said, “I wouldn’t try to stop you.”
“Peter, you shouldn’t--” Claire warned him, but before Claire could finish her warning, Elle jumped out of her seat, ran over to Peter’s, and hugged him from behind.
Claire rubbed her head in her hands and shook her head at Peter. He had no idea what he was in for--Elle took a lot of getting used to and readjustment, something she had surprisingly underestimated when she had gone to live with her.
“Thank you, Peter!” she exclaimed before unwrapping her arms from his torso, shaking his hair with her hand, and zapping his neck.
Peter’s face twisted at the zap, and he gaped at Claire when she chuckled. Perhaps Elle hadn’t solely been referring to insects when she said “bugs” he suddenly realized.
Claire grinned, “You two are going to have so much fun.”