What?

"He's not a toy Elle."
"He could be."

Knowing he wasn't hers didn't matter. Hearing the words and seeing him shift away from her touch didn't matter. She was bold and took getting used to, and she knew that. Deep down she could feel the hum of her ability beneath the surface and she knew that even she had built up a tolerance to certain things. She should be the same in that way.

But it didn't matter in the end. They both left.

Truthfully she should've seen it coming with Peter. He never seemed to like her. Though the one time he showed interest, the one time he was seeking something more than just the smile and bright blue eyes from her along with his dosage, she thought maybe he'd gotten used to her. After all he'd asked to be there. He'd signed up for the treatments... he just wasn't quite aware of how he was going to be treated.

Maybe she was prepping him for something that even she wasn't aware of, but it didn't seem to matter to her deep down. Deep down she knew he wasn't really hers... but that didn't mean she couldn't try to make him see her differently. Adam had seen her differently, Adam had built up a tolerance to her and at times Elle was nearly convinced that he truly enjoyed her visits.

But it didn't matter in the end, because they both disappointed her. Slipping through the walls, vanishing into the night, rescuing people and making great strides in their own plans. They were never hers, never meant to be hers and she knew it, but it hadn't kept her from trying.

The one in her father's office was over sized to the point of almost being ridiculous. Over stated and a deep red nearly brown leather with the giant buttons that pressed into it. It's the kind of couch that if the office wasn't also at that perfectly regulated temperature Elle would positively have the undersides of her thighs stick to it just beneath the hem of her skirt.

Instead it just sits there like a piece of furniture should, creating a place for people to sit and for Elle to pretend to read some of the important books her father thinks she should read. It's just a couch she figures, but in some ways it's so similar to her that she's begun to resent it. All it does is sit in his office being in the way. She's fairly certain that he's not entirely fond of it, and she's never seen him sit on it himself. Always away from it, across the room, standing above it... looming over the thing.

The giant leather couch.

Peter slept on the couch when he first came into Hartsdale. He wasn't really sleeping, but he looked so peaceful. They explained to him the options. Their own skewed perspective of what could happen if he went back out there. They offered him a chance at being normal, at never hurting anyone again.

All on that couch.

Now it just sits in the office with Elle seated in the corner of it. Staring at the empty desk where her father usually sat. He's been away on business. Always more important things to do.

Just never for her, she'd sleep on it if she didn't like the way it didn't fit in with the room at all.

01. She'll never remember her mother. Not the bright blue of her eyes, or the curls of blonde that shone around her shoulders. Not the way she thought of her name the moment she knew it was a girl. She'll never remember the soft press of her mother's lips to her forehead a moment after she was born... a moment before they took her away.

02. She's six when she makes her first mistake. The curtains go up in flames so fast she's not even sure what happened. For a moment though she stands there, letting the flames kiss against her hands as she holds them out just to see how hot it really is. Just to make sure it's really happening.

03. She's seven when they start the tests. All she wants is to make her Daddy proud. She doesn't understand why he's hurting her. Doesn't understand why they won't stop when she's crying. Doesn't realize that they'll never stop. The man's hands are so large, covering nearly her whole face as she's passed out, dried tears staining her cheeks. He apologizes to her silently for a moment, knowing it's wrong and praying that he can only ease her memory of the pain. He presses a kiss to her forehead when he's done, asking in a silent manner for her to one day understand he means the best.

04. The meetings are boring. She hate her dress. Hates the way everyone glances to her wondering if she's going to do something horrible. She's not in the room but she can catch their glances every so often. Her hand fits into the Haitians easily, and even though he doesn't speak to her she knows on some level she's safe. The meeting ends and she waits for her father to come back into the hall. The man with white hair stops and crouches low to ground placing his hands against her cheeks. He smells like cigar smoke and tells her that she's just wonderful and kisses her cheek. As soon as he's down the hall again she wipes the back of her hand across her cheek trying to wipe it off of her.

05. She won't remember any of it. But it doesn't matter. The tests keep wearing on her and no one seems to care. He's certain that he's made the right choice as he pauses by her room, seeing her sleeping through the window. He goes home that night and holds his little girl tighter. Pressing a kiss atop her head and promising he'll never let them hurt her.

06. In her dreams she's just a little girl. Normal things. Normal lives and in her dreams her ninth birthday had a party. In her dreams she's anywhere but strapped to a bed with an IV drip. In her dreams she's having her first kiss with a neighbor boy that she saw wandering down the street three months ago as her father tugged her along threatening her with something she can't quite recall if she didn't manage to stay with him. In her dreams she remembers nothing and forgets everything... but she knows that if she can spin the bottle one more time she'll get a kiss... and in her dream that's all she wants.

07. It's a game. A fun game at that and she's grinning sitting on the floor with her legs folded beneath her, fingers tracing lines across the arms of the guy that's been passed out for an hour. Little cracks of light spark across his skin and she's been looking at him for a while now wondering when he'll wake up to play again. Thinking of the stories of all the princesses that sleep she leans down and kisses him. It's only when her father calls out to her that she realizes he's not going to wake up.

08. She's been good all month long, and he promised her that if she was good she could go to the party. She really doesn't want to go to the party, but she doesn't want to sit in her room anymore either. Still at fourteen she's not sure what she's supposed to want, but staring at the walls isn't her idea of fun. She spends most of the night pressed against the far wall hiding the glass of champagne she stole on the floor behind her leg each time her father seemed like he might be headed her way. He never came over though. Everyone had been drinking too much. And when she stood back up from picking her glass up from the floor once more his face was right in front of hers. Breath sweet from the alcohol and still too warm for her to even want to be that close to him. She always thinks he's too tan... too charming... too much for her. His mouth is upon hers before she can slip out from his reach and she's trying to fight against it but she isn't supposed to hurt anyone. She's been good for so long she doesn't want to get in trouble. When he pulls away she drops the glass and leaves the party. She didn't want to go anyway. Later her father would find her and yell at her for leaving before it was over.

09. She's watched his cell for weeks now. Pacing past the window wondering how he can just stay in that same spot every day. She begins to wonder if it's just her own timing, that he knows when she'll pass by and he moves back to the bed, his knee drawn up so his arms could rest upon it. She's met him before. Tested her ability and her accuracy against his own ability. Eyes wide watching as her burns heal immediately from his skin. She's desperate to leave a mark on him. To make something stick with him forever. Opening the door the first time she'd just watched him, but after a single conversation with him, a single lie slipping through her lips directed to purely catch his interest she's figured out how to make a mark. It's no surprise he's lived for so long, and the way his hand winds into her hair almost pulling a bit catches her breath in her lungs before she collides into him again kissing him and trying hard to leave it at just that kiss.

10. His hands are on her hips as he tugs her onto the bed beside him. Hair whipping around her shoulders just by the sheer force of the motion. It's almost so sudden that she's practically beaming from it all. There's part of her that wonders if he's being honest with her. If he actually is starting to like it as he asks for just a tiny shock. She'd had a bad day before this and maybe it could pick up. She's got her eyes on his fingertips, trying to be careful, trying to give him just a touch, but he leans in and kisses her and she'd lied to him. She thinks of the lie the moment his lips capture hers but suddenly it almost doesn't matter. His lips are warm and she's smiling into it until she lets go, sending a small spark across her lips to his. Biting her lip she watches his flinching reaction because for a small second after it she sees that smile, and if she could count that as her first kiss she would... but it'd be a lie. It's just as well... since it was a lie anyway.