Title:
Disclaimer: Don't own any of the characters
Summery: Elle Bishop. Basically, all centered around her or people in love with her or friends with her. all one shots, all different people or situations.
A/N running out of ideas! eek!
Okay, this one is more of a father daughter thing, though not Bob, he may come later. contains a kind of spoiler for the uk episode that comes out next week, or was on this week at 10 15. its not huge and you can't really tell but...just a little warning. By the way, i couldnt remember if Elle had told Noah that Bob was dead. If she did then ignore it.
Elle was cautious when she approached the house. She had no idea why she had come, or even how she had got there.
Her memories were fuzzy from when she's been hurt, not much had made sense afterwards. During the solo mission, the one Gabriel hadn't been able to go on, she had been attacked by a man.
He was impervious to all her power, his own being far stronger.
She wasn't sure exactly what his ability was, or even how it worked. She just knew that she was damaged enough that she may be internally damaged. Was most likely loosing too much blood even as she hesitated. She needed a certain blond haired pom poms blood but didn't know how she was supposed to get it.
At least, she thought that was why she was there.
Finally dragging up the nerve, Elle lifted her hand, wincing at the bolt of pain that sliced down her shoulder, and knocked. Three times, loud and clear, before collapsing to the ground.
She heard the door open but didn't look up, heard the gasp but she was almost afraid to see the look in the person's eyes.
Afraid at least, until someone kneeled down and swept her up and hurried her into what she assumed was a dining room. After the mystery person finished laying Elle on a settee that was situated in the corner Elle finally looked up.
Peter Patrelli?
"Wha?" Elle murmured, brow furrowed.
"It's okay, Elle, Claire will be back soon. She's at school," Peter sighed, running a hand through his growing hair and wanting to ask her what the hell had happened. He looked over her battered body with barely disguised concern. Not even asking who she needed because it was so obvious.
Obvious to him anyway. Elle wasn't so sure. Oh, school Elle grumbled in her head. Of course she'd be at school, its one in the freaking afternoon on a Monday.
"Yayness," Elle muttered, resting her tired eyes for a few minutes and leaning her head back to rest it on
They next thing she knew, someone was being shook awake.
"Mmm?" Her own voice was sleepy, muffled.
"Elle!" It was Noah. Mr Bennet, Elle corrected herself mentally.
"Elle, what the hell are you doing here?"
The words should have been harsh, unloving, hating her for intruding on his home, a place she had no right to be. But they weren't. They were concerned and said concern was mirrored in his eyes. Horn rimmed glasses present as always.
"Did Bob do this?" Mr Bennet whispered, throwing a glance over to where Peter was leaning on the wall, observing the blond with confused eyes.
"Nah," Elle forced a grin, "He was never this violent," She shook her head, "'Sides, he's dead." At the end of speaking these words tears started to roll down her face, like raindrops scattered on a window pane.
Suddenly she was pulled into a hug. Her first reacting was to fight it, to run. Lightning sparked from her body as her eyes widened in shock. She was hating that Peter could see the emotions on her face. She felt vulnerable.
The second reaction she was faced with was awe. Was this how a real dad's hug felt?
More tears dropped on Mr Bennet's nice pristine suit and Elle was faced with the feeling of guilt. How would Claire feel to know that her dad was hugging her? The only reaction to her own guilt was to tell herself to shut up. Claire would be hugged all the time, Elle only had this once. Claire could go stuff herself. She closed her eyes, imagining Claire as a turkey.
Peter snorted quietly and Elle blushed as she realised he would have been reading her mind.
The last feeling was the best. The last reaction. Happiness so pure it hurt, caused sobs to brake from her heart, spilling from her mouth will all her soul, the random spark hitting a man who cared nothing for the pain just so he could hold the girl who was falling apart.
And Elle realised that though Claire's blood could heal her scratches, her skin. No one but a father could heal the wounds that her own bastard dad had left. She wanted Noah to be that man, desperately.
"He will," Peter murmured, smiling slightly as Elle glanced up at him out of wet eyes, "He will be."