(no subject)
TITLE: Of Bishops and Knights
AUTHOR: dragynflies
RATING: PG 13?
DISCLAIMER: Heroes cast is not mine.
SUMMARY: Elle doesn’t expect to see him again, but felt something strangely like gratitude twist in her chest.
Happy Birthday, catyuy!
When Elle wakes up, she’s in a white hospital room and there are machines and tubes running from her nose and her hand. A heart monitor is beeping in the corner.
She blinks, rubs her sandy eyes with the hand not attached to the IV and looks around the room. Everything is hazy, and she hurts.
The whole room smells like burnt hair.
“Miss Knight?” Elle’s head turns towards the sound on reflex; not her name but still the doctor is coming to her bed.
She blinks at the man in the white coat, hoping he’s going to tell her what’s going on because she’s got no idea. She remembers a beach, and a grocery store, too much blood and screaming.
“Miss Knight, I’m glad to see you awake,” the doctor says gently, “your father dropped you off, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
For a minute Elle has a soaring hope that Daddy took care of her. Then she remembers her Daddy is dead, and now images from the beach are coming back to her.
“Thirsty,” she manages, licking her lips with her dry tongue.
“Oh, right,” the doctor says, and motions for a nurse to bring Elle some water. “I’m surprised your father didn’t stay longer.” He shakes his head, “you have some pretty severe burns across your stomach and arms. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
The nurse helps Elle sip her water, cupping the back of her head as Elle weakly sips on the straw. “I don’t…I don’t remember,” Elle finally says.
The doctor swallows and nods. A beach party gone wrong; a pretty girl that drank too much and fell into the fire. It isn’t the first time he’s seen this, and it won’t be the last. The weird part is that her father didn’t really seem to care about her and had left her so soon after her admittance to the hospital.
His patient doesn’t seem too surprised at her father’s absence; maybe he’s just one of those hands off fathers.
“Well, we’re going to need to keep you here for at least another week,” the doctor continues. Elle tries to read his name badge but the print is too small and blurry for her, “and keep an eye on those burns. Right now it doesn’t look like we’re going to need to do any skin grafts, but we need to be prepared for that possibility. Here we have the best chance of keeping the skin clean and allowing it to heal. The stitches in your forehead can come out in three days…you’re lucky that when you fell, you didn’t catch yourself a little harder on that rock.”
When Elle nods, the whole room spins and she groans, closing her eyes. Her eyelids are heavy anyway, and it’s so much nicer in the dark.
The doctor tries to talk to her for a few more minutes, but she can’t hear him anymore. The sound of waves crashing fills her ears, and when she sleeps, she remembers.
She wakes up later, still in the hospital room. Not everything was a dream. The oxygen tubes are gone from her nose, but the IV is still in her arm. She sits up a little; the skin on her stomach and chest pulls and hurts when she moves, but she can’t lay in bed, and she has to go to the bathroom.
She checks the chart hanging on the end of her bed. Eleanor Claire Knight.
So Bennet had found her, and dropped her off here. The middle name explains that much. Elle doesn’t expect to see him again, but felt something strangely like gratitude twist in her chest.
She hangs the chart back on her bed and pulls her IV cart along with her. The steps to the bathroom are agonizing, burnt skin rubbing against more skin, and her head aches and throbs with every step.
She uses the bathroom and doesn’t look into the mirror until she’s washing her hands and glances up on reflex.
She recoils from the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her fingers come up to trace the line of stitches across her forehead before she even really understands why they’re there. The stitches run in a straight row, marching across her skin where her bangs used to cover.
What’s left of her hair is a mess. Short and choppy, the ends singed black. Aside from the big scary burns that are covered with bandages, the skin on her right cheek is raw and red, scabbed over. Across her nose runs a line of black scabs and her neck looks just as bad.
She squeezes her eyes shut and turns away from the mirror. When the tears spill out of her eyes and pour over the scabs, her skin burns like she’s been lit on fire again.
She can’t think about it anymore. Can’t be here, can’t do this.
But she doesn’t have anywhere to go.
She makes it back to her bed, legs trembling and hands shaking as she sits down, covers herself carefully with the hospital blanket.
Her leg aches from where Gabriel he had dug the bullet out in the grocery store, covered it with gauze and wrapped it.
She would have followed him anywhere just so he’d touch her again.
Now the wound is stitched up, sterilized and cleaned.
Elle remembers being six, her grandmother dragging her from her burning bed and the ambulance people wrapping her in cool sheets, patting out the fire. She doesn’t remember that hurting as much as this hurts.
Emotional pain plus physical pain leaves an ache deep in her chest. It hurts to breath, and it’s not entirely the fault of the scabs and burns across her chest.
It hurts to cry, but it hurts worse not to.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The hospital staff quit asking if her father would return after day four. They seem to be able to tell that not everything is right with this girl, Eleanor Knight, but they can’t quite put their finger on it. They avoid her room, stopping in just long enough to change her bandages and make sure she doesn’t need any pain medicine, and then they leave.
After a week and a half, they finally release Elle with a long list of strict instructions and an even longer list of hospital charges.
When the nurse directs her to gather her belongings in the locker, Elle blinks but opens the door anyway. There’s an outfit (the pink indicates it’s probably something of Claire’s) and a purse.
That twisting sense of gratitude for Bennet hits again, and Elle blinks back tears when she opens the purse and finds a wallet with ID and a plane ticket. There’s a note shoved in the wallet too, but Elle doesn’t need to read it to get the message.
Go away and don’t come back.
There’s cash in the wallet and the flight doesn’t leave for three more days, so Elle rents a room at the cheap motel near the airport and spends three days sleeping and watching bad daytime TV. She’s so close to everything, could try to go to Primatech and beg for help from Angela, or go to the Bennets' house and…
No.
She doesn’t need anyone anymore. Everyone who she has ever loved has let her down, and now she’s only alive because of fucking Noah Bennet and he never gave her any indication she was anything more than an annoyance to him.
The flight takes her to a little town in Nebraska. Elle finds a room for rent from an elderly lady named June who doesn’t ask too many questions about her still healing skin and ruined hair and spends a few weeks just healing (Elle really does appreciate everything Bennet did for her, but couldn’t Claire have spared a few drops of blood?) until the money in her wallet starts to run low.
Then June gets her a job at the little diner where she works, and lets Elle ride with her to work each day. Elle’s not a very good waitress at first, brings the drinks too late and the food at irregular intervals, but then she starts to learn.
She finds that things aren’t so bad away from everyone, that she doesn’t need to spark to earn a paycheck and take care of herself, and June loves having someone else living with her. Elle’s a little impatient at first, doesn’t like that June speaks slowly and knits, but eventually she starts to like listening to June’s voice and the click-click of knitting needles.
Elle’s always been good at adapting.
She’s just starting to get used to the idea that she could live like this, work at the little diner, and never ever see , Gabriel Sylar again when she starts to throw up every day at 5:45 a.m. and 12:15 p.m. like clockwork.
One of the other girls that works at the diner buys Elle a pregnancy test, rubs her back and murmurs to Elle as she waits for the little plus sign to appear.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
35 weeks later, June holds her hand while Elle pants and groans through her contractions. When her son finally comes into the world, pink and screaming, she cries just as hard as he does.
Elle cradles the cleaned, wrapped baby in her arms while June coos over him.
When her son opens his eyes and stares at her with the darkest brown eyes any of the nurses have ever seen on a newborn, she can really only think of one thing to say.
“Noah.”
AUTHOR: dragynflies
RATING: PG 13?
DISCLAIMER: Heroes cast is not mine.
SUMMARY: Elle doesn’t expect to see him again, but felt something strangely like gratitude twist in her chest.
Happy Birthday, catyuy!
When Elle wakes up, she’s in a white hospital room and there are machines and tubes running from her nose and her hand. A heart monitor is beeping in the corner.
She blinks, rubs her sandy eyes with the hand not attached to the IV and looks around the room. Everything is hazy, and she hurts.
The whole room smells like burnt hair.
“Miss Knight?” Elle’s head turns towards the sound on reflex; not her name but still the doctor is coming to her bed.
She blinks at the man in the white coat, hoping he’s going to tell her what’s going on because she’s got no idea. She remembers a beach, and a grocery store, too much blood and screaming.
“Miss Knight, I’m glad to see you awake,” the doctor says gently, “your father dropped you off, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
For a minute Elle has a soaring hope that Daddy took care of her. Then she remembers her Daddy is dead, and now images from the beach are coming back to her.
“Thirsty,” she manages, licking her lips with her dry tongue.
“Oh, right,” the doctor says, and motions for a nurse to bring Elle some water. “I’m surprised your father didn’t stay longer.” He shakes his head, “you have some pretty severe burns across your stomach and arms. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
The nurse helps Elle sip her water, cupping the back of her head as Elle weakly sips on the straw. “I don’t…I don’t remember,” Elle finally says.
The doctor swallows and nods. A beach party gone wrong; a pretty girl that drank too much and fell into the fire. It isn’t the first time he’s seen this, and it won’t be the last. The weird part is that her father didn’t really seem to care about her and had left her so soon after her admittance to the hospital.
His patient doesn’t seem too surprised at her father’s absence; maybe he’s just one of those hands off fathers.
“Well, we’re going to need to keep you here for at least another week,” the doctor continues. Elle tries to read his name badge but the print is too small and blurry for her, “and keep an eye on those burns. Right now it doesn’t look like we’re going to need to do any skin grafts, but we need to be prepared for that possibility. Here we have the best chance of keeping the skin clean and allowing it to heal. The stitches in your forehead can come out in three days…you’re lucky that when you fell, you didn’t catch yourself a little harder on that rock.”
When Elle nods, the whole room spins and she groans, closing her eyes. Her eyelids are heavy anyway, and it’s so much nicer in the dark.
The doctor tries to talk to her for a few more minutes, but she can’t hear him anymore. The sound of waves crashing fills her ears, and when she sleeps, she remembers.
She wakes up later, still in the hospital room. Not everything was a dream. The oxygen tubes are gone from her nose, but the IV is still in her arm. She sits up a little; the skin on her stomach and chest pulls and hurts when she moves, but she can’t lay in bed, and she has to go to the bathroom.
She checks the chart hanging on the end of her bed. Eleanor Claire Knight.
So Bennet had found her, and dropped her off here. The middle name explains that much. Elle doesn’t expect to see him again, but felt something strangely like gratitude twist in her chest.
She hangs the chart back on her bed and pulls her IV cart along with her. The steps to the bathroom are agonizing, burnt skin rubbing against more skin, and her head aches and throbs with every step.
She uses the bathroom and doesn’t look into the mirror until she’s washing her hands and glances up on reflex.
She recoils from the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her fingers come up to trace the line of stitches across her forehead before she even really understands why they’re there. The stitches run in a straight row, marching across her skin where her bangs used to cover.
What’s left of her hair is a mess. Short and choppy, the ends singed black. Aside from the big scary burns that are covered with bandages, the skin on her right cheek is raw and red, scabbed over. Across her nose runs a line of black scabs and her neck looks just as bad.
She squeezes her eyes shut and turns away from the mirror. When the tears spill out of her eyes and pour over the scabs, her skin burns like she’s been lit on fire again.
She can’t think about it anymore. Can’t be here, can’t do this.
But she doesn’t have anywhere to go.
She makes it back to her bed, legs trembling and hands shaking as she sits down, covers herself carefully with the hospital blanket.
Her leg aches from where Gabriel he had dug the bullet out in the grocery store, covered it with gauze and wrapped it.
She would have followed him anywhere just so he’d touch her again.
Now the wound is stitched up, sterilized and cleaned.
Elle remembers being six, her grandmother dragging her from her burning bed and the ambulance people wrapping her in cool sheets, patting out the fire. She doesn’t remember that hurting as much as this hurts.
Emotional pain plus physical pain leaves an ache deep in her chest. It hurts to breath, and it’s not entirely the fault of the scabs and burns across her chest.
It hurts to cry, but it hurts worse not to.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The hospital staff quit asking if her father would return after day four. They seem to be able to tell that not everything is right with this girl, Eleanor Knight, but they can’t quite put their finger on it. They avoid her room, stopping in just long enough to change her bandages and make sure she doesn’t need any pain medicine, and then they leave.
After a week and a half, they finally release Elle with a long list of strict instructions and an even longer list of hospital charges.
When the nurse directs her to gather her belongings in the locker, Elle blinks but opens the door anyway. There’s an outfit (the pink indicates it’s probably something of Claire’s) and a purse.
That twisting sense of gratitude for Bennet hits again, and Elle blinks back tears when she opens the purse and finds a wallet with ID and a plane ticket. There’s a note shoved in the wallet too, but Elle doesn’t need to read it to get the message.
Go away and don’t come back.
There’s cash in the wallet and the flight doesn’t leave for three more days, so Elle rents a room at the cheap motel near the airport and spends three days sleeping and watching bad daytime TV. She’s so close to everything, could try to go to Primatech and beg for help from Angela, or go to the Bennets' house and…
No.
She doesn’t need anyone anymore. Everyone who she has ever loved has let her down, and now she’s only alive because of fucking Noah Bennet and he never gave her any indication she was anything more than an annoyance to him.
The flight takes her to a little town in Nebraska. Elle finds a room for rent from an elderly lady named June who doesn’t ask too many questions about her still healing skin and ruined hair and spends a few weeks just healing (Elle really does appreciate everything Bennet did for her, but couldn’t Claire have spared a few drops of blood?) until the money in her wallet starts to run low.
Then June gets her a job at the little diner where she works, and lets Elle ride with her to work each day. Elle’s not a very good waitress at first, brings the drinks too late and the food at irregular intervals, but then she starts to learn.
She finds that things aren’t so bad away from everyone, that she doesn’t need to spark to earn a paycheck and take care of herself, and June loves having someone else living with her. Elle’s a little impatient at first, doesn’t like that June speaks slowly and knits, but eventually she starts to like listening to June’s voice and the click-click of knitting needles.
Elle’s always been good at adapting.
She’s just starting to get used to the idea that she could live like this, work at the little diner, and never ever see , Gabriel Sylar again when she starts to throw up every day at 5:45 a.m. and 12:15 p.m. like clockwork.
One of the other girls that works at the diner buys Elle a pregnancy test, rubs her back and murmurs to Elle as she waits for the little plus sign to appear.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
35 weeks later, June holds her hand while Elle pants and groans through her contractions. When her son finally comes into the world, pink and screaming, she cries just as hard as he does.
Elle cradles the cleaned, wrapped baby in her arms while June coos over him.
When her son opens his eyes and stares at her with the darkest brown eyes any of the nurses have ever seen on a newborn, she can really only think of one thing to say.
“Noah.”