Fic: The Time Claire Thought Her Heart Had Broken (Claire/Elle)
Note: I am sooo ill! Argh. There's a stupid bug/killer flu thing going 'round just in time for Xmas and everywhere I go, people are blowing into tissues and looking like train-wrecks. And now it's my turn. What's worse is, I was meant to go on a bar crawl tonight (now that I'm officially 18 *can I get a whoop whoop*) but that's not going to happen :(
Aside from that, I am now an adult, yussssirr (you wouldn't know it from the way I act ha). And I get to do adult things like um...worry about politics and...legally watch 18-rated films haha and yeah, the night-life has improved :) Went clubbing in London the other night...lots of creepy men. Also, lots of hot girls. Yum. Sooo, this calls for a celebratory fic.
Oh and I finally watched 'Belle de Jour' because I like my French/classic cinematics. Who knew Catherine Deneuve was so fantastical? *gape*
Christmas-wise, shopping's finito, presents all under the tree :D For my f-list, what's the whackiest thing you've bought some one?
Title: The Time Claire Thought Her Heart Had Broken
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Claire/Elle
Spoilers: none
Summary: Claire can't cope. And then she does.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.
Claire attempts to crawl across the room and it takes three tries before she can actually do it. Before she doesn’t slip. Her knees skid on the crimson-smeared floor and her arms are trembling so hard, she can barely hold herself up. She pants, tears streaming down her face, dried red tracks on her forehead.
“Elle?” she chokes out. There’s no reply because Elle’s lying there in the corner, flat on her back; unconscious. She’s a broken machine, buzzing with electricity that crackles and hisses as it collides with blood.
Claire sobs harder. When she finally reaches the girl, she fumbles for some sort of pulse. Through the currents, she can barely locate it. And when she does, she’s not at all assured because it hardly exists. “Wake up,” Claire pushes her. She doesn’t mean to be rough but she doesn’t know another way. “Wake up,” she growls angrily. She doesn’t get a single response.
Elle’s breathing. She can hear Claire’s voice but she can’t do anything about it even though she wants to. She tries to move her lips; fails miserably. Tries to generate electricity in her palm. Electricity that just won’t come. She hopes that Claire sticks around and doesn’t abandon her there.
Then there’s a hard slap. It clears the fuzziness in Elle’s mind, tries to coax her out. It pierces through her cheek and she’s sure she can feel tears form underneath her eyelids; when she tries to respond, she senses hurt tremor through her whole body.
“Please,” Claire cups the cheek she’s just smacked and pulls Elle’s head into her lap and she’s cradling it helplessly and she’s rocking them back and forth, whining like a caged animal. “You have to wake up,” she begs. She’s wishing Elle was the one that could heal and not herself. She thinks she might die if Elle doesn’t do something. “Don’t leave me here.”
Her hands wipe blood which keeps trickling down Elle’s arm and right above her eyebrow; stubborn ruby that’s also burning and sticky and bubbling where the electricity’s zapped through it. There are plenty of other places where Elle’s been broken- her bottom lip’s cut; there are bruises on her legs; her clothes are stained and in pieces. But Claire refuses to think about all these things because she’s crying to the point of exhaustion now and overanalysing will only upset her more.
“Elle, please, I need you, I’m so scared,” she leans down. “I need you. I need you to wake up.”
That’s when it happens. Elle makes this soft hum that sounds more like an exhaled breath than an actual noise. Claire’s eyes widen.
“What?” she whispers.
Elle breathes out again and squeezes Claire’s hand and she’s trying so hard to open her eyes, to open them for Claire.
Claire’s ear is inches from Elle’s lips so she can listen. So she can check that she hasn’t gone crazy. That the hum came from Elle’s lips and not from blue currents that flicker under her skin.
“Claire.”
Claire swallows back a sob. “I’m right here.” Fresh tears brim in her eyes and fall. Gush down her cheeks and she’s furiously wiping them away, trying to stay calm; trying to hold onto Elle, whose lips are pursed together, frown on her face. She looks so determined. “Wake up,” she sighs. She presses her trembling mouth to Elle’s forehead and the backs of her fingers stroke her cheek, careful and eager all at once.
Elle coughs. She struggles for a breath. Her eyes flutter open and she cracks a smile that’s sad and scared and so very, very vulnerable.
“Oh god,” Claire grabs her close, wraps arms around her and squeezes possessively until Elle hisses in a breath because there’s too much pressure on her stomach and her stomach’s sore. She pools electricity in her palms and it skitters across the stone cold floor, away from them. “I love you, I love you so much,” Claire cries into Elle’s shoulder and it’s too easy to mistake her for the one that’s been hurt.
Elle lets herself be held. She wants to feel. To pull Claire in and bury hands into her matted hair. But she can’t find the strength, even if she’s bursting with will.
So she lies there in Claire’s arms and begins to cry with her because she’s in so much pain and she loves Claire in a way that she will never understand and Claire’s right there, so real and warm and close. So close that Elle vows she’ll never let herself lose her again.