AN: Okay this is a random thing I started writing for a handful of my friends and it was only going to be a oneshot but so many ideas came forward in my mind and now it's a chapter fic. This first chapter is short and pretty much drabble. It's just touching on events and is mainly from Elle's POV. It's AU because its just me making up what happened during the four months prior to Ireland. Also, AU because its my theories on Elle's family and what not, and so unless that comes true on the show...AU in fic for now. Everything will be revealed with time in this fic :) It's kinda random at first but hopefully you will enjoy!
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She accepted the mission with no hesitation.
She loved him. As much as she tried now to pretend everything that happened was just a dream, an illusion...she couldn't.
It happened too quickly.
One minute they were ready to run away together, the next...he was gone.
She wasn't supposed to fall in love with him. Her job was to torture him, find his breaking point, get him to crack and do everything her father wished and then some. The Company (and even her father) were pleased by her work and praised her regularly. Her father's esteem was something she craved & needed. She rarely met his affections and though he lavished her with fancy things, it was more so that he did it out of guilt for the past than actual love and affection for his daughter.
"Bella," her father stated, firm and emotionless.
She turned, her curls whipping her pink cheeks as her tap shoes clinked into the tile of the kitchen.
"Yes Daddy?" she asked softly.
"She Mister Rynault what you can do," her father smiled, wickedly.
Elle nodded, lifting her hand and twisting her wrist as electricity flowed from her hand.
"Bleedin' Brilliant," Mister Rynault gasped. "People would pay 'til their pockets empty to see such a sight!"
"And they will," her father stated.
She was always comfortable with her abilities...perhaps only because she HAD to be, but her wicked obsession with torturing individuals with her power seemingly stemmed from the years of playing her father's puppet. His face turned to a smirk whenever he watched her and she felt wanted and needed. Her wicked ways were the only thing that ever gained her father's praise.
Until Peter Petrelli came along.
He didn't scream. He didn't cry out as volts and volts of electricity fried his flesh and shook his body, saliva foaming and falling from his mouth. He gave a grunt after she moved away and stood over his steaming body, his charred skin slowly returning to soft pink flesh.
This annoyed her at first, but quickly turned to admiration. He did not speak, he rarely ate...he simply existed alone, quietly in his cell.
Weeks later the security cams were constantly being replaced. The Company regulars blamed the faulty wiring as every morning Elle would slip into his cell, fry the cameras and kneel before him.
He began speaking to her, began falling for her, and began feeling her pain as she felt his.
Even now, she could not forget the taste of his lips or the feeling of his warm body against hers.
Torturing him was one thing. It gave her a wicked sense of satisfaction at first...until she loved him and couldn't bear to hurt him, and especially because nothing on earth could top sleeping with him. His kisses on her neck and the euphoria of coming down after her got her off time and time again.
She had them all fooled. Her father however wasn't as convinced when he found her kneeling in the bathroom three months after Petrelli had become their 'property'. She blamed the stomach bug going around and he grabbed her firmly by her shoulders and stared her in the eye. That was the second time in her life that she shocked her father, her rage overcoming her mind as she remembered he could easily heal himself and move on.
Before she could react, he had her drugged and made into a human science project yet again.
When she awoke her world had fall apart at the seams. Peter was gone, his escape assisted by one who turned against the company, his memory stolen...he had no idea who she was, or how he loved her or where they were going to go.
She weakly stood and pulled the IV from her hand without flinching.
He was gone and the life she once carried had faded to nothing. Her dreams shattered into tiny, non repairable pieces and she fell to her knees.
"You're not weak," she muttered to herself, as the door to her room swung open. She stood, taking deep breaths and staring into the blue eyes of her father.
"You're going to Ireland," he stated.
Elle's eyes narrowed, how could he speak to her with no remorse, no compassion?
"For?"
He placed a picture in her hands.
"Petrelli, bring him back here."
Elle looked at her father in confusion.
"I trust you not to fool around this time. I've done everything in my power to cover for you and so this is how you will repay me. You will go to Ireland; you will retrieve him and bring him back. You will not embarrass me or turn your back on those who have supported us here. As a matter of fact you will shock me by how flawlessly you follow procedure and bring him home on time, in one peace and without all of the so called romance and other games you previously played. "
Elle sighed, "I knew you'd never understand."
"There's no point in trying to explain now, what's done is done. What once was is no longer a reality."
She was on a plane to Ireland three days later, his picture in her pocket like a painful reminder of what once was, yet she couldn't help but wonder what could be.
Loving Peter Petrelli broke her, so now, she could only pretend he wasn't the man who made her feel whole again. He was simply a mission and no more.