Hey yall, this is my first time trying my hand at Heroes fic. Usually I'm all Gilmore Girls.

Also, it's been a while since I've written at all, so please be kind.

This is a Peter/Elle, and I'm not really sure what to do with it. Yet.

R/R pleeaassee, I live for your reviews.

It was that time again, when Peter's solitude was invaded by Elle, with her electric touch and her confusing banter. He dreaded it as much as he looked forward to it, and it had only been a couple days. She kept telling him he would learn to like the jolts she gave him. Secretly he already did. There was something about being shocked like that, uncontrollably amplifying every sensation. It was as if she were injecting him with little bursts of reality, and he was already addicted to the reprise they provided, the escape from a life that barely grasped on to believability.

The latch clicked audibly as she entered, slowly opening the door of his prison.

"Hello pet! Ready to play?"

"You could just let me go, you know." It was a greeting they repeated each time she walked into his little room, and he already knew her answer.

"That just wouldnt be any fun, now would it?" She placed the pills in his hand and watched him stand and swallow them down. Her eyes were filled with curiosity, her brow furrowed as she stared at him.

"What?" he asked.

"I don't understand how you can willingly take those. I couldn't live without my little gift." her fingertips sparked as she thought about it, echoing her words with small popping sounds.

"I'm not willing to hurt anyone anymore." it was simple to him, but she shook her head, still not agreeing. She raised her hands slowly to his chest, fingers barely touching the surface of his flanel shirt. She glanced up at him.

"But sometimes hurting a little can be so...fun." Her hands pressed against his chest and he was on fire inside. He might have been screaming and he might not have, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure it mattered. And then it was over, and he was plunged back into the lackluster reality, the stark white room. And the sad, mean looking blond woman in front of him. And he knew this wasn't right, and tried again.

"Really. You could let me go."

She could still hear the jolt in his voice, and knew he was trying to replay the exquisite clarity that came with these shocks. His voice was lower than usual, and cracked in the middle of 'really'. She stared at him for a long time, and mentally readjusted her mask.

"I couldnt disobey Daddy, he'd be so upset." she gushed vapidly. The corner of his mouth twitched, and she twirled a piece of hair for good measure.

"You always do what your father says?" suddenly he was serious, and she changed gears with him.

"It's one of the symptoms of being seriously fucked up."

"How are you fucked up?" he asked softly, taking a small step forward and narrowing the already miniscule space between them. She could feel his breath on her face, smell his skin. She removed her hands from him, and met his gaze.

"I am not having this conversation with you." she said flatly.

"You dont have to listen to him, Elle! Its called thinking for yourself. Adults do it." She sparked with anger, letting the energy fill and surround her, and snapped it at the air between them. He staggered back.

"Don't talk to me about what adults do." she spat venomously, and turned, flipping her hair as she walked out.

"And you're sure he's been taking his pills?"

"Yes dad, I watched him. He swallowed and everything. Are you satisfied?"

"What is he acting like? Weaker?"

"No. He's completely normal, except that he hasn't tried to kill me." Elle rolled her eyes at him in the mirror, and he walked up behind her chair and took the brush from her hand. She closed her eyes, for an instant imagining that he was brushing through her blond locks, and speaking to her like a father rather than a commanding officer. Instead he placed the brush on her desk, and walked towards the door.

"There's no time for that sort of thing right now. I need you to go collect Nicky, she's gotten out again."

"Okay, Daddy." She nodded.

"And Elle," he paused on his way out, "No improvising this time."

"I'm supposed to check and see if you're abilities are properly diminishing." She announced, flouncing into Peter's room.

"What time is it?" He asked blearily, rolling over in his small bed and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. She threw open the blinds, flooding the room with light.

"Seven am. Rise and shine, I've got things to do today." He sat up, and she joined him, the cot squeaking quietly.

"How are you going to check my powers?" he asked, and she thought for a moment. She took his hand, and shot him what he surprisedly read as an apologetic expression before raking her nails across the soft skin of his inner arm. They stared at it for a while, and a minute later decided it wasn't going to heal. She stood abruptly, and walked out of the room. Peter sat, a little disappointed that she hadn't asked him to play. He lay back down, resting his head on his unhurt arm and resigning himself to the hours spanning now and the next time she'd come.

But the door opened again, and this time Elle came bearing cotton balls, anticeptic, a box of band-aids, and his cup of pills. The pills she placed on the counter, the rest she brought over to him.

"That's not really necessary."

"Don't be silly," she scolded, sitting down once again beside him and taking his arm. She worked at an easy pace, contrary to her earlier insistance that she needed to rush out. He let his eyes follow the line of her face, the light glinting off her hair, her lip pursed in mild concentration.

"Do you have any thoughts past obeying your dad? Are you going to stay with the company, or do soldiers dream too?" He probed, carefully gauging her reaction. She smirked, not looking up from her cotton swabbing.

"You're soooo melodramatic. Lighten up, kay?" she tossed the cotton balls into the waste basket, and tore open the band-aid box. Why was she doing this? She was supposed to be twisted and cruel, not cleaning up the shallow scratches she made, not holding his arm softly, not looking so vulnerable and human. Well, he revised, this actually was quite twisted. He pulled his eyes away from her, and looked down at the three band-aides neatly covering his forearm. They were covered in cartoons.

"X-Men?!" he asked incredulously, smiling at the joke.

"Even soldiers can appreciate irony." She grinned, and stood up. Turned to leave.

"Elle," he said, standing with her. Her expression was carefully blank, and he he held up his hands in surrender. Slowly understanding reached her eyes, and her face lit up with her smile. She clasped each of his hands in front of her, and let the power inside flow out into her fingers. She sent it down his arms and around him, entwining both of them in blue sparks. She opened her eyes, surveying his expression.

Peter was standing up on his toes, his face scrunched and his mouth open. His hands clasped hers tighter than he probably realized, and he was breathing heavily. Elle wondered if her dad would be upset by the fact that she got turned on whenever she came into this room. It was probably better tucked away in secret. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow, and his grip was really starting to hurt now. She hadn't realized how long they were standing like this, and quickly extinguished the voltage. Peter fell back onto the balls of his feet, and then forward onto Elle. She struggled for a moment to hold his weight, but he was standing on his own before she had the change to stagger under him.

"Told you that you'd like it, pet"

"My name is Peter." He argued, and she rolled her eyes and opened the door.

"Whatever." The latch clicked and the lock resounded as she turned it, and peter sat back down on the bed, thinking.

Not kidding about that R/R thing, kay?