A/N: Just a quick story set after Elle's death (which I'm still not over). Obviously I don't own Heroes, seeing as if I did, Elle would still be alive and the 'Heroes' would not be Carnies.
Death was not at all how she'd imagined.
Her entire life was filled with pain and suffering and pain. From the moment she had showed signs of being different, her power had been both her enemy and her only friend. One minute she was short-circuiting on herself, feet submerged in water. The next she was in her dark and cold room, the only source of light or life being the ball of white-blue electricity between her fingers. But it still hurt. Even when she was alone, even when she was together; always the pain.
Then some years past.
And now her head won't stop bleeding.
So Elle doesn't believe in God. Before she died, the idea that a man named Jesus was an almighty being was not in question. He probably did cure the sick and rise from the dead. There was even a large possibility that he was still alive. But that was the problem. She couldn't believe in God when she had the knowledge that Jesus was probably trying to cover up the fact that he was different – just like her.
And now she knows. Now she wishes she didn't. There are no pearly gates, no clouds, no angels, and no eternal happiness.
Just the blood and the memories and the pain.
She doesn't believe in God. She hadn't believed in God. And yet her last thoughts were the antithesis of that creed.
It had been the last few seconds, down to a few more inches. She couldn't see her life flashing before her eyes. All she could hear were the waves, all she could see was that face, all she could feel was the pain, all she could taste was the blood, and all she could think was Please, God…
In the few books she'd read, and in the few movies she'd seen, dying was painful, but death was painless. It always ended with 'Then her eyes dimmed and there was no more pain'. Her eyes didn't dim. Her eyes only transitioned from staring into the black abyss of his eyes to staring into the black abyss of the black abyss. There was nothing, and everything. She could see everyone, hear everything, yet there was only silent darkness. And all she could do was watch and listen.
More years past. Decades. Then a century. Then four more.
She took to watching Claire move through an ever-changing world. She watched her clutch to memories and moments, trying to remember. Writing down every event of every day, taking photos of every person, recording every conversation. After a while she watched Claire try to forget.
And the ever-present pain.
She could feel her leg throbbing from the unhealed gunshot wound, the sting of the airless air against her sliced forehead.
All of her memories were in tact. All of them blurry, like a half remembered dream. All except for one. The most important one.
She could feel her leg throbbing from the unhealed gunshot wound, the gritty cold sand scraping against her knees. Then the gritty cold sand against her back, the heavy kiss of death against her front. Then the gritty cold sand against her blood. Then the pain.