The Prison Within - Adam/Elle ♥ (Adam POV) - Chapter 3
Title: The Prison Within - Chapters 3
Author: force-oblique
Rating: G, possibly AU
Table/Prompt: Table #7,"helpless"
Disclaimer: I dont own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Adam/Elle - mention of other characters ,Adam's POV
Word Count:
Summary: Adam's reflection on his years of imprisonment and how Elle changed that.
Author's Notes:I wrote it in the middle of the night…so excuse the crappiness!
Crossposted at my fiction/lyrics lj@souls-eclipse, heroes-fic , peter-adam-elle, saltandsaffron
Huge thanks to my beta ghost-goodthing for her valuable help.
Seriously, Jessica you rock so much I wish you were a chair so that anyone could have a "Jessie" in their home, and i mean it in a good way! (I think a proper response to that would be Dean Winchester's response to Bella: "Don't Objectify Me!" lol
Chapter One
Chapter two
The Prison Within - Chapter Three
Days, weeks even months passed by with Elle coming to my room either by asking for permission or by sneaking in, without Bob knowing it.
She would run to me the minute the lock was melted, not unlike my heart.
In her, I had found a friend to trust again.
Someone to care for, which was something I hadn’t had for years, centuries even.
And subconsciously I started to feel again.
And more than that, I started to think that this was bliss, well, as much a bliss could exist inside this building.
I considered Elle my bliss, my euphoria, my happiness. The one good thing in my life.
I should have known then, that all good things come to an end someday.
All bliss is fractured and all love is lost.
It had been fifteen years, but I still remembered it so well, the way it all unfolded.
It was just like any other day.
She walked up to the door of my room, she waved at me and beamed.
I lifted my head to look at her through the glass, returning her smile.
But as I continued to look at her, I realized that while she was trying to electrify the lock, she was straining herself. Something was wrong.
She was trying so hard, I could swear her other hand was clenched in a fist - even if I couldnt see it- as she struggled to use her power with her right one.
However, no jolts of energy were escaping from her extended hand.
Instead, what was emitted was an assortment of stray blue orbs, too weak to melt anything.
The drugs and whatever they were doing to her, were starting to take their effect.
I couldn’t help but feel compassion for her and sorrow. Such a deep sorrow, because I knew she was becoming like me - even though, I never had an active power to begin with.
She was becoming a controlled prisoner, helpless just like me.
I don’t know if my sadness was visible in my face, but I think it was even though I did my best to conceal it, keeping the same smile I saved for her on my face.
Disappointed, she lifted her gaze to rest on my face and in a second she was gone.
She came back moments later with the key and something I had never seen in her hands before.
Something that was just as human, as mundane and as normal as it could be, but it seemed I had forgotten what was normal.
Once she was in my room, instead of running to me like she always did, she just walked hesitantly towards me, cradling a teddy bear in her hands.
It was an old, pitiful excuse for a teddy bear, frayed and even charred at places.
I was speechless; I didn’t know what to anticipate. I opened up my arms like I always did and it seemed to relax her a bit.
Her eyes still fixed on my face, she quickened her pace.
“Adam? You still love me?” She asked.
Perplexed, I opened my mouth to say something but she spoke first.
“I mean If I couldn’t melt things anymore, you’d still be my friend, you’d still love me, wouldn’t you?”
A lump started to form in my throat, refusing to let me breathe. I remained still, quiet. That only made her breathing more shallow.
“It’s the pills! After I take them I feel sleepy and I can’t make the shiny blue lines come out of my hands. But, I’m still me! You love me, don’t you?”
She was on the verge of crying and I could see that.
The lump in my throat started swelling and swelling until it was a gigantic rock pressing against my chest.
I couldn’t let her think I didn’t care.
I closed the distance between us and held her tightly.
“Of course, I still love you sweetie! I will never stop, no matter if the blue lines come out or not!” I comforted her.
She held on to me, relieved, letting her tears trickle down her cheeks and I couldn’t take the image of her teddy bear - and her holding it, out of my mind. Such a perfectly normal response.
She was just a little girl, doing what every normal little girl does when she is unhappy. She seeks comfort in her teddy bear. That brought tears to my eyes.
“And it's ok that I am not that special anymore, right?” She asked.
I looked into her eyes, intensely, without blinking and answered.
“You will always be special to me!” and I knew I had spoken the truth.
In the following weeks she continued to come to my room and we would eat and play and discuss.
It didn’t matter that she was little.
She would be nine in a little while and it didn’t matter that I was on the verge of 400 years old.
Because in four centuries I had met people four times her age, but not with half her spirit, her intellect, her contagious enthusiasm or her honesty.
And I surprisingly concluded that I may be four centuries older than her, which was more than four lifetimes older than her, but in essence we were similar.
I was four times wiser and innumerable times more experienced than Elle, but I was just as vulnerable.
You expect a child to be vulnerable, fragile even.
You welcome it, because it makes you feel not just useful when you help it, but also powerful.
Because If someone trusts his or her life in your hands, like Elle did, you must be important right?
Reliable? Inspiring?
So, yes! You expect a child, a girl to be breakable, sensitive, but you don’t expect the same from yourself, especially if you have existed for four centuries.
Yet, it was true. I did feel vulnerable. I think I put her above my needs, above myself.
And how could I not, when her smile lit up my world even if that world consisted of and was limited to four walls.
~ ~ ~
And then her ninth Birthday Came and changed everything....
End Of Chapter Three
Chapter Four is Ready and is very angsty ( i had originally intended it to be one chapter but it was getting too long so I split it).
Sorry I couldnt help it!
I just have to make some corrections and it will be posted tomorrow, if anyone is still interested! :)
Author: force-oblique
Rating: G, possibly AU
Table/Prompt: Table #7,"helpless"
Disclaimer: I dont own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Adam/Elle - mention of other characters ,Adam's POV
Word Count:
Summary: Adam's reflection on his years of imprisonment and how Elle changed that.
Author's Notes:I wrote it in the middle of the night…so excuse the crappiness!
Crossposted at my fiction/lyrics lj@souls-eclipse, heroes-fic , peter-adam-elle, saltandsaffron
Huge thanks to my beta ghost-goodthing for her valuable help.
Seriously, Jessica you rock so much I wish you were a chair so that anyone could have a "Jessie" in their home, and i mean it in a good way! (I think a proper response to that would be Dean Winchester's response to Bella: "Don't Objectify Me!" lol
Chapter One
Chapter two
The Prison Within - Chapter Three
Days, weeks even months passed by with Elle coming to my room either by asking for permission or by sneaking in, without Bob knowing it.
She would run to me the minute the lock was melted, not unlike my heart.
In her, I had found a friend to trust again.
Someone to care for, which was something I hadn’t had for years, centuries even.
And subconsciously I started to feel again.
And more than that, I started to think that this was bliss, well, as much a bliss could exist inside this building.
I considered Elle my bliss, my euphoria, my happiness. The one good thing in my life.
I should have known then, that all good things come to an end someday.
All bliss is fractured and all love is lost.
It had been fifteen years, but I still remembered it so well, the way it all unfolded.
It was just like any other day.
She walked up to the door of my room, she waved at me and beamed.
I lifted my head to look at her through the glass, returning her smile.
But as I continued to look at her, I realized that while she was trying to electrify the lock, she was straining herself. Something was wrong.
She was trying so hard, I could swear her other hand was clenched in a fist - even if I couldnt see it- as she struggled to use her power with her right one.
However, no jolts of energy were escaping from her extended hand.
Instead, what was emitted was an assortment of stray blue orbs, too weak to melt anything.
The drugs and whatever they were doing to her, were starting to take their effect.
I couldn’t help but feel compassion for her and sorrow. Such a deep sorrow, because I knew she was becoming like me - even though, I never had an active power to begin with.
She was becoming a controlled prisoner, helpless just like me.
I don’t know if my sadness was visible in my face, but I think it was even though I did my best to conceal it, keeping the same smile I saved for her on my face.
Disappointed, she lifted her gaze to rest on my face and in a second she was gone.
She came back moments later with the key and something I had never seen in her hands before.
Something that was just as human, as mundane and as normal as it could be, but it seemed I had forgotten what was normal.
Once she was in my room, instead of running to me like she always did, she just walked hesitantly towards me, cradling a teddy bear in her hands.
It was an old, pitiful excuse for a teddy bear, frayed and even charred at places.
I was speechless; I didn’t know what to anticipate. I opened up my arms like I always did and it seemed to relax her a bit.
Her eyes still fixed on my face, she quickened her pace.
“Adam? You still love me?” She asked.
Perplexed, I opened my mouth to say something but she spoke first.
“I mean If I couldn’t melt things anymore, you’d still be my friend, you’d still love me, wouldn’t you?”
A lump started to form in my throat, refusing to let me breathe. I remained still, quiet. That only made her breathing more shallow.
“It’s the pills! After I take them I feel sleepy and I can’t make the shiny blue lines come out of my hands. But, I’m still me! You love me, don’t you?”
She was on the verge of crying and I could see that.
The lump in my throat started swelling and swelling until it was a gigantic rock pressing against my chest.
I couldn’t let her think I didn’t care.
I closed the distance between us and held her tightly.
“Of course, I still love you sweetie! I will never stop, no matter if the blue lines come out or not!” I comforted her.
She held on to me, relieved, letting her tears trickle down her cheeks and I couldn’t take the image of her teddy bear - and her holding it, out of my mind. Such a perfectly normal response.
She was just a little girl, doing what every normal little girl does when she is unhappy. She seeks comfort in her teddy bear. That brought tears to my eyes.
“And it's ok that I am not that special anymore, right?” She asked.
I looked into her eyes, intensely, without blinking and answered.
“You will always be special to me!” and I knew I had spoken the truth.
In the following weeks she continued to come to my room and we would eat and play and discuss.
It didn’t matter that she was little.
She would be nine in a little while and it didn’t matter that I was on the verge of 400 years old.
Because in four centuries I had met people four times her age, but not with half her spirit, her intellect, her contagious enthusiasm or her honesty.
And I surprisingly concluded that I may be four centuries older than her, which was more than four lifetimes older than her, but in essence we were similar.
I was four times wiser and innumerable times more experienced than Elle, but I was just as vulnerable.
You expect a child to be vulnerable, fragile even.
You welcome it, because it makes you feel not just useful when you help it, but also powerful.
Because If someone trusts his or her life in your hands, like Elle did, you must be important right?
Reliable? Inspiring?
So, yes! You expect a child, a girl to be breakable, sensitive, but you don’t expect the same from yourself, especially if you have existed for four centuries.
Yet, it was true. I did feel vulnerable. I think I put her above my needs, above myself.
And how could I not, when her smile lit up my world even if that world consisted of and was limited to four walls.
~ ~ ~
And then her ninth Birthday Came and changed everything....
End Of Chapter Three
Chapter Four is Ready and is very angsty ( i had originally intended it to be one chapter but it was getting too long so I split it).
Sorry I couldnt help it!
I just have to make some corrections and it will be posted tomorrow, if anyone is still interested! :)