Fic: Only Twenty-Seven
Title: Only Twenty-Seven
Fandom: Heroes.
Pairing: Elle Bishop/Angela Petrelli.
Prompt: 008) Future, from 100_women.
Rating: R for darker themes.
Words: 343.
Disclaimer/Author’s Note: Characters do not belong to me. The last of a three-part series.
Part One: Only Seven
Part Two: Only Twenty-Four
- - - - - - -
Elle will be twenty-seven and in love when she meets her untimely death.
She will be caught unawares, but she’ll make peace with it quickly.
When it happens, she will be caught in a deep embrace - a deep embrace that soon turns into a fiery kiss, tongues twisting and hands roaming (though not too far). And then she will feel something cold and hard slip between their bodies and press against her chest, and the click she will hear only reaffirms her initial suspicions.
It’s a gun.
She will not know what to do, and when she looks into the older woman’s eyes, she sees nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
She will laugh, the cynical laugh she’s had ever since she was seven, maybe younger.
Her fingertips will spark, and she’ll feel the gun dig further into her skin, a threat that it will go off if she does not stop.
She’ll stop the sparks, but just for now, just to hear why she has to go.
She’s a threat, she’s let this get to her head, she was never supposed to be in love with someone that much older and married. And besides, her last mission - a complete, utter disaster.
She will take all of this in, and look Angela Petrelli in the eye.
“So do it already.”
And later, when the shot goes off and she’s lying on the cold floor with only seconds to spare, she won’t see her life flash before her.
(She never had much of a life to begin with.)
All she will see is Angela Petrelli - Angela Petrelli, bending down to look at her.
Her ears will still be ringing from the sound she could never get used to (even with all the killing she had done), and her vision will begin to blur with tears.
If she could see, she would see that her tears are not the only ones on the linoleum floor.
Her fingertips will spark, and then they will stop.
Elle Bishop is twenty-seven when she dies.
She will not feel pain. Just content.
- - - - - - -
Fandom: Heroes.
Pairing: Elle Bishop/Angela Petrelli.
Prompt: 008) Future, from 100_women.
Rating: R for darker themes.
Words: 343.
Disclaimer/Author’s Note: Characters do not belong to me. The last of a three-part series.
Part One: Only Seven
Part Two: Only Twenty-Four
- - - - - - -
Elle will be twenty-seven and in love when she meets her untimely death.
She will be caught unawares, but she’ll make peace with it quickly.
When it happens, she will be caught in a deep embrace - a deep embrace that soon turns into a fiery kiss, tongues twisting and hands roaming (though not too far). And then she will feel something cold and hard slip between their bodies and press against her chest, and the click she will hear only reaffirms her initial suspicions.
It’s a gun.
She will not know what to do, and when she looks into the older woman’s eyes, she sees nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
She will laugh, the cynical laugh she’s had ever since she was seven, maybe younger.
Her fingertips will spark, and she’ll feel the gun dig further into her skin, a threat that it will go off if she does not stop.
She’ll stop the sparks, but just for now, just to hear why she has to go.
She’s a threat, she’s let this get to her head, she was never supposed to be in love with someone that much older and married. And besides, her last mission - a complete, utter disaster.
She will take all of this in, and look Angela Petrelli in the eye.
“So do it already.”
And later, when the shot goes off and she’s lying on the cold floor with only seconds to spare, she won’t see her life flash before her.
(She never had much of a life to begin with.)
All she will see is Angela Petrelli - Angela Petrelli, bending down to look at her.
Her ears will still be ringing from the sound she could never get used to (even with all the killing she had done), and her vision will begin to blur with tears.
If she could see, she would see that her tears are not the only ones on the linoleum floor.
Her fingertips will spark, and then they will stop.
Elle Bishop is twenty-seven when she dies.
She will not feel pain. Just content.
- - - - - - -