Heroes, "When the World Smells of Vanilla", Peter/Elle
Fandom: Heroes
Title: When the World Smells of Vanilla
Pairing/Characters: Peter/Elle
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama/Romance
Spoilers: Season Three, 3x13
Word Count: 2,334
Notes: 1/1. Alternate Universe. This was written for a request from avaserenity.
Summary: Peter is her saving grace, which is why Elle forces him to choose.
When the World Smells of Vanilla
Sometimes Elle dreams of burning alive, or burning when she’s asleep. She attributes such dreams to her bad childhood. Everyone claims they have one, right? (She knows that if she ever meets anyone who says that, she’ll more than meet their challenge.)
But the dreams don’t last, thankfully. They’re not real. Pain is real. The pain of electricity coursing through your body over and over again - now that’s real. So real it makes you think, bleed, cry, and act just a little imbalanced when it’s your own father causing the pain.
“You’re a big girl, Elle. You can handle a stronger dose,” he would coo in a fake, fatherly voice. But she had only to sit there - sit there and let him have his way with her pain.
She remembers that’s how she thought Daddies were supposed to be.
The dreams fade. They become less prevalent, but only lately. She realizes the cause of this. It’s odd to her. How can one man take away all the pain, all the nightmares and all the shuddering memories?
She wakes with a fright, and she sees Peter lying next to her. Sometimes he’s not home. Sometimes he’s late, very late, and it leaves her cross, and sometimes furniture ends up in charred bits and sometimes she has to replace windows and appliances.
But Peter always comes home. He saves the world and comes home to Elle.
She shifts her weight on the bed, and she wraps her arm around him. He moans to her touch, and she smiles as she hugs him closer. Nobody has ever responded to her like that. No man has ever cared. She hugs him, and for a moment, she feels like a child.
Peter does that to her. Maybe it’s his power. Maybe it’s just him. She doesn’t care. He’s home now, and he frightens the dreams away.
--
She comes back home from a grueling job interview, and she smells a sweet baking aroma of vanilla extract and brown sugar in the kitchen. Peter comes out to greet her with a lazy smile, wearing her blue apron with the fluffy sheep print. His smile is infectious, despite her urges to go back to the human resources director and zap him for only offering her minimum wage for such a crappy job.
But at least she’s working again. She has other things on her mind, however.
“What’s up? Not saving the world with Hiro?” Elle almost regrets the quip but she rather thinks he’s used to them. His grin is even wider.
“Saving the world and baking cookies,” he says congenially. He offers her a spoon filled with cookie dough.
“What’s the occasion?” she asks, taking the spoon immediately. She almost forgets she’s been hungry since noon, but her stomach and the sight of food remind her.
Peter gives her pointed look; his smile is still in place. “I think you know. Now eat up.”
Then, panic sets in. Her hands shake a little, and she starts to worry. Peter turns around, and he doesn’t see her distress. He goes back to the oven, and he continues to talk jubilantly.
“How’s the job?” he asks. “You did get the job, right?”
“Yeah, no sweat,” she says, swallowing a lump. The silence only adds to her anxiety. She can hear the appliances singing in the kitchen, and the warmth of the lights begins to overwhelm her. Charges trickle at the tips of her fingers.
“How’s the pay? You think we can make it?”
“Yeah, it’s crappy but it’ll do,” she says. He turns around. Maybe he’s finally picked up on her hesitation.
The smile disappears. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to talk,” she says firmly. “But first, you need to take down this mask, Peter. I can’t look at you like this. Sometimes I feel like I’m looking at another person and that it’s not really you. It freaks me out.”
Peter nods. “Okay.” He puts down the oven mitt and strides over to her. He cups her face with his hands, and she feels his hot breath on her face as he lowers his head toward hers. “Close your eyes,” he says softly. He smoothes his thumbs over her skin, and she feels her knees shake to his touch. She feels an odd pang in her stomach, like the feeling she gets when someone drives too fast over a hill before sharply coming down.
She sighs with a heavy breath.
“Okay.”
She looks up at him, and the illusion has melted away. Peter is Peter again, and the mirror on the wall reflects only her true self. She feels a little relieved, but her problems aren’t over yet. Peter’s new disguise ability isn’t as bad as she thinks; she knows this. He only does it for their survival. They are lucky to have it, especially with Homeland Security out searching for them.
Despite the power, she’s still scared. She’s still afraid of Sylar coming out of the shadows and coming after her for what she once did to him. She’s scared of Peter’s brother, the duplicitous Mr. President who wants to capture everyone like them and put them in holding camps.
Peter rubs her shoulders and brings her back to earth. She leans into his chest, and she knows the difficult part is coming.
“Peter, I can’t keep the baby,” she says quickly. If there’s one thing she’s known for, it’s coming right to the point.
He pushes her away and glares down at her, his mood shifting violently. “Elle, what are you saying?”
For a split second, she feels like she’s going to curl up into a ball. Instead, Peter’s energy radiates through her soothingly, but his anger is tempered, giving her a chance to explain.
“I can’t take care of it. I’ll be a bad mother,” she says, drawing away from him and pacing across the room. “You can’t change my mind about this. I - I can’t do this. I can’t be a mother. Not when we’re running away. Not when I’m so scared. What kind of life is this for a child?” She looks up and meets his furious expression with one of her own. “What kind of life is it for a child whose father is almost never home?”
“Elle,” he says, and he looks guilty. They’ve argued about this a thousand upon thousands of time before. “I can’t give up on helping people. It’s my duty. I have the power, and they need my help.”
“But you’re exposing yourself! You’re risking your life! You’re risking our lives! What will I do if you never came back? What would your child do?” Electricity buzzes at the tips of her fingers. She can’t hold it back any more; she won’t. Peter backs away, and a stray charge crackles the lamp beside him.
Elle takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself.
“Elle, you don’t know what your saying. I'm talking about a life here,” Peter argues. Elle nods her head in agreement.
“I know. I am too.” Tears ebb on the corners of her eyes, and she fists her hands at her sides. “I’m sorry, Peter. I’ve never had a mother. And my father…” Her voice trails off, and he comes closer and puts his hands on her arms. “I just don’t think I can do it.”
“We can do it together,” he says.
“But you’re always gone,” she reminds him.
“I…It’ll be okay; I just know it.”
“That isn’t good enough, Peter,” she says, and she purses her lips and feels anger rising inside her again. The lamp next to her flickers. “Do you know what will happen to me if you never come back? Do you remember when you found me a year and a half ago? Do you think I was capable of being a mother then?”
“Elle,” he says. He can’t answer her. She can see it plainly in his face.
She sighs heavily and walks away from his touch again. She looks out their window at the white-washed sky. She knows it’s an illusion, just like this life. Beyond the sky, in the homes of people like them, they are frightened, scared, and running from imprisonment. If she hadn’t met up with Peter again, she’d probably be caught. Or worse. Dead.
“Do you remember when we met for the last time?” she asks in a low voice.
“Yeah, you were… different.”
“I believe you called me broken,” she says, turning to smirk at him lightly. “You were right. I had believed Gabriel had changed, and the second he meant to kill me, I barely got away.” She shudders at the memory. “I never thought…”
“Hey…it’s the past now. I found you. Pinehearst is gone, and I found you.” She hears him chuckle a little. “Good thing, too. I needed your power again.”
She hugs herself and smiles into his hopeful eyes. “You accepted me. You once called me a sadist, and after I tried numerous times to hurt your niece, you still accepted me.”
“You changed, Elle. You were different,” he said.
“Not completely.” She felt the smirk tug at her lips. “I still have my episodes.”
Peter nods quickly in agreement. Elle gives him a pointed look.
“All the more reason I shouldn’t be a mother. I’m still not stable, and with you gone, I don’t know what I might do.”
She tries to run away. Like before when their arguments go south, she runs away to the bedroom and draws the curtains and hides under the dark sheets of their bed. This time, Peter doesn’t let her leave. He holds her arm as she tries to storm away and pulls her back against his chest.
“You know what you have to do, right?” she says softly, playing with the charge that idles at her fingertips. She watches it in fascination as Peter pauses to answer her.
When no answer comes, Elle adds with a dark stare, “It’s the baby or the world, Peter. Which is it going to be?”
He hesitates, but she lets him. He always has such large problems resting on his shoulders. He takes the burden all on his own; it’s just his way. She’s become used to it just the same as he becomes used to her episodes of light and dark.
His grip around her arm tightens, and he spins her around. She shivers to his touch. His mouth is on hers in one desperate breath, and she succumbs to him. In the wet heat of his frenzied tongue, she knows his answer.
--
Their baby comes screaming into the world eight months later and a week earlier than her due date. Elle takes drugs, but she still feels pain. She takes it without a fight. She feels the resolve of this pain. It is the pain of her decision - of their decision to raise this child.
For the first time, Peter chooses one life over the entire world, and though it hasn’t been easy to accept, the moment he hears his baby’s cry, his decision doesn’t seem so complicated any more.
The illusion powers still do wonders for them. Only their faces are different for the doctors to see. The baby, however, looks like her real self. Elle makes Peter promise her he at least gives her that.
“Oh! Look at the healthy baby girl!” the nurse coos after the child is cleaned up, examined and given the necessary shots and blood draws. The nurse rocks the screaming baby to a gentle whine, and she heads toward the mother. “Hear Mrs. Peterson, your new baby girl.”
Then, Elle feels it. It’s like a switch in her brain that turns on once she sees her baby’s face. She no longer fears it. The bond between them exists on a level she’s never felt before, and she never wants it to go away. She takes her daughter softly, and she smiles and laughs, touching the baby’s soft chin with her fingers free of spark.
“Hi, Roxanne,” she says, and Peter comes to her side with a strange face.
“Roxanne, I thought we agreed on Noelle,” he says. Elle gives him a tired, exasperated look.
“I changed my mind,” she says with a huff. She turns to the baby Roxanne, who’s become enamored with her mother’s every motion and breath. “She looks like a Roxanne, and also…” She turns to Peter, and he leans down to wrap an arm around his baby’s mother and baby girl. “I wanted a name that doesn’t connect to anything. It’s not something from the Bible, or from a family name, or someone we knew.” She stops. “You don’t know any Roxannes do you?” Peter shakes his head with a light chuckle, and Elle is relieved. “Well, then Roxanne it is.”
Peter leans his head to his new daughter and wife, kissing them both on the forehead. He turns to his daughter and says, “Welcome to the world, Roxanne.” And he’s already in love with her. Elle knows that’s just how Peter is, and she and Roxanne have won.
Peter has finally chosen for himself, for them, over the fate of the world.
Elle smiles and feels the rise of emotion. Peter’s hand on her face assures her it’s okay to let go. The happiest most stable day of her life has let loose streams of enthralled tears.
The sky outside her window is bright blue and not washed out gray. She wonders maybe there’s hope yet for this world. Maybe with disguises, normalcy and the love she never had with her own family, all of that will change.
“I’m no longer broken,” she says finally, and she gives Roxanne a happy laugh.
Peter runs his fingers through her hair, and she feels a satisfied jolt run through her body. She meets his eyes and everything comes to a close.
“Neither am I,” he says, leaning down toward her.
His kiss reminds her of cookies, and sanctuary.
END
Title: When the World Smells of Vanilla
Pairing/Characters: Peter/Elle
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama/Romance
Spoilers: Season Three, 3x13
Word Count: 2,334
Notes: 1/1. Alternate Universe. This was written for a request from avaserenity.
Summary: Peter is her saving grace, which is why Elle forces him to choose.
When the World Smells of Vanilla
Sometimes Elle dreams of burning alive, or burning when she’s asleep. She attributes such dreams to her bad childhood. Everyone claims they have one, right? (She knows that if she ever meets anyone who says that, she’ll more than meet their challenge.)
But the dreams don’t last, thankfully. They’re not real. Pain is real. The pain of electricity coursing through your body over and over again - now that’s real. So real it makes you think, bleed, cry, and act just a little imbalanced when it’s your own father causing the pain.
“You’re a big girl, Elle. You can handle a stronger dose,” he would coo in a fake, fatherly voice. But she had only to sit there - sit there and let him have his way with her pain.
She remembers that’s how she thought Daddies were supposed to be.
The dreams fade. They become less prevalent, but only lately. She realizes the cause of this. It’s odd to her. How can one man take away all the pain, all the nightmares and all the shuddering memories?
She wakes with a fright, and she sees Peter lying next to her. Sometimes he’s not home. Sometimes he’s late, very late, and it leaves her cross, and sometimes furniture ends up in charred bits and sometimes she has to replace windows and appliances.
But Peter always comes home. He saves the world and comes home to Elle.
She shifts her weight on the bed, and she wraps her arm around him. He moans to her touch, and she smiles as she hugs him closer. Nobody has ever responded to her like that. No man has ever cared. She hugs him, and for a moment, she feels like a child.
Peter does that to her. Maybe it’s his power. Maybe it’s just him. She doesn’t care. He’s home now, and he frightens the dreams away.
--
She comes back home from a grueling job interview, and she smells a sweet baking aroma of vanilla extract and brown sugar in the kitchen. Peter comes out to greet her with a lazy smile, wearing her blue apron with the fluffy sheep print. His smile is infectious, despite her urges to go back to the human resources director and zap him for only offering her minimum wage for such a crappy job.
But at least she’s working again. She has other things on her mind, however.
“What’s up? Not saving the world with Hiro?” Elle almost regrets the quip but she rather thinks he’s used to them. His grin is even wider.
“Saving the world and baking cookies,” he says congenially. He offers her a spoon filled with cookie dough.
“What’s the occasion?” she asks, taking the spoon immediately. She almost forgets she’s been hungry since noon, but her stomach and the sight of food remind her.
Peter gives her pointed look; his smile is still in place. “I think you know. Now eat up.”
Then, panic sets in. Her hands shake a little, and she starts to worry. Peter turns around, and he doesn’t see her distress. He goes back to the oven, and he continues to talk jubilantly.
“How’s the job?” he asks. “You did get the job, right?”
“Yeah, no sweat,” she says, swallowing a lump. The silence only adds to her anxiety. She can hear the appliances singing in the kitchen, and the warmth of the lights begins to overwhelm her. Charges trickle at the tips of her fingers.
“How’s the pay? You think we can make it?”
“Yeah, it’s crappy but it’ll do,” she says. He turns around. Maybe he’s finally picked up on her hesitation.
The smile disappears. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to talk,” she says firmly. “But first, you need to take down this mask, Peter. I can’t look at you like this. Sometimes I feel like I’m looking at another person and that it’s not really you. It freaks me out.”
Peter nods. “Okay.” He puts down the oven mitt and strides over to her. He cups her face with his hands, and she feels his hot breath on her face as he lowers his head toward hers. “Close your eyes,” he says softly. He smoothes his thumbs over her skin, and she feels her knees shake to his touch. She feels an odd pang in her stomach, like the feeling she gets when someone drives too fast over a hill before sharply coming down.
She sighs with a heavy breath.
“Okay.”
She looks up at him, and the illusion has melted away. Peter is Peter again, and the mirror on the wall reflects only her true self. She feels a little relieved, but her problems aren’t over yet. Peter’s new disguise ability isn’t as bad as she thinks; she knows this. He only does it for their survival. They are lucky to have it, especially with Homeland Security out searching for them.
Despite the power, she’s still scared. She’s still afraid of Sylar coming out of the shadows and coming after her for what she once did to him. She’s scared of Peter’s brother, the duplicitous Mr. President who wants to capture everyone like them and put them in holding camps.
Peter rubs her shoulders and brings her back to earth. She leans into his chest, and she knows the difficult part is coming.
“Peter, I can’t keep the baby,” she says quickly. If there’s one thing she’s known for, it’s coming right to the point.
He pushes her away and glares down at her, his mood shifting violently. “Elle, what are you saying?”
For a split second, she feels like she’s going to curl up into a ball. Instead, Peter’s energy radiates through her soothingly, but his anger is tempered, giving her a chance to explain.
“I can’t take care of it. I’ll be a bad mother,” she says, drawing away from him and pacing across the room. “You can’t change my mind about this. I - I can’t do this. I can’t be a mother. Not when we’re running away. Not when I’m so scared. What kind of life is this for a child?” She looks up and meets his furious expression with one of her own. “What kind of life is it for a child whose father is almost never home?”
“Elle,” he says, and he looks guilty. They’ve argued about this a thousand upon thousands of time before. “I can’t give up on helping people. It’s my duty. I have the power, and they need my help.”
“But you’re exposing yourself! You’re risking your life! You’re risking our lives! What will I do if you never came back? What would your child do?” Electricity buzzes at the tips of her fingers. She can’t hold it back any more; she won’t. Peter backs away, and a stray charge crackles the lamp beside him.
Elle takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself.
“Elle, you don’t know what your saying. I'm talking about a life here,” Peter argues. Elle nods her head in agreement.
“I know. I am too.” Tears ebb on the corners of her eyes, and she fists her hands at her sides. “I’m sorry, Peter. I’ve never had a mother. And my father…” Her voice trails off, and he comes closer and puts his hands on her arms. “I just don’t think I can do it.”
“We can do it together,” he says.
“But you’re always gone,” she reminds him.
“I…It’ll be okay; I just know it.”
“That isn’t good enough, Peter,” she says, and she purses her lips and feels anger rising inside her again. The lamp next to her flickers. “Do you know what will happen to me if you never come back? Do you remember when you found me a year and a half ago? Do you think I was capable of being a mother then?”
“Elle,” he says. He can’t answer her. She can see it plainly in his face.
She sighs heavily and walks away from his touch again. She looks out their window at the white-washed sky. She knows it’s an illusion, just like this life. Beyond the sky, in the homes of people like them, they are frightened, scared, and running from imprisonment. If she hadn’t met up with Peter again, she’d probably be caught. Or worse. Dead.
“Do you remember when we met for the last time?” she asks in a low voice.
“Yeah, you were… different.”
“I believe you called me broken,” she says, turning to smirk at him lightly. “You were right. I had believed Gabriel had changed, and the second he meant to kill me, I barely got away.” She shudders at the memory. “I never thought…”
“Hey…it’s the past now. I found you. Pinehearst is gone, and I found you.” She hears him chuckle a little. “Good thing, too. I needed your power again.”
She hugs herself and smiles into his hopeful eyes. “You accepted me. You once called me a sadist, and after I tried numerous times to hurt your niece, you still accepted me.”
“You changed, Elle. You were different,” he said.
“Not completely.” She felt the smirk tug at her lips. “I still have my episodes.”
Peter nods quickly in agreement. Elle gives him a pointed look.
“All the more reason I shouldn’t be a mother. I’m still not stable, and with you gone, I don’t know what I might do.”
She tries to run away. Like before when their arguments go south, she runs away to the bedroom and draws the curtains and hides under the dark sheets of their bed. This time, Peter doesn’t let her leave. He holds her arm as she tries to storm away and pulls her back against his chest.
“You know what you have to do, right?” she says softly, playing with the charge that idles at her fingertips. She watches it in fascination as Peter pauses to answer her.
When no answer comes, Elle adds with a dark stare, “It’s the baby or the world, Peter. Which is it going to be?”
He hesitates, but she lets him. He always has such large problems resting on his shoulders. He takes the burden all on his own; it’s just his way. She’s become used to it just the same as he becomes used to her episodes of light and dark.
His grip around her arm tightens, and he spins her around. She shivers to his touch. His mouth is on hers in one desperate breath, and she succumbs to him. In the wet heat of his frenzied tongue, she knows his answer.
--
Their baby comes screaming into the world eight months later and a week earlier than her due date. Elle takes drugs, but she still feels pain. She takes it without a fight. She feels the resolve of this pain. It is the pain of her decision - of their decision to raise this child.
For the first time, Peter chooses one life over the entire world, and though it hasn’t been easy to accept, the moment he hears his baby’s cry, his decision doesn’t seem so complicated any more.
The illusion powers still do wonders for them. Only their faces are different for the doctors to see. The baby, however, looks like her real self. Elle makes Peter promise her he at least gives her that.
“Oh! Look at the healthy baby girl!” the nurse coos after the child is cleaned up, examined and given the necessary shots and blood draws. The nurse rocks the screaming baby to a gentle whine, and she heads toward the mother. “Hear Mrs. Peterson, your new baby girl.”
Then, Elle feels it. It’s like a switch in her brain that turns on once she sees her baby’s face. She no longer fears it. The bond between them exists on a level she’s never felt before, and she never wants it to go away. She takes her daughter softly, and she smiles and laughs, touching the baby’s soft chin with her fingers free of spark.
“Hi, Roxanne,” she says, and Peter comes to her side with a strange face.
“Roxanne, I thought we agreed on Noelle,” he says. Elle gives him a tired, exasperated look.
“I changed my mind,” she says with a huff. She turns to the baby Roxanne, who’s become enamored with her mother’s every motion and breath. “She looks like a Roxanne, and also…” She turns to Peter, and he leans down to wrap an arm around his baby’s mother and baby girl. “I wanted a name that doesn’t connect to anything. It’s not something from the Bible, or from a family name, or someone we knew.” She stops. “You don’t know any Roxannes do you?” Peter shakes his head with a light chuckle, and Elle is relieved. “Well, then Roxanne it is.”
Peter leans his head to his new daughter and wife, kissing them both on the forehead. He turns to his daughter and says, “Welcome to the world, Roxanne.” And he’s already in love with her. Elle knows that’s just how Peter is, and she and Roxanne have won.
Peter has finally chosen for himself, for them, over the fate of the world.
Elle smiles and feels the rise of emotion. Peter’s hand on her face assures her it’s okay to let go. The happiest most stable day of her life has let loose streams of enthralled tears.
The sky outside her window is bright blue and not washed out gray. She wonders maybe there’s hope yet for this world. Maybe with disguises, normalcy and the love she never had with her own family, all of that will change.
“I’m no longer broken,” she says finally, and she gives Roxanne a happy laugh.
Peter runs his fingers through her hair, and she feels a satisfied jolt run through her body. She meets his eyes and everything comes to a close.
“Neither am I,” he says, leaning down toward her.
His kiss reminds her of cookies, and sanctuary.
END