we can play pretend
title: we can play pretend
fandom: Heroes
summary: While hiding and keeping safe from Nathan & the government, Peter and Elle deal with the implications of a now defunct affair.
characters/pairings: Peter/Elle, appearances from several others (i.e. Claire, Mohinder, Sylar, etc.)
genre: Angst/Romance
rating: T
note: Set in S3. Two-thirds into the fic, I got lost and didn't know how to go about things. So I've had this things stuck for awhile, but it's finally done! This is for retroblair , who also came up with this idea of Peter being the one who has a girlfriend when Elle comes into play. I won't say much more about the plot. This whole thing switches off from the past to the present, but it's only the first half in which the time jumps are bigger--things come together towards the end. Enjoy.
~*~He buried his nose in her hair, and her hand grasped at his hand clasped on her shoulder.
“I‘m,” he whispered, moving his ear beside her ear, “This has gone on too long. I’m not this guy.”
A burning anger replaced the warmth that had been pulsing through her body. Electricity broke loose from her and surged against him, sending him flying.
“Ah!” he screamed.
“You don’t get to back out of this!” she yelled, slowly marching towards him as he struggled to lift himself from the ground.
“You don’t get to drag me down with you and then leave me lying here, alone, while you go on with your little life. You’re not going to leave me to be the lonely girl who everyone will judge as reaping what she sewed--because you did this, you!”
She was just inches from him when he managed to stand up straight and he pushed his shoulders back.
He met her glowering eyes and pushed himself to take a step towards her.
“You caused this. I was fine. I was letting go. And you knew I was seeing someone, but you didn’t back off.”
“Aw,” Elle faked pity, “poor, little, grown up Peter Petrelli was just so helpless against a girl who mentioned that he was the only one who didn’t make her feel like an ex-company girl with daddy issues. Poor, defenseless, cheating, Peter.”
“That isn’t--”
“Yes,” Elle raised her right hand, “that is what happened. That and everything else that happened. So if you’re going to choose one of us, choose one not because it’s the so-called right thing. Choose one because she’s the one you want.”
“Elle, I care about her and she’s my--”
“But she’s off alone, thinking her Peter is working. Saving lives. Why--?”
Elle paused. She dropped her hand and glanced over to a mirror hanging on the wall to her left.
“You know, Peter,” she said with a laugh, eyes steady on the mirror, “I don’t care what guy you are or aren’t. Because I so don’t come second place or second anything to anyone, not even to…whatever you are. And I am not a sad, pathetic girl you have to take pity on and put on the side. I’m done.”
*
“She was found on the beach, her third degree burns lacerating her skin.”
“Who found her?”
“Hiro Nakamura.”
“Why call me in?
“Your father - Noah said you could save her. But Nathan mustn’t know we have Elle Bishop, nor that we’re attempting…”
“To save her? God, even I don’t think it’s the best idea.”
“We’re not here to choose who gets to live and who gets to die, Claire. Your father knows that.”
Claire scoffed at the hypocrisy of that statement. She stared down at Elle who lay nearly lifeless on a bed in Mohinder’s lab.
“Who’s going to look after her?”
“Actually, I think you could have a good influence on the girl. Question is, are you up for the task?”
Claire sighed. She knew her father wouldn’t like it, but she didn’t necessarily like that he had put Elle’s life in her hands. But more than anything, she knew that if she was going to save Elle’s life, she may as well do it properly.
“I’ll try.”
*
“You’ve been sleeping with Peter?” Claire asked Elle, incredulous.
“Was sleeping with him,” she shrugged.
“But he has a girlfriend and-why are you telling me this?”
“Because I had to tell someone, okay? Besides, it’s over now and if you hadn’t sicced me on him--”
“I thought Peter helping teach you the ropes of life would be helpful. He’s a good man, Elle, and from what I saw, he taught you a lot about control and compassion for others pretty well. How could you--”
“Hey, he was a part of it, too. I didn’t force him to do anything. It was his choice!”
“But it’s over now?”
Elle looked away, but nodded. “Yeah. It’s over.”
*
“I hear you and Claire ran into some trouble at Pinehearst.”
“Ugh. You know your brother has it out for me. It was no biggie. And the place is gone now, so…”
He nodded. “What about the incident in El Paso? Claire said you disappeared for a minute.”
“I was just checking something out by the parking lot in the back.”
“You ran into Sylar, didn’t you?”
Elle licked her lips and looked out through the window on her passenger side of the car they were riding in. “Maybe.”
“Elle, he’s a dangerous man,” Peter said, glancing over at her, “And I know for a fact that he’s looking for some revenge--directed at you.”
“Can you--can everybody just stop? I can handle Sylar! I am a big girl who knows how to kick ass.”
Peter sighed heavily and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “None of us are in this alone. It’s enough that Nathan’s going out of his way to attack the natures of his own kind. Last thing we need is to stand alone.”
“Yeah, yeah. So we gotta stick together.” Elle rolled her eyes.
“Right.”
Elle turned in her seat to look at Peter. “I’m not one of you, Peter. I’m a killer. A company girl.”
“You’re not either of those things.” He paused, let her take his words in. “You’re a young woman who’s had to live with this ability her whole life without anyone to understand her. Until now. Sooner you accept that you’re with us now, the easier it’ll be for all of us.”
*
“You’re never going to change, Elle. You’re just like me. It’s in your blood.”
“I’m nothing like you,” she spit out.
“Then why are you thinking that you should have killed me when you had the chance?”
“I’m not--”
“It’s all a lie, Elle. So why don’t we put an end to this bickering so we can go on back to old times - you, me, working, killing together.”
Elle stepped back from Sylar, and sent a jarring set of bolts in his direction.
“That,” Sylar said through gritted teeth, “wasn’t very nice.”
“That,” Elle smirked, “was just a distraction. The thoughts. The little bolts. Me.”
Sylar’s brows furrowed, and he didn’t quite understand what she meant until he felt the sting of electric bolts piercing his back. He keeled over, and Elle sent her own bolts, hitting his chest.
Sylar lifted himself up, and swiveled to see who else was attacking him. He locked eyes with none other than Peter.
“Ready, partner?” Elle called out to Peter as she began brewing more electricity in her hands.
Peter sent her a wink and responded, “ready.”
*
“Where’s your partner now, Elle? Oh, I remember - in hiding, protecting his own hide and that of a select few others while you fend for yourself.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about Sylar, so let’s cut the chit chat and get on with this.”
But the instant she finished her line, Elle blinked only to find herself staring at Peter rather than at Sylar.
“What the--” Elle gasped, confused.
She shook her head and stared at him, until realizing what had happened. She scoffed and looked at him in disbelief, telling him, “You did not have to do that! I was fine, you did not have to get me out of--how did you know where to find me? You keeping tabs on me?”
Peter opened his mouth, but then clamped it shut. “Doesn’t matter. We’re all safe for the moment.”
“You are keeping tabs on me!” she screamed and began scanning the warehouse at which she found herself, looking for a door. That’s when she spotted Hiro and Matt, crouched in a corner, looking over some papers, and feet from them were Mohinder and Ando.
“This is where you’re hiding from Nathan?”
“It’s where we’re meeting up when we need a plan. Nathan hasn’t found us yet--”
“Far as you know,” Elle mused, then snapped, “abandoned warehouse, Peter? May as well paint arrows in the sky saying ‘we’re here, Nathan!’ I‘m leaving.”
Peter stepped in front of her. “What do you suggest then?”
“I’m not getting involved.”
Peter touched her hand, but pulled away after Elle shot him a look. “Please, Elle.”
Sighing, she hesitantly said, “my dad set up a few trailers down in New Jersey and Nevada, just in case I ever found myself without a habitat or company to keep me. I’m staying in the one by Nevada. Or was, since Sylar found me.”
“And no one knows about the ones in New Jersey?”
“Aside from a few slow neighbors and H.R.G.?”
“Noah knows.”
“Okay, so that plan won’t work.”
“No, it’s perfect. He’s with us now.”
“Great,” she clapped her hands, “So you all will--”
“We,” Peter corrected her, “we are all re-locating to New Jersey. All of us.”
-¤-
“She‘s always so…nice.”
“She’s fine, Sarah,” Peter sighed at his girlfriend’s tone of voice, “she’s really not that bad.”
“She just seems like trouble, Peter. What with her remarks about our relationship--”
“Remarks?”
“I--I don’t meant to come off this way, because I know she’s had it tough, like you told me. But throughout dinner, she would make off the cuff remarks about you being with me, an ordinary girl and--”
“You’re not ordinary.”
She smiled at him softly. “Yes Peter, we’re all special. But the way she sees it…” She looked away from him. “Well, it’s nothing, I can ignore it. What I find hard to ignore is the way she hangs on my boyfriend. When we were in the living room, she was sitting so close to you Peter, and she held onto your arm like…”
“Sarah, she’s like that with any guy. Were it Matt or Mohinder, she would’ve acted the same.”
“And that makes it alright for some pretty girl to hold onto my boyfriend like that--my live-in boyfriend of several months?”
“You gotta trust me.”
Sarah nodded, then chuckled. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I know you and your friends have some…special things to do, and that involves…a lot. I know.”
Peter eyed her carefully. He knew how difficult it could get for her.
“I know it’s tiring to keep this secret. To know I’m out there in dangerous situations and all the while, you have to lie to your friends and family about me working late and why I miss so many things. I love that you’ve been so understanding and that you haven’t run away.”
Peter stood up, walked over to her, and wrapped his arms around her. “There’s no way I could hurt you after all of that. There’s no way I would hurt the woman I love. So just trust me when I say Elle’s not after me, and I’m not after her.”
*
“Is there something between you and Elle?”
“What?”
“You and Elle -- are you two…?”
Realizing his implication, Peter was quick to deny, saying, “Jesus, Matt, no.”
“You sure?” he pressed on, “because a couple of weeks ago, I drew this--” he shoved a white page with a drawing on it at Peter, “and you two are always either arguing or ignoring each other.”
Peter looked over the paper, and a bile feeling rose in his stomach. In the drawing, Peter was kneeling on the floor of what looked like the garden out by trailer Hiro, Ando, and Elle occupied. Peter’s head looked to be buried in the crooks of a woman’s arm, a woman with blonde hair that stopped short at her shoulders, with sad blue eyes. Her arms were tightly wound around him as she stood behind him, just holding him.
Elle holding what looked to be a broken Peter.
Peter looked up from the drawing to see Matt staring at him.
Peter asked, “what does it mean?”
“What’s going on between you and Elle?”
Peter shook his head vehemently, “nothing,” then, “at least not anymore.”
“And Sarah?”
“Sarah? She’s home, away from me, safe. I left her a note saying that just for now, I had to stay away. But I’d come home someday.”
*
“Sometimes, I forget who I was. I like when I forget.”
“You can’t say your past didn’t teach you anything, though.”
“It taught me how to kill. It taught me how to distrust anyone who was not my dad. It taught me not to love,” she said with tears lining her eyes. Memories always did this to her.
“Did it teach you to forget remorse? Guilt?”
Elle wiped at her eyes. “It taught me to ignore those things. To pretend they weren’t there.”
“But you only pretended. You did feel it.”
Elle had to think over his thoughts on it, but after a few seconds, she nodded. She felt it, briefly, but she always pushed it away and told herself that things such as remorse and guilt were just silly.
“I played pretend,” she whispered, almost ashamed.
“Then you never learned how not to love. You loved Sy--Gabriel, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “how do you know what love is, anyway? Is it when someone makes your stomach flutter? When all you think about is one person? When you feel like no one else knows you better? How do you know when you love someone?”
Peter sat back and brought his knees up to his chest, and locked his hands over them.
“I know when,” he looked up at the ceiling, thinking about it, “I know when I can’t forget them. I know when I want to keep them safe, no matter what. I know when I’m near that person and all I want is to see them smile. But I think everyone feels it differently.”
“Peter?”
“Hmm?”
“When you talk to me like you’re talking to old friend and not like I’m a child, like everyone else does, I forget that my daddy used me and that I killed. Does that mean something?”
Peter felt his chest constrict. He felt a shift in the air, but he laid it down, looked over at her and smiled.
“It means that we’re good friends,” he said whilst staring at her. But he broke the stare, thinking he’d say a dozen or so other things about what it could mean if he kept looking at her.
“You should probably head back to your room before Claire realizes you’ve left her again,” he said, referring to the hotel room Claire and Elle were sharing.
“She’s just no fun,” Elle complained, “and your room looks bigger.”
He laughed. “They’re the same size, Elle.”
Elle leaned over to him, said, “sure, whatever, Peter,” kissed his cheek, pushed herself off the ground, and waved goodbye to him.
The feel of her lips against his skin lingered around after she left.
*
“She’s dead, Peter.”
The words reverberated in his head and he felt sick to his stomach.
Everything crashed over him: his affair with Elle, Sarah knowing his secret, him going over to their apartment when he shouldn’t have just to leave the note, her death. Everything.
He was responsible. His brother as well, and he’d get his vengeance, but in that moment, all he felt was the sickening guilt and grief for putting Sarah in the line of danger. He shouldn’t have left her alone, he should have sent someone over to keep an eye on her, he should have…left her, never been with her, chosen Elle a long time ago--
“What happened?” Elle’s voice came behind him, and Sarah’s fate - Sarah’s unhappiness - struck him at full force and he fell to his knees. How could he be thinking that he should have chosen Elle at a moment like this?
Mohinder, who had delivered the tragic news, looked over at Elle, and softly whispered, “his--Sarah has--she’s no longer alive.”
Remorse had never been a strength, or much of anything, of Elle’s, but it was in her, pounding against her chest, feeling for Sarah, even Peter. Especially Peter. He was probably blaming himself.
“Peter,” she reached out a hand to him, and after pausing for a second, she decided to place it on his shoulder.
She had never been taught the art of comforting someone, and she definitely did not have a knack for it, but after Peter crumbled, she only wanted to comfort him. She crouched down a bit and she wrapped her arms around him.
Neither said a word.
Peter clutched her arms, wrapped his fingers around them, and dug his head in one corner of her arms. His heavy breathing hit her stomach, his tears crash landed on her shirt and bare arms, sinking into her skin.
*
“Peter, hi--”
“Can I come in?”
“Do you even have to ask, silly?”
Peter smiled tightly at Elle, then pushed through the door of his old apartment. He went straight through to the living room, where he stopped at the window facing New York City. He tightened his hands around the window sill and pressed his forehead against the window.
Elle hung back at the entrance of the door, uncertain as to what to do.
For a few minutes, Elle leaned against the closed door the apartment, playing with her nails, as Peter stood rocking himself against the window. Finally, he let go of the window sill, rubbed his temple, and looked over to Elle.
“My brother came by mine and Sarah’s apartment this morning. I was alone, and he came by, just quickly to ask me something. Something strange. I don’t know. Anyway, I asked him what he was planning. All those interviews he’s doing and all those trips to Washington--what are they about. He told me that he was just looking out for the safety of the country, looking out for the safety of people like you and me.”
“That’s your brother for you,” Elle dismissed him.
“No Elle, that’s not my brother,” he said with a biting voice.
Knowing he needed to vent, Elle didn’t say anything. She only walked over to the living room and sat on the couch.
Peter buried his head in hands and let out a small groan. “I know something’s coming, Elle,” he said, his head still in his hands, “this is just his first visit--there’s going to be another one. I can feel it.”
He stopped again. He let his hands fall, looked out through the window, then to Elle. Her eyes were wide with interest and worry, but she didn’t say a word. That made him smile but uncomfortable. He wasn’t very accustomed to Elle not talking. He walked over and sat next to her.
“Sorry for coming over just to annoy you with this.”
She shrugged. “I’m not doing anything else.”
It was quiet for another moment. “Your brother’s an ass,” Elle said, and they laughed. “So where’s Sarah?”
“She and I were supposed to be visiting her parents this weekend.”
“But some good person needed some saving, and because Peter Petrelli is the only ‘hero’ in this city, you went off, leaving your girlfriend to go alone.”
“I don’t mean to--”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Peter. I know this ability just makes you want to put other things second sometimes.”
Peter laughed, causing Elle to look at him strangely. “What?”
He nodded “nothing” and didn’t look away after their eyes caught.
“I think you’re the only person who makes sense of what I do.”
“You don’t make sense to anyone, silly. You like saving people, and you hate hurting people you love, but you never know what to put first. So you go back and forth, always hating yourself for your decisions, regretting them, blah, blah. You make no sense. I‘m just going to make all of your decisions for you from now so you don‘t go off blaming yourself for everything now.”
“I could never do that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Petie, it’s hard for you not to blame yourself for stuff, but we’ll work on you blaming me.”
“I couldn’t blame you,” he cleared up.
Elle moved her eyes away from his quickly. She rubbed her hands together and licked her lips.
“Okay,” she turned her body to face his, “I’m not going crazy, right? Because even if I’m not going crazy, I’m still going crazy over thinking all of this over and over--you like me, right? You do, don’t you? How you talk to me, and smile--I’m going crazy,” she rambled, laughed.
Peter sat frozen, his eyes shot to the ground, and a lump built up in his throat.
“I have a girlfriend,” he said in a low whisper. Elle stopped twitching around when he said that.
“I’m sorry. Wait, do I apologize? I don’t know how any of this works, Peter.”
Peter lifted his head and searched Elle’s eyes.
“I’m falling in love with you, Elle,” he reciprocated. A small smile played over his lips, then fell--“But I have Sarah.”
Elle smiled at him and blinked furiously. She was getting too emotional for her liking.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, this time in a broken voice.
Peter shifted closer to her, and wrapped an arm around her. He kissed her forehead and rested his nose on her temple thereafter. “It’s not your fault,” he muttered against her skin.
Elle moved her head slowly, her eyes glued to Peter’s when their foreheads touched. “Remember you telling me what love felt like to you? The safety, the not being able to forget them, the smiling?”
“Yes.”
“I feel that way with you.”
When Peter kissed her, she pressed her hands on his chest, moved her lips a couple of centimeters away, and asked the question she normally never would have voiced were it not for her sudden fear: “this decision, Peter, will you regret it?”
He moved away, nodded his head, said, “no” and “we can’t do this” and left. And Elle understood. She couldn’t blame him for being the good guy.
But two weeks later, after he and she teamed up against Sylar only to barely escape from Sylar, Peter wrapped his arms tightly around Elle, saying he’d never let her be that close to danger ever again (that if Sylar, God forbid, found her again, he’d do everything in his power to get her out). He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her nose, her lips. He wanted to hold her, love her, and it was like this force he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop.
*
Elle accompanied Peter to his cot in the trailer he and Matt shared, and he laid down. He pulled her down with him, and seeing this, Matt left and ordered Ando and Hiro to keep out.
Peter fell asleep with his arms around Elle, fearful of losing her.
Come night, Peter awoke. Shifting in the small cot, Elle slowly woke up as well.
She looked up at him, looked him in the eyes, and gave him a rigid smile.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said.
She didn’t breathe a word.
So he added, “I’m sorry I blamed you.”
Elle’s smile relaxed, and she huddled closer to Peter.
She rested her head against Peter’s chest, stroked his arm, and acknowledged his apology with an, “okay.”
fandom: Heroes
summary: While hiding and keeping safe from Nathan & the government, Peter and Elle deal with the implications of a now defunct affair.
characters/pairings: Peter/Elle, appearances from several others (i.e. Claire, Mohinder, Sylar, etc.)
genre: Angst/Romance
rating: T
note: Set in S3. Two-thirds into the fic, I got lost and didn't know how to go about things. So I've had this things stuck for awhile, but it's finally done! This is for retroblair , who also came up with this idea of Peter being the one who has a girlfriend when Elle comes into play. I won't say much more about the plot. This whole thing switches off from the past to the present, but it's only the first half in which the time jumps are bigger--things come together towards the end. Enjoy.
~*~He buried his nose in her hair, and her hand grasped at his hand clasped on her shoulder.
“I‘m,” he whispered, moving his ear beside her ear, “This has gone on too long. I’m not this guy.”
A burning anger replaced the warmth that had been pulsing through her body. Electricity broke loose from her and surged against him, sending him flying.
“Ah!” he screamed.
“You don’t get to back out of this!” she yelled, slowly marching towards him as he struggled to lift himself from the ground.
“You don’t get to drag me down with you and then leave me lying here, alone, while you go on with your little life. You’re not going to leave me to be the lonely girl who everyone will judge as reaping what she sewed--because you did this, you!”
She was just inches from him when he managed to stand up straight and he pushed his shoulders back.
He met her glowering eyes and pushed himself to take a step towards her.
“You caused this. I was fine. I was letting go. And you knew I was seeing someone, but you didn’t back off.”
“Aw,” Elle faked pity, “poor, little, grown up Peter Petrelli was just so helpless against a girl who mentioned that he was the only one who didn’t make her feel like an ex-company girl with daddy issues. Poor, defenseless, cheating, Peter.”
“That isn’t--”
“Yes,” Elle raised her right hand, “that is what happened. That and everything else that happened. So if you’re going to choose one of us, choose one not because it’s the so-called right thing. Choose one because she’s the one you want.”
“Elle, I care about her and she’s my--”
“But she’s off alone, thinking her Peter is working. Saving lives. Why--?”
Elle paused. She dropped her hand and glanced over to a mirror hanging on the wall to her left.
“You know, Peter,” she said with a laugh, eyes steady on the mirror, “I don’t care what guy you are or aren’t. Because I so don’t come second place or second anything to anyone, not even to…whatever you are. And I am not a sad, pathetic girl you have to take pity on and put on the side. I’m done.”
*
“She was found on the beach, her third degree burns lacerating her skin.”
“Who found her?”
“Hiro Nakamura.”
“Why call me in?
“Your father - Noah said you could save her. But Nathan mustn’t know we have Elle Bishop, nor that we’re attempting…”
“To save her? God, even I don’t think it’s the best idea.”
“We’re not here to choose who gets to live and who gets to die, Claire. Your father knows that.”
Claire scoffed at the hypocrisy of that statement. She stared down at Elle who lay nearly lifeless on a bed in Mohinder’s lab.
“Who’s going to look after her?”
“Actually, I think you could have a good influence on the girl. Question is, are you up for the task?”
Claire sighed. She knew her father wouldn’t like it, but she didn’t necessarily like that he had put Elle’s life in her hands. But more than anything, she knew that if she was going to save Elle’s life, she may as well do it properly.
“I’ll try.”
*
“You’ve been sleeping with Peter?” Claire asked Elle, incredulous.
“Was sleeping with him,” she shrugged.
“But he has a girlfriend and-why are you telling me this?”
“Because I had to tell someone, okay? Besides, it’s over now and if you hadn’t sicced me on him--”
“I thought Peter helping teach you the ropes of life would be helpful. He’s a good man, Elle, and from what I saw, he taught you a lot about control and compassion for others pretty well. How could you--”
“Hey, he was a part of it, too. I didn’t force him to do anything. It was his choice!”
“But it’s over now?”
Elle looked away, but nodded. “Yeah. It’s over.”
*
“I hear you and Claire ran into some trouble at Pinehearst.”
“Ugh. You know your brother has it out for me. It was no biggie. And the place is gone now, so…”
He nodded. “What about the incident in El Paso? Claire said you disappeared for a minute.”
“I was just checking something out by the parking lot in the back.”
“You ran into Sylar, didn’t you?”
Elle licked her lips and looked out through the window on her passenger side of the car they were riding in. “Maybe.”
“Elle, he’s a dangerous man,” Peter said, glancing over at her, “And I know for a fact that he’s looking for some revenge--directed at you.”
“Can you--can everybody just stop? I can handle Sylar! I am a big girl who knows how to kick ass.”
Peter sighed heavily and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “None of us are in this alone. It’s enough that Nathan’s going out of his way to attack the natures of his own kind. Last thing we need is to stand alone.”
“Yeah, yeah. So we gotta stick together.” Elle rolled her eyes.
“Right.”
Elle turned in her seat to look at Peter. “I’m not one of you, Peter. I’m a killer. A company girl.”
“You’re not either of those things.” He paused, let her take his words in. “You’re a young woman who’s had to live with this ability her whole life without anyone to understand her. Until now. Sooner you accept that you’re with us now, the easier it’ll be for all of us.”
*
“You’re never going to change, Elle. You’re just like me. It’s in your blood.”
“I’m nothing like you,” she spit out.
“Then why are you thinking that you should have killed me when you had the chance?”
“I’m not--”
“It’s all a lie, Elle. So why don’t we put an end to this bickering so we can go on back to old times - you, me, working, killing together.”
Elle stepped back from Sylar, and sent a jarring set of bolts in his direction.
“That,” Sylar said through gritted teeth, “wasn’t very nice.”
“That,” Elle smirked, “was just a distraction. The thoughts. The little bolts. Me.”
Sylar’s brows furrowed, and he didn’t quite understand what she meant until he felt the sting of electric bolts piercing his back. He keeled over, and Elle sent her own bolts, hitting his chest.
Sylar lifted himself up, and swiveled to see who else was attacking him. He locked eyes with none other than Peter.
“Ready, partner?” Elle called out to Peter as she began brewing more electricity in her hands.
Peter sent her a wink and responded, “ready.”
*
“Where’s your partner now, Elle? Oh, I remember - in hiding, protecting his own hide and that of a select few others while you fend for yourself.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about Sylar, so let’s cut the chit chat and get on with this.”
But the instant she finished her line, Elle blinked only to find herself staring at Peter rather than at Sylar.
“What the--” Elle gasped, confused.
She shook her head and stared at him, until realizing what had happened. She scoffed and looked at him in disbelief, telling him, “You did not have to do that! I was fine, you did not have to get me out of--how did you know where to find me? You keeping tabs on me?”
Peter opened his mouth, but then clamped it shut. “Doesn’t matter. We’re all safe for the moment.”
“You are keeping tabs on me!” she screamed and began scanning the warehouse at which she found herself, looking for a door. That’s when she spotted Hiro and Matt, crouched in a corner, looking over some papers, and feet from them were Mohinder and Ando.
“This is where you’re hiding from Nathan?”
“It’s where we’re meeting up when we need a plan. Nathan hasn’t found us yet--”
“Far as you know,” Elle mused, then snapped, “abandoned warehouse, Peter? May as well paint arrows in the sky saying ‘we’re here, Nathan!’ I‘m leaving.”
Peter stepped in front of her. “What do you suggest then?”
“I’m not getting involved.”
Peter touched her hand, but pulled away after Elle shot him a look. “Please, Elle.”
Sighing, she hesitantly said, “my dad set up a few trailers down in New Jersey and Nevada, just in case I ever found myself without a habitat or company to keep me. I’m staying in the one by Nevada. Or was, since Sylar found me.”
“And no one knows about the ones in New Jersey?”
“Aside from a few slow neighbors and H.R.G.?”
“Noah knows.”
“Okay, so that plan won’t work.”
“No, it’s perfect. He’s with us now.”
“Great,” she clapped her hands, “So you all will--”
“We,” Peter corrected her, “we are all re-locating to New Jersey. All of us.”
-¤-
“She‘s always so…nice.”
“She’s fine, Sarah,” Peter sighed at his girlfriend’s tone of voice, “she’s really not that bad.”
“She just seems like trouble, Peter. What with her remarks about our relationship--”
“Remarks?”
“I--I don’t meant to come off this way, because I know she’s had it tough, like you told me. But throughout dinner, she would make off the cuff remarks about you being with me, an ordinary girl and--”
“You’re not ordinary.”
She smiled at him softly. “Yes Peter, we’re all special. But the way she sees it…” She looked away from him. “Well, it’s nothing, I can ignore it. What I find hard to ignore is the way she hangs on my boyfriend. When we were in the living room, she was sitting so close to you Peter, and she held onto your arm like…”
“Sarah, she’s like that with any guy. Were it Matt or Mohinder, she would’ve acted the same.”
“And that makes it alright for some pretty girl to hold onto my boyfriend like that--my live-in boyfriend of several months?”
“You gotta trust me.”
Sarah nodded, then chuckled. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I know you and your friends have some…special things to do, and that involves…a lot. I know.”
Peter eyed her carefully. He knew how difficult it could get for her.
“I know it’s tiring to keep this secret. To know I’m out there in dangerous situations and all the while, you have to lie to your friends and family about me working late and why I miss so many things. I love that you’ve been so understanding and that you haven’t run away.”
Peter stood up, walked over to her, and wrapped his arms around her. “There’s no way I could hurt you after all of that. There’s no way I would hurt the woman I love. So just trust me when I say Elle’s not after me, and I’m not after her.”
*
“Is there something between you and Elle?”
“What?”
“You and Elle -- are you two…?”
Realizing his implication, Peter was quick to deny, saying, “Jesus, Matt, no.”
“You sure?” he pressed on, “because a couple of weeks ago, I drew this--” he shoved a white page with a drawing on it at Peter, “and you two are always either arguing or ignoring each other.”
Peter looked over the paper, and a bile feeling rose in his stomach. In the drawing, Peter was kneeling on the floor of what looked like the garden out by trailer Hiro, Ando, and Elle occupied. Peter’s head looked to be buried in the crooks of a woman’s arm, a woman with blonde hair that stopped short at her shoulders, with sad blue eyes. Her arms were tightly wound around him as she stood behind him, just holding him.
Elle holding what looked to be a broken Peter.
Peter looked up from the drawing to see Matt staring at him.
Peter asked, “what does it mean?”
“What’s going on between you and Elle?”
Peter shook his head vehemently, “nothing,” then, “at least not anymore.”
“And Sarah?”
“Sarah? She’s home, away from me, safe. I left her a note saying that just for now, I had to stay away. But I’d come home someday.”
*
“Sometimes, I forget who I was. I like when I forget.”
“You can’t say your past didn’t teach you anything, though.”
“It taught me how to kill. It taught me how to distrust anyone who was not my dad. It taught me not to love,” she said with tears lining her eyes. Memories always did this to her.
“Did it teach you to forget remorse? Guilt?”
Elle wiped at her eyes. “It taught me to ignore those things. To pretend they weren’t there.”
“But you only pretended. You did feel it.”
Elle had to think over his thoughts on it, but after a few seconds, she nodded. She felt it, briefly, but she always pushed it away and told herself that things such as remorse and guilt were just silly.
“I played pretend,” she whispered, almost ashamed.
“Then you never learned how not to love. You loved Sy--Gabriel, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “how do you know what love is, anyway? Is it when someone makes your stomach flutter? When all you think about is one person? When you feel like no one else knows you better? How do you know when you love someone?”
Peter sat back and brought his knees up to his chest, and locked his hands over them.
“I know when,” he looked up at the ceiling, thinking about it, “I know when I can’t forget them. I know when I want to keep them safe, no matter what. I know when I’m near that person and all I want is to see them smile. But I think everyone feels it differently.”
“Peter?”
“Hmm?”
“When you talk to me like you’re talking to old friend and not like I’m a child, like everyone else does, I forget that my daddy used me and that I killed. Does that mean something?”
Peter felt his chest constrict. He felt a shift in the air, but he laid it down, looked over at her and smiled.
“It means that we’re good friends,” he said whilst staring at her. But he broke the stare, thinking he’d say a dozen or so other things about what it could mean if he kept looking at her.
“You should probably head back to your room before Claire realizes you’ve left her again,” he said, referring to the hotel room Claire and Elle were sharing.
“She’s just no fun,” Elle complained, “and your room looks bigger.”
He laughed. “They’re the same size, Elle.”
Elle leaned over to him, said, “sure, whatever, Peter,” kissed his cheek, pushed herself off the ground, and waved goodbye to him.
The feel of her lips against his skin lingered around after she left.
*
“She’s dead, Peter.”
The words reverberated in his head and he felt sick to his stomach.
Everything crashed over him: his affair with Elle, Sarah knowing his secret, him going over to their apartment when he shouldn’t have just to leave the note, her death. Everything.
He was responsible. His brother as well, and he’d get his vengeance, but in that moment, all he felt was the sickening guilt and grief for putting Sarah in the line of danger. He shouldn’t have left her alone, he should have sent someone over to keep an eye on her, he should have…left her, never been with her, chosen Elle a long time ago--
“What happened?” Elle’s voice came behind him, and Sarah’s fate - Sarah’s unhappiness - struck him at full force and he fell to his knees. How could he be thinking that he should have chosen Elle at a moment like this?
Mohinder, who had delivered the tragic news, looked over at Elle, and softly whispered, “his--Sarah has--she’s no longer alive.”
Remorse had never been a strength, or much of anything, of Elle’s, but it was in her, pounding against her chest, feeling for Sarah, even Peter. Especially Peter. He was probably blaming himself.
“Peter,” she reached out a hand to him, and after pausing for a second, she decided to place it on his shoulder.
She had never been taught the art of comforting someone, and she definitely did not have a knack for it, but after Peter crumbled, she only wanted to comfort him. She crouched down a bit and she wrapped her arms around him.
Neither said a word.
Peter clutched her arms, wrapped his fingers around them, and dug his head in one corner of her arms. His heavy breathing hit her stomach, his tears crash landed on her shirt and bare arms, sinking into her skin.
*
“Peter, hi--”
“Can I come in?”
“Do you even have to ask, silly?”
Peter smiled tightly at Elle, then pushed through the door of his old apartment. He went straight through to the living room, where he stopped at the window facing New York City. He tightened his hands around the window sill and pressed his forehead against the window.
Elle hung back at the entrance of the door, uncertain as to what to do.
For a few minutes, Elle leaned against the closed door the apartment, playing with her nails, as Peter stood rocking himself against the window. Finally, he let go of the window sill, rubbed his temple, and looked over to Elle.
“My brother came by mine and Sarah’s apartment this morning. I was alone, and he came by, just quickly to ask me something. Something strange. I don’t know. Anyway, I asked him what he was planning. All those interviews he’s doing and all those trips to Washington--what are they about. He told me that he was just looking out for the safety of the country, looking out for the safety of people like you and me.”
“That’s your brother for you,” Elle dismissed him.
“No Elle, that’s not my brother,” he said with a biting voice.
Knowing he needed to vent, Elle didn’t say anything. She only walked over to the living room and sat on the couch.
Peter buried his head in hands and let out a small groan. “I know something’s coming, Elle,” he said, his head still in his hands, “this is just his first visit--there’s going to be another one. I can feel it.”
He stopped again. He let his hands fall, looked out through the window, then to Elle. Her eyes were wide with interest and worry, but she didn’t say a word. That made him smile but uncomfortable. He wasn’t very accustomed to Elle not talking. He walked over and sat next to her.
“Sorry for coming over just to annoy you with this.”
She shrugged. “I’m not doing anything else.”
It was quiet for another moment. “Your brother’s an ass,” Elle said, and they laughed. “So where’s Sarah?”
“She and I were supposed to be visiting her parents this weekend.”
“But some good person needed some saving, and because Peter Petrelli is the only ‘hero’ in this city, you went off, leaving your girlfriend to go alone.”
“I don’t mean to--”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Peter. I know this ability just makes you want to put other things second sometimes.”
Peter laughed, causing Elle to look at him strangely. “What?”
He nodded “nothing” and didn’t look away after their eyes caught.
“I think you’re the only person who makes sense of what I do.”
“You don’t make sense to anyone, silly. You like saving people, and you hate hurting people you love, but you never know what to put first. So you go back and forth, always hating yourself for your decisions, regretting them, blah, blah. You make no sense. I‘m just going to make all of your decisions for you from now so you don‘t go off blaming yourself for everything now.”
“I could never do that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Petie, it’s hard for you not to blame yourself for stuff, but we’ll work on you blaming me.”
“I couldn’t blame you,” he cleared up.
Elle moved her eyes away from his quickly. She rubbed her hands together and licked her lips.
“Okay,” she turned her body to face his, “I’m not going crazy, right? Because even if I’m not going crazy, I’m still going crazy over thinking all of this over and over--you like me, right? You do, don’t you? How you talk to me, and smile--I’m going crazy,” she rambled, laughed.
Peter sat frozen, his eyes shot to the ground, and a lump built up in his throat.
“I have a girlfriend,” he said in a low whisper. Elle stopped twitching around when he said that.
“I’m sorry. Wait, do I apologize? I don’t know how any of this works, Peter.”
Peter lifted his head and searched Elle’s eyes.
“I’m falling in love with you, Elle,” he reciprocated. A small smile played over his lips, then fell--“But I have Sarah.”
Elle smiled at him and blinked furiously. She was getting too emotional for her liking.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, this time in a broken voice.
Peter shifted closer to her, and wrapped an arm around her. He kissed her forehead and rested his nose on her temple thereafter. “It’s not your fault,” he muttered against her skin.
Elle moved her head slowly, her eyes glued to Peter’s when their foreheads touched. “Remember you telling me what love felt like to you? The safety, the not being able to forget them, the smiling?”
“Yes.”
“I feel that way with you.”
When Peter kissed her, she pressed her hands on his chest, moved her lips a couple of centimeters away, and asked the question she normally never would have voiced were it not for her sudden fear: “this decision, Peter, will you regret it?”
He moved away, nodded his head, said, “no” and “we can’t do this” and left. And Elle understood. She couldn’t blame him for being the good guy.
But two weeks later, after he and she teamed up against Sylar only to barely escape from Sylar, Peter wrapped his arms tightly around Elle, saying he’d never let her be that close to danger ever again (that if Sylar, God forbid, found her again, he’d do everything in his power to get her out). He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her nose, her lips. He wanted to hold her, love her, and it was like this force he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop.
*
Elle accompanied Peter to his cot in the trailer he and Matt shared, and he laid down. He pulled her down with him, and seeing this, Matt left and ordered Ando and Hiro to keep out.
Peter fell asleep with his arms around Elle, fearful of losing her.
Come night, Peter awoke. Shifting in the small cot, Elle slowly woke up as well.
She looked up at him, looked him in the eyes, and gave him a rigid smile.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said.
She didn’t breathe a word.
So he added, “I’m sorry I blamed you.”
Elle’s smile relaxed, and she huddled closer to Peter.
She rested her head against Peter’s chest, stroked his arm, and acknowledged his apology with an, “okay.”