Title: What Taints Us, What Doesn't Break Us
Rating: T
Pairing: Peter/Elle (Pelle!)
Summary: She ponders his sanity for liking the rain, he muses on why she doesn't, but knows how and why she can.
A/N: I've never quite written in this style before, but hopefully it's not too bad. Wrote this for the 'In the Rain' oneshot challenge over at the LJ comm, heroescontest. And...this little fic garnered third place :) Not too shabby for a pairing not shipped by many in the Heroes fandom. Italics represent first person tense. R&R, Enjoy!
Drive me, drive me, drive me, drive me to insanity. The rabbit hole was so simple, and the pills had no effect. But this crazy little maze you've created? Oh how it's screwed with my world. Geez, who thought being normal could feel so strange? But you know what--this isn't normal. No, normal people fight over the remote control, or over who's paying for the meal. Instead, we fight about when to use our powers, or over who's life we should save on certain days.
And this argument right now? I don't think it's normal either. I mean, who stands out in the pouring rain?! Sure, he's not using his powers or anything, but do normal humans even do this? Walk out from the safety of a roof, into the rain? I can handle the finding him adorable part, and the not working for the company anymore part. But he's just taken crazy to a whole 'nother level. He's led me through so many things, but if he thinks he can lead me through this next part of the maze, he is crazy. There is no way I'm going to stand in the rain with him.
--
Because life is messy, and it's nice to feel something else as messed up as me.
Because I've been tainted, and have tainted, and want to be washed.
Because I can't feel, and I feel too much, and need that refreshing splash.
Because I need to be hit, hit and know that I can walk away, and an hour later, everything will be the same.
Because I stand in the rain, and nine out of ten people will think I'm crazy. But one of ten people will understand me, and know why the onslaught of water is an entrée so wonderful to dive into.
And although that one person will not acknowledge it, and pretend to find you strange, you'll see it in their eyes for a second. And that's all you'll need.
And I stand out here in the rain, explaining this all to her.
She who just stands under the safety of the roof, yelling at him, telling him he's crazy. That says a lot, because she always says she's the crazy one. The one who's misunderstood, and just messed up. She is a little, but it's not something a little rain won't help. It's what she needs--to feel something as cleansing as water pouring over her body. And just to know that in the end, the sun will come out--it always does.
He reaches his hand out to her, and suddenly she's angry, because he of all people should know why she hates the rain. Water in general she isn't too fond of. Anything that strips her of control over her power. And she hates when he goes out into the rain, but all he has to do is give her this little puppy face. Sad eyes, and a little pout--she hates it, but she can't refuse it. He walks to her slowly, so she won't run away, and she doesn't.
And she takes his hand when he offers it to her, gingerly, still afraid, and she takes a step into the rain with him.
She's stronger than she knows, and she has no idea how every step she makes, only makes him love her more.
Sometimes, when it's raining, he'll walk outside, just for the hell of it. I'll watch him from the window, but for no more than five minutes. Then I'll shrug and ignore it, thinking there's no logic to what he's doing, so I won't even try to understand him.
But today we're outside, in the dark streets of England by a little bed and breakfast we are staying at (just doing some villain-hunting), when the rain starts pouring down. Thankfully, we were standing underneath the roof of an abandoned shop. But he didn't stay still--no, a little smile sprouted on his face, and he walked out into the street. Now he stands in the rain, almost reveling in it. The whole time, that little lopsided grin on his face.
And enough is enough, and I ask him why the hell he likes to stand underneath the rain.
And he yells out all these 'because' statements. I tell him he's crazy, and then he invites me to go with him. Does he even know me? But he gives me that stupid little puppy dog face, and girly emotions get the best of me (they always do, especially when it comes to him).
She gives him her hand like she has a dozen times--afraid, but readily (or unprepared, but courageously).
She's hit with a dozen fears, primarily that she'll subconsciously use her power, due to reflexes. But he holds her at his chest, her ear to the rhythmic beats of his hearts, and she's calm. He has his arms wrapped around her, and her arms are folded against his chest, hands in little fists, still so afraid. She's not strong like he is, and she doesn't like showing it, but this is the rain. That horrible little thing that causes her to use her own powers against herself. And control over her powers is the only thing she has a complete control over in life.
He tells her to bring her head up, to stare the rain right in the face. And so she does--she looks up, and the water on her face suddenly doesn't feel so cold. Maybe it's because he's holding her, and the heat emanating from his body is contracting with hers. But suddenly, standing in the rain isn't so bad. But it's nothing she ever wants to do again.
She tells him this, with a snide little tone that always makes him roll his eyes. He does roll his eyes, but then he says that there has to be something that will make her love the rain as much as he does. She tells him the day that happens, is the day she's willing to bear his children (she's told him a trillion times that she's too screwed up to have any, let alone, raise children).
He laughs, because ultimately he believes that she'll change my mind, something about maternal instinct kicking in one day. He grows quiet, and takes a deep breath, and then he looks down at her. Like an idea has suddenly popped into his mind.
His hands unwrap from her back, and they're suddenly on her hips. She asks him what he's doing, and he says doing what he can to make her want to have a baby Petrelli.
She scrunches up her nose, and sticks out her tongue in disgust. Just because she's willing to be his girlfriend, and because she's comprised with him on not flirting with too many other guys, doesn't mean she's going to become a little stay-at-home wife and mother.
He brings a hand up to her cheek, and slides it to the back of her neck, his browns steadily on her blues. They're already nose to nose, so he doesn't have to pull her to him, but he tilts her head a little. She doesn't move, 'cause hell, a Petrelli kiss is a Petrelli kiss, and any sane girl (shall she venture to say guy?) would take all they can get.
But when his lips land on hers, it's in the most tender manner he's ever offered anyone. He sucks on her lip, slowly, and takes a little nip, before sliding his tongue over her lip. And when she gives him access, he roams her mouth like he's discovered the innermost sanctuary of the Greek gods. He flicks his tongue with hers, slides it over her teeth, and he's paying tribute to her. Like he's making love to her, just with a kiss. An explosive, wonderful, passionate kiss in which he pours his soul into hers.
The water has soaked them, and the cold raindrops, combined with the lush heat of his mouth, bring her to a standstill. She's not too cold, and she's not too hot. From the thumping in his heart, she know he's experiencing the same thing.
They're just right.
And suddenly she can't imagine not spending the last of her days with this man. This man who has taught her another side of life, who has allowed her to venture out on her own, to live life according to herself, not her father.
They don't want to pull back, but that little something called air forces them to. He rests his forehead on hers, and their glazed eyes look from one to the other.
"How's the rain now?" he asks her.
And all it takes is a small smile from her for him to know the answer.
But he still wants another answer, although he doesn't ask it because he believes in time. So she doesn't word it, but they both know that she's at least a step closer to that maternal instinct thing he's talked about.
And it's these little anecdotes about life that he shows her that make her believe she has the capacity of being a better person. This anecdote, here and now, about how nothing is entirely bad if just given a chance, it shows her a million other things. Makes her understand just how hard it must have been for him to open his doors to her, to give her another shot at life.
And she's only just fallen harder for him, despite her weak and bitter stance.
Just as she smiles, and after they spend a few minutes in the rain quietly, it stops as suddenly as it began. The dark clouds dissipate, and the sun is visible.
Just like standing in the rain to cleanse your worries is a cliché, the sun coming despite the rain's prodding only furthers his conviction that she's worth it, and that their fight to remain together is
worth more than anything.
One day, her torments won't wake her at night anymore, and fears won't conquer her potential in any sense. Her grand spark will come not from anger, frustration, or pain, but rather from concentration. It'll still be an instinct, but not an animalistic one.
Elle has a long way to go, but all she needs to know is that whatever has tainted her life, can be let go. But whatever fight is left ahead of them, they will have had their moments and happiness already. Those moments are what stay with everyone until the bitter end.
And despite the rain, or more so because of it, they have another beautiful moment to relish for forever and a day.