Chapter: Four--Rebellion
Notes: Snapshot--a record or view of a particular point in a sequence of events or a continuing process.
Rating: T - R
A/N: Rating is to be safe, Reviews appreciated. ENJOY.
Do you know where your love is?
Do you think that you lost it?
You felt it so strong, but
Nothing's turned out how you wanted
"Say (All I Need)" /OneRepublic
Four months. Ironic, right? Apparently, four months could bring a lot of change and sudden spins.
Fortunately, these four months had brought some good change, and some great introductions into Peter Petrelli's life. Four months had been all Peter needed to know he would never find another woman like this. Spunky, quick, strong, and quite sadistic, traits he wouldn't trade for the world.
Currently, he was cooking some scrambled eggs and bacon. Simple, but she loved it, because her whole life she'd been fed some overly-exquisite food, and nothing that said home-made.
She crept up behind him, and wrapped her arms around him, rubbing her hands up and down his chest.
"You know, it'd be so much sexier if you did this without your shirt," she slipped her fingers under his wife beater.
"I'm cooking with grease Elle. It's best I stick to some clothes while grease pops out at me," he smirked.
"Yeah, because it'd really hurt you," she tiptoed and kissed him on the cheek.
He turned of the stove, and turned around in her arms.
"You like seeing me in pain?" he bent his head down, and whispered in that husky town that made her all weak in the knees.
"Only when I'm the cause of it," she cocked an eyebrow, and a jolt trailed over his chest.
Wincing, he grabbed her hand, and returned the shock, before dipping in to kiss her.
He kissed her softly, cupping her cheek, holding her firmly from her hip.
They pulled away, shining grins strewn across their lips.
"I love you," he kissed the tip of her nose.
"The feeling is mutual," she pecked him on the mouth, and grabbed a bacon from the skillet.
"You know, that's usually eaten from a plate," he pointed out.
She simply shrugged when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" she kissed him on the cheek with a shock and skipped from the kitchen to the front door.
Curious as to who was visiting them so early in the morning, Peter tuned in to the thoughts of the person of the other side of the door. Immediately recognizing the voice, he transported to the door, blocking the entrance.
"Peter, what--" Elle looked at him in confusion.
"Don't open it," he warned her.
"Open this door, Elle," the voice came through the door.
"Daddy?" Elle whispered, a hint of fear.
"We'll leave, Elle," Peter whispered.
Elle's eyes snapped up to him, and for a moment she zoned out, until she nodded her head in a 'no.'
"It's fine, Peter. I'll just…" she reached for the doorknob.
"Elle…"
"Peter, I can make my own decisions."
Nodding he said 'okay' and stepped behind her as she opened the door.
"Hello, Elle. It's been awhile hasn't it?" he smiled at them.
"Uh…" she seemed to have lost her voice.
"What do you want," Peter said sternly.
"Hello, Peter. It's nice to see both of you again," he looked between the two of them.
"What…why are you here, dad?" Elle looked scared at this point.
"Just visiting my daughter, is all. Do you mind if we talk?"
"Um--"
"I mind," Peter interrupted.
"Peter," Elle hissed, turning to him.
"Fine, but I'll be keeping an open ear," Peter stared right through Bob.
"Be careful," he looked down at Elle, and gave her hand a soft grasp before leaving to his room.
"Come in," Elle waved to the living room.
--
"I heard vague rumors about you two, but who knew it was so serious," he chuckled.
They sat on the couch in the living room, Elle on the edge, keeping her distance from her dad.
"Are you going to talk to me, Elle?"
She crossed her arms and turned her eyes to him.
"I thought you were going to leave us alone."
Since she had moved in with Peter, they had brought down many facilities, and freed so-called patients. They had left warnings, had covered their tracks and avoided Bob all but one time.
They had gone to a company standing in Minnesota, and found a note from Bob:
'You are not stupid. You are very well aware that your location of habitance is known to company heads. Tearing down buildings, documents, and freeing some weak patients is one thing, but if you go too far, we will have to pay personal visits.'
The note had been unsigned, but Elle could recognize the handwriting. Smirking as she remembered the warning, she said.
"Or what, did we find something that really ticked you guys off. Don't tell me we're finally catching onto Sylar's trail, while the company remains in the dark."
"Elle, Sylar is a dangerous man, and more over, these little adventures you're having with Peter Petrelli are just plain foolish," he inched closer to her daughter, and she pulled away more.
"Adventures?" she scoffed. "Daddy, we're doing some good, we're saving people from becoming tools for a company that only wants the destruction of the human race."
"Please, Elle, who do you think you're talking to? This company is only looking out for the people, and sweetie, no matter what you do, it'll never be enough to change what you really are--a weapon of torture and destruction."
Elle turned away from him, her eyes fell to the floor, and her brows furrowed, making all her features fall.
"No, no, I was used and manipulated, but now I'm helping people and--"
"Elle, all you're doing is delaying the inevitable, and the longer you postpone the inevitable, the more hurt will come to everyone surrounding you," Bob scooted next to Elle, and took her hand.
"You're going to hurt him, Elle. You'll come to your senses, and return to being that person who just wants to enjoy life through everyone's pain. That's why you're really with him Elle, because if you come out hurting the most powerful of them of all in the worst possible way, the more sense of pride and pleasure you'll derive from his heartache. Let's face it Elle, you're just not good enough to actually love the man," he gave her a deceiving smile masked as a soft one of sincerity.
"That's it, get out!" Peter burst into the living room. He had sensed Elle's ache of regret and doubt, and tuned in to hear Bob speaking those last two sentences to her.
Bob kept a hold Elle's hand, and looked to her. She looked at him, then at Peter who was angry and disgusted at Bob's accusations, and she flinched her hand away from Bob.
Remembering how to talk, in her own masked voice she said with a tone of indifference towards his opinion, "You heard him, get out."
She stood up, put her hands on her hips as a sign of defiance, and nodded to the door.
Sighing, he stood up, and Peter flung the door open. Bob walked slowly to the door, and upon reaching it, said to Elle.
"I'm your dad--no one knows you better than me," and he closed the door behind.
"You alright?" Peter turned his attention to Elle.
Breathing in, she said," yeah."
He walked over to her, and put a finger under her chin.
"Hey, you know none of that's true, right? What we have is real," he caught her wandering gaze.
She paused, looking into his chocolate orbs to find that which could negate her father's words, but her own confusion slightly clouded her vision. Still, she nodded, and gave him a tight smile. It was real, she knew that, but how could she know that she wouldn't screw it all up?
"Yeah, I know, he just tired me out. Can I just have some time alone?"
He studied her intently, waving off his instinct to read her thoughts, and nodded to her. "Of course," he leaned in to kiss her on the lips, but she turned slightly so he caught her cheek. Frowning, he pulled back to look at her again, but she just smiled tightly and went to her (former) room. Peter shrugged his worry as pure concern over her being, and let her be for the day.
But when days came to pass, and she kept giving him the cold shoulder, his preoccupation grew. She would sleep in his bedroom, but she would rarely speak. Not too long after Bob's visit, Elle began exhibiting some behavior that mirrored her previous ways, acting somewhat like she had when he first met her.
She began getting careless with her power--when they went out into the city, she would fry some cluttered trash, set ablaze garbage cans, and sometimes even shock people. She would giggle, and whenever he told her she shouldn't do that stuff in public, she'd roll her eyes and tell him to 'lighten up.'
Elle had never stopped touchy feely, but she had toned it down to a level where people thought she was affectionate rather than uber-clingy. But she began with all the touching again, amusing herself with their discomfort, but all Peter saw was Elle trying to distract herself from her fears. So she reverted to some of her child-like behavior, pretending to immune to other's thoughts towards her, pretending Bob's words hadn't stung her deeply enough to make her believe she really was just 'delaying the inevitable.'
--
As days dragged on, Peter would confront her, as her antics got tiring, and her rebellion tested his patience. And maybe Peter would have been more patient, and maybe he could have snapped her back another way, but one day she had been too careless with her powers.
Approximately two weeks after Bob had paid them a visit, Peter and Elle had gone on another of their little missions. Hearing of the construction of a new company facility occurring in northwest California, Elle and Peter snooped around the area until they were able to infiltrate the underground rooms that had been already built. Silence was abound, but the structure was not entirely unoccupied. A young woman had been 'watching' over the building, inhabiting a room from where she could hear and see everything. When Peter sensed another's presence, he told Elle to hang back, and only come in when he had the woman captive.
But Elle did no such thing, and she caught the woman's attention. Before they knew it, the woman had set off an alarm, and they had to leave before they could get any information or bring the facility down.
"You let her get away!" Peter had yelled once they arrived at their apartment.
"Lighten up, Peter, we'll just get her next time," she shrugged off her jacket and attempted to hug him. But he moved away.
"Oh, come on puppy, no need to be so spiteful."
Peter closed his eyes, and attempted to control his breathing, all the frustration from the last two weeks about to burst.
"You just--Elle, this is serious."
"Whatever Peter, if you don't want to have any fun, then I'll go off and find it myself," she pulled her jacket back on and made a move for the door.
"We're not done here, Elle!" he stopped her.
She gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes at him.
"All you're going to do, Peter, is yell and fume, and all I'm going to do is tell you to relax and let it go," she crossed her arms defiantly.
"Do you realize how careless you're being? How being careless and having your way took us a step back from taking down the company?"
"That's who I am Peter! You knew that from the start so don't start chastising me for who I am!"
Her hands began glowing, and as Peter looked from her bolts to her eyes, it hit him how much of an influence Elle's so-called daddy still had over her.
"That's not who you are, Elle. So stop acting out--"
"I'm not acting out!" her eyes screamed otherwise.
"Elle, if you don't stop listening to Bob, and if you can't see that you really are a good person, we won't work!"
"I am who I am, and if you can't accept that--"
"It's you who doesn't accept that Elle, so stop with this rebellion or I'll--" his voice hitched, not able to let out the next words.
Elle's electricity blew out, and she said coldly. "Or you'll leave me? Just like they all do," she spit," well not this time--I'm leaving; it's over."
She took the last four steps to the door, and without a look back, she slammed the door behind her.
In his eyes, she moved slowly, the scene surreal and unrealistic. He blinked to drive himself out of this incredulous vision, only to come to the realization that Elle had in fact just said 'it' was over and left. He ran to the door and swung it open, screaming her name, but she was long gone. And he could have followed her, he could find her in a millisecond, but Peter needed to give her time. 'Just give her a day' Peter thought to himself, 'She'll come home on her own, she'll come home.'
--
A day passed, and Peter had enough. After is had been a day exactly, Peter left his room, and sat in the living room, waiting for her to burst into the room.
He gave her half an hour to get there. Then an hour, then two, and so on. Until she had been gone 29 hours, and he couldn't take it anymore.
He closed his eyes, and concentrated on Elle's being, until he saw the place in which she resided--the little apartment Claire had been set up in by Nathan before his death. After months of disdain for each other, Claire and Elle had found some common footing, and now it seemed as though the two were best friends.
--
"She came by this morning, eyes bloodshot, and her nose puffy and red. She muttered a fight and a walkout, then something about getting drunk, and how she needed a shower. I didn't ask anything, I let her in, and I told her she was welcome to anything, including the shower. She was in there for God-knows how long, and I had left her some clean clothes to use. When she came out, she nodded, and said 'thank you' before locking herself in the guest room. The doors kinda suck in here, so I could hear her sniffling and crying," Claire explained to Peter as they stood outside the room Elle had barricaded herself in.
"Can hear her crying, actually," Claire muttered as Elle's cries began again.
Peter stared at the door, contemplating on whether he should go in or not.
"So, what did happen?" Claire asked in a whisper when Peter failed to speak or move his eyes.
"We had a fight, and according to her, we're over."
"So are you?" Claire continued her questionnaire.
"Not if I can help it," he muttered before transpiring through the door.
"Oh," Claire whispered, subdued.
--
His heart broke at the sight before him--he had never seen Elle in such a depressed state.
She sat on the bed, holding onto a pillow with dear life, stains of water making up the pillow sheet, rocking back and forth slightly.
Her cheeks were flush red, hair uncombed, eyes puffy, and God she looked so frail and broken. He moved to the bed, sitting on the edge, facing her.
Her eyes flew open when she felt the bed move, and her eyes grew sadder in grievance. She began sobbing harder, and her hand flew to her face, almost in shame.
"Elle…" he reached to the hand on her face, but she turned her head away.
"I--I can't," the words seemed painfully extracted from her.
Furrowing his brows in confusion over what she meant with those words, he reached for her hand again, and she let him catch it.
He ran his hand over her knuckles to calm her, but the tears did not subside.
She brought her eyes to his, making his heart ache deeper, and his empath abilities making him more attune to her pain.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered so softly he almost didn't hear her.
"It's alright, you were angry, so long as you want to come home," he held onto her hand softly.
"I do, Peter," she bit her lip and faced down at the pillow. "But you--you won't want me," she flinched her hand away, and covered her mouth to quiet her sobs.
"Of course I would Elle, why would you say that?"
Her small body shook, and her thoughts screamed out, truth she couldn't mute from him.
'I slept with someone else.'
And he looked at her, in disbelief, but her eyes full of shame and pain only confirmed the thought she had let him read.
"I didn't mean, to Peter, I just--" she reached out for his hand, but this time he moved away.
She gulped, and she sat back, gripping the pillow.
"I got drunk, something I've never done," she whispered into the pillow. "And when I woke up this morning, I saw that I slept with a stranger, something else I've never done," tears fell, regret overpowered her, and pain killing her.
"And I felt so dirty," Peter watched as her hands turned white from digging into the pillow so angrily. "And all I knew was that I didn't deserve you," her eyes crept onto his.
"I scrubbed so hard Peter, and the water was scalding, but no matter how long I cleaned, I could still feel his dirt crawling on me, and I just feel so gross," her head fell down again, staring down at her hands.
"I don't deserve you…you won't forgive me, and it's only fair…" she recited, she wept, she hurt.
Peter fought to suppress the rage, the blood boiling within him at the thought of another touching her, and he placed his hand on her shoulder to take them home.
He took them to her room, the room she had abandoned from the moment they became an item, and this was a grand detail she couldn't fail to notice.
Her wide blue eyes, clouded with red veins, looked at him sadly in realization of what he was saying.
"I am sorry Peter, and I know you're all--"
"Not tonight Elle…" he paused, standing up from her bed.
"We just need time. We'll work this out."
"Really?" she whispered, afraid her voice would cause him to erupt and to leave her.
"Yeah, we'll fix this," he nodded and left her room.
"We'll fix this," she said in the empty darkness, "we'll fix this."
--
Nonetheless, Elle could not sleep, the vacant lot of that room feeling like anything but home. She lied on her side, clutching a pillow, still hurting, but unable to cry any longer. But she locked her eyes shut, mentally counting to suppress her fears and regrets hoping in the process the numbers would numb her enough to allow for sleep.
It was this process that nearly let her fall asleep, just moments away from la-la land where time and space was forgotten. In these moments away from leaving reality, he came to her, creeping into bed with her, and wrapping his arms around her cold body, being her thermal.
She moved slightly at his presence, her response of relief and nerves surprising her.
"Shhh," he whispered in her ear," you need your rest."
His voice and touch always made her feel secure, and to have him here beside her, reassured her that they maybe they could work this out.
"I missed you," he nuzzled her ear, and she didn't have to force her eyes to close anymore. They did so involuntarily at his gentle touch.
His hand, which had been holding her hip, moved up the hem of her shirt, caressing her stomach. He moved his head down to her neck, digging his nose into it--she could feel him breathing her in.
"I couldn't stand being in this condo by myself," he murmured against her skin, and he began nibbling at the skin of her neck.
Numbers were thrown out the window, and she couldn't even keep track of her breath. He moved his foot up her leg, and nibbles turned into mouthfuls, as he sucked on her neck. With ease he pulled her onto her back, flinging her eyes open to meet his. Lust and anger swirled through his chocolate orbs instead of his usual peace. And Elle knew this was going to hurt, to the point where she wouldn't be able to distinguish pleasure from pain.
He attacked her mouth, kissing her hungrily, biting her lip, drawing a drop of blood that he licked with a grin, and he moved back onto her neck, leaving marks. He stripped her of her clothes, almost leaving her vulnerable.
She couldn't get a word out, and her protests turned into moans when he telekinetically held her hands locked above her head. She couldn't touch him, could hardly move because he had also kept a lock on her legs, and he made no move to ask her if she was ready. She didn't really know is he was worshipping her body, or torturing it when his mouth went over it inch by inch. And when little salty drops came from her eyes, he only attacked her mouth again, as he delved into her. And she screamed, moaned, said 'I love you' and 'just you, Peter' when he demanded it from her, until he finished, but even then she couldn't catch her breath.
He slid off her, panting, sweat damping the bed. She closed her eyes, turning off whatever little tears wanted to come…she wanted to touch him, just hold him.
After a moment, he looked up at her, and seeing her try to remain so stoic finally snapped him out of his trance of anger. He let her go, and the sigh of relief that came from her when she no longer felt the pressure points, prompted him to wrap himself around her, and she was finally able to embrace him.
She enclosed her arms around him, breathing and smiling contently at being able to hold him. She held him tightly, and kissed his shoulder blade, relishing in the embrace they were in.
"I do love you Peter," she whispered into his shoulder.
He turned his head down to her and grinned. "I know," he pressed his lips to her.
She smiled, grateful that even after all this--her little rebellion, her walk-out, her drunken stupidity--he still knew, still believed in her love for him.
"I really don't deserve you," she said when their eyes met again.
"I'm not exactly perfect either," he stroked her cheek.
"In either case, thanks for not leaving me when anyone else would."
"Believe me," he cocked an eyebrow suggestively," it's no problem."
And she nodded, resting in his embrace, sleep finding them together after four and a half months.