if ever i'd known
The first thing he notices about her are her cans.
(Obviously.)
He assesses her through the crowded bar; she’s blonde and short and reminds him somewhat of his (ex) wife, except for the much bigger cans.
He impresses her with an illusion; sparks fly from his wrist and she smiles, followed by a series of other illusions that go off without a hitch (much to his surprise).
She giggles and he takes that as a sign.
“Gob Bluth,” he whispers low in her ear, as he searches her features for that flash of recognition, but receives none.
“Elle Bishop,” she shakes his hand and he swears he can feel a spark.
Must be fate. (Or maybe he just really, really wants to *bleep* her.)
---
She works for a paper company, Primertech or something; he didn’t really catch the name.
(Honestly? The moment she mentioned paper, he kind of zoned out.)
He doesn’t really understand her career choice, but she seems to enjoy it, even though the work place health and safety regulations seem rather subpar; she always seems to have cuts and scratches that he’s not all entirely sure came from paper, but accepts it anyway.
Her smile always widens when he does.
But really, paper? He keeps trying to convince her to give up her career, be his full time assistant. Because not only is she hot enough, but small enough to fit into a box, which is important.
Elle giggles and flips her hair and simply tells him that it’s a family business and there’s all this pressure on her to succeed and she hates letting people down. He understands more than she would expect, but he doesn’t know how to voice it, really.
So he just tells her she’d be better suited to a more glamorous job, like a flight attendant or a car model. She just smiles.
---
The funny (funny?) thing about Elle? She doesn’t know a thing about paper.
There was that time when he asked for a piece of A3 and she gave him an index card. And when he asked her to get him some photo paper and just stared at him blankly.
But then again, there was that other time when she fixed his stereo without even touching it. Which was weird.
Huh.
---
He’s never really dated a woman like Elle before. She’s all smiles and laughs and blue eyes that dance mischievously. She’s fearless too, not a ‘daring’ sort of fearlessness, but like she’s untouchable and some days he believes she is.
The fact that she’s interested in him is another riddle all together, but he chalks it all down to her being a lover of magic, and the way she claps when his illusions go off without a hitch and giggles and flips her hair is an indicator that he must be doing something right.
Michael thinks he’s making her up, which is really quite insulting, because, honestly, a guy makes up a fake girlfriend that one time and, what, he’s labelled some sort of ‘girlfriend maker-uperer’?
(Come on!)
---
She had father issues. Maybe that’s why he’s so entranced. She clams up at the topic of family, her eyes sympathetic to his pain and beneath the tinkling of laughter and electric blue eyes he spots something familiar.
Hurt.
He’s not known for being overly perceptive, Gob. Or tactful or politically correct or polite, but that’s neither here nor there. But after one too many vodka sunrises (she’s a lightweight) she opens up, speaking of a father she could never please, giving him her all, but always disappointing. The loneliness of growing up; experiments in which she never yielded the desired results, tests she would never pass, half memories and a childhood that was anything but innocent.
She wraps her words with vagueness, but he understands.
He understands her internal pain, understands having a family that doesn’t respect you and a childhood full of manipulation and Boy Fights and one armed men.
(Maybe he’s off tangent, but he’s hurting too; and as he sobs she holds him in her arms and doesn’t laugh, instead a tear slides down her cheek and they sit in silence, a moment of reflection for loving too hard and fathers that didn’t reciprocate in return.)
---
Sometimes, after one or two drinks and a successful illusion; when her hand is on his knee and she flashes him her hundred watt smile he thinks this feeling in the pit of his stomach, (that is definitely not indigestion) might be something resembling love.
---
Elle meets Michael by accident, outside the frozen banana stand on the boardwalk. He regrets it immediately; not enough time to warn her about him and girlfriend stealing ways, but, it works out, oddly enough.
(Gob’s not used to things working out for him, not used to coming out on top, but somehow, being with Elle makes him feel like he’s won the lottery.)
Michael introduces himself and his son and Elle smiles (but not as wide as when he’s with her) and he takes interest in her work and her smile falters and Gob’s eyes narrow.
While Elle makes small talk with George Michael, Michael pulls him aside; Elle’s a keeper, Gob, don’t screw this up.
Gob doesn’t know how to respond to this. Instead, he punches his brother in the face.
Elle spins around, shocked, and Gob shakes his hand, reeling from the impact. Call it residual anger from the whole Marta debacle, call it a feeling in his gut, call it him proving something to Elle, but the grin that spreads across her face, her arms around his neck and her soft lips against his, tasting like banana and chocolate and something like danger, make it all worthwhile.
Later, after Michael yells at him for what feels like an hour, he tells him that he really meant what he said.
Gob isn’t sure which part he’s referring to; Elle being a keeper or him not screwing it up. He hopes it’s the first, but he knows it’s the latter.
It’s always the latter.
---
She likes this bar on the bad side of town, where the shots are cheap and the light is dim, but she seems to make everything brighter.
She’s nervous, which is weird, and she smiles less often and even his magic can’t cheer her up.
One particular Wednesday night he meets her at their usual table and she fidgets nervously, a pained expression across her delicate features.
“I want to tell you everything.” She states, glancing at the door, “But I can’t, Gob and I hope you’ll understand. I - ”
She glances at the door again and her eyes widen as a man with horn rimmed glasses, accompanied by a menacing African man stroll in, eyes meeting hers and she gulps.
“Gob…” she’s at a loss for words and looks torn, her expression softening as she covers his hands with her own. The man with the horn rimmed glasses reaches for something in her jacket and she jumps up. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
She runs from the bar, a blur of blue and blonde and he watches on, confused.
(In hindsight, he would have paid more attention. He would have asked more questions, asked her to stay, asked her to tell him the truth. He could have helped her; surely his dad knew some people and there was always that hidden room at the model home…
In hindsight, he never could have stopped her. She made her decision long before he ever met her and that’s all there was to it.)
---
He arrives at her apartment a few hours later, using that key she gave him in case of emergencies to let himself in and finds it empty, save for a piece of paper on the kitchen counter.
GOB -
I’m sorry.
Elle.
He stares at the note for a good ten minutes, tracing the loops and lines of her handwriting, the oddly singed corners and the small smudges on the paper. Frowning, he snatches the paper off the bench, making it ‘disappear’. He imagines her small hands clapping and mouth curled into a smile and he feels worse. Worse than when his wife left him. Worse than when he got kicked out of the Magicians Alliance.
For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t the one that made the mistake. It was her.
(It’s not much, but it’s something.)
---
He sees her again, months later, on the news one day and he nearly falls over in shock.
Blonde electric woman and brain eating serial killer steal a car from a rental yard. Clerk found dead. Images from a grainy security camera; his Elle smirking, electricity shooting from her hands paused mid-action and it all makes sense.
She would have made a great addition to his magic show.
Crap.