you're my war ;; you're my truce.

&

falsemurmur — Fri, 21 May 2010 00:24:49 GMT

i think it's pretty obvious by the month long periods between posting that i've not been around much. and besides, i've thought long and hard about this for awhile. in all honesty, i'm not quite into lj as i used to be, which sucks, because i do miss chatting with several with so very much. it's unfair of me to keep up an f-list which i barely check, and when i do, i only go to certain journals to catch up on. hence, i've cut a handful of you as a means to keep an f-list that i do not skip over. i don't mean to be disrespectful, and the way i've worded that even sounds...kinda terrible to me, but i hope you understand my meaning. remove me if you've been cut, please and thank you.

& ;; quotes collection.

falsemurmur — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 20:33:17 GMT

. post quotes from tv shows, books, speeches, etc. anything that says something worth quoting.
be it funny, inspiring, thought provoking, and so on.
[this is an ongoing collection, so feel free to post anytime]

B/C YOU AIN'T SEEN EPIC TILL YOU'VE SEEN CEE + NEY.

falsemurmur — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 22:38:13 GMT

Cee likes to credit herself for a lot of things. Primarily, Ney's existence. How that is remotely possible is beyond Ney, seeing as how Ney is the first prototype and Cee is Ney 2.0. Which yes, means she is the better and improved Ney. This probably explains why Cee wants to kick Ney off this world. Whatever the case, Ney still love her.

AND TODAY MARKS THE SECOND YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THEIR FRIENDING EACH OTHER (the first time, not the second time - long story). AND SO HERE NEY IS PAYING TRIBUTE TO WHAT BROUGHT CEE AND NEY TOGETHER, TRIBUTE TO CEENEY. AND NO, THE STORYTELLING IS NOT BIASED OR INACCURATE. WHAT WHAT.

The “Meet Cute” part

The “awkward, get to know you” part

.

The “Okay, You're Seriously a Freak but I Secretly Like It” part

The “Hey, Let’s Share Stuff We don’t Usually Share with Strangers” part

.

The “This is Inappropriate and Unnecessary but You and I can Sense something ~deep Here, but We’ll Never Admit it” part

The “YOU‘VE TURNED ME INTO A PSYCHO STALKER, AND WHEN YOU DISAPPEAR I‘M BASICALLY A CHILD WHO‘LL CUT A BITCH BECAUSE I MISS MY PUPPY” part

.

The “I’M REALLY ~~Weevil~~ A ROBOT, BUT SPOILER ALERT, THE ROBOT FALLS IN LOVE, BUT ROBOTS AND WEEVILS AND FUTURE!PETERS WITH HOT SCARS ASIDE, YOU‘RE UNRECOGNIZABLE WHEN SEPARATED FROM ME” part. (ALSO, THIS IS WHERE WE PRETEND SYLAR FINALLY FUCKIN DIES.)

.

The “OUR LOVE WAS TOO EPIC FOR THIS SHIT, SO WE HAD TO CUT TIES BITCH AND NOW I’M GONE FROM YOUR LIFE EVEN THOUGH WE WERE BADASS TOGETHER”

.

plus the AU CRACK!FIC IN WHICH…

Elle comes running back to Peter, knowing he’s her salvation, and Peter just shrugs and puts up with her and eventually falls in love with her LIKE WOAH. (CEE, I SWEAR, THAT FOR THE RECORD, THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HOW I GAVE IN AND BEGGED YOU TO FRIEND ME AGAIN, AND I FRIENDED YOU FIRST AFTER YOU CUT ME.)

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, SKANK.

i didn't make the gifs. i did color the caps. that is all.

& ;; anon. post 2010 version.

falsemurmur — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 01:23:33 GMT

anonymous post ;; 2010.
any subject whatsoever. say anything. don't front. no drama just for the sake of drama.anonymous on. ip logging off. this post will be here for whenever you want to stop by it.

[original anon. post: read only]

{the people i've met are the wonders of my world} ;; 2010 SCRAPBOOK

falsemurmur — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 01:05:50 GMT

2009 testimonials: about ney according to her friends.

01.01.10 ;; 2.01.10

2.01.10 ;; 2.16.10

2.16.10 ;;

CEENEY ARE EPIC.

01.01.10 .;; 02.03.10

2.03.10 ;; 2.12.10

2.12.10 ;;

[*] = rewatch
^ = terrible, ^^ =mediocre, ^^^ = good, ^^^^ = awesome

The Invention of Lying (1.23.10) ^^^
Inglorious Bastards [*] (1.23.10) ^^^^
The Princess & the Frog [*] (1.24.10) ^^^
Sherlock Holmes (1.28.10) ^^^

When in Rome (1.29.10) ^^^^ (EXTRA FOR K. BELL LOL)
It's Complicated (1.29.10) ^^
Star Trek [*] (02.02.10) ^^^^
Surf's Up [*] (2.07.10) ^^^^
Zombieland (2.11.10) [*] ^^^
Paper Heart (2.11.10) ^^
The Jane Austen Book Club (2.14.10) ^^^
Couple's Retreat (2.15.10) ^
Stardust (2.17.10) ^^^^
9 (2.20.10) ^^

01.01.10 ;; 2.02.10

02.02.10 ;;

january ;;

"Cold Case Love" - Rihanna
"Hey Now" - Augustana
"Wild Horses" - Natasha Bedingfield

february ;;

"Forgive Me" - Missy Higgins
"Details in the Fabric" - Jason Mraz/James Morrison
"What I Wouldn't Do" - A Fine Frenzy
"Love is Blind" - Alicia Keys

[+] = ney is watching a show for the first time
[*] = ney is doing a rewatch
[!] = ney is watching something as it airs

Doctor Who Season One [+] (01.03.10 - 1.09.10)
Chuck Season Three Premiere [!] (1.10.10)
LOST Season Three [*] (01.11.10 - 1.19.10 ) [season one & two in 2009]

Doctor Who Season Two [+] (01.12.10 - )
LOST Season Four [*] (01.19.10 - 1.20.10)
LOST Season Five [*] (01.20.10 - 1.25.10)
LOST Season Six [!] (2.02.10)
Life Unexpected [+/!] (2.03.10)

01.01.10 ;;

[+] = fan fiction

[*] = original fiction

Darkness Covers, We Find Shelter [+] (1.07.10) Smallville, Chloe/Davis
you can try to hide away (but you know you're not immune [+] (1.29.10) Castle, Beckett/Castle
playing the cards you get [+] (2.15.10) Chuck, Chuck ;; Chuck/Sarah
how this turned out, removed all my doubt [+] Private Practice, Addison/Kevin

& ;; '09 testimonials.

falsemurmur — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 23:14:44 GMT

tes⋅ti⋅mo⋅ni⋅al // [tes-tuh-moh-nee-uhl] // –noun
1. a written declaration certifying to a person's character, conduct, or qualifications, or to the value, excellence, etc., of a thing; a letter or written statement of recommendation.
2. something given or done as an expression of esteem, admiration, or gratitude.

write an essay. write a line. a testimonial for falsemurmur, from you. this shall be linked to her scrapbook.

& ;; friends cut.

falsemurmur — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 01:27:26 GMT

cut complete. [see this entry?]

based on answers from this poll. as i explained there, if you did not answer the poll, i would take it as a no. hence, barring those i know to be on hiatus or something of the sort, i've cut those who did not answer. if however, you are sure you missed the poll, or i cut you accidently, and want to be added back, comment. peace.

&

falsemurmur — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 00:33:47 GMT

.this is about honesty. i know i have not been the greatest friend to all of you. and not that i show it much, but my family situation has affected my energy and motivation, hence i would prefer a smaller friends list. and it can't on like this forever, so let's do this.

this poll will be open for a week. come next wednesday, i will complete a cut based on people's answers. if you do not reply to the poll within a week's time, i will take that as a 'no' to the poll question.

View Poll: f-list.

.and in conjunction, this meme. it's not just compliments and it's not just criticisms ppl, as it says in the meme. ;)

THE "i've always wanted to tell you" MEME

& ;; fic recs

falsemurmur — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 01:58:00 GMT

interests ;; character, pairing, ensemble fics. action, angst, drama, general, romance.
tv ;; addison's anatomy. bones. brothers & sisters. chuck. heroes. how i met your mother. lost. skins. smallville.

subject area: fandom
<b>title:</b> <b>character(s) and/or pairing(s):</b> <b>summary (optional):</b> <b>link:</b> <b>(bonus ;; why this fic?):</b>

drop by here anytime to either make a rec or check recs. please & thank you. :)

(p.s. self-pimping is not discouraged, so long as no one goes overboard)

B/C IT'S A COMMENT FIC FEST, SNITCHES (if that makes any sense...anywho...)

falsemurmur — Sun, 03 May 2009 00:06:43 GMT

comment fic fest

rules.
1. put this in your subject line -
fandom, pairing or character, prompt (see example below)
2. Comment thread starter, start the story as well, with four words.
3. if you see a prompt you like, reply to the thread with a comment of four words. see a story you want to continue? reply to that comment with four words.
4. if there's more than one reply to a comment, the non-first commenter must delete it. or i will.
5. all fandoms are a go. as are all pairing - BECAUSE THIS IS FOR FUN. crossovers allowed.
6. a semi-example can be seen here. additional example below.

oh right. when everything is said & done, i will put all the stories together & post them in their ~complete form so everyone can see the ~~cracktastic~~ results! so come on, you know you want to see that! ;D

PIMP.

eta: yes, the comments have been collapsed. ohs well. expand those comments and keep contributing in addition to starting new threads! YOU GUYS ROCK! ;DDD

ETA2: IF YOU FEEL AS THOUGH YOUR COMMENT WILL BRING THE ~STORY TO A CONCLUSION, ADD TO THE SUBJECT LINE FIN. LET'S NOT LEAVE ANY STORIES HANGING.

ETA3: ~~+300~~ +400 COMMENTS. ASLKKDFKLASDFL;ADS. (NO, I HAVE NOT BEEN COMPULSIVELY WAITING FOR THIS MARK). YOU ARE ALL AWESOME. I DON'T KNOW ALL OF YOU, BUT YESSSS, I LOVE YOU. I CONSIDER THIS A SUCCESS. KEEP HAVING FUN!

CREDITS. RESOURCES.

falsemurmur — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 20:16:20 GMT

css: [velvetb0x]

mood themes:

Arrested Development: [_creations_]
BB/TDK: [lunar47]

Christian Bale: [crackified]

Dr. Horrible: [drscompanion2]

Elle Bishop: [feelingalittle]

Friends: [ainodeluca]

LOST (jack/kate): [onsilverscreens]

Obama: [sincerely_jane

Skins (cassie): [lawrahxxx ]

That 70s Show: [magique_icon]

Veronica Mars (s1): [crackified]

Etc:

Scrapbook banner, the__to my__banner: [falsemurmur]
Alice profile banner [inthe_sunshine]
LOST, jack/kate profile banner [falsemurmur]

Textures:

[bornbutterfly]

[darkhorizonx]

[driftingaway]

[hybridmagic]

[iconmaker]

[janine83]

[jillian519]

[lacerator]

[music_fun]

[prettybutt]

[printless]

[samiam1023]

[teh-s0njanator]

[velvetb0x]

falsemurmur — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 21:42:39 GMT

Yes, it's another picspam. DEAL. WITH. IT. (oh yeah, still for picspammy . and me ;)
BECAUSE THIS MAN IS EASY ON THE EYES. AND IS THE HOTTEST, MOST TALENTED MAN, EVER. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE HIM. SERIOUSLY, YOU KNOW THIS ONE WAS WAY MORE DIFFICULT. KNOW WHY? Because most of the times, Mr. Bale is with his wife, so finding pics without his wife was irritating. Plus, pics of him just make my heart stop, so working around that was difficult? WHAT? I'M JUST A GIRL HEPLESS TO THE AWESOMENESS THAT IS...CHRISTIAN BALE. ;D

(BTW - THIS ONE'S LONGER TWO. AND I ONLY CHOSE TO SHOWCASE A FEW OF HIS MOVIES, AND CHOOSING SCENES FROM THOSE MOVIES WAS HARD B/C I DIDN'T WANT TO SPOIL THEM)

because "photogenic" is an understatement when it comes to this man.

"I only sound intelligent when there's a good script writer around."

because you love him even with scruff. (and them some)

"I have a fear of being boring."

eta: i'm a total dork - i forgot this one!

because his smile is ALJFKSL;DLKA.

because his performances always kick ass. (see Equilibrium)

"What's the point of your existence?" (as John Preston)

(see The Prestige)

"We both had half of a full life, which was somehow enough for us. But not for them." (as Alfred Borden)

because he's the motherfuckin batman (not to mention, bruce wayne).

"They told me there was nothing out there, nothing to fear.
But the night my parents were murdered, I caugh a glimpse of something. I've looked for it ever since. I went around the world, searched in the shadows.
And there is something out there in the darkness, something terrifying,
something that will not stop until it gets revenge...
Me." (as Bruce Wayne)

"You know that day you once told me about, when Gotham would no longer need Batman? It's coming."

"Watch for my sign."

"It's not who I am underneath but what I do that defines me."

"Sometimes, truth isn't good enough, sometimes people deserve more.
Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded."

"You'll hunt me. You'll condemn me. Set the dogs on me. Because that's what needs to happen."

(woah, did i go overboard on the batman stuff? wait, what am i talking about - HE'S THE MOTHERFUCKING BATMAN)

the incomparable, awesome christian bale.

"I don't think I'm like any of the characters I've played - they're all really far from who I am."

"If everyone really knew what a jerk I am in real life, I wouldn't be so adored in the slightest."

(i say, bring it bb. ily.)

falsemurmur — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 02:19:35 GMT

There's an awesome challenge going on over at picspammy - favorite person. And I'm no graphics person, but I had to do this one. So here's to the awesome....

BECAUSE SHE ROCKS THOSE PHOTO SHOOTS.

BECAUSE SHE ROCKS THE RED CARPET.

BECAUSE HER (*COUGH*RED*COUGH*) HAIR ROCKS.

BECAUSE HER PORTRAYAL OF ADDISON FORBES MONTGOMERY KICKS ALL TYPES OF ASS. AND IS AWESOMECAKES. AND YOU KNOW, ROCKS MY SOCKS.

[^^ BECAUSE THOSE RANDOM SCREENSHOTS ARE LEGENDARY ADDIE MOMENTS, HEE]

BECAUSE SHE'S BEAUTIFUL. (YES, SHE'S MY ULTIMATE GIRL CRUSH. HOW'D YA GUESS?)

the awesome kate walsh. ;D

i miss you. -- A Tribute to Aaliyah

falsemurmur — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 14:47:29 GMT

Aaliyah Dana Haughton
1979 - 2001

~*~
Discography
Music Videos
Photographs
Aaliyah Was & Is...
~*~

Discography

Studio Albums

1994

Choice Cuts:

Age Ain't Nothing But A Number
Back And Forth
At Your Best (You are Love)
Got To Give It Up

1996

Choice cuts:

One In A Million
4 Page Letter
If Your Girl Only Knew
The One I Gave My Heart To

2001

The definitive album, her best, & one of the absolute best albums of 2001. All cuts are key, but here are some for you to check out if you have yet to listen to this album:

We Need A Resolution
More than a Woman
Rock The Boat
I Care 4 U

Soundtrack Cuts

In 1997, Aaliyah recorded the track "Journey to the Past" for the studio soundtrack of the animated FOX film, Anastasia. The track would go on to receive an Oscar nomination for "Best Original Song" and Aaliyah performed at that year's Oscar's ceremony. She went on to become the youngest performer in the history of the Oscars.

In 1998, the song "R U That Somebody?" was released, off the movie soundtrack of Dr. Dolittle. The production, the beat, the voice. And what else about to say this song? Perfectly weaving her sensual voice through the beats produced by Timbaland--whose big break is owed to Aaliyah--the song was, & is still a cool wonder.

Then, in 2000 there was "Try Again." Another Timbaland production that only got better with it's music video. Plus, it went on to become the first song to ever reach number one on the Billboard Hot 100 without being in stores. Yeah, it's essentially that awesome. And to this day, no contest, no one can quite manage a Timbaland like Aaliyah. Nelly Furtado can keep trying if she wants, though. The jam is off the Romeo Must Die film soundtrack, the first film in which she co-starred, and the same soundtrack also had the awesomely cool track "Come Back in One Piece."

The Posthumous Album

Contained her biggest hits with several unreleased tracks, including "Miss You."
An album that testified she could have gone so much further, an album that does not give her life justice. It's only a snippet of her greatest hits.

</div>

~*~
"It's hard to say what I want my legacy to be when I'm long gone."
~*~

Music Videos

"Dearest, sweet Aaliyah...I have trouble accepting the fact that you're gone...so I won't."

"...it goes on & on & on...your love is one in a million..."

"I'm trusting you with my heart, my soul, i probably shouldn't..."

"It's been a long time, i probably shouldn't have left you without a dope beat to step to."

"Speak your mind, don't bite your tongue...it's official you got issues, i got issues, but i miss you."

"do you wanna ride with me? we can be like bonnie & clyde, be by your side."

this was the last music video aaliyah made, this was her last creative endeavor in our plane of life. and the words preceding her entrance, her dancing, her singing, & her conquering her fear of the ocean all speak for itself.

~*~
"Everything is worth it.
The hard work, the times when you're tired, the times where you're a bit sad...
In the end, it's all worth it because it really makes me happy.
There's nothing better than loving what you do."
~*~

Photographs

</div>
§

♥

We can dream, ruminate, wonder on the what ifs.
And so at the end of the day, all we know is we lost you much too soon.
Through flaws, missteps, & breaking points you showed us that we all are human.
Through grace under fire, family love above all, & the capacity to keep walking,
you showed us your humanity.
Through your death the phrase 'the good die young' manifested.
Through your life, we learned fragility & strength.
Through you we've seen beauty at its finest.

May you rest in peace, Baby Girl.

- who was aaliyah to you? -

</div>
~*~

"It is dark in my favorite dream. Someone is following me. I don't know why. I'm scared.
Then suddenly, I lift off. Far away.
How do I feel? As if I am swimming in the air. Free. Weightless. Nobody can touch me. It's a wonderful feeling."

~*~
in memory of aaliyah
</div>

Snapshot Seven: Memory

falsemurmur — Sun, 02 Mar 2008 02:26:03 GMT

TITLE: Snapshots (8/8)
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: The day I own Peter Petrelli is the day I translate this story into canon. In the meantime, I have yet to own any part of Heroes!
SUMMARY: For Peter Petrelli, those 63 years of his life were the most significant, and they will be eternally, because her being is the gift he holds in turn for being immortal.
NOTES: Snapshot--a record or view of a particular point in a sequence of events or a continuing process. The last one, so I'd like thoughts on the work overall. Thank you to those who have replied, and for anyone's who's been enjoying this. Here's the send-off. Yep, and please don't throw teh stones at me for how I've ended this O_o *ENJOY.*
PART(S): 1 l 2 l 3 l 4 l 5 l 6 l 7 l 8 l or HERE

Do you know where your heart is?
Do you think you can find it?

~*~

Tears land on his lips, and he has to fight back a sob. It had been inevitable, but after so much preparation, he still finds it difficult to accept. Deep in his soul, he still feels her vibrant spirit beating. And her blue eyes…they are still so vivid in his mind.

A hand on his shoulder shakes him from his thoughts.

“Dad…” the tentative voice comes at him.

He looks over his shoulder, and sees those blue eyes. He blinks furiously, to remind himself it is their daughter, and not Elle.

He places his hand over hers, and presses it firmly. In a grunt he stands up hastily to turn to her. He takes her by the shoulders, and says, “You’ve always looked just like her, Emmie.”

“Dad,” she feels deep sadness for her father, for he had always loved her mother so much.

“It’s fine, sweetie, and you should all be on your way now,” he takes her in an embrace, kissing her on her hair softly. She lets her go slowly, then turns to his two boys.

“Michael,” he beckons to his middle child, and pulls him in the same embrace.

“Remember, you always have a family with us, dad. We’ll have dinner and everything,” his son smirks.

Peter nodds at him, and says,” Don’t let your brother get the best of you.” His son gives him a firm nod, and walks to stand beside his sister.

“Dad,” the eldest walks to his father slowly, looking at him intently before Peter draws him into a hug.

“Take care of them, Nathan,” he whispers, kissing him on the cheek.

“You just worry about yourself dad. Even the greatest of men can fall,” he pulls away from him gingerly,” I love you.”

“You too son,” Peter pulls away, and looking at the three standing together, traits of each parent playing out in their features, says his goodbye,” I love you all.”

Their children join hands, and turn away from their mother’s grave, looking over their shoulder to their father, getting their last glance at him as the elder he truly is, before driving away, leaving him with Elle.

Peter turns back to the grave, looking over the stone once again.

Elle Petrelli
April 16, 1983-October 2, 2070
The Spark of the Petrelli Heart
Loving Wife, Mother, & Hero

“She left you a tape, Peter,” a soft voice whispers behind him. Surprised momentarily, he turns his head to confirm the speaker.

“How long have you been here, Claire?” he only looks at her for a moment, as her effervescent youth only serves to remind him of what he will have to do.

“About four or five days,” the petite blond stared at the beautiful marker of Elle’s grave. “Molly located me about a week ago, told me Elle really wanted to talk to me one last time.”

Elle’s health had begun failing only two months ago, and Peter saw from the start that she was preparing for the worse. It only made sense that she would try to get Claire to come back down to the states, Claire who had left almost 40 years ago, when her unchanging face began casting suspicion among certain people. Now, Peter felt reality to crashing down on him, to see his own brother's daughter, Claire (although not his relative niece, seeing as how the truth had come to light of Nathan being a gift from the company to the Petrelli’s) looking to be in her early 20’s, when she should be in her 70s.

“What’d she tell you?”

“Told me to make sure you kept you promise. Told me never to leave you alone for too long, and to give you this tape,” she holds out a tape recorder, which clearly holds a tape in it.

“She gave it to me the night I left to Europe, said she made it the day she found out she was pregnant. Fifty-seven years ago, Peter, she recorded this tape for you, and she gave it to me as a sort of insurance that I’d come back when her time came…and you would need me.”

He looks at her cautiously, with her sad little smile that remains as fresh as her youthful skin.

“And Peter,” she says, before his fingers touch the tape recorder.

“You have to do this. For Elle, because you loved her, well, love her in that way I could only ever dream of someone loving me, so you have to make me believe people like us can make it past this loneliness. But it's not my word you need--it's hers, and I’m sure whatever she said on this thing will convince you of that,” Claire nods to him, and turns to give him space to hear her tape.

Sighing, he looks fearfully at the tape, knowing the power her voice could have on him. Decidedly, he presses ‘Play.’

There were some seconds of static before her voice begins playing.

“Is this thing on?…ugh, a video recorder would have been so much better, but someone kept insisting on wasting the video tapes on less than appropriate things…”

Peter laughs in spite of himself, her playful tone so missed.

“Anyway, turns out I’m pregnant, and at the time of this recording, you have no idea of that. By the time you’ve heard this, well pregnant is the last thing I am. But, knowing what it’ll come to eventually, I do have some things I don’t want left unsaid…”

There is a slight pause as her voice takes a serious undertone.

“You gave me a second chance at life Peter, and you know that already. You opened my eyes to this life where I could be me, just a better me, and all because you refused to give up on me. I guess that’s why my defenses started falling, and I let you into my life so openly, like you did for me. By the time you’ve heard this, I hope we will have had a long, wonderful life together...

“While I’m on 'our lives together', here’s hoping we didn’t end up with a dozen kids. This one’s already a surprise, although I’ve got a feeling it’s a boy, which you’ll insist on calling Nathan, and I’ll protest only to give in because you’re so cute when you’re annoyed,” he hears her giggle at her little rants and his heart warms.

He was the one with the power of telling the future, yet she could always predict things better than him.

“Aw, you always make me giggle Peter, and I’m hoping that’s something that never changes. But you saved the cheerleader, you got her powers. And when you told me that you would control that power so we could both grow grey and old, I made you promise me something. I said you had to go on with life, that after I was gone, you had to stop suppressing your regenerative abilities. So, as frightening as it might be, move on Peter. I’m not telling you to forget me, or the kids we might have, because seriously, who could forget me…?”

The hesitancy in her voice has been evident for a couple of sentences now, as all sense of joking leaves her voice.

“Just carry on who I was, and continue with your life. Claire will be there, so you’ll never be completely alone. So get up, get back to being your hot young self, and keep saving the world. That is a straight order from me, mister...

"I’ll admit it does hurt a little, though--but I love you, so, so much, and I want nothing but for you to be happy. Don’t lose yourself, don’t lose your ideals and belief in people, or anything that we were. Someday, forever will have to close its book, and then we’ll have our peace together, until then, keep being a hero. I love you,” her words come softly, adding a ‘mwah’ and the click indicates the end of the tape.

Sobs wrench through his body again, but Peter cannot put it off any longer. With descending tears, he ceases blocking age and wounds, and allows himself to devolve physically.

~*~

“Peter?”

“Yes, Elle?”

“All those years ago, that afternoon before you escaped the company--why’d you kiss me?”

Peter turned to face his wife, who laid in his arms, physically weak, life almost drained from her.

“You didn’t need to distract me,” she added, letting him know that she knew better.

He smiled softly at her, not too surprised at her being aware, but surprised at her for asking after 63 years.

“I wanted to kiss you,” he answered her, “I was drawn to you, but I didn’t know what to make of it, so I used it as an excuse.”

“So even then, Peter, I had your attention?”

He laughed heartedly, and closed his hand around her, “If I didn’t know better, I would say you had much more than that.”

“I just knew you’d grow to like me,” she giggled.

Even in her most matured age, her laugh sounded the same, her giggle made him feel like that young man so inexplicably in love with her. It was she that made him feel young, exuberant, and alive, even if he looked anything but young. With her beside him, he didn’t need his looks or the promise of tomorrow.

He knew that without her, and with the promise of tomorrow, in his youthful mask would be when he felt old, lifeless, and anxious for the end. As morbid as it sounded, Peter Petrelli knew this. Because Elle had become his light, his jolt of life. The one thing he would exchange immortality for. Elle was his gift, and she would say he was hers (‘I’d be naively locked in a mentality ward if it weren’t for you, Peter’).

“Did you know I’d fall in love with you?” he asked her, half-jokingly.

“Nope, that was a surprise for the ages.”

“But it was a good surprise.”

“Uh, huh,” she nodded, and she drew herself up, lying on his chest, her ear to his heart.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Elle.”

Peter whispered after they had a few moments of silence.

“You can do anything, Peter,” she whispered softly.

“But I need you, remember, we’re partners?”

“Partners in crime?” her smile in saying this could be heard,” I remember. And all you have to do is remember, and you’ll be fine.”

“It’s not enough.”

“It’s better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all. Hiro said that to us, remember?”

“Hiro also said Superman was okay after Lois Lane left, but I doubt he loved her as much as I love you if it hurts me this much just to let you go.”

“You’re not letting me go, I’ll be here with you,” she took her hand, lifted her head, and placed her hand on his heart.

A painful sigh escaped him, and he placed his hand over hers, grasping onto it as though it was his lifeline.

“I love you, Elle,” he breathed the words to her, as she was quietly, but forcibly being drifted off to a state of sleep.

“And I love you…Peter,” her words were much softer, took more effort, but she meant this just as much as he did.

Soon thereafter, the two would fall asleep, peacefully and immune to the reality that would hit when the bright rays of the sun would awaken him, but not her. When she could not be awoken, and he lay with his arms entangled around her, in denial over her departure. Because there she was, but only physically--no air left her lungs, no giggle escaped her mouth, and no electric voltage sparked off her skin. And he cried into her non-moving frame, still unsure if he could carry on with only her memory.

But he replayed her voice over and over again, her soul becoming his life source, her voice begging him to keep on. Her being transcending into his, and despite his cries, his life went on.

~*~

He stands up straight, trying to calm his breath, refusing to look at his hands. He tucks the tape into his coat, bends his head to Elle’s tomb, and places a kiss on her headstone.

“I love you. Always have, always will, and I’ll never love anyone as much as you,” and he finally brings his hand up to his eyes. He flinches at the smooth, fine, unhindered lines of his immortal skin.

He makes no effort to wipe the stale tears on his cheeks, and he walks back to Claire, simply nodding for her to follow him. She follows his trail, relief in her eyes at seeing him young again. The two immortal beings walk on, going on to save the world, together but alone.

But at least Peter Petrelli has the memory of his wife Elle Petrelli to carry on with him.

~*~
Whenever the end is
Do you think you can see it?
Well, until you get there
Go on, go ahead and scream it
Just say it

"Say (All I Need)"//OneRepublic

~*~

</div>

Snapshot Six: Selfish

falsemurmur — Sat, 23 Feb 2008 00:16:23 GMT

TITLE: Snapshots (7/8)
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
SUMMARY: For Peter Petrelli, those 63 years of his life were the most significant, and they will be eternally, because she became the gift he held in return for being immortal.
NOTES: Snapshot--a record or view of a particular point in a sequence of events or a continuing process.// I did some re-writes on this one, which explains the late update =) Feedback rocks! You know, I was going to name this chapter 'Petrelli' but I decided against it. Just a little (not so) fun fact. Fluff abounds--'Ye have been warned! Just one more to go!

PART(S): 1 l 2 l 3 l 4 l 5 l 6 l 7 l 8 l or HERE

All I need
Is the air I breathe
And a place to rest
My head

"Say (All I Need)"//OneRepublic
~*~

Seven months since he proposed.

Fourteen months since they became one.

Twenty-one months since they met.

It all seemed like a whirlwind, almost unreal, and it felt like just yesterday that she had gotten her first kiss.

Elle Bishop had never considered herself a lucky girl, and she really thought she deserved all the bad things that happened to her. Until one Peter Petrelli came along, and showed her that second chances could be given. It was only one little thing she learned from him when the company had him, and then he was gone. Despite his departure, she could still feel the sensation of their hands touching, and the momentary lapse of joy from their kiss.

No wattage necessary.

Elle did not put much thought into Peter thereafter, still slightly angry at him for leaving her when he was the best toy she ever laid her hands on. The thought of him made her go a flush with anger, and self-depreciation, and she thought if they ever crossed paths again, one would not come out alive.

Instead, the very opposite occurred, and the re-crossing of their paths came to show her another life. A life in which she did not have to be a ‘Bishop’ and she could just be Elle, roommate of Peter. Being Peter’s roommate enabled her to witness and learn other things as well.

She knew Peter Petrelli was that one vulnerable guy who felt his powers too deeply, therefore making him the most powerful super-human out there. Still, the extent of his generosity and kindness surprised her, made her want to have a quarter of that humanity he semmed to carry so easily. From there on, she learned so many things from him, and with every little new thing she learned, she fell a bit more for him.

She could look at him and see everything she could ever need, and she really wondered sometimes what in the world he saw in her.

Her, Elle Bishop: bratty, sadistic, whiny, playful, and careless. All synonymous with her being, but he held on tightly to her through the rough patches they encountered. Yes, she had improved her ways, downplayed some of her traits. She had not made a complete 360 however, and Peter had expressed to her many times that he was glad she hadn’t changed completely, that her flaws could be her greatest assets at times.

Yes, Elle was completely and absolutely sure that she loved Peter with all her heart, and that he loved her just the same, if not more so. Still, her curiosity dominated her and she had to ponder aloud how Peter could love her so.

So on that night, the night that she could finally acquire a surname that did not make her cringe, as she lay in the arms of her new husband, she said, “What is it about me?”

He had been playing with her hair, basking in the peace they shared as husband and wife for the first time.

“What is it about you?” he repeated her question, unaware of what she meant.

“Yeah, what is it about me that made you, the most powerful human being in the whole wide world, choose me?”

She felt the treble of his laugh reverbrating on his chest, and she frowned playfully at him, tracing blue jolts up and down his bare chest.

“Elle!” he chastised her, only causing her to giggle.

“Come on Peter, just answer the question!” she propped herself up on her elbows, hovering over him.

He mumbled something or other under his breath and cleared his throat.

“Alright…,” he put in a pause just for semantics, “you’re hot.”

She dropped her shoulders and buried her head in her palms. He laughed at her exasperation, waiting for her to lift her head back up.

“If you were looking for hot, you could go off and make some uber-famous model fall for you, so come on Peter, tell me,” she gave him a little pout, knowing it always worked on him.

He laughed at her again, her little acts somewhat predictable by now, and he swept a thumb under her chin. “Because of that,” he said sincerely.

“That? What’s that?”

He gave her his adorable lopsided grin and took her left hand, toying with the gold band he had placed on her earlier that night.

“You make me smile,” he said softly, kissing her knuckles. “Make me laugh when I’m too serious,” he raked some fingers through her golden hair,” and just remind me that I’m not in charge of keeping this world in order.”

“I make you laugh?” Elle looked at him incredulously. “That’s it?” she laughed softly.

“No, there’s a lot more, but it’s the one that’s easiest to pinpoint, ‘cause no matter what, each and every day you manage to make me smile and laugh. No one else in the world does that,” he wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her back onto his chest.

Elle tilted her head a bit, staring intently at him, his admission proving her wrong--she really could love him more than she already possibly did.

“And you’re hot,” he added, pulling her into a passionate kiss.

She sighed against his lips, smiling like a fool, and said,” I’m going to ask you the most selfish thing in the world Peter, and if you still think you made the right choice by marrying me of all people, then by God you’re a saint.”

Laughing, he nodded,” Okay, but nothing could change my mind about you, Elle.”

“Alright…” she took a deep intake of breath, preparing to ask him the grandest of favor. “Promise that even when I’m long gone, you'll never, ever forget me."

This caught Peter by surprise, not because her question was far-fetched or anything, but because he didn’t think she would have that fear.

“That’s not even possible,” Peter breathed after a moment.

“I could never forget you--I won't even be able to love someone else as much as you,” he clarified for her, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear.

“I’m not asking you not to love Peter, because I do want you to go on and be happy, to find some good company, but I know you’re the love of my life…And I hope a part of you will hold a special place for me, too,” she rambled on, spitting out her explanation quickly.

“Well, whatever doubts you had, you don’t need them. You’re the only thing I’m sure of in life Elle,” he kissed her temple, reassuring her.

“But you will go on,” she demanded when he pulled back.

“I’ll try,” he said with a sad smile.

“Oh great, now I’m depressing you, just when the honeymoon’s started,” she rolled her eyes and let her head fall on his chest.

“Actually, you just reminded me of something,” he said.

“What would that be?”

“You know how I’ve been playing with the Haitian’s power?”

“Uh huh?”

“Well, I’ve been practicing how to suppress my own powers for awhile,” he confessed.

This definitely caught her attention, and she lifted her head to meet his eyes again.

“What? Why? I mean, your powers rock, why the hell would you suppress them?!” she looked panicked and flustered at the mere thought of him stopping the use of his powers.

“Elle, let me finish,” he gave her a pointed look.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes.

“I’ve been practicing so I could do just one thing, and to do that, I’ve had to work with the hardest power to suppress,” he took a deep pause, preparing for whatever impact this news could have,” the power to regenerate.”

Elle’s mouth parted slightly, and her eyes gazed at him with a hint of fear.

“It’s only human nature to protect yourself from harm, so whenever I get injured, I regenerate without so much as a second thought. I had to practice a lot to suppress my very own reflexes, Elle, put I’ve pretty much got it down.”

“But,” she gulped,” if and when you do get hurt, you won’t--”

“I’m trying to get it so I only use the early stages of regeneration. It takes longer for larger wounds to heal, and the pain is more intense, but I’ll get to grow old. With you,” he stared into her blue orbs, trying to make her understand why he would put himself in danger.

“It’s not worth the risk Peter,” she nodded her head violently,” no, I won’t let you do it.”

“Hey,” he cupped her cheek,” we made a vow, and last I remember, it’s pretty much an unwritten law that married couples have to grow old together.”

A tear escaped her eye, in awe of his sacrifices, all his sacrifices for her. She just kept falling and falling for him, and it seemed as though she always would. She then began to laugh, a sort of deliriously happy laugh with a hint of frustration at herself, and all she could do was bend down and give him a sweet little kiss.

“Seems you’re not entirely predictable, Mr. Petrelli,” she said as he wiped a few stray droplets away.

“Not with you in my life, Mrs. Petrelli,” he returned her soft kiss,” and you don’t know how much I thank you for that.”

“Like you always say, Petrelli,” she laughed, answering (per usual),”no problem.”

~*~

</div>

Snapshot Five: Choice

falsemurmur — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 01:25:35 GMT

TITLE: Snapshots (6/8)
RATING: PG13
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
SUMMARY: For Peter Petrelli, those 63 years of his life were the most significant, and they will be eternally, because she became the gift he held in turn for being immortal.
NOTES: Snapshot--a record or view of a particular point in a sequence of events or a continuing process. Feedback rocks, and is very much appreciated.
PART(S): 1 l 2 l 3 l 4 l 5 l 6 l 7 l 8 l or HERE

Do you know what your fate is?
And are you trying to shake it?
You're doing your best and
Your best look
You're praying that you make it

"Say (All I Need)" /OneRepublic

~*~

It happened far too quickly, or more accurately, it was all too shocking and surreal for him to do anything. And if she didn’t come to survive this, he couldn’t imagine ever forgiving himself.

If only he wasn’t so hell-bent on this mission of his. If only he had told her, ‘no, no you can’t go.’ If only he had been able to stop Sylar before he hurt her so.

He saw her body shift then, and he shot his head up, lifting himself out of the seat.

“She’s still asleep, but she will awaken soon enough,” Mohinder lay a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder.

He nodded solemnly, and returned to his seat, perched beside the bed where Elle lied. He watched her, her body healing from deadly wounds.

At the moment, Peter and Elle were at Mohinder’s apartment, where she had been taken in as Mohinder’s patient.

The couple had finally caught up to Sylar, finally cornered him after too many months of his terrorizing massacre. However, all it took was a moment of distraction for the ambush to fall apart. Sylar too had heard the sporadic rumors of Peter’s relationship with the ex-company girl, Elle, a petite, pretty blond. Sylar had used this as his advantage, threatening Elle so Peter was terrified for her. Peter actually took a moment out of the fight to plead for her to leave, and this moment Sylar used to throw Peter through a wall.

Elle was Sylar’s prime target, and Peter had to agonizingly watch the aching scene of Elle being rendered helpless--almost helpless.

Sylar took her air, crushed her with nonexistent loads of suffocating weight, and Peter stood too slowly from the debris. His mind was fractured as he was plagued with what power he should use, and how to turn Sylar’s attention from Elle.

Blood began running from her nose, as she used all her concentration on shocking him, something that caught him off guard a moment.

Peter snapped, and his body bum-rushed into Sylar’s, knocking him over completely. Elle’s electricity weakened Sylar somewhat, until she fell and doubled over. Her eyes fluttered, and he saw the blood seeping from her head, electricity gone from her.

Peter never thought himself capable of killing, but his inability to think and only feel invalidated his incapacity to kill. He threw a strong fist at Sylar, crushing the bones in his skull, and with Elle’s very own electricity, he fried Sylar until the villain was nothing but dust.

With Sylar dead, tears running amuck, Peter picked Elle up gingerly, and took her to Mohinder.

Mohinder took what he could of Peter’s blood, with Elle’s life supply running dangerously low. Peter had been numb, too numb to speak, and all he had done was stroke her hair until he felt warmth creeping back onto her skin. So she had lied in that bed for two hours, what felt like a lifetime to the guilt-ridden Peter--Elle regaining life, though the process was evidently hard on her system. So he watched her with nerves on edge, more aware than ever just how mortal his Elle was. So mortal.

He was thankful however, that this time around, his blood had worked its miracles on someone he loved.

When she had finally stirred, Peter sat in that chair for another ten minutes before making his mind up about something, and leaving for a good five minutes. Twenty minutes after his return, she finally awoke.

“Hey you,” she muttered in a coarse voice.

“Hey,” he jumped up, taking her hand in his, “how are you feeling?”

“Hungry,” she shrugged half-heartedly.

“Okay, well hold on--”

“I’m kidding Peter, God…” she grinned, taking in a deep breath,” food’s the last thing on my mind…what exactly happened?”

He looked at her expectant eyes, then back down to her hand which still felt frail.

“Sylar happened, but we got him,” he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Oh,” she said in a half-whisper,” meaning he knocked me out or something, and then you fried him.”

He snapped his eyes to her, wondering how she figured it out.

“You’re so predictable Peter,” she smiled warmly,” I know you like the back of my hand.”

He smiled down at her and kissed her forehead softly. He lingered there a while, breathing her in, relishing in her warm skin.

Concerned, Elle drew her head up and fingered his chin.

“You okay?”

He met her eyes, keeping silent for a moment before admitting, “I was so scared.”

Elle inhaled deeply, gathering her strength to offer him some up, but couldn’t find anything to refute his fear.

“Well…” she gulped,” you’re human. You’re bound to get scared once in a while. I’m here now, though.”

“I know but,” the fear that shown itself to be so vital that day got caught in his throat.

“But…?” Elle prodded him.

“You…you won’t always be, Elle,” the pained words didn’t sound as fearful as the angst strewn across his face at that moment.

Comprehending his implications, Elle looked to her hand, the one Peter was holding in his own.

“Forever is a pretty long time, huh?” she said after several moments of silence.

He only nodded, and although he was the one with the power of empathy, she felt the constraint of all his burdens, fears, and knowledge.

“Good thing I’m pretty healthy, so I’m sure to have a long life expectancy, huh?” she said the best chipper voice she could muster.

He had to laugh at this, because contrary to what she thought of herself, she was the quite the optimist.

“Don’t be such a downer, Peter. From what I gather, I just had a life and death experience, and now here I am, awake. Sure, I feel a little out of breath and am strangely compelled to spend the next 24 hours in bed, but aside from that, this has to be one of those so-called miracles!”

He kept a laugh to himself, and just grinned down at her smiling form.

“Marry me,” he said abruptly.

If Elle was out of breath before, she surely wasn’t going to catch it anytime soon now.

She stared at him wide-eyed, like she was staring at an apparition who had proposed the strangest mission.

She opened her mouth, only to have it close again, and her brows dug into her hairline. Then he reached for his jeans pocket, and pulled out a small velvet ring box.

Still left speechless, Peter kneeled by the bed, and opened the box.

Elle found herself staring at a gold-platinum band, clad with a sparkling diamond. A thin piece of the platinum gold was strewn over the diamond, almost like a small vine.

“Marry me, Elle,” he said her name this time, hoping she would answer quickly.

She took her eyes from the ring to Peter, who looked at her anxiously, nervously.

She giggled, in disbelief this was actually happening, and the only answer she could give came in the form of a nod until she finally said the word.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” Peter broke into his little grin, and he stood, taking the ring from the box.

“Yes,” Elle said louder this time, holding out her left hand.

He broke into a complete smile, and before placing the ring on her finger said, “I got it engraved.”

She grabbed the ring from his hand and turned to read the inscription when a thought wandered into her mind.

“When did you do this?”

Reluctantly, and with a sheepish grin, he said,” about 20 minutes before you woke up.”

She clicked her tongue and threw him a look of disappointment.” Because I was on the verge of death.”

“No, I just--” he racked his brain as to how to explain his reasoning.

“Elle, I have all these powers, and half of them do me no good, and maybe I’d be better off without them. But I don’t have a choice--it’s something I have to live with. But when it comes to you, I do have a choice, and seeing you so hurt and so close to…”

“To death,” she went on for him, “yeah?”

“I made a decision, Elle, and all I could hope was that you agreed with my decision, that your choice was also me. I’m going to hate it sometimes. Hate knowing that I’ll lose you one day, and that I’ll still be here…”

“But in the meantime, you’ll have me. All of me,” she finished for him.

He nodded, a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips. Elle squeezed his hand, and looked back down at the ring.

“For Elle, my spark,” she read aloud.

She rolled her eyes at him and said, “You’re so corny, but thanks anyway.” She grumbled sarcastically.

He chuckled and took the ring to place it on her finger. He settled on the bed, sitting beside her, and whispered in her ear, “No problem.”

“And it was either that or, ’For Elle, my Lois Lane‘,” he said.

She looked up at him, perplexed at the reference.

“It’s just something Hiro told me once, you know, about Superman and his Lois Lane?”

She still looked at him, questioningly. He laughed, and well aware that they had at least 24 hours on hands, decided to explain to her the legend of Superman and the love of his life.

~*~

</div>

Snapshot Four: Rebellion

falsemurmur — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 20:18:32 GMT

TITLE: Snapshots (5/8)
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
SUMMARY: For Peter Petrelli, those 63 years of his life were the most significant, and they will be eternally, because she became the gift he held in turn for being immortal.
NOTES: Snapshot--a record or view of a particular point in a sequence of events or a continuing process. Again, rating's to be safe. Sorry for the wait, things have just been feeling out of sync lately for some reason.
PART(S): 1 l 2 l 3 l 4 l 5 l 6 l 7 l 8 l or HERE

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 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.

~*~

</div>

Snapshot 3.2: Date

falsemurmur — Sat, 19 Jan 2008 01:20:58 GMT

TITLE: Snapshots (4/8)
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
SUMMARY: For Peter Petrelli, those 63 years of his life were the most significant, and they will be eternally, because she became the gift he held in turn for being immortal.
NOTES: Snapshot--a record or view of a particular point in a sequence of events or a continuing process. Rating is to be safe. Comments are love (and the ones from 3.1 totally rocked my socks, so thanks again everyone!)
PART(S): 1 l 2 l 3 l 4 l 5 l 6 l 7 l 8 l or HERE

Well, bless my soul
You're a lonely soul
Cause you won't let go
Of anything you hold

"Say (All I Need)" /OneRepublic

~*~

“Just name a place or a time, and I’ll take you. For your first date. Our first date.”

--

(Family)

Her features twisted, not sure what to make of his request, and so she didn’t answer. But she couldn’t keep the stray thought that was her true answer from rising to her mind.

“I’m sorry, Peter, I don’t know why I thought that--” she knew he had read her mind.

“It’s not a problem, Elle, we just have to lay low.”

“Really?” she squealed, eyes ablaze with anticipation.

He nodded, and wrapped an arm around her slender waist. She interloped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her to rest her chin on his shoulder, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

He hadn’t yet mastered the art of time traveling, but her hold put him at ease, and he was able to travel back those 19 years, to that small house outside the city.

“Wow,” Elle gasped when they arrived. The night was cool, the stars lit up the clear night sky, and lights were all on within the house.

She put her hand into his, and led him to a window where they could peer inside. She let it go when she spotted a familiar scene, and her hands pressed on the glass, like that would draw her closer. They were staring right into the kitchen, where a little 6 year old and her grandma sat at the table. The grandma ate some soup, but the little girl sat with arms crossed, and food untouched.

“I forgot what she looked like,” Elle whispered, not to Peter directly.

“All I remember is my mom saying I had her eyes,” a half-smile crept on her lips,” but now that I see them, hers are so much more beautiful.”

The grandma’s lips then started moving, and Elle vaguely remembered what had been occurring that night.

“Is there any way we can go inside?” she turned to Peter. He paused, but still conceded.

He took her hand, and he transpired them through the wall.‘You can’t let go of me. If you do, you’ll be visible.'

She nodded, and held a tight grip on his hand as they traveled to the kitchen. At first, they stood at the entrance of the kitchen, Elle peering at her 6 year old-self, gulping hard at the girl she used to be. She had always been a little bratty, what with being an only child and all, and she remembered her mom always complaining about this. But her dear old daddy would just shrug her mom off, saying it was just a phase. Matter of fact, the only times Elle would ever behave would be when her mom gave her a little pleading look.

Now, her kid self sat refusing to eat, and her grandma kept trying to get her to touch her food. But little Elle sat with a pout, refusing to open her mouth for anything.

Elle started moving to her grandma, until she stood right beside her. She pulled Peter, and made him crouch a little so she could kneel beside her grandma.

Her grandma had long, glorious gray hair, pulled back into a long braid. Her skin was frail, full of wrinkles and freckles, her skin the color of a dulled bulb. But her eyes, they weren’t dull. They were luminous, bright, tender, soft, loving and a glorious blue. She was beautiful. Elle’s free hand hovered over her grandma’s hand, the one that rested on her thigh as she spoke to little Elle. But then she paused, and her head swiveled to the side.

Elle suppressed a gasp, and her hand froze. Her grandma sat silent, her eyes glancing around the room, a look of confusion on her face, as though she could sense another’s presence.

“Grandma!” little Elle screamed.

Elle dropped her hand, and turned to her former self.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I don’t want to eat this! I want candy!” the girl threw her hands on the table.

“Elle, if you just eat your food, then maybe--” her grandma reached out to touch her hand.

“NO!!!” came her high-pitched scream. And it came back to Elle, why this scene was so familiar. This was the night. That night sparks flew from her frail little body, igniting a fire that would put her grandma in critical condition. The night she walked away, with a couple first degree burns, because her grandma saved her first, and put herself second. The night that would put her grandma in a two-day coma, until her daddy convinced her mommy to pull the cord.

And Peter didn’t have to read Elle’s mind to know this, because he had been looking intently at little Elle, wanting to know Elle as a whole. He didn’t have to read her mind, because after little Elle began whining and screaming, blue sparks began appearing from her tiny fingers.

The grandma didn’t notice at first, until she attempted touching her granddaughter’s hand again, only to be shocked. Surprised, she had looked down at the shocking hand and seen the coming sparks. The grandma jumped up and stared in horror as electrical currents enveloped the little, oblivious girl.

“Elle! Elle, stop! Look what you’re doing!”

“Don’t tell me to stop!” but little Elle pried her eyes open, and when she glanced down at herself, and saw all the blue enveloping her.

Peter looked at Elle, who had suddenly clutched him. ‘Oh my God,’ kept running through her mind.

Their eyes snapped to the grandma, who kept screaming "Stop what you’re doing, Elle!"

They stared back at little Elle, who instead of whining, starting crying. “I can’t, I can’t!” Elle cried. That’s when the sparks stopped enveloping her, and started shooting out. Her grandma ducked, and the sparks shot at the walls, at the utensils, and everything else, and then, it hit a cereal box. The first fire.

‘We have to do something,’ Elle looked to Peter.

‘We can’t Elle.'

‘Yes, yes we can. We can stop Elle, and put out the small fire.'

‘We need to go.’

‘But, she’s going to die because of this.’

‘Elle, we can’t change what’s done. Let’s go.’

Elle stopped pulling, and turned to look at Peter. He was right, changing the past was far too dangerous. She nodded, she pulled herself into his chest. She bit her lip, and clutched his shirt, waiting to be taken out of there as she could begin feeling the rising heat of the flames, and she tuned out the anguish screams, until it all disappeared.

~*~

(Rollercoasters)

“It’s okay, Elle, you can look now,” he kissed the top of her head. She pulled away reluctantly, making sure they were gone from the scene. She dabbed at her eyes and exhaled in relief in being away from that thing.

“I’m sorry,” he raked his hand through her hair. “I just thought of a time when you and your grandma were together, and that’s where it took me,” he caught her gaze.

“It’s not your fault, Peter. It did suck, but…I got to see her again,” she shrugged, down casting her eyes. When her eyes saw the dirt-covered floor, she realized they weren’t back home.

“Where are we?”

He grinned and tilted her head to look around.

“Knott’s Berry Farm.”

“What?!” she laughed.

“I thought it was best to start you off in the middle. If I took you to Disneyland for your first roller coaster ride, you’d be offended and disappointed. And Six Flags would be too much, but Knott’s is…”

“Just right,” she finished his thought. Looking around, she spotted a big, pink roller coaster. “Okay. Let’s go on that one,” she pointed to the roller coaster.

“Uh, that’s the accelerator, maybe we should try the Ghost Rider first.”

“Why?”

“It’s…the Accelerator is 62 seconds long Elle, but it feels like 30 seconds for a reason.”

“So, it’s really fast, it can’t be that bad,” but he still squinted his eyes, unsure whether to take her on that one.

“Please?” she brought her hands to her chin, pouted, and opened her eyes wide to give him a cute puppy dog face.

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. At least she hadn’t spotted the Silver Bullet, right?

“That was amazing! It was so fast, but so short, but my stomach got all these flops--it was amazing!” Elle squealed when they got off the ride.

“I mean, it would have been better if we didn’t have to stand in that frickin’ line,” she complained to Peter.

“I told you, we couldn’t just cut.” The two walked side by side, towards the exit of the theme park.

“Well, you’re supposed to be romantic. Standing in line for an hour and a half is not romantic,” she linked her arm through his

“You act like you weren’t having your fun in that line,” he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, rubbing her chilled skin.

“It was just so fun watching all those people freak out about all the shocks they kept getting!”

“Fortunately, they just thought there was a lot of static in the air,” Peter muttered.

“Oh, silly people. Don’t they know there’s only a lot of static when Elle’s around?”

He smiled at her, because sometimes she really did think the world should revolve around her eccentricities.

“So, you’re sure you don’t wanna try another one?” Peter asked.

“Uh, not for tonight. This dress isn’t exactly theme park material, if you know what I mean,” she laughed.

“Yeah, but I know a place that doesn’t require any sort of attire, formal or casual.” he whispered into her ear when they reached the exit.

“What are you suggesting, Peter, because contrary to popular belief, I am a good girl.”

Yeah, try saying that about Elle in a straight face.

“Come on,” Peter rolled his eyes and drew them to a corner, where he transported them to another location.

~*~

(Swimming)

It was cold, windy, and really dark. All of which Elle pointed out, and all of which Peter dismissed.

“I am not going in there,” Elle rubbed her bare arms, speaking through gritted teeth.

“You’re going to have to if you want to learn how to swim,” Peter cupped her face and gave her those sad eyes of his.

“No. I’ll just electrocute myself.”

“You have control over your powers, Elle, nothing will happen,” he helped her in rubbing her cold arms.

“Yeah, but what I don’t have control over is the whole freaking out thing.”

“Elle, look at me. The water isn’t that bad. Except that it’s freezing--at first, but your body will get used to it, and you won’t feel cold.”

“No,” she seemed adamant in her decision.

“Please?” he nudged her nose and pressed his lips to hers.

“Uh uh,” she nodded her head in a no.

“Uh huh,” he smiled, lingering on her lips.

“Fine,” she sighed.

He grinned, and kissed her before pulling away to take off his less than appropriate for swimming, clothes.

She, however, did not move, but rather stared at him amusedly. Peter sure did look like the most scrumptious teddy bear she’d ever encountered, and she felt a tad disappointed when he kept his boxers on.

“You might want to take off that dress, Elle,” Peter said after taking off his clothes.

She turned around, and pulled her hair back. “Zipper,” she said over her shoulder.

He obliged, pulling down the zipper slowly, trailing a finger down her exposed skin. Her breath hitched, and her knees buckled a bit when he kissed the nape of her neck.

She released her hair, and pulled down the dress, leaving her in her strapless bra and panties.

Peter was left mesmerized by the sight of her, and his heart seemed to be beating too quickly, and his beating too irregular. She turned around, and he could see the blush that had come over her features. His eyes turned to take in the frontal view of her, and he wasn’t sure he could control himself with her being half-naked.

“So what, are you going to give me some lessons, coach?” she cocked an eyebrow, hoping she’d get his attention back to her face.

“What? Oh yeah, let’s go,” he grabbed her hand and dragged her to the shoreline.

It took a lot of coaxing and time before she went past the tide. Thereafter, she wouldn’t let go of him. He told her how to extend her arms, how to move her legs, and even held her by the waist so she could practice. But she couldn’t get the hang of it, so after a while Peter figured it was best to leave the lessons for another time, and instead they splashed around in the shallow end of the ocean.

“God, I think I drank some of that awful water,” Elle waded to Peter.

“At least you’re not freezing anymore, right?” he helped her inch closer by holding her hand.

“Hmm, for the most part,” she shrugged nonchalantly, eliciting a laugh from him.

“Come here,” he grabbed her waist and pulled her roughly so she wouldn’t be more than an inch from him.

She giggled, feeling all those stomach flops times ten.

“Thanks for all of this, Peter. It’s been the best birthday ever,” he had never seen such a beautiful smile from her, the widespread happiness lighting up her blue orbs.

“No problem,” he caught her lips, kissing her passionately, with a necessity he had never felt.

Her hands held the back of his head tightly, then her soft, frail fingers traced the muscles of his arms, gripping his forearms.

His tongue ran over the roof of her mouth, massaging her gums, as he held onto her waist tightly, pulling him hard against her. He proceeded to lift her, pulling one of her legs around his waist, and automatically her other leg wound around him. Elle’s arms returned around his neck, and her tongue had begun fighting his, all the heat almost making them forget the fact that they were standing in an ocean.

“Elle…” her name moved with their mouths.

“What?” her little whisper.

“We should go…” he couldn’t stop kissing her.

“The dress…” she murmured after several moments.

He laughed at her preoccupation and stopped their kissing.

She looked at him like a kid whose toy got torn away at the worst possible moment.

“Is the dress really what you want Elle?”

Laughing she nodded ‘no’ and delved back into his kiss. Her head tilted as Peter nipped at her neck, she declared, “Let’s get outta here.”

And Peter Petrelli more than obliged.

~*~

(Contours)

His eyes draped over her body, drinking in her pale, clear flesh that clasped her soul. He swept a hand over a breast, eliciting a soft ‘oh’ from her, and he moved his hands down over her firm stomach, thumbing her belly button. He bit his lip as his memory etched her curves into his brain, and a million ways to touch her, kiss her, love her riddled his mind.

He saw her chest rising ever so slightly, and his eyes clawed their way to her eyes. She crashed her lips onto his, pulling him down, gripping his hair, and all thought made itself elusive, with instinct taking over. Never could he have imagined the ease with which his body could melt with another’s, and never had another fever have had such accuracy.

“Peter,” she whispered fiercely in his ear, the pleading making him sink deeper into his affection for her. Her hands traveled down his torso, gripping him from behind, and he couldn’t help but thrust into her without so much as a warning.

She groaned into his ear at the intrusion, and he could even hear her biting her lip from the agony. And that groan alone was already driving him over the edge.

Her breath was uncontrolled, uneasy, surprised, and was trying to adjust. He nudged her to look at her face, and all the clouds of lust swirling in her bright blues pulled him into another dizzying kiss, and when he looked back at her she confirmed the struggle she’d been having to be fading. Her eyes had been closed, brows furrowed, lip bitten in that moment he had thrust, but that had almost left her now.

This had been undoubtedly her first time, and it was his alpha-male tendency, and the machismo that made him fall for her more--just knowing he was the first to have her like this, in his bed, to make the first proclamation on the loveliest of lands.

She nodded, and he dug deeper into her, and he kissed her crown sending reassuring touches, waiting for her, until she kissed his lip tentatively to indicate her readiness.

His thrusts made her moan, whisper his name in such tones that made him harder, and all his senses went into overdrive. The screams, the scratches, the scent, the taste of her ever-fresh skin, only tainted by the likes of him. No sensation had ever made him feel so alive, insane, and good simultaneously.

Her hair clung to her forehead, the nape of her neck and shoulders. Time was lost, but their actions were the very essence of their settings. Sighs, touches, moans stayed afloat, amidst their fever-laden room.

He collapsed on top of her, hands caressing his head and back, so tenderly and reflexively.

He moved beside her, left sloppy kisses by her lips, on her neck and shoulder, until he rested in the nook of her neck.

She inched down, to meet his eyes, eyes that if she thought were adorable once, were absolutely beautiful now. He could say the very same of her eyes.

“Hey,” she grinned to him.

“Hey,” he grinned back sloppily.

She brought a finger up to his nose, grazing it softly before emitting a little spark. His brow furrowed, but a smirk still crept onto his lips. A giggle escaped her, and she pressed her lips to his. He chuckled as well, and pulled her into his chest, needing her to be close. He watched her fall asleep, combed her hair, laid their with his eyes trained on her soothing features. He too was lulled to sleep eventually, all the while keeping her to his chest, holding her to his heart.

~*~

</div>

Once a Good Girl

falsemurmur — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 23:03:53 GMT

Title: Once a Good Girl
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 496
Genre: Angst
Character(s): Elle
Warnings: minor Spoilers for 4x09, Cautionary Tales
Summary: Because once a good girl's gone bad, she might as well be gone forever, a rule [probably] even Elle Bishop is no exception to.
Notes: Written for 'return' prompt over at heroes_contest. ETA: My first contest entry ever & won second place!

She pulls herself out of the picture, blurs the scene, and takes a deep breath.

And then she opens her eyes again, but the sting is the same. It’s the leverage they have. Well, not they [the company]. Just him [her father].

She cannot recall or pinpoint this feeling, or why she is feeling it. Actually, she has a pretty good idea [resentment].

She looks out of the corner of her eye, glancing at her distant little daddy. She was tortured, somewhat. She was shot, garnering a broken limb.

She was so happy when her little daddy [seemingly] came to the rescue, agreeing to exchange that pom-pom for his daughter Elle. But after hearing his disappointment and anger in her from him, she’s able to accept a bit of what pom-pom’s dad told her.

The company torturing her, extracting that electricity, was not a far stretch. But her daddy?

Oh, Elle, you’re such an idiot. What makes you think you’re so special. You’re just a pawn, just a tool in this whole game. And you’re daddy? Yeah, he’s helping them use you, because The Company’s objectives are, have always been, and will always be, a trillion times more important than you.

She blinks back her tears, drinks the tears that have fallen for water, and bites her tongue. It hurts to hold back--she gives so much to the company and her daddy, over-extends her abilities, throws everything but her fears and hurts out there into that ‘small world after all‘, because it’s what’s expected of her. It’s the only expectation she knows of, because she’s never learned to have an expectation of herself [self-esteem].

She won’t look at her daddy now, because she’s having a silent tantrum.

Zipped lips, pout in place, tears at a stance, fist clenched, foot tapping, and mind shaking with violent words.

She’s seven years old [emotionally].

Elle Bishop likes being a big girl, but she’s just a girl. She’s killed before she’s reached puberty, she’s crushed on guys right into her twenties, but she’s never quite known like, much less love.

Elle Bishop has tanned on beaches and poolside’s, but she dares not even wade in any body of water, because she’s never had a parent or guardian tell her it was okay or safe. She’s never gotten a thumb’s up, never been trusted to go solo, never been trusted period.

Elle Bishop thinks she’s okay, because she’s 24 going on 6, because she thinks daddy knows best. Because aside from her daddy, she can and will get anything she wants.

Elle Bishop thinks she’ll be okay because she doesn’t realize she’ll never resume being that adorable, comprehensive five year old that teachers loved before the transition [into ignorance]. Because once a good girl's gone bad, she might as well be gone forever, a rule [probably] even Elle Bishop is no exception to.

Because Elle Bishop doesn't have an expectation of returning to believing in herself, rather than in her daddy.

</div>

Snapshot 3.1: Celebration

falsemurmur — Fri, 11 Jan 2008 00:14:32 GMT

TITLE: Snapshots (3/8)
RATING: PG13
SUMMARY: For Peter Petrelli, those 63 years of his life were the most significant, and they will be eternally, because she became the gift he held in turn for being immortal
PAIRING: Peter/Elle
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
NOTES: Snapshot--a record or view of a particular point in a sequence of events or a continuing process. Part one of snapshot 3. I got tired of holding off on you guys, so here it is =) Hopefully, the ch. will make up for the wait. Lemme know what you think.
PART(S): 1 l 2 l 3 l 4 l 5 l 6 l 7 l 8 l or HERE

He remembered meeting the guy, the guy that gave him a bad vibe. And now he was here. Had she invited him? Why would she invite him, when there was something obviously off about him?

“Hey, Elle, you forgot your nametag!”
She swirled around at the call, and she laughed at her forgetfulness.
“Thanks…” she bit her lip, her hand in mid-air as she reached for her employee nametag.
“Dylan,” he reminded.
“Dylan!” she giggled.
She had been working at the Gap for six weeks now, and she had even flirted with this guy several times (with the dark blond hair, light brown eyes, and tall, although not muscular build, he was pretty cute) but even with that Elle couldn’t quite remember his name. Her shift had ended 20 minutes ago, but an indecisive customer had kept her longer. She had just stepped out of work only five minutes ago, and in a hurry to not make Peter wait any longer for her, she had forgotten her nametag.
“Thanks,” she tucked the tag into her bag.
“You’re welcome,” he smiled at her, and kept smiling at her for a period of time she did not deem normal.
“Okaaay,” she chuckled, rubbing her hands together, the chilly air making her tremble a bit.
“Do you have a ride?” he asked her abruptly.
“Me? Yup,” she nodded, looking over the cars lined up outside all the department stores. Peter wasn’t usually late…what could be taking him so long?
“Should be here soon,” she murmured more to herself.
“Oh, well, do you need to call someone…” he offered.
She gave him a smile. “I don’t need a phone, but you’re so sweet,” she almost pinched his cheek when she remembered what Peter had said about personal boundaries. Dammit, it seemed as though she was growing a conscious.
The guy laughed, and it was pretty clear to Elle that he wasn’t being uber-nice to her for no reason.
“How long have you been working here?” she thought striking up an actual conversation would make time pass. Then again, conversations were usually more boring than anything else in the world.
“Eight months, but the boss has promised to promote me to assistant manager real soon,” his chest rose proudly.
“Does that pay more money?” the thought of a promotion struck her curiosity.
“Yeah, you get a raise and a year-end bonus,” he crossed his arms over his chest, boasting.
“Uh huh…” Elle wondered how much it would take to beat this guy to this ‘promotion.’
“Hey Elle, sorry I’m late,” Peter interrupted her scheming.
“Peter, you’re here!” she clapped.
“Peter, this is one of my co-workers--Dylan,” she had seen the two eyeing each other. “Dylan, this is my friend, Peter.”
They nodded in acknowledgment.
“Alright, so I’ll get going then,” Dylan said. “Nice talking to you, Elle,” and he left.
“He’s cute, right?” she asked Peter as soon as he left.
He rolled his eyes. “There’s something off about him,” he said as they walked over to his car.
“No there isn’t--he looks dateable. He likes me, so…” she opened her side of the car.
“Elle, just cuz a guy likes a girl doesn’t make him dateable. And believe me, there’s something wrong with that one.”
“Oh, you’re just being paranoid,” she slammed her door.
Peter turned on the ignition and the two sat in silence for a moment, and then Peter pulled some papers out of the compartment.
“What is that?”
He handed her the papers, and her eyes opened wide in delight.
“We--”
“Yeah, we got the studio apartment,” he grinned.
She threw her arms around his shoulder, and held him tightly, ”Yes!” she screamed.
His grin turned into a smile, and he returned her hug, no longer so hell-bent on keeping those personal boundaries he had imposed when she moved in.
She came out of his embrace and looked over the papers again.
“It says it’s paid in full,” she said questioningly.
“I decided to pay the whole things with some of the money Nathan left me.”
“But I thought you were only going to use it for the down payment, and then we’d pay our fair share in rent,” she turned around to him.
“Then we’d only end up paying more,” he shrugged.
“Peter, you’ve already done so much for me--”
“Don’t Elle. It’s just money, you’ll pay me back in your own way when you can, okay?” He pressed her hand, reassuring her that it was no big deal for him.
“Thank you,” she smiled, her eyes shining with honest-to-goodness gratitude.
“No problem,” he smiled that lop-sided smile of his, and her heart warmed. They turned away from each other, and made their way out of the over-crowded parking lot.

“This was supposed to be a small gathering,” he muttered, leaning over the counter.

“It’s Elle, what did you expect?” Claire scoffed.

“You know, if you actually got to know her…” Peter began with the subject again.

“She’s touchy, she doesn’t know when to shut up, and she electrocutes everything in sight. That’s about all I need to know about her, Peter.”

“Claire, she’s not like that anymore.”

She scoffed again.

“Okay, not like that completely. She doesn’t electrocute as much anymore, and she’s learning to keep her distance physically.”

“Oh, and I bet that is the one thing that is driving you crazy now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Peter, you’re always defending her. You don’t pull away when she jumps into your arms, and you let her move into this new apartment for free. And you threw her this huge birthday party,” Claire waved her arm to the whole apartment, to make a point.

There were streamers, balloons, food, loud music, and too many people to count. All spread throughout the room, some dancing, some talking and flirting, but Claire and Peter were off in the corner, leaning against the wall, avoiding everyone else.

“I threw a small gathering of friends and companions. The decorations and people are courtesy of Elle, not me,” he tried defending himself.

“But you’re okay with it!” Claire kept trying to prove that she was right.

“It’s her birthday, and her first actual birthday celebration since she was a little kid. She deserves this.”

“God, you’re so blind, you can’t even see what’s right in front of you.”

“She’s just a friend,” Peter blurt out after some moments of silence.

“Then why haven‘t you kept your eye off her all night?” Claire smirked, and Peter cursed for having been caught.

He had been watching her, ever since she left his side when Maya had arrived and the two began going around talking to every guy in their age-range. Thankfully--thankfully?--anyway, Elle and Maya moved on every two minutes, never staying with any particular guy. Though he noted that for the past five minutes, Maya had been talking it up with a guy they had made a stop at. The guy’s friend had kept trying to ‘talk it up’ with Elle, but she only rolled her eyes and moved farther and farther away.

“I haven’t been watching her,” he tore his eyes off Elle and glanced at Claire.

“Right. Well she’s headed over here now, so I’m leaving…” Claire muttered. The girls gave each other a fake smile when they passed before Elle reached Peter.

“So, I haven’t seen you all night,” she stroked his upper arm.

He felt his hair rising on end, and he had to suppress the shudder her touch evoked.

“Elle--” he said in a husky whisper.

“I know--space. But it’s my birthday, I’m allowed my fun, right,” she gave him a playful grin, and he returned it.

“Yeah, I guess you are.”

“Cool!” she threw her arms around his neck, and she stood cheek to cheek with him.‘I know it wasn’t supposed to get this big, Peter, but I never had a huge party…’

‘It’s fine Elle--but you’re cleaning up the mess.’

‘Peter…’

‘Birthdays last one day, so tomorrow…'

‘Fine, tomorrow,’ she complied.

“You don’t look like you’re having much fun,” she frowned.

“I don’t do big parties,” he admitted.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” she smirked.

“Next time?” he raised an eyebrow.

She giggled, and neither made a move to stray from the other’s hold.

“You look beautiful, Elle,” he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

She pulled her head back and laughed, “I know, isn’t this dress gorgeous!” her hands left his shoulders so she could twirl. She wore a halter dress, reaching just below her knees, shining in all it’s satin glory, a shimmering lavender that contemplated her figure. Her hair was loose in soft waves, and a large necklace was wounded around her neck.

Peter stuck his hands in his pockets, vainly trying not too stare too much at her. “Yeah, it is,” he whispered.

She looked up to face him, the hint of a blush creeping up at his compliment, when the door rang.

“Ooh, more gifts! I mean, more guests,” she ran off to the door, Peter still looking after her.

“You made it!” Elle squealed upon seeing the latest arrival, Dylan.

“I wouldn’t miss a co-worker’s birthday!” he leaned into her. “At least not such a pretty one's.”

She giggled and grabbed his hand, dragging him to center of the room to dance.

“What is he doing here?” Peter grumbled under his breath, eyes ablaze at watching Elle dancing with that guy.

“Jealous much?” Claire nudged him.

“I’m not--”

“Yeah, whatever. The more you pretend that you don’t like her, the better for me.”

“Claire, just drop it,” he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Alright, alright. I’ll keep up this charade,” Claire eyed him when she saw his eyes practically bugging out.

“What?” and she turned to see what he was looking at, to see Elle and that guy stalking off to the terrace in the back of the apartment. Before she knew it, Peter was trailing them, and the cry Claire sent him was useless in stopping him.

“You enjoying your party so far?” Dylan asked when they reached the balcony.

“So far? Yes,” she walked to the end to peer over at the looming city.

“So who threw you this extravagant shindig?”

Elle laughed at the expression he used, but answered nonetheless. “Peter,” she paused to look at the guy,” well he threw this little dinner party, but thanks to me, it became this extravagant shindig.”

“I’da done the same. You’re supposed to go all out for parties,” he inched closer to her.

“Uh, yeah, that’s what I’ve heard,” she smiled nervously as he drew closer to her.

“So what do you say we top off the night by making your birthday perfect?” his eyes spoke volumes of his lust, and it made her a little uneasy, but she did not move.

“Umm…”

“Elle,” a stern voice came from the door, and they turned abruptly.

“Peter? What?” she looked confused at his interruption.

“I need to talk to you,” he told Elle, giving Dylan a menacing eye.

“Can’t you talk later,” he asked.

“No,” Peter made his way to stand between them.

“Peter, what are you doing?” she hissed.

“Leave us alone,” Peter told him.

He looked between Peter and Elle, before sighing, turning, and leaving.

“What was that about?!” she whined.

“The guy’s a creep, Elle!” he turned around to her.

“You don’t know that !”

“Elle, he’s not a good guy!”

“Well, that’s for me to learn! He was about to kiss me!”

“You wanted that guy to kiss you!”

“I deserve to have a guy want to kiss me! But you ruined that!” she began walking away from him, but he caught her by the arm and stood her in front of him, his hands holding her wrists firmly.

“Why are you doing this! He could be asking me out right now! I could have been looking forward to my first date!”

“Elle, that guy isn’t looking for any of that! You can’t settle for less!”

“But I can, because that’s what normal girls do! They go on horrible dates with horrible guys who break their little hearts! That’s how normal girls learn not to settle for less!” she struggled in his grip, her cheeks flustered in frustration.

“Wouldn’t you prefer not to go through that!” his eyes were dark, and almost sad for her.

“No! Yes! I don’t know! I just don’t want you to control me--why don’t you just let me learn!” her eyes shut, and sparks involuntary left her system, but her electricity didn’t make him wince. Her frustration and anger at him for what she misconstrued to be his need to control, stead of the protection he wanted to keep her under, was what hurt him.

“I just want you to be happy!”

“But you don’t know what’s best--let me go, let me go! I can take care of my--”

Whatever she was going to say, was zapped when he crashed his lips on hers. For a few seconds, she was only shocked. One moment, she had been screaming at him with eyes screwed shut, and the next his lips were moving on top of hers. But all the anger was not drained. He had freed her hands, and now they pounded against his chest, trying to resist another kiss of his, but when she stopped pounding at him, it was not because she tired. But because she yielded.

One hand had made its way to the back of her neck, pulling her up and pushing her closer to him, as his mouth parted ever so slightly so he could pry her mouth open with his tongue. It pushed her lips open, raking over teeth, delving into her once oh-so-lonely mouth, absorbing to fuse their heat.

His other hand rocked to her hip, his fingers pushing into her ribs, and when their tongues entwined to fight, a soft moan escaped her. She gripped the collar of his dress shirt, pulling him closer to her, proximity making itself too elusive at this point.

They had to pull apart then, resting on each other’s forehead while they tried to catch their breaths.

Peter nipped at her nose, and her eyes fluttered open, gazing as Peter drew his hand in a lazy fist, his knuckles tracing over her neck, over her chest, pausing before reaching her breasts, his hand in mid-air before settling back over her stomach. His eyes perused her body, before meeting her clouded ones. He bent down to pluck a soft kiss over her lips, then on her cheek, and he traced these soft kisses down her jaw line, her eyes fighting to remain open now, until he landed on her neck.

He sucked on her skin, and her hands gripped his forearms, her eyes snapping shut, and another moan escaped her.

“Peter…” his name played on her lips.

He pulled his lips off her neck, inhaling her scent before answering her.

“Yeah…”

A smile spread through her, his face eliciting fluttery things that made her feel all tingly.

She tiptoed and tilted her head, going in for another of his kisses. Shorter, and not unlike their first kiss all those months ago, when she pulled away a spark crept from her lips to his.

Peter winced again, but his smile was more unmistakable than ever before.

“Where do you wanna go?” he whispered to her.

“What?”

“Just name a place or a time, and I’ll take you. For your first date. Our first date.”

~*~

</div>

Snapshot Two: Roommates

falsemurmur — Sun, 06 Jan 2008 01:35:05 GMT

TITLE: Snapshots (2/8)
RATING: PG13
DISCLAIMER: I own no part of Heroes.
SUMMARY: For Peter Petrelli, those 63 years of his life were the most significant, and they will be eternally, because she became the gift he held in turn for being immortal.
NOTES: Snapshot--a record or view of a particular point in a sequence of events or a continuing process.
PART(S): 1 l 2 l 3 l 4 l 5 l 6 l 7 l 8 l or HERE

“Hey, Peter, where have you been all day?” Elle yelled from the laundry room when she heard the door open.

When she didn’t hear anything, she called out again. “Peter?” she said walking out of the room, ready to attack if necessary (although she didn’t spark up some electricity yet).

She jumped back a bit when she saw that although Peter had arrived, he brought someone with him. “Peter?” she kept her eyes on the strange girl with whom he was holding hands.

“Hey, Elle,” he smiled nervously. “Um, this is Caitlin, my girlfriend. And this is Elle, my roommate.”

Peter introduced the girls.

“Hello there,” Caitlin greeted her politely, an Irish accent evident in her voice.

“So you’re the infamous Caitlin?” Elle grinned, winking at Caitlin. Peter was obviously nervous. The last thing he wanted was for Caitlin and Elle to come over blows over Ricky’s death/murder. It had taken him some meditating for him to forgive Elle for this man he hardly knew, so he could only imagine Caitlin’s wrath. Of course any wrath of any sorts could be averted if Elle didn’t make it known that she had been the one who fried Ricky.

“Infamous? Never knew Peter was much of a talker,” she laughed.

Elle cocked an eyebrow at Peter.‘You didn’t tell her,’ she thought, her tone in disbelief.‘No, but in time, I will,’ he thought to her.

She didn’t answer back, instead she grabbed Caitlin’s hand and dragged her to her room, Peter protesting behind them.

--

“So,” Elle smiled at her, as she and Caitlin took a seat on the bed in Elle's bedroom.

“How’d you get here? Last I heard you were stuck in the future?” Elle gave her an inquisitive gaze.

“Well, I never thought I’d utter this line, but…Hiro, a time-traveler apparently, helped Peter travel to the future where I was trapped. They made it so I was there for a month, a long time. Anyway, when they found me, Hiro squeezed his eyes as we all held onto each other, and we landed in this apartment on the other side of New York. From there on, Peter managed to…teleport us to his apartment.”

“Oh, that was anti-climactic. I was hoping for the prince saves the damsel of distress in this big battle…” she murmured.

“Nope,” Caitlin smiled,” an old lady had taken me in, and I simply bid her farewell, and we were on our way.”

“How you girls doing?” Peter peered his head in.

Elle rose from the bed and pushed him out.

“We’re fine! I’ll give you your girlfriend later,” she waved him off,” geez, be patient.”

She slammed the door shut and sat back down.

“So how long you and Pete been living together?” Caitlin asked.

“Oh, just a week, although I haven’t seen much of him at all. He was closed off for a few days, but they held the funeral for his brother two days ago, and I didn‘t see him all day yesterday…”

“His brother’s dead?” the brunette gasped, interrupting Elle.

Elle giggled nervously, realizing she had not been told. She nodded with a tight smile.

“He hadn’t mentioned that, oh he’s so stubborn, acting strong and going off to save me. It’s terrible to lose a brother, I only recently lost mine, ya know?”

“No? Really?” Elle did her best to act surprised.

Caitlin nodded grimly, before smiling again. “But let’s not talk of grim things--how did you and Peter come to live together. He only mentioned you briefly, something about owing you a favor for saving his friend.”

Her brows furrowed, not quite sure what she was referring to.

“Mohinder, I think he mentioned.”

“Oh, yes. Mohinder!” Elle giggled. “Yeah, I totally saved his life.”

“So you have a power then?”

Elle clapped lightly then, with a wide smile. “Yeah, I have a power! It’s so awesome, wanna see?”

Caitlin looked at her wearily, but still she nodded.

Elle giggled again, anxious to show off her power.

Right then, Peter burst in, before Caitlin could witness her power.

“Okay, that’s enough time!” he whisked Caitlin up before any damage was caused.

“But I was just going to show her my power!” Elle whined.

He stopped, mouth agape, when he spit out. “She squirts water! And you know, we don’t need to flood the place again, Elle,” he smiled nervously. “Took a lot of my powers to clean up that mess,” he whispered to Caitlin.

Elle opened her mouth to protest, when Peter drove into her mind. ‘She can’t know your power. She’ll put two and two together.’Her door swung shut, and she fell down onto her bed, with a large pout, crossed arms, and angry expression. Oh no, this did not bode well for Elle.

---

But Elle kept her powers, and her opinions to herself for an entire three weeks. Peter had given her a home, and that kept her from doing anything that might hurt him. When Caitlin was around, she didn’t get to jolt Peter, and worse of all, she couldn’t flirt with him. Okay, so she slipped once in a while, and the two would throw flirtatious barbs at one another, but Caitlin mostly ignored this. Except for when Elle had jumped into Peter’s arms, and had kept the embrace for a little too long. So Elle made the mental note that although flirting was not exactly harmful, any touching did invoke quite a bit of jealousy.

Elle let out her frustrations of not using her powers in the apartment by going out more, now. She hadn’t gone out a lot in the week before Caitlin arrived, because they figured it best to keep low for a while so Bob wouldn‘t come after her. Also, she felt so lonely in the streets of New York while everyone else was snuggling up to a boyfriend/girlfriend, or just a family member or friend. Even though Peter had introduced her to some of his friends, they were all mostly boys, and none of them in particular was cute, or even funny enough to spend some time with. Of course he had tried getting her to be friends with Claire, but the cheerleader had made no incentive to be friends with her yet. That and Elle could barely stand Miss Perky and Optimistic.

But now, with no choice of using her powers indoors, she took to empty parking lots, abandoned buildings, and once or twice she even stopped some muggers. Muggers that certainly would never mug anyone again. Hey, at least she didn’t kill them, right?

However, this particular afternoon, Elle was too frustrated to control herself. Caitlin and Peter had been having small arguments here and there the last few weeks. Peter seemed to be getting annoyed by the brunette, and Caitlin couldn’t understand what was going on with Peter half of the time.

Elle had expected this--the pair had been together for less than four months. More over, they had gotten together when one half of the couple had no memories of his past, and therefore had no identity. Now he had 26 years of baggage, 26 years of disappointments and fulfillments, 26 years worth of difference from that of a man with four months of experience. Simply put, Peter with memories was not Peter without memories.

Unfortunately, the newly reunited couple had been tiptoeing around this issue the entire time. It began the day after she arrived. Peter had been cooking, Caitlin had been looking over his shoulder, and then he was moving away, looking for absolutely nothing, and then she started posing some questions, and then they started clenching their teeth. Their voices didn’t rise, so there was no yelling involved, and their weren’t even that many words. But there were many deep breaths, controlled breathing, but ultimately the two just smiled sweetly, apologized, and hugged.

Slowly the fights had escalated, getting more and more tedious, and by the end of the week, instead of hugging and there being sorries, they just walked away in opposite directions.

Today there was something in the air, though. The entire day had been peaceful, which meant talk was limited, silence was abound, and Caitlin and Peter hardly looked at one another.

The three sat at Peter’s table, eating dinner, in an uncomfortable silence. A dinner the two had insisted Elle come to, supposedly because neither wanted Elle to be alone that night. Right…it had nothing to do with the tension, or the unresolved issues, or the not wanting be alone with each other. But Elle gleefully obliged.

Hey, Peter was cooking, and tension was always fun to be witness to.

Then Caitlin mentioned something about the chicken being too dry, and Peter muttered something about Caitlin breaking the timer, and then some other things were said, blah, blah, blah…Elle had almost tuned out, because unlike the couple, she was trying to eat. But then she got tired of them not yelling!

“Oh my God, just yell!” she screamed. “Stop frickin’ tiptoeing around each other and talk!” she slammed down her fork and knife and looked pointedly between the two.

They looked at her with shock before turning to each other.

“You changed!” Caitlin looked relieved when she burst out that statement.

Peter scoffed. “Well, you don’t listen when I try to talk to you about my past!”

“Your past?! How about the now?!”

“Huh, when I talk to you about now, all you wanna do is cuddle, and kiss, and…”

“That’s all we did in Ireland! You paid attention to me, and you kept your focus on the lives of the people around you. Not on complete strangers!”

“You should know that I can’t just care about my family and friends! I have these great gifts, and I need to use them to save all sorts of people!”

“So what, your family and friends never come first!”

“That is not what I said! Of course they come first, but when lives are at stake, I can’t just sit back and have a picnic!”

“The man I fell in love with would never say that?!”

“The man you fell in love with had no recollection of his purpose in life, but I do!”

“So what, you’re going to go off on missions, saving people, and then come home, expecting your girl to wait on you hand and foot?!”

“No, that’s not--”

“What then, you want me to fight by your side! Wait, I can’t do that, because like a normal person, I don’t have powers!”

“Normal! You’re saying I’m not normal?!”

“STOP!!!” Elle’s voice thundered, her chair falling over as she rose from the seat. She slammed her hands on the table, and electricity ran over the wooden surface, breaking the plates and glasses, fizzling after silence took over.

Caitlin stared in shock, blinking to make sure she had seen properly. All the glass was broken, and Caitlin knew that there had in fact been electric sparks.

“You said her power had to do with water, Peter,” she said softly, directing the statement to Peter.

“Caitlin...” he reached out for her hand, but she flicked it away.

“That--that’s the same power you used back in Ireland, the sparks,” then her eyes raised to meet Elle’s guilty-ridden ones.

“And when they found Ricky, they--they said it looked as though he had been electrocuted. Fried,” a bitter tone took over her. Tears sprung from her, and she spewed,” You…you did it. You bitch!”

She began running towards Elle, when Peter’s arms enveloped her. “Caitlin! Caitlin! Look at me!” he turned her towards him. “It’s in the past! She’s changing, she’s sorry for what she did!”

“I am, I really am,” Elle squeaked out. Caitlin tried kicking, tried turning around to look at her, but she couldn’t escape Peter.

“You lied to me!” she cried. “You knew it was her, but you kept her in your house! We talked, and were becoming companions! How could you?!”

“Caitlin, I meant to tell you, but it’s not her fault. The person she is now--she wouldn’t do that again, and if she could take it back, she would!”

“She’s changed?! Peter, you’ve known her for a bit over a month--how do you know she’s changed! Why the hell are you defending her?! And if she could take it back, then take it back! You have the power!”

“Caitlin, it doesn’t work like that!”

She finally stopped squirming, and tears ceased from streaming.

“Of course they don’t. When I saw what you could do Peter, I thought they were gifts. Gifts God gave you to be the good in mankind. But five months later, look what it’s done. That woman killed my brother with her so-called gifts, you nearly destroyed an entire city with yours, and that Sylar has killed countless of innocents just to have those powers. These aren’t gifts. They are curses, things that God would never approve of.”

Peter dropped her, unable to touch her without resentment anymore. What she had been saying, were things he had thought of before. The old-age debate of curse vs. gift, and apparently the woman he had loved thought it was the former.

“That’s not true, and for you to make Peter doubt that…these powers, they can be dangerous, but what Peter has done more than redeems all the wrongs done,” Elle spoke, and Caitlin and Peter peered at her curiously.

“I’ve done a lot of things that no one should be proud of, but with Peter it's the complete opposite.He's shown me that we can do a lot of good with these powers. He has saved those with powers, and those that you call normal. If there is a God, I have no doubt he chose Peter of all people to be empathetic for a reason, and if you can’t understand that, then you’re no different than the company I--I used to work for.”

Silence enveloped them again, as each properly contemplated the sides this time.

“You’re right. I can’t really understand. I don’t have powers, and that makes me thankful. Peter on the other hand, has extraordinary abilities, and that’s something an ordinary woman like myself cannot comprehend nor grasp. We all deserve someone who can comprehend us as individuals, so Peter, it’s best you take me home, and we each go on our separate paths,” she met his eyes.

His eyes were solemn at the realization of all the things that separated the extraordinary from the ordinary.

“Caitlin, I don’t--”

“Peter, if we had to try this hard to be civil for one week, imagine the difficulty at being civil for an even longer period of time.”

He nodded in acceptance, and teleported her back home.

Elle picked her chair up and took a seat, staring at the mess she made. She stood back up and went for the broom, picking up all the shards, waiting impatiently and nervously for Peter’s return.

“Ten minutes! Since when does--” she stopped when she saw the bags in his hand.

“What is that?”

“Chinese food,” he smirked at her

“Oh, well, why?” she set the broom aside and took the bags from his hand.

“We kinda ruined your dinner, so I figured…”

“Peter, about that, I really didn’t mean to intrude. With my powers, I mean, because I did mean it the first time I intruded,” she gave him a sad pout.

“It’s alright Elle. It’s not your fault--for the most part,” he shrugged.

“But Peter, after everything you’ve done for me, I go off and screw your relationship up after one month-”

“It doesn’t matter if it was a month or a year, Elle. Either way, our issues would have driven us apart. I was lonely, amnesiac, and confused when I fell for her. Not a good foundation for a relationship,” his playful grin was sad, and he couldn’t even meet her eyes.

“Peter, I am sorry you had to go through that,” she touched his hand softly.

“Yeah,” he breathed in,” me too. Now, enjoy the chow mein, I’m heading to bed.” He turned on his heel and headed to his bedroom.

“You’re not going to eat with me?”

“Not hungry,” he simply said.

“Oh,” she whispered to herself. She turned back around, readying to finish cleaning up, and then heading to sleep as well, her appetite having left. But the mess began picking itself up, landing perfectly in the trashcan.‘Thanks,’ came along with a widespread smile.

And he answered her. ‘No problem.’

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Snapshot One: Partners

falsemurmur — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 20:05:07 GMT

Title: Snapshots (1/8)
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I own no part of Heroes.
Summary: For Peter Petrelli, those 63 years of his life were the most significant, and they will be eternally, because she became the gift he held in turn for being immortal.
Notes: Snapshot--a record or view of a particular point in a sequence of events or a continuing process. Hope you Enjoy, and please comment.
PART(S): 1 l 2 l 3 l 4 l 5 l 6 l 7 l 8 l or HERE

Light rain. Clouds. Surrounded by green--except this large mound before him.

A heap of brown dirt, prodded by dirt, covering his world.

He crouches, with one knee on the grass, careful not to step on the mound, not to touch it. But the stone, engraved with so little words, his fingers graze over. His eyes wet, but not from the little droplets from the clouds above.

Everything is going to change. His life, his priorities. Everything is going to revert. His physique, his status.

It was Superman’s curse, and it sounds a bit pompous to compare himself to the man, the myth, the legend, but the fictional caricature is the only thing he can identify himself him with.

It was Superman’s curse, to be forever young in a land where everyone grew old. To live forever, when everyone else perished.

It was Superman’s gift, and by no means does he intend to portray himself as the greatest, but it was Superman’s gift to swoop in and save lives day after day, to mentor others to do the same.

But no gift, no gift that Superman claimed, was as grand as Lois Lane, the one gift that would kick his butt if he called her ‘his.’ And in no way does he dare to compare his grandest gift to Lois Lane, although if the bill fit…

Yes, the last 63 years of his life had been everything and more he could ever dream of, even the nightmares he wouldn’t dispose of. Yes, she had been his grandest gift, the one thing he would give up immortality and vanity up for. However, although Lois Lane had been tough, witty, independent, and spunky, she had been all of that and so much more. She had been all of that, times ten, and a million other things, but above all, she had been the shock wave of his life, the ever-changing bolt from the blue.

That gravestone could not begin to describe what she was in life. Nothing in the world could. She had provided him relief, humor, fun, and love in all the wars they fought. Through his life, forever he would carry her heart. Because she had said he was her heart, and so long as he was alive, she was also. This is what he believes, this is the faith he must carry, or else, he must utilize the fact that a wound through the head is the only way out.

He runs his hand through his gray hair, and then over his deep wrinkles. He pulls his hand out in front of him, eyeing all the lines and wrinkles on his hand.

This is it, now you go back to that day when age became irrelevant, because she swore she’d haunt you if you didn’t heal time’s effects.

She swore a lot of things, he smirks in spite of himself. Oh how he misses her. She’s been gone only three days, but he misses her bright eyes already. If it hurt this much after three days, he can’t imagine what it’ll feel like to go a lifetime without her. He can’t, because her memory still burns through his veins. Her power is as vivid in his eyes as it was those 63 years ago, when she was re-introduced into his life indefinitely.
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63 Years Ago

It was the last place he should have been. Especially after everything that happened, but it was because of everything that had just happened, that he had to be there.

The facility in which he had been held prisoner, not a patient. He walked the halls, past the rooms, all of it looking abandoned. Not a noise in the area, and it all appeared to be deserted. To assure himself that no one was around, he focused in on his ability to read others thoughts, hoping to catch any single, stray, random thought. He walked down many corridors, until he was able to catch such a stray thought.

Jumbled and incohesive, but they were thoughts of a person, and so he walked in the direction of the muttering voice that sounded so familiar, until he found the door that led to the person that held these thoughts.

He took a moment to consider whether he should break in, or walk in invisibly. But he was angry and spiteful, so he went with the latter choice, breaking the lock and rushing in, alerting the caught-off guard individual.

When the door burst open, she stood up from her seat alarmingly, and she lifted her hand--electricity on hand to attack her intruder. Before she could make out the invader, she threw the ball of electricity as a reflex, only to be caught by said invader. Her eyes went wide as she recognized the man, and immediately her hand flew to her eyes, wiping at evident tears.

His eyes did a double take, his reflexes having caught the glowing sparks, and his whole body tensed.

Her eyes were red, cheeks wet and flustered, and an arm in a sling from an injury--all of this he took notice of when he inspected the young woman who’s demeanor usually consisted of impish, playful tones.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a distant voice.

He then remembered the objective of his invasion of the facility.

Garnering his courage, and fueled by his pain, he said,” Finding my brother’s murderer.”

Her brows furrowed, and she gulped, this news entirely new to her.

“I doubt you’ll find them here,” she shrugged.

He walked towards her, where she stood her ground, willing herself to not move, daring him to come closer. He left a few steps between them and raised a menacing glare, his hate for the company and his brother’s murder coursing through him, pumping his blood in adrenaline.

“Who did it?” he demanded of her.

“We don’t kill anyone just willy-nilly, Peter,” she shrugged again.

“What about Ricky, Elle?”

She stammered a bit, but forced herself to continue shrugging everything off. “He was being problematic.”

“Problematic?” he seethed.

She nodded, and she saw his hand go up, and suddenly her throat felt like it was in a grip. Air felt scarce, her feet left the ground, and she began feeling dizzy.

“Peter,” she gasped.

He tried keeping his conscious from feeling her pain, tried prying his mind from the pain he was inflicting on another human, and so he made his eyes wander the room. Files, folders, tapes, and cameras filled up the bulk of the room. He looked at the computers, where Elle had been sitting before he burst in, and he noticed a recording playing on one of the computers. On the screen he could make out a small girl tied to a table, encased in a plastic box, electricity rising from her body time to time. Realizing who this girl was, Peter let Elle down gently, and he walked closer to the screen.

He glanced over at Elle, who was gasping, catching her breath, whilst her eyes were glued to the screen.

“Guess there is more to my story,” her voice was low and light, but the heavy feeling lay in her eyes.

He looked back down at the screen as screams of agony came from the fragile little body, screaming through the small speakers. Electricity ran amuck, and the camera shifted to a man in a suit--Bob. He grinned, peering at his daughter through a window.

“That’s enough, Bob,” a voice behind him came.

Sighing, he said,” Fine,” with a roll of the eyes.

The camera went back to Elle, and the blue finally died. A dark-skinned young man, probably in his teens, then was led into the room, and he put his hand on Elle’s forehead. Another scream escaped her and she collapsed--it was the Haitian, at a younger age, erasing Elle’s memories as a subject.

Peter’s turned back around to Elle, who’s eyes were glued to the screen. Her cheeks were no longer wet, but the redness did not subside. He had initially ignored the obvious, had put aside that she had been crying, to attack her, to get what he wanted. But now, as the redness stayed and she bit her lip to control herself, Peter couldn’t help but pity the girl.

“I wanted to believe it wasn’t true. That he was just lying to me,” she spoke softly, knowing he was staring at her, “I wanted to believe my daddy would never do that to me.”

“Turns out I was just being childish,” her eyes reverted to his. The bitterness emanated from her voice, a tone he had not heard from her before. She had been sadistic, playful, a little menacing, but even when she told him those bits and pieces of her childhood, he had never heard her sound so bitter and angry.

“Elle…” his head tilted to his right, a look of sympathy crossing his features.

“Don’t,” she said harshly. “You came here to find your brother’s assassin, not to hear Elle: Behind the Electricity, or Company, or whatever. So fight me, torture me…” a sad smirk came over her mouth,” kiss me to get what you want.”

She drew her hand up, concocting a ball of electricity in her hand, her fighting stance.

Peter stared at the bolt, then at Elle for a second, and back to the blue ball until it fizzed out.

She stared at confusion in her hand. She shook her hand, and her chest heaved. Elle spat her eyes at Peter.

“What did you do?!” She screamed at him, her foot stomped, her arm swung angrily at her side.

“The Haitian’s powers seemed the more effective route,” he kept a straight face, wanting to keep the moment serious, wanting the girl to let out her frustrations.

“Ugh, you’re not supposed to do that!” she marched up to him. “It’s no fun without powers--how am I supposed to fight you and jolt you!” Tears sprung to her eyes. Seeing what her dad had done to her had angered her, almost made her lose it, but it was without powers that she truly felt lost.

She pushed him, but he only fell back half a step in surprise, and rocked back on his heels, taking in her wrath.

“Give them back, give them back!” she pounded at his chest, little tears falling down her eyes.

Wanting to soothe her, Peter wrapped his arms around her fragile little body, holding her as her screams were muffled by his shirt, holding her until she tired of pounding at him (with her sling-free hand).

She stood frozen a moment after her tears stopped, demands escaped her, and arm tired, until she pulled away feverently, wiping at her eyes, and smoothing out her shirt.

She failed to look up at him, failed to say anything, so he took it upon himself to speak first.

“You don’t need your dad. Your dad needs you--for the company. If you take the right side, Elle, you can make up all the wrongs your dad has done,” he whispered down to her.

She lifted her gaze, fear evident at his suggestion.

“He only has as much power over you as you let him.”

Her sniffles stopped when he said this, and she thought of the lives she had saved earlier that day. How good it had felt to have done something without her father’s permission, and in return garnering thankful smiles from people she didn’t really know.

“Do I get to do whatever I want?” she cocked an eyebrow at him, unsure of the prospects of turning against her father.

He smirked at her need to be pleased.

“No one’s going to force your hand, if that’s what you mean. Of course, you’ll have to be weary of Matt for awhile--the whole mind control and everything,” he shrugged.

Elle seemed to ponder this a bit until she broke into a smile. “How about we do this on a trial by trial basis?” she suggested, not wanting to tie herself into anything just yet--or for awhile, as a matter of fact.

Peter sighed, but he knew that convincing a woman as child-like as her would take a lot of trust, so he agreed.

“Fine,” he rubbed the back of his head self-consciously, wondering if bringing in Elle in was really a good idea.

“And you have to give me my powers back.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. Elle drew her hand up again, and to her satisfaction, blue sparks emitted. Sparks she jolted at Peter, causing him to half-wince, half-smile.

“Yay!” she laughed, and she jumped at Peter, slinging her non-injured arm around him.

“I get my toy back!”

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” he took her hand and began dragging her out, when he felt resistance.

“What?” he turned around when she wouldn’t leave.

“Um, I might have an idea of who killed your brother,” she bit her lip, hoping he wouldn’t get angry again.

Not bothering to reprimand her or even asking her, he delved into her thoughts to find the name, and when he did he nodded to her.

He took a tighter hold of her hand to teleport them, when she whispered.

“Before we leave Peter, I just have to say thank you for the free trial.”

He looked to her eyes to find her being more sincere than he’d ever seen her be.

“No problem,” he returned her smile, and teleported them out, off to begin their partnership.

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