Wow, oneshots are really kind of addicting at the moment. I guess since they're the only thing I have time for.

Elle/Claire during the rough'n'tumble human-fight scene from The Eclipse Part I. The way it should have been. Enjoi. =]

The shot had been clear. It was such an easy action, pulling the trigger. So simple—but she couldn't do it. Questions came, then doubts, then fears, and then the shot wasn't clear anymore; it was blocked by a dirty taupe sweater and pleading eyes.

"Elle, don't."

Shaky enough before, so unsure, the voice tore at her resolve. She had to help Gabriel; she had to shoot Mr. Bennet… She could see limbs scrambling and blood spilling and hear the blows and cries of their mortal battle, but it all seemed so far away, so distant. The only thing that was clear was the shaking gun barrel in her hands and the iridescent eyes of the teenage girl it was pointed at. Gabriel cried out in pain. She had to help him; she had to shoot Mr. Bennet—but Claire…

"You don't have to do this."

Elle couldn't move. She was still, immobile, trembling. Their powers were gone. She was powerless. What was she without her powers? Nothing. What happened now? Who was she? Where would she go? What would she do? What did it all mean? There were so many questions, so many problems, so many reasons, and she couldn't make sense of any of them. She wished more than anything she could turn the gun to her own head; that was a decision she was sure she could make on her own.

"Elle!"

Gabriel. He needed her help. He needed her, but Claire was in her way…

"Don't listen to him, Elle. You don't have to be like him."

That wasn't true. She made him. She was like him. She was evil. And then the pain was back, like lightning, so suddenly, so jarringly that she began to weep, trembling with sobs she couldn't contain. The barrel shook violently.

"Elle!"

But Gabriel needed her. He cared for her. She had to help him. The barrel leveled out.

"You're different, Elle. I know you are. Before Pinehearst, you wanted to change. You still can!"

She didn't know what to believe…

"Elle—"

"ELLE!"

"Elle, listen to me! There's still time for change!"

"Shoot her! Elle, do it! Shoot her!"

"Don't do it, Elle. "

"SHOOT HER!"

"You can still change."

She pressed her eyes shut.

There were so many voices, yelling at her, screaming at her, hurting her. Everything was caving in. What should she do? She wanted to squeeze the trigger, to hurt everything, to make it all bleed, but she wanted to drop the gun and run away from it all, bury herself far away from all the noises and voices. Blood rushed in her ears, her heart beat heavily in her chest, her breath grew frantic, her hands tightened, white knuckled, her finger pulling back—and the gun tumbled to the ground.

And then there were strong arms around her, but they were smaller than her own and her face was pressed into that ugly taupe sweater as she cried. The noise continued, far away, hushed by the gentle whisper in her ear; she felt safe.

"It's okay, Elle. It's over. It's over."

And it must have been, because Mr. Bennet was cursing rushing out of the house after Gabriel as he sprinted away, and she was still on the floor, crying, in Claire's arms, and she felt like she belonged there. The pain was gone. It was over.

Anybody see this going somewhere? Click the button, por favor.