Title: Shattering Hourglasses
Rating: T
Pairings: Peter/Elle, Elle/Gabriel
Summary: She built a life with a Petrelli, gave a Petrelli a son, and stayed away from the Company--but she was still in fragments, and they all lived a lie. (AU S3, with the future still unchanged)
Note: This was written for a friend over at LJ, turned into a massive oneshot, and thought maybe I'd share this over here. I did write this over a couple of weeks ago, but this is with the hypothesis that in the future Peter saw is changed when he meets with Elle 'stead of immediately heading back to his own time. So...enjoy. :)
I.
There was a day, there was a time, there was an era when family was everything. Even the family you never wanted, nor expected, you had to welcome with loyalty and trust on hand. There's always a limit no one likes to speak of, however. You'd think it would be death or tyranny to cause a dam to break and loyalty to be tested. But sometimes, on that rare occasion, it's because of love that loyalty is wound, trust is taken advantage of, and one bond is put before another.
Gabriel saw the earth crack beneath his feet when he saw his son Noah died. He should've known better than to think that life of watching people die was over.
Peter heard a world break when, far and away, he heard an agonizing cry from a mother who just learned her son had died. He didn't know why, but he felt as though he should've been there for her.
Elle knew her life was over the moment she pushed herself out of the home her son resided in one night, as he and his dad soundly slept. She never knew she'd die all over again because her son wasn't supposed to die before her. She was always meant for destruction.
She never was one for watching the news, but she didn't have much to do without her son, without the man she loved, without going out there to be special amongst the special. She was once just as corrupt and now…she was something that was nothing that didn't know who to fight, more over, with whom to fight.
So she watched the news, and the breaking news of the nuclear explosion in that small city in California flooded the TV. Everything came crashing down. Tears and cries escaped her. Suddenly, she felt someone hold her.
"Peter," she gasped when through her tears, she saw the dark tresses of his hair, and his round brown eyes looking down at her. But there was no overwhelming bitterness and aching revenge for justice in his eyes, nor was there a scar on him.
She closed her eyes, leaned back in his arms, and drowned in the memories of this very Peter as being one of her catalysts.
---
She knew she was going to be used when Mr. Arthur Petrelli stood up from his desk and strolled over to her with that smirk that reminded her of her father's.
This is Peter's dad? She thinks, but she pushes it aside because she shouldn't care who he is or was or whatever. What mattered was what he could do for her. For her abilities.
"Elle, I've been expecting you."
It should've surprised her, but surprises are for those who have not seen death, caused death, turmoil, seen lives burn to hell.
"Yeah?" she responded, eyes steadily on him, hands at her side, waiting for whatever he would bring at her.
"Of course."
He stood in front of her, and placed his hands on her shoulders, spreading a cold, chilling feeling through her body.
"I know that Angela was a little unfair when she told you that you had no place with the company, and that she was harsh in telling you that the only reason they ever kept you was because of your father."
Appealing to the emotions. She knew that's what he was doing.
"I heard," she stammered, interrupted him, "I heard that here--I need these powers to go away."
He tilted his head at her and screw his eyes to glaze over with sympathy.
"Believe me, Elle, that is not what you want."
"I--"
But he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and turned her around as the same door she walked in through opened.
"Da--" the man who walked in began.
"Sylar," Elle said, and she jumped out of Arthur's grip and walked a few steps backwards.
"It's Gabriel," Sylar said, and Elle felt as though she had walked into some parallel universe. Here she was, asking for her abilities to be taken away as Sylar stood there, doe-eyed, saying he was Gabriel.
---
They never did take her powers away. Arthur Petrelli went off on a speech about her being especially useful, especially special because her powers were so involved and her having control over them. She scoffed, told him lately she had been having outbursts, and such. She felt like she was being trained and honed all over again when Arthur sent her along with some so-called doctors to "help" her regain control.
"Peter," she breathed in, breathed out.
"Hey," he said as he rubbed her back, and she felt a second a peace before she opened her eyes and crawled out from his hold.
She sat some distance from him, and let the stale tears dry on her cheeks.
"How--what…," she paused. "Where's Peter?"
His eyes widened and his throat strained. She knew how to read him.
"Oh, God," she said with a caught breath.
"I'm sorry," he touched her shoulder, but she flinched away.
"And Noah…" she couldn't go beyond that. Peter saw the small shake in her right hand.
"Sylar and I were--"
"It's Gabriel," she snapped and hoisted herself up. She held onto the couch as she slowly walked out of her small living room and into an adjacent room. Peter followed.
There was a single bed in the room, along with a nightstand, a clothing drawer, and lamp. Aside from some personal effects on the nightstand, there was nothing personalized in the room. She sat on her bed, legs crossed underneath her, beside the nightstand she opened and pulled something out of.
She wiped at her eyes, though there were no more tears there, and held a photograph in her hand.
"We were supposed to be a family," she said with a hoarse voice.
He walked over to her and knelt in front of her. She gave him the photograph, and his suspicions were confirmed. Elle sat in that home in Pasadena, at the island on a stool, with a baby of no more than seven or eight months while Gabriel stood behind her, grinning while Elle just looked down at the baby with a soft smile.
"I left when Noah turned a year old," she said. And she began crying again.
There was nothing he could say, nothing he could think, but he knew he had to leave, he had to go back and fix everything. The formula couldn't be completed, and that was his priority. But suddenly he felt like saving this mother, this Elle, from this grief.
"Please," she grasped his wrist.
"Save Peter. I know he said that stepping on butterflies caused all this or whatever, that going back in forth in time just screwed everything up more, but you have to save him. So we can fix this and start over--the way it should've been."
He knew there were more untold stories right there and then. He knew Elle wasn't telling him something.
---
It was a difficult process, a tricky trail, and a dangerous thread to walk, but they managed to bring Arthur Petrelli down. The formula was another thing, but the consequences of that wouldn't flesh out for at least awhile.
Peter was hailed a hero, but he knew better--he knew something somewhere had gone wrong, so he continued keeping track of history and others' paths, hoping what his future self had shown him could still be prevented.
But the one thing that he thought could change it all, he felt, still lay in the future. He had an inkling that if he had not been caught by Nathan, or had he never taken Sylar's power so he wouldn't have killed his brother, that he would have heeded that small familiar scream he heard and something…something would have changed. Like he would have learned an even more important fact that would have helped him learn what it was he needed to change to save the world of that fate.
As he had seen in the future, Peter began having a somewhat amiable relationship with Gabriel. Gabriel seemed to be more eager to call him brother and to be a part of a family, whereas Peter just didn't want to cause waves.
Throughout their mission to stop Arthur, they had managed to convince Gabriel that Arthur was manipulating everyone, and along with Gabriel came Elle. Elle had actually aided persuade Gabriel, as she never truly trusted Arthur Petrelli.
"Sometimes I get this fear that I'll just blink and he'll be Sylar again. I mean, I've seen what Sylar can do, and something like that never really goes away."
"Maybe you should distance yourself, then."
"I can't. He and I…we're…"
Peter looked up from the computer and met Elle's eyes.
"You're--"
"Yep," she said with a laugh and averted eyes.
"I have that fear, too, Elle, and if you're scared that because you two are…it'll be worse if and when he…"
"I'm not scared. I can take care of myself," she bit out.
"I know," he said without flinching.
"And I can stop him if Gabriel isn't Gabriel anymore, I just--did I disappoint you?"
Peter swirled around to her with furrowed brows.
"What--"
"When," she looked down to the floor for a second before looking back up at him, "when I left you with Claire and ran into Pinehearst to get rid of my powers. You would never do that. You're Peter Petrelli, empath extraordinaire who's proud of helping people with his special abilities. But I…I was going to get rid of my powers."
"I was disappointed. But you were scared, and in the end, you came back to help us. Both with and without your powers. You did the right thing. That's what matters."
---
"I thought that when Noah would be born, everything would stop. My world would stop, and everything else would, and I'd really feel like we were a family."
Peter stood against the wall facing Elle's bed as she spoke. Although she would sometimes meet his eyes, and even touched his forearm and wrist before, she would flinch away pretty quickly. As though being aware of his presence for more than a few seconds was too personal.
"I felt like I was dying, most of the time. While I was pregnant, while I raised Noah, while I made dinners like a little housewife as Noah sat down and watched me scramble around the kitchen. Eventually I burned so many dinners that Gabriel took over and did like, everything. But most of all, I felt like I was dying when I got married, when I left Noah behind, and today, I just feel dead."
She's as strong as ever. Tears came down from her eyes once in a while, but her shaking had died down and her breathing was steady.
"Elle, what happened?"
"I never saw Peter much after I ran off. Well, less than after Noah was born. He started coming around less, plus he started working overtime on that timeline thing. I knew it'd be that way, but I hated losing him more and more to his obsession."
"He was just trying to--"
"I know, fix everything. I'm glad he was. So I hope you can fix it now. For my sake, Peter, for Noah's, and for you."
"I don't--"
"You'll understand when you go back to the right time."
"To my time?"
"No, Peter. The right time. Just go back. Close your mind and let your powers guide you."
---
"I hate him, I hate him!"
Elle screamed as she paced Peter's apartment. Peter sighed and rubbed his head as Elle went on about Gabriel.
"He's so…cocky and, ugh, I hate him!"
Peter walked over to her and stopped her in her steps by gripping her forearms with her hands.
"What?" she shrieked when he just stared at her.
"You always come here when you want to get away from Gabriel."
"Not…always," she murmured. Then she scoffed.
"It's not that I want to be away from him, I just don't like being near him. All the time, I mean."
Elle crossed her arms in front of her and kicked the tip of her toe against the floor.
Peter chuckled and walked over to the refrigerator. "So what do you want to watch tonight?"
"Aren't you researching stuff?"
He shrugged and eyed her over the refrigerator door. "It can wait. So what do you want to drink."
She ran over to Peter and tiptoed, hovering above him so she could see the contents. "Orange juice!" she squealed into his ear. He flinched, but just leaned over to grab the carton. He turned around, but she didn't' move an inch. Their bodies crashed together, but the burn made them move away quickly.
---
Peter went forward, to the right time. Don't step on butterflies, his future self had said, but Peter had a gut feeling that he had to go forward at least one more time. He remembered the cry he had when the explosion went off, and its ring lured him in. He transported there and saw Elle crouched down in front of a television set. She was on the verge of falling, while tears ran down her face and her face flushed. She didn't seem to notice him, so he just walked over to her and sat down as he wrapped his arms around her.
He stayed with her for ten or 15 minutes, until she insisted he go back to the right time and he fix things. She also said he should let his powers guide him, but he didn't know how that worked, so he just went back home.
He nearly felt useless because he knew he wasn't in the right time. He was home, but that wasn't the right time. He decided it would come if he waited it out. Until he saw Elle again.
He tried looking for her, but with so many other things to accomplish, it was difficult to do so. Last he heard, his mother had fired Elle and told her the company never needed her.
One thing he did know--he needed to keep Elle away from Pinehearst.
When he talked with the Elle of the future, she mentioned that she and Gabriel had met again through Pinehearst, and that the company was extremely dangerous. He knew better than to go there alone, so he sought out Claire to help him--he knew she would be on his side (at this point, anyway) and she could help him figure out how to get in without getting caught.
And that's when he found her.
Claire was leaving the house, and Peter spotted her across the lawn when he saw her call out to someone getting into a waiting car.
"Claire," Peter shouted, and she stopped in her steps.
She turned to him, but his eyes were focused on the car. She walked over to him and asked him what he was doing there. When he said he had been hoping to find her so they could get to Pinehearst, she said that she and Elle were headed that way.
"Elle can't go," Peter declared.
"The hell I can't," he heard her yell. Peter turned his back on Claire and met Elle half way.
"What are you doing here, Elle?"
"So the spunky little cheerleader could teach me how to do jazz hands--what do you think?" she rolled her eyes.
"I don't know, but you can't go to Pinehearst."
"You can't tell me what to do."
"Please, Elle," he moved his hand to land on her shoulder, and he saw a rush of compounded images pounding through his brain until (like a movie) the reels of three lives ironically linked, played through his mind.
---
II.
Elle hovered over Peter as he slept. Any second his eyes could flutter open and he'd see her watching him. He would probably freak out.
With her finger poised right by his ear, Elle charged a small voltage of electricity and sent the jolt out of her finger, to his earlobe and down as his throat and he…
Peter sat upright with a jolt, his breath hardened and hands gripping the seat cushion. He looked around him and when he spotted Elle, he breathed in a sigh of relief. He rubbed his face, and when he brought his hand down, he glared at Elle.
"Elle, what the hell--Why did you…?"
She laughed and bent down to wrap her arms around him. "You're always so fun, Peter!"
Peter pushed her off and stood up to go into the kitchen.
"Peter," she called after him, not that it stopped him, but she trailed after him. She followed him as he grabbed a water bottle and drank it beside the sink.
"Sorry, Peter, I thought you weren't like him." She shook her head and began turning around when Peter grabbed her hand.
"Like Gabriel?"
She stared down at the floor.
"He hates seeing me use my abilities. He says I should only ever use them in case of an emergency."
She shrugged and tried pulling her hand out from Peter's, but he just held on tighter.
"Why the hell do you listen to him? You're not like him, you're not going to kill people if you use your abilities once in awhile."
"I used to, and I'm the one that showed him how to let Sylar take over, Peter. Me and Noah, we showed him that he could take advantage of his abilities."
Her words disconcerted him, but somehow he knew it was true. He pulled her hand and wrapped his arms around her.
"Sylar's not Sylar anymore, I'm not Sylar, and you're not Sylar," he whispered and kissed the top of her head, "you have control over your abilities."
Elle placed her hands on his waist, looked up, and smiled at him.
"I believe in you."
He didn't mean for his breath to hitch, nor did he intend to say it in that tone, but he did and something clicked. He bent his head and their noses touched.
Elle's heart started pounding in her chest, and her hands gripped his shirt as her eyes fluttered shut when he said, "Gabriel is my brother."
Elle laughed and she let him go. "Right," she nodded and leaned back. Their eyes met briefly before they scattered about.
"You can stay here for the night if you're too tired."
"I love four doors down," she reminded him.
Peter chuckled and blushed. "Of course."
"But he said we should move in and I haven't given him an answer but I will probably--"
"Move in with him, Elle?" He was angry and he wasn't going to try to hide it.
"It makes sense."
"The hell it does. Just go home, Elle."
Elle looked on at him with a gaping look. "He's your brother."
"Yeah, and he's your boyfriend. So go to him, or go home, just don't come to me!"
He shot her one last look before he turned on his heel, marched to his room, and slammed the door. She went to her apartment, or home as he called it.
---
"Come on in, brother!"
Peter gave into Gabriel's greeting and returned the hug before he made a beeline to the beer cases.
"Getting started pretty quickly," he heard Nathan say.
Peter turned to his brother and smiled. "You made it."
"Won't be here long, but enough time to need you to hand me a beer as well."
Peter abided and gave his brother a beer bottle. Without a word, they walked out back to the small patio area. Gabriel had acquired a nice, albeit, small piece of land thanks their mother, Angela Petrelli who thought to give her son Gabriel a "fresh start" by giving him a little house on the outskirts of New York City. Sometimes he would throw small gatherings at which his brothers and fellow acquaintances would meet for some mild-mannered fun. More often than not, only a handful showed, but they rotated so everyone who worked to take down the formula and Arthur Petrelli (even if the former mission was less successful than the latter) made it Gabriel's gatherings at least once every few times.
Nathan and Peter drank their beers in silence, and when the last drops were gone, they glanced at each other for a second before chuckling.
"Still doesn't feel right, does it?" Peter said, referring to Sylar being Gabriel, aka their brother.
"No," Nathan responded.
They looked away from each other and sat for a few minutes there when the sliding door opened and Elle stuck her head out. "Anyone out--" she began when she spotted Nathan and Peter.
"Hey," she said to them, but only looked at Peter.
"Elle," Nathan nodded his head at her.
"Hey," Peter said in a curt tone.
"I was checking to see if anyone's out here 'cause the food's running out if…"
"We're fine," Peter answered, his eyes still staring straight ahead. Nathan didn't know why he was acting in that manner, but he did know it was abnormal. He squeezed his brother's shoulder, stood up, and walked over to the door.
"Talk to him," he ordered Elle, and pulled her outside. He stepped inside and closed the screen, leaving the two alone.
Peter sighed, brought his legs in under the bench he sat on, and crossed his arms over his chest.
Elle only walked a few steps, so her left leg scraped against the bench, and she leaned back on the wall.
"This isn't your home," Peter said some minutes later.
"Peter…" she whined.
Peter stood up abruptly and strolled over to her. With only four or five feet between them, he stared down at her and said, "why are you with him?"
She sifted through his eyes, and suddenly feeling uncomfortable with his glare and tone of voice, she wrapped her arms around herself and bit her lip.
"Elle."
"We make sense. That's why."
"So that's the type of person you are."
"What?"
"The type of person that doesn't question things and just goes along with whatever seems to make sense, even if it's not working."
"This is my home, Peter, and that's that."
She pushed herself off the wall and took a step, but Peter blocked her by matching her step.
"He's my brother. But that doesn't mean I believe in him, and just because you two used to have something in common, it doesn't mean it ties you two together. But I believe in you, and you love me."
"I don't--"
"You come to me. When you're mad with him, when you're bored with him, when he isn't begging you to spend some time with him you're with me. I'm the one you talk to, the one you watch stupid movies with, the one you use your powers in front of--"
"I love him, and he loves me!"
"Have you ever told him that? Has he ever told you that!"
"It's implied."
"No, Elle, it's not. For one year, you've been with him, and you've even moved in with him. But not once in that year have you ever uttered those words in front of each other."
"And we haven't either!"
"Because he's my brother, but this it, Elle. This is not your home, because you love me. Because I love you. Because you're only with him when I'm not with you."
Her lip quivered and she whispered, "stop."
"No." This was almost cruel, and he knew it, but he couldn't stand seeing her live with Gabriel.
"Please, Peter." She shut her eyes and squeezed them tight as she rubbed her arms.
"No." And he pressed his lips against hers. She hesitated all for a second before she opened her mouth and let his tongue slip over her lips, rake over her teeth, and roam her mouth. Her hands clasped around his neck as his hand gripped her hips. He pulled her into him and kissed her firmly.
Elle's hands drew done his neck and landed at his chest while Peter picked her up and pressed her against the wall, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
They stood there, kissing, for what didn't feel like nearly enough when they stopped for air. Elle rested her head on his shoulder, and Peter rested his chin on her head.
"I do love him, Peter," she would breathe out when her breath finally steadied. She felt him distance himself immediately. He pushed himself off, murmured "dammit", and walked away, leaving her alone with the three tears she couldn't stop.
---
The knock on the door made him jump. He had been trouble sleeping the past week, and thus found himself waning off wherever he last worked. Most of the time it was the kitchen table, where he had files, photographs, tapes strewn about. This time, he was on the couch, his head hanging off the arm rest. He shook of the hour or so of sleep he managed to get and went to open the door.
Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, wore a turtleneck, some loose fit jeans with tennis shoes, and her lips were bare. No makeup, no lipstick, not even lip gloss. She looked amazing.
She didn't say a thing when he opened the door, but she did look up at him with a creased forehead, and teary eyes.
"Elle, what's wrong?"
He could've been angry but she looked so damn sad and helpless.
"I--" she squeaked out, but nothing followed.
His heart began beating rapidly, and hope began trickling into him. Maybe she was here for him--really here for him--and that's why she looked like she had just gone through a wreckage. As though her world had been turned upside down…because she chose him.
He took his right thumb and stroked her cheek. Her eyes fluttered, and he heard her inhale deeply.
"Elle," he said softly as his left hand cupped her cheek.
"Angela's arranged a marriage for Gabriel and me. Two weeks."
His hands fell. As did his heart.
"A couple of years ago, I met Gabriel. After his first kill, before he really became Sylar. I thought we could save him. He was such a good guy. A nice guy. With a good heart. But even though I liked him and wanted to help him, I was told I was an agent first. So I offered him some bait, per orders, he took it when I thought he wouldn't, and he became Sylar. But now I'm not an agent, he's not killing, and there's just me. Elle. But that's a lie. There's also you. Peter. And I don't know what to do. I don't--"
She stopped herself and looked over at Peter who leaned against the door frame, his hands tucked into his jeans, his eyes tracing invisible patterns on the ceiling.
"If he's the same guy I used to like, if he cares about me, if I care about him, if we're equal parts bad history, equal parts good shiny presents and maybe futures, why do I feel like we're in it because it's what we owe each other?"
She stared up at him, waiting for an answer.
"Because he still resents you for baiting him. And you feel guilty for doing that."
"And you judge me for following orders."
"No. I judge you for not following your heart."
"But--it doesn't matter. If I had followed my heart, I would have stayed with him and maybe we'd still be together. So we're getting married, would've gotten married either way. It's only logical it ends this way."
He scoffed.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because you still would've met me, Elle. Either way, I'd be here, with or without resentment between you and Gabriel, you would've met me."
"I don't know what that means. Bye Peter."
She didn't get a chance to even shift her feet when Peter grabbed her hand, pulled her close, and kissed her.
"Peter," she murmured against his lips.
"We're different, me and you and me and Gabriel, but me and you," he nudged her nose, "we have something we'll never have with anyone else."
"What's that?"
"Each other."
She pulled his head down to her, crashed her lips on his, pushed her hands underneath his shirt.
He opened his mouth, wound his tongue with hers, pulled her and him backwards through they door.
Door locked, clothes scattered haphazardly, silence abound--except for their conjoined breaths, her laugh when they fell on his bed, and his small murmurs as he lay on top of her, his nose buried in her neck.
"Hmm," the noise escaped her as Peter's hands pressed into her ribs and his teeth nipped at the skin on her shoulder blade.
His left hand trailed down her ribs, over her hips, and he interwove two fingers below her panties. Elle skimmed her right leg over Peter's left leg while her hands ran up and down his back.
His tongue slowly burned right over her chest and she bit her lip at the sensation caused by Peter snapping off her bra and pulling it off while the fingers of his right hand brushed over her back, then her left shoulder as he took off the strap. Elle pushed herself up on her shoulders and shook off the remainder of her bra, leaving Peter to catch her gaze. He kissed her fervently again and Elle quickly worked to rid him of his last particle of clothing. When Peter came up for air, he drew his eyes down to Elle's chest, then to her breasts, and Elle finished pulling off her panties.
Rid of all clothing, Elle straddled Peter and their lips barely touched when their eyes locked.
"There's no going back, Peter," she warned, knowing that if and when they came out of this, his heart would be the heaviest with guilt.
He cupped her cheek and touched her forehead with his. "You know that, too?"
"Yes. But if we're together in this, it's okay."
He nodded, threaded their hands together, kissed her lips, and their bodies met. There was no going back.
--
The continuous knocks on the door put them out of their reverie. Peter broke his lips away from Elle's and he looked up, his eyes squinting at the sunlight--he had forgotten to close the blinds the night before.
Elle pulled his arms and whined, but Peter had a gut feeling that they couldn't ignore the knock. When he heard his mother yelling through the door, Peter sat upright and rummaged for his boxers.
"It's my mom," he told Elle. Her eyes widened and she gripped the sheet around her. "Shit," she murmured.
"You stay here," he said, pecked her on the forehead, and threw on a shirt. He jogged out of his room, grabbed the clothing in the hallways, transported them to Elle so she could dress and just barely made it to the door when his mother threw it open. His eyes shot up at her and he tried his best to remain calm.
"Hey mom…you have a key?" he asked.
She cocked an eyebrow at him, and all he could read on her face was discontent and maybe even anger.
"I always have a key. I just thought you'd do your mother the courtesy of opening the door for your mother."
"I--" he started, but she put up a hand and walked past him.
"Where is she?" she asked.
"Who?" he said nonchalantly. His mother turned her head to him and eyed him. "Do not play dumb," she warned him and marched towards his room. His heart stopped beating for a second, but he took a hold and ran in front of his mother.
"Where are you going?"
"Move," she ordered, and just walked around him when he didn't.
"Mom," he sighed, and kept in step with her.
"Your own brother for God sake," she muttered and shook her head.
"You don't understand," he held her arm as they approached the door.
"And neither do you," she said as she raised her hand to his bedroom door's knob, and turned it.
Elle was just buttoning up her jeans when Angela opened the door, but she was fully clothed.
"Get out here," she told the petite blond that looked on at Angela, petrified for all of one second, but then she breathed in, exhaled, nodded and proudly strode on over next to Peter. Once out, Angela swung the door back shut and she held her hands together as she looked on at Peter and Elle.
"Your own brother, Peter. I thought that by marrying them in two weeks, this would not happen but for you to still have gone through with this…"
She shook her head at him, and Peter looked on confused. "You knew we would--"
"Yes, but I thought this bullet would be dodged if Elle knew she'd be in married in no less than 13 days now."
"Mrs. Petrelli--" Elle protested.
"And you," she shot Elle a glare, "we welcome you into this family, give you a home, provide you with a new family, all for what? So you can play my sons like a couple of puppets? Fools."
"She is not playing us!" Peter shouted and Angela garnered a look of shock.
"How could you say that? This would break your brother's heart? It'd be his tipping point, Peter. For his brother to betray him with the woman he loves."
"I'll break it off," Elle proclaimed. Peter turned his body to her, hoping she was saying she would break it off with…
"I'll break it off with Gabriel. I won't marry him."
"That is not a choice," Angela countered, "you are after all, carrying his child."
Elle's and Peter's world froze, and Peter thought he heard an hourglass shatter in the distance.
"You're three weeks in, Elle," Angela smirked.
"No, I..I can't be," she shook her head, not believing her.
"Yes, I saw it. In eight months, you and Gabriel will be having a son. I saw it, just as I saw the two of you betraying Gabriel."
Peter stood back in shock, trying to grasp the full extent of things.
"No, I'm not pregnant!" Elle screamed, and some jolts escaped her body.
"Control yourself. Wouldn't want to harm the fetus," Angela said.
Elle nodded her head in the 'no' manner. "I have to go to the doctor's," she said and she spun around but Angela grabbed her arm. "No time for that dear. We have appointments to make for the wedding, and beside, I've already made a doctor's appointment--after the wedding. After you've told Gabriel, so you two can share the experience of your first doctor's appointment."
"But if I'm pregnant how will I know if the baby's--"
"Your baby's just fine. I'll make sure of it. And most women don't know they're pregnant for the first several weeks. You'll be just fine."
Elle looked up at Peter as Angela took her hand and began pulling her away. She looked like a frightened little child, and Peter, he didn't look much better either. Everything was going wrong.
---
Elle couldn't take Angela's word for it. For an entire week, Angela watched Elle and nearly was always with her, hence giving Elle barely anytime alone. Peter hadn't come around at all, and she understood that even if it hurt. She wanted to see him, but she knew better. Several days prior to the wedding, however, she finally had some time alone and so she went to a drug store some miles off, bought a pregnancy test, and took it in the small, really uncomfortable bathroom stall.
When that test turned out positive, she was still left unconvinced. So she bought several more, and took all of them only to find that each one read positive.
That same afternoon, she arrived home to find Angela Petrelli sipping tea in their kitchen.
"I wasn't lying," the woman said.
"You knew I--"
"Of course, dear. I wouldn't have left you alone, otherwise."
Elle fought down a scream but she did press her fingers against her temple.
"Dammit, yes. I'm pregnant."
"What was that?" Angela said with a sly smile.
Elle finally screamed--"I'm pregnant!"
Behind her, she heard Gabriel laugh. She turned around and saw him with the brightest smile she had ever seen.
"Did you say…?" he asked with bright eyes.
"I'm pregnant," she whispered.
She closed her eyes and only felt Gabriel embrace her in a hug. As he held her against his chest, he asked, "do you know how far along you are?"
Before she could answer, Angela interfered and answered, "oh she's no more than a couple of weeks."
Gabriel let her go, but still held her at arms length. "You can tell that early?"
"Miracles of medicine," Angela winked at Gabriel, then glanced at Elle for a millisecond. Elle's jaw clenched, realizing what Angela had done. She had been pregnant when Angela had told her and Peter so, but barely pregnant, definitely not three weeks. In fact, here and now, she was less than two weeks in, meaning it wasn't Gabriel's son as it had been exactly two weeks since they had sex.
---
If Peter attended Gabriel and Elle's wedding, it was because no one would ever accept any excuse for him not attending. The only acceptable one would be "because I'm in love with her and had sex with her exactly two weeks before her wedding" but who knew what blood brawl that would bring on.
He confronted his mother the day after she charged into his apartment and chastised both him and Elle.
"I would still love that kid as if he were mine, mom! Elle and I could raise him. Together!"
"If your brother doesn't kill you or Elle, if not both, first. And I don't want to imagine what he would to the poor child."
"He'd be angry mom, but that doesn't mean he'd go back to being Sylar!"
"That's exactly what it would mean, Peter, and we can't have that."
His mother was a liar 90 percent of the time, but this was one of the times he knew she was telling the truth. If he found out that his own flesh and blood was with his wife-to-be, and that his brother wanted to raise his child, everything would take a turn for the worse. If only Elle hadn't been pregnant--at least not with Gabriel's son. Things would be simpler that way. Gabriel would still be angry, but Peter was sure that the child was the real tipping point.
Gabriel had called him a few days ago to tell him that Elle was pregnant, and he never heard him sound happier.
Peter sat in the front row of the seats lined up outside of Noah Bennett's old home, which would soon be Gabriel's and Elle's new home. Gabrielle insisted that the Petrellis sit in the front, watching him as he married his wife who would be giving him a child.
Peter felt like vomiting when he heard the wedding song begin, and Gabriel turned to watch the woman coming down the aisle. Peter couldn't turn. He sat there, his brother Nathan squeezing his hand in comfort because he always suspected that Peter felt something for that woman.
Peter closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then opened them. Right there and then he saw Gabriel extend his hand to Elle to help her over the small step that led to that stand on which the marriage would be initiated.
Peter eyed Elle several times, but she always looked away. She only met his eyes as the conductor asked her if she would marry the man before her, cherish him, love him always. Her eyes died when she said, "yes."
---
For two months he avoided their home, their lives. It was too long.
He knocked on their door, waited for what felt like ages, until the door swung open to reveal Elle.
"Peter," she smiled down at him.
"Elle," he said with a tight smile, and he walked in. He walked into the living room, Elle behind him. The only noise was that of the radio that played.
"Gabriel's not here," she said as she played with her hands. Peter looked over at her, but avoided her abdomen area which hardly showed any signs of pregnancy, but still, he could tell.
"Tell him I dropped by," was all he said and he began walking past her.
"I can't lie to you," she called out to him.
Curious, he turned back around and caught her gaze.
"What do you mean?"
"I believed your mom when she said I was three weeks along."
"Elle, don't." He didn't want to relive this. It hurt enough as it was.
"Peter, it isn't Gabriel's son."
His knees buckled, and he felt sick again. His mother had lied to them.
"I'm so sorry," she breathed and stepped over to him.
"How--" he looked down at the floor and covered his face with his hands.
"I found out several days before the wedding. I said I was pregnant because I took some tests, and Gabriel heard me. Your mom was there, and she told him I was hardly two weeks along and…it's not his, and she knew that."
"Fuck," he murmured, and then louder, "fuck!"
Elle grabbed his hands, forcing him to look at her. "Let's run away," he said.
She seemed to really contemplate it, but they heard a key turning the doorknob. Elle slipped her hands from Peter's and stepped back. He wiped his eyes which had begun to tear, and he composed himself. It could never be that easy.
---
Four months into Elle's pregnancy, Angela called her son Peter to warn him for the dozenth time to stay away from Elle. But even she knew that was damn near impossible.
Anytime Gabriel would be away from home for more than a few hours, Peter and Elle met. Mostly they talked, discussed the baby as their baby. They escaped the nightmare they had been pulled into for at least some hours a week. But the line always remained. It was one thing for them to touch, hold hands, kiss on the cheeks. Anything else hit far too close to home--each other.
Seven months into the pregnancy, Peter dug himself further into his obsession, and Elle knew their breaking points were closer and closer in reach.
The night Noah Petrelli was born, Peter crept into Elle's room and took the seat opposite the one Gabriel slept, hunched over, on. Elle was fast asleep, but he wanted to watch her all for a moment before he went over to their son. He squeezed her hand, kissed her temple, and walked over to the bin little baby Noah slept in. Peter was tempted to at least touch the baby's finger, but he knew better than to disturb a newborn.
"If you wake him up, I'll kill you," he heard Elle whisper.
Peter looked over at her and smiled, then he scolded himself. "Sorry--did I wake you?" he walked over and held her hand as she rose with difficulty.
"Should you be getting up?" he asked before she could answer the last question.
"Shut up," she rolled her eyes.
He held her arm as they walked over to Noah, and they stood there watching him.
"He's beautiful," Peter said.
Elle snorted. "I'm sure you would've said that if you'd been there when he was born. Blood everything, this white stuff all over there."
There was a noticeable pause. "I would have."
"I know," Elle chuckled softly, then covered her mouth when remembered that Gabriel was in the room, sleeping.
"And I would have loved to have been there."
"I know she repeated."
She rested her head on his shoulder, and held his hand. "It hurt like hell," she murmured.
Peter kissed her forehead. Yet something else he had missed. Elle turned her head and looked up at him, her eyes asking for him to really kiss her. He bent his head down and held her head with the palm of his hand, and kissed her fully on the lips. Then they heard Gabriel stirring, and they broke apart. "Sorry," they both said before Peter left.
---
Elle knew a part of Peter was lost, but she couldn't lament much because Gabriel was so intent on harboring their own little world apart from the one falling apart outside.
Rumors of people gone missing, them reappearing with little to no traces of who they used to be, in addition to the changes in government and public health that the public had little say in were quite abundant. Gabriel did his best to not let it phase him, and as such he implemented the rule to keep all talks of that out of the house. She wished she was out there, helping, doing something with her powers, but she felt as though she couldn't just walk away from Noah and Gabriel. At least not yet.
When Peter did come around, it was mostly when Gabriel was home now. As though he feared that something would transpire if he was alone with only Elle and Noah. But she missed him. And even when his fear came true, five months after Noah was born, it didn't deteriorate Elle's want of having Peter around.
Noah had fallen fast asleep in his crib in the nursery next to her room, and Gabriel had just left to fill in on a last minute job. Peter was trying to make a quick getaway, but she pulled him towards the crib, held his hand, and told her to look at their son.
"This isn't the way things should be," he had said.
"But this is the way they are."
Still holding her hand, Peter walked out of the nursery, and held her hand together with hers.
"You're not happy."
"Neither are you. Peter, you're," she sighed, "you're drowning yourself in this crazy mission. The way you've been doing things isn't working. Trying to fix the past and future won't work if you're anywhere but in the present. The answer has to be here."
He shook his head. "What caused all this yet happened in the past--I just have to figure out what it was that causes all this."
Elle wrapped her arms around his back and laid her head on his chest. "I miss you," she said.
He took her head in his hands, and brushed aside her hair.
"Maybe if you fixed us--" but he kissed her before she went on.
---
When Elle ran away, she didn't tell anyone she was leaving, not even Peter because she knew he'd tell her not to, and she'd probably listen.
So a few days after Noah's first birthday, after his party, she grabbed a backpack, stuffed in only the absolute necessities, walked a block, caught a cab, and left California.
Peter found her two days afterwards, begged her to go back, but she kissed him, told him no, and he knew she was a lost cause. She hated living the lie.
For a year, she lived in Montana. Peter dropped by her place at least once a week to give her updates on her son, but as time passed, he visited less and less. He was being more and more consumed by his…project.
After a year, after Peter's visits came down to at least once a month, she moved back down to California. Peter told her that Gabriel had been devastated, but that Noah kept his spirits up. And Elle needed to feel closer to them.
She moved into an apartment many cities away from Pasadena. Sometimes she contemplated taking Peter's offer and moving in with him in New York, but they both knew better than that. It would still be a lie. Gabriel didn't know where Elle was, and he never asked nor looked. He was just thankful to still have Noah, and his brother Peter dropped by sometimes, making it all feel like family.
Not that many years passed, but still enough to make her feel as though life was never-ending. What without having her son, without Peter being completely himself, and without a soul to speak with. She was left heartbroken, and it was all partly her fault.
Some nights, Peter slipped into her house, laid down next to her, kissed her lips, held her hand, told her he loved her, always would, and the lies and lives unlived would fade away in those moments. Those nights he was the Peter that was her home. She still wished that instead of looking for answers by fixing whatever went right or wrong with the formula, he would try by amending their mistakes. Because that would mean that he kept his heart in tact, and Peter was always most powerful when his heart was full.
---
Not that many years passed, but still enough to make her realize it was all going to come crashing down soon. Only a matter of time. Then she flipped on the news, saw that a neighborhood in Pasadena exploded, leaving no survivors, and she felt Peter hold her close.
"Go back to the right time," she told him. When he left, she knew he wouldn't understand, so she would have to live out the pain longer. Hopefully, it was not in vain, and he would recognize the right time. And hopefully, by recognizing that time, everything else would fall into place and the right lives would be lived.
---
III.
His hand still on her shoulder, the rush of images, reels, and future memories ended just as abruptly as they had began.
His breathing hard, brain in shock, Peter was frozen. He felt Elle shake his hand off her, and he looked up to see a look of disbelief on her features. She stared at him, doe-eyed and even scared, when she stepped back.
"Elle," he tried grabbing her hand.
"Stay away from me!" she yelled and stepped back further and added, "what the hell was that?!"
"You saw it, too?"
She nodded once, then turned around as she cracked her fingers.
"You can't go, Elle."
"I," he heard her say. She turned back to face him. "I have to go," she murmured and searched the floor. "Away, away from here." She looked around, faced the car, grabbed her bag, and began crossing the street.
"Elle!" he shouted to her.
"Peter," Claire grasped his arm.
"I have to go after her," Peter said and he pulled away from Claire.
"We have to go to Pinehearst, first."
Peter looked at Claire, then shot his gaze to a distancing Elle. "The right time," he murmured under his breath.
He had to keep Elle away from Pinehearst, but he also had to help Gabriel who was at Pinehearst.
Begrudgingly, Peter told Claire, "let's go" but not before calling his brother, telling her that they had to find a girl named Elle Bishop and keep her safe. He gave his brother as many details as possible, but not all the "whys" Nathan wanted to know. Still, Peter put Elle's care in Nathan's hands, hoping that somehow his brother could get someone to locate her, and help her in some way.
---
"What happened?" Claire asked as they stood outside of the Pinehearst building. She held his arm, wanting him to answer before they went in.
"What?"
"You and Elle completely spaced for like ten minutes. Both of your eyes went this grey-white, and I shouted but neither of you budged. And when you two woke up, she completely freaked and ran off. What happened."
"We saw the future. Our future," he answered.
"You mean you and her…"
"It's complicated."
"Peter."
"All I know is that we have to keep her away from here, and maybe it won't be so complicated."
Peter pulled away and walked towards the compound, with Claire right behind him.
---
It was Noah who found Elle, sitting at a bus top, busily biting her nails. He pulled over, got out of the car, and took a seat next to her.
"What are you doing here?" she snarled.
"Doing a friend a favor," he answered.
She scoffed.
"Peter Petrelli was very insistent on us finding you," he said.
"Really?" she said in a sarcastic tone.
"What do you plan on doing, Elle? Taking this bus all the way to its last stop? Finding the first train out of tone? Towards where? And by yourself?"
"Yes, that's exactly what I plan," she bit at him.
"Why?"
"Because…I need to get the hell away from here. Away from you, away from Sylar or Gabriel or whatever, away from Angela Petrelli, and especially away from Peter."
"Peter? What's he done to you?"
"It's what he's going to do to me."
Elle locked her hands together and looked down at her feet. Noah observed her carefully, wondering what it was she was so suddenly afraid of.
"Mind telling me?"
Elle looked over at the man who had been her first real agent partner and who had guided her through so much, even though the lot of the guidance was full of ulterior motives.
"We have a son named Noah, but Gabriel thinks its his son, so its him I'm married but Peter and his stubborn ass keeps showing up in my life, making me do stupid things like run away from my husband and kid so I can sometimes spend some nights with mister Peter Petrelli."
Noah let out a laugh after a full minute and Elle's hand charged with electricity, causing her body to over extract the voltages. Noah stopped and inched away from Elle.
"What happened?" he asked, as the last time he had seen Elle's powers act of their own volition in that manner, it was because her father had been doing tests on her.
"I don't know," she squeezed her eyes shut, "but it keeps happening."
"Come on," Noah stood up and nodded to the car.
Elle bit her lip, ready to say no, but Noah insisted. "We'll help you figure out what's going on. Plus I'm sure that whatever you think it is you think Peter will do to you isn't quite what it seems."
"I can't see Peter."
"Yes, you can. And you will once we figure out how to stop the formula."
---
"How the hell did this happen?" Nathan asked as Peter's wound was being cleaned.
"He took my powers," Peter winced.
"Dammit," Nathan muttered.
"But we got the formula," Claire reminded her father. Nathan looked over at her and grabbed the files she held out. He didn't take a single glance before he stuck everything in the shredder, and then told Tracy and Claire to head downstairs, and burn the remnants.
"Now we just have to stop dad," Peter said.
Nathan rubbed his face, shocked as ever that their father was alive, and more over that he was capable of such atrocities.
"Do you think you've finally changed the future, though?"
Peter licked his lips and thought about the future he had seen. The one in which the formula had been completed and put to use in part thanks to Arthur Petrelli. By having Claire search out the formula while he, Peter, worked as a distraction, seemed to do the trick. Before anyone realized that Claire was in the building, she found Peter on the floor outside, not healing, but still alive. She helped him up, rushed him over the car, and drove away quickly before Arthur Petrelli realized that one cheerleader had taken the formula right out from under him.
"Yeah, I think we have. All of us," and he thought of how he also managed to keep Elle away from Pinehearst and Gabriel. He hoped that trend would stay.
"Noah and that girl Elle are staying up in a facility in California. He said they needed to get her some help. Her abilities are causing her trouble, apparently," he said.
Peter tried sitting up in the bed, but Nathan held up his hand. "I have to go," Peter said.
"They'll be fine. In the mean time, you and I are going to Haiti. After you've recovered, of course."
"Haiti?"
"Yes. The Haitian is there, and he's the only one that can stop our father."
"I can't leave without Elle."
"Pete, I don't know what this girl's done to you, but for your sake and hers, she can't go with us. It's safer without her."
---
"That was Peter," Noah told Elle, who paced the room impatiently.
"So?" she shrugged.
"He and his brother are doing some sort of top-secret mission, and won't be able to contact us for some time. Therefore, he's ordered me to keep an eye on you. But I'm not your gatekeeper."
"So I can go?"
"Do you want those answers from Peter?"
Elle wanted to say no. What she had seen had nearly scared her to death. To love a man like that? She always thought real love was so romantic, and yes she had heard of those tragic love stories, but that was never something she wanted. And if that's what Peter could give her, she didn't want it. Except…the bond she had felt reverberate off those future memories convinced her otherwise. There was something there that she did want to take a part of.
"Yes."
Noah smiled at her and searched in his pocket for a key.
"Here," he held out a hotel key, along with a paper with a map with directions on it, "head to that hotel there, and stay until a man named Matt comes for you."
"Why?"
"Because. Gabriel is on his way here, and from what you told me the other day, he isn't the man you want to run into."
Elle opened her mouth to ask more questions, but he just cracked a smile and said, "it's not Peter you're really afraid of meeting with, now is it?"
---
Dragging his brother away from the burning corpse of their father was the most difficult thing Nathan ever had to endure. But it had to be done.
Peter's powers, as it turned out, weren't completely gone, but it was taking awhile for them to return to a fraction of what they used to be.
They walked away, hardly unscathed, thanked the Haitian, and finally put their father to rest. More or less. They drove for hours, Peter asleep most of the time, as Claire sat back in the car seat with eyes closed, but too shaken for sleep. Hiro slept during the entire ride, tired as hell from all the fighting and power usage, and Nathan drove. Once they arrived at an inn at some seemingly abandoned town, Nathan kicked everyone out of the car, ordered them to their beds, but he sat there, thinking back on everything they had to go through because of their father. Finally, he got up and went up to his own room, knowing that come morning, only he and his brother would still be there. More energized, Hiro would get up, take Claire back home, and then he would go home as well, leaving Peter and Nathan alone. Neither would be ready to use their powers yet, so they would get back in that car, and make the final drive to California.
---
It took three days, but a man named Matt finally stopped by Elle's hotel room, told her they'd be going over to a facility in downtown Los Angeles where Arthur Petrelli had ordered a break out, and along with a woman named Daphne, they would tie up those final loose ends.
She felt useful, but the days dragged on again when they met with Noah and were told to remain in place until word came of Arthur's downfall. The call came when a tired, beaten, but brighter Claire popped up with Hiro, and the girl ran to her father's arms.
"Peter and Nathan are driving down. They could be a couple of days," Hiro explained.
Noah nodded, thanked the man, and they bid him goodbye…for the time being.
Gabriel was with his mother, Angela Petrelli whom he watched over until she came out of the coma, as they called it, and when she awoke she explained all that Arthur was truly set out to accomplish. The two headed back down to the level five facility, and Noah had people there keeping an eye on them.
When Nathan and Peter finally arrived, she was sitting on the couch with Claire, arguing over what to watch. It was a late night, and the only reason the two were up was because they had been drinking several cans of sodas, trying to outdo each other.
Claire jumped up off the couch with control in hand to answer the door, and from the living room Elle heard Claire exclaim. She also heard the voices of a couple of men speaking to Claire, and Elle knew that Peter had arrived.
Nervously, Elle waited in the living room of the house she had seen in those future memories. At first, being there had crept her out, so she had to tell herself that those were two different homes because at this point and time, this was where the Bennett's lived--really lived. Happily lived.
The footsteps alerted her of the Petrellis nearing and Elle turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of Peter and Nathan, who looked even more handsome than the photographs she had seen of him.
"Hi," Elle waved at the two men from the couch.
Nathan raised his eyebrows at the young woman who smiled brightly at them and gave them a high-pitched 'hi.'
"Hi, I'm Nathan," he said and walked over to her. She stood up and shook his hand while holding in a giggle at his formal manners.
"I'm Elle," she said in turn, and she watched him as he gave his brother an amused grin.
"What room am I staying in?" Nathan asked Claire. Peter gave his brother a grateful smile for allowing them to be alone, and he walked over to the couch and sat next to Elle.
"How are you, Elle?" he asked while she set herself back down.
"Good, good," she answered, her eyes on the television set, "how about you?"
"Better than I've been in a long time," he answered honestly.
Elle looked at him out of the corner of her eye, then clicked her tongue before breaking out in a laugh.
"So you did it, right? Saved the world?" she teased him.
"We did it," he reminded her.
"Of course!" and she paused before lowering her voice, "Which means that all that future crap, it's not…"
"No, it's not the same anymore. It's better."
"Did you see it?"
"No, but I can feel it."
The two looked over at each other simultaneously, both thinking about that future they had seen, and what it would be now.
After a few seconds, the two chuckled nervously and looked away, back to the television. Minutes passed again when Elle said, "about what we saw."
"It won't be that way."
"You sure?" There seemed to be a hint of fear in Elle's voice, so he turned to look at her again. He ran his thumb over her hand and gave her an encouraging smile.
"Nothing's ever for sure. But I know you and I will figure things out."
"Just…" she stopped short, "we'll know better."
Peter nodded, and knowing that from now on, that topic was nothing but a memory, watched the television and said, "so, what are we watching."
"Ugh. Claire took the remote…It's some boring whale endangerment documentary she was forcing us to watch."
She turned in her seat and gave him an all-too sweet smile. "Change the channel, please."
He laughed, but complied. He walked over to the television and began flipping the channels until she told him to stop. An hour later, he just decided to stay by the television, as she kept wanting to "watch something else." She always was a handful.
He ended up falling asleep on the floor, leaving only herself to change the channels. She mentally cursed and left the couch to just turn off the television. She looked down at Peter and laughed. Still the cutest puppy she ever encountered, she thought to herself. She went back to the couch, grabbed the blanket she had been using, and threw it over him before heading upstairs to the bedroom she was occupying during her stay. She would allow him some hours asleep, but come morning, she would have some more fun with him.
Peter wouldn't remember it, but he had a dream that night. A white board being erased of formulas, tainted photographs, broken hearts, and bitter memories. The white board would then fade, become transparent, and blurs of familiar faces passed by like moving cars. The white board would come back into view, and before the dream itself faded, he'd see a photograph of three faces being painted on the canvas. An up-close photograph of two grown adults making faces at a camera while a child laughed. Peter wouldn't remember it, but in five years, he'll tape that photograph on his refrigerator while his Elle calls him 'corny' from half-way across his room, and their son lays napping on their couch.