cruiscin_lan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cruiscin_lan) wrote2009-01-03 12:47 am
cruiscin_lan) wrote2009-01-03 12:47 am
FIC: Lot and His Daughter
Title: Lot and His Daughter
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cruiscin_lan
Prompt: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
heroes_contest's "biblical" challenge.
Pairing, Characters: strongly implied Bob/Elle
Rating: R for dark/mature themes
Spoilers/Warnings:Spoilers for Volume II, warnings for implied incest/molestation
Word Count: 1076
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or any of its characters.
Summary: As she grew up, she began to look more and more like her mother... it felt like the reopening of an old wound.
The night air felt cool and refreshing on his face as he leaned against the railing of the porch at his childhood home in Ohio. It was the end of December, and there was a thick layer of snow covering the ground, but on this night the sky was clear and when he looked up Bob Bishop couldn't begin to count the stars.
He was spending the holidays with the three most important ladies in his life -his mother, his wife and his daughter. He had taken a leave of absence at work to focus on his family, his daughter in particular. He had seen tiny sparks dance between her fingertips one day, and since then he'd been afraid to let her out of his sight. He couldn't even confide in his wife. She didn't know about his powers, and thought her husband sold paper.
He went outside for a moment of solitude after seeing his family curled up on the couch watching It's a Wonderful Life again, his four-year-old girl dozing, when he saw the car pull up in front of the house. He recognized it instantly - all Company cars were the same make and model year, same uniform black color. He didn't recognize the agents that emerged, but they strode up to the house and greeted him.
"Mr. Bishop," the woman said. The man with her simply nodded. "Linderman sent us. We need to talk to you."
Hesitant, he led them into the house. As they passed through the living room, his daughter blinked awake as his mother asked, "Who's that, Bobby? Aren't you going to introduce us?"
"Just a work matter, Ma, they'll leave in a moment," he explained. His daughter, bored already by the people in suits, turned her attention to the Christmas tree, still dazzling in the front window.
"This isn't protocol," Bishop hissed at the agents once they were alone in the study. "This is my family. You can't threaten us - I'm one of the Company's founders."
"That's why we're here," the woman told him, speaking slowly, each word deliberately chosen. She was the one with no power, no ability, and she made up for it by being the talker. "Linderman appreciates your continued financial support, but you're needed as more than a figurehead."
"We know about your daughter," the man added, adjusting his tie. He said it almost nonchalantly, but the implication in his words struck Bishop to his very core.
They noticed the smoke creeping in beneath the door too late. The fire had spread quickly through the house, the holiday decorations and his mother's tchotchkes providing more fuel for the flames. Staggering, Bob made his way through the smoke and found his daughter near the door, blue sparks tracing their way across her porcelain skin. He scooped her up and pushed his way out the front door, stumbling into the snowy yard, as the agents rushed out behind him.
Still clutching his daughter, Bob scanned the outside of the house, looking for his wife and mother. He was too afraid to set his daughter down, so he called out for his wife, over and over, praying that she'd make it out on her own. Finally she emerged on the porch, surrounded by flames, but she seemed paralyzed by a greater fear. He followed the direction of her gaze to his small daughter, still crackling with electricity. While his head was turned the roof of the porch came down and as the structure collapsed, and when Bob turned again his wife was gone. There was nothing left but a pillar of ash.
The house fire could only be an omen of more dreadful catastrophe; he had to take his daughter and flee. It was for her own good, her own safety, that he put took her to the Company. That way she couldn't hurt anyone, or kill anyone - not accidentally, at any rate.
It required sacrifices, Bob knew that going in. Linderman drove a hard bargain. He could cover up the cause of the house fire, bribe the investigators into finding faulty wiring in the Christmas lights, distract the community when the remaining family members suddenly disappeared, but it came at a cost. But Bob could surpass even that. He not only offered them unlimited use of his abilities, but he allowed them unlimited access to his daughter. In fact, to prove his loyalty, he even oversaw the experiments himself, each time pressing his daughter a little further, pushing her a little harder, knowing she could take it - knowing what she had already taken.
He made sure she had everything a girl could want. Her room at the Company's facility was decorated with pink wallpaper and rainbow bedding, stuffed unicorns prancing across every surface. He visited with her as often as he could, even staying with her some nights. In spite of what she'd caused, he still loved her the way a father should.
As she grew up, she began to look more and more like her mother - the same straw-blonde hair, the same sharp blue eyes. He loved his daughter, but her growing resemblance to his wife felt like the reopening of an old wound. He felt a longing that he'd never be able to describe. All at once he hated her for being too afraid of her own child to save her own life, and yet he still missed her - he missed the way she laughed, the way she smiled, the way he felt when she ran her hand across his bare skin, the way her hair framed her face when they made love. At the same time, he loved his daughter but he hated her, too, for the disaster she'd caused. The last night he stayed over in her room was the day before she turned nine. Bob was more confused, more conflicted than ever before in his life, and in a moment of weakness, he let his uncertainty get the better of him.
His daughter had an electrical outburst so severe that it shut down the power grid on Level One until dawn. She ended up spending her birthday catatonic in a glass room, lithium being intravenously pumped into her system. The Haitian was sent in to keep her from continuously sparking and to remove whatever had caused this fit from her mind.
Afterwards, Bob Bishop had a few of his own memories erased.
Author:
cruiscin_lanPrompt: Written for
heroes_contest's "biblical" challenge.Pairing, Characters: strongly implied Bob/Elle
Rating: R for dark/mature themes
Spoilers/Warnings:Spoilers for Volume II, warnings for implied incest/molestation
Word Count: 1076
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or any of its characters.
Summary: As she grew up, she began to look more and more like her mother... it felt like the reopening of an old wound.
The night air felt cool and refreshing on his face as he leaned against the railing of the porch at his childhood home in Ohio. It was the end of December, and there was a thick layer of snow covering the ground, but on this night the sky was clear and when he looked up Bob Bishop couldn't begin to count the stars.
He was spending the holidays with the three most important ladies in his life -his mother, his wife and his daughter. He had taken a leave of absence at work to focus on his family, his daughter in particular. He had seen tiny sparks dance between her fingertips one day, and since then he'd been afraid to let her out of his sight. He couldn't even confide in his wife. She didn't know about his powers, and thought her husband sold paper.
He went outside for a moment of solitude after seeing his family curled up on the couch watching It's a Wonderful Life again, his four-year-old girl dozing, when he saw the car pull up in front of the house. He recognized it instantly - all Company cars were the same make and model year, same uniform black color. He didn't recognize the agents that emerged, but they strode up to the house and greeted him.
"Mr. Bishop," the woman said. The man with her simply nodded. "Linderman sent us. We need to talk to you."
Hesitant, he led them into the house. As they passed through the living room, his daughter blinked awake as his mother asked, "Who's that, Bobby? Aren't you going to introduce us?"
"Just a work matter, Ma, they'll leave in a moment," he explained. His daughter, bored already by the people in suits, turned her attention to the Christmas tree, still dazzling in the front window.
"This isn't protocol," Bishop hissed at the agents once they were alone in the study. "This is my family. You can't threaten us - I'm one of the Company's founders."
"That's why we're here," the woman told him, speaking slowly, each word deliberately chosen. She was the one with no power, no ability, and she made up for it by being the talker. "Linderman appreciates your continued financial support, but you're needed as more than a figurehead."
"We know about your daughter," the man added, adjusting his tie. He said it almost nonchalantly, but the implication in his words struck Bishop to his very core.
They noticed the smoke creeping in beneath the door too late. The fire had spread quickly through the house, the holiday decorations and his mother's tchotchkes providing more fuel for the flames. Staggering, Bob made his way through the smoke and found his daughter near the door, blue sparks tracing their way across her porcelain skin. He scooped her up and pushed his way out the front door, stumbling into the snowy yard, as the agents rushed out behind him.
Still clutching his daughter, Bob scanned the outside of the house, looking for his wife and mother. He was too afraid to set his daughter down, so he called out for his wife, over and over, praying that she'd make it out on her own. Finally she emerged on the porch, surrounded by flames, but she seemed paralyzed by a greater fear. He followed the direction of her gaze to his small daughter, still crackling with electricity. While his head was turned the roof of the porch came down and as the structure collapsed, and when Bob turned again his wife was gone. There was nothing left but a pillar of ash.
The house fire could only be an omen of more dreadful catastrophe; he had to take his daughter and flee. It was for her own good, her own safety, that he put took her to the Company. That way she couldn't hurt anyone, or kill anyone - not accidentally, at any rate.
It required sacrifices, Bob knew that going in. Linderman drove a hard bargain. He could cover up the cause of the house fire, bribe the investigators into finding faulty wiring in the Christmas lights, distract the community when the remaining family members suddenly disappeared, but it came at a cost. But Bob could surpass even that. He not only offered them unlimited use of his abilities, but he allowed them unlimited access to his daughter. In fact, to prove his loyalty, he even oversaw the experiments himself, each time pressing his daughter a little further, pushing her a little harder, knowing she could take it - knowing what she had already taken.
He made sure she had everything a girl could want. Her room at the Company's facility was decorated with pink wallpaper and rainbow bedding, stuffed unicorns prancing across every surface. He visited with her as often as he could, even staying with her some nights. In spite of what she'd caused, he still loved her the way a father should.
As she grew up, she began to look more and more like her mother - the same straw-blonde hair, the same sharp blue eyes. He loved his daughter, but her growing resemblance to his wife felt like the reopening of an old wound. He felt a longing that he'd never be able to describe. All at once he hated her for being too afraid of her own child to save her own life, and yet he still missed her - he missed the way she laughed, the way she smiled, the way he felt when she ran her hand across his bare skin, the way her hair framed her face when they made love. At the same time, he loved his daughter but he hated her, too, for the disaster she'd caused. The last night he stayed over in her room was the day before she turned nine. Bob was more confused, more conflicted than ever before in his life, and in a moment of weakness, he let his uncertainty get the better of him.
His daughter had an electrical outburst so severe that it shut down the power grid on Level One until dawn. She ended up spending her birthday catatonic in a glass room, lithium being intravenously pumped into her system. The Haitian was sent in to keep her from continuously sparking and to remove whatever had caused this fit from her mind.
Afterwards, Bob Bishop had a few of his own memories erased.
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