NOTE: I kept forgetting to include this here. The first part was set post Season Two, right after the Untold Stories happened. Sort of an AU spin I had in my head, this is an expansion of that. So it's post Season Two, and Three never happened. But Sylar did go visit Claire, just because it's handy. I hope that clears up any confusion!

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Elle gripped the manila folder tightly in her hand. The edges of the paper cutting into her palm, she couldn't feel the cuts forming, or the blood staining the paper. With her eyes closed as tight as she can, all she could see was his face, and his words.

She wanted to believe in him, she had always believed in him without question, never doubting him. It had been easy, it was only natural to believe in the only family you've ever had. She couldn't forget the look in his eyes. She could see the cool indifference towards the men holding guns in his only daughters face.

Had he been prepared to let her die, just so he could capture Sylar? Elle knew that was what he wanted. She could remember his fury when she had let him get away from her in New York. A father was supposed to love their child, unconditionally. Be willing to do whatever it took to keep them safe at all times.

As far as she was concerned her father was gone, and it up to her now to look after herself.


The wind blew in the open window, if she opened her eyes she'd see the houses thinning as they left the city. Elle didn't question him when he led them out of the building, nor when he started driving the car away from the Company.

What was she supposed to do? She had no one, no one at all.

Maybe it was an effect of not sleeping for nearly two weeks, but the steady movement of the car as he drove, coupled with the cool breeze on her face, Elle was soon asleep.


She dreamed she was a young girl again, with her hair done up in braids, and a skip in her step. She walked the halls of the Company, searching for her father, eager to show him what she had done. He was going to be so proud. He was always telling her that she had to show him that she could handle her special gift, or he'd have to send her away, he just didn't have the time to devote to her if she wasn't going to work hard. She could work hard, she was a good girl, and Daddy was going to be pleased with what she could do.

It may be only a rat, but she had shown that she had the patience, and the skill it took to earn his respect.

He was in the hallway, walking quickly away from her with Glasses right beside him, Elle could hear an alarm ringing in the distance.

"I told you he was dangerous, he should have been down in Level Five years ago, when he was first brought in..."

"We thought we could control him, he's relatively defenceless..."

"He almost killed her!"

"Killed who?" Elle asked innocently, smiling sweetly up at both of them. "Was it Cynthia? I hope it was her, she's really mean."

"Elle, go back to your room - now."

"I wanted to show you..."

"I don't have the time," he walked past her, barely looking at her as he went. "Throw that rat in the bin, it's unhygienic."

"But I killed it," she said to herself as he turned a corner, running her finger over its burnt tail.

The singed fur was rough against her skin. She'd spent hours sitting absolutely still in her room, waiting for it to come out, to be tempted by the cracker with peanut butter she'd left out for it. It wasn't easy, she'd been more bored than she'd ever been, but she'd waited.

Waiting on the edge of her bed, ready to aim her perfected shot right at it. She'd gotten use toLucky as she'd taken to calling it. People came and went within these walls, but there had been a constant, she could hear them scurrying around in the dead of the night. Maybe it was just one, but she had known that with all that changed, for good and bad; when she heard them she knew that everything was still it's own kind of normal.

He was her friend, and she'd sacrificed him to prove to her father that she could do everything that he wanted her to do.

He didn't even notice.


When Elle awoke the sun was disappearing below the horizon, he was leaning against the front bumper, his file closed beside him. Shrugging off the jacket that wasn't on her shoulders earlier, Elle stepped out the car. He didn't move as she slammed the door shut, not even a slight flinching of his shoulders. Not for the first time did she wonder if she'd made a mistake. How could she stay one step ahead of someone if she had no idea what they were thinking? She had never met anyone who was able to hide everything away so well, she would never know what he was going to do.

It had been a foolish decision, but there was still blood pumping through her veins, so maybe it had been the right decision.

"Where are we?"

He didn't move from his position, but glanced over his shoulder at her momentarily. "We're about two hundred miles south of the city."

Elle moved around the car to stand in front of him, "Why? Why are we here?"

"It's a motel, I need to sleep."

"You want to sleep?" She looked at him closely, and for a moment she almost believed that he could be a normal man. He looked up at her, his expression belying all that he hid underneath.

"I've got us a room, you are probably hungry?" He stepped off the car, grabbing his file off the bonnet, and walking away from her. The car doors locked as he used the remote.

Obviously Elle was meant to follow.


He ordered room service while she used the bathroom, or stood by the door and listened to him move around the room. Elle didn't know what they were supposed to do, what she was supposed to do. It was a small room, filled with only one bed. He needed to sleep, so where did that leave her? He said that he wanted her with him; she could hear him whispering it in her ear.

What did he want her for?


Sylar knocked on the door to the bathroom when their dinner arrived. He'd ordered them cheeseburgers. Was she supposed to thank him? She was here by choice, but as she sat down in one of the chairs in the room, she had no idea what this arrangement was. They were hardly what one would call friends, it was a tentative arrangement, and she didn't know what the terms were.

Elle didn't have more than a bite of the burger, when she realised she had to now, and soon. Wiping her hands on the napkin, she cleared her throat.

He looked at her over his, doing nothing more than raising an eyebrow.

"Why am I here?"

"It's because you wanted to be."

"No," Elle shook her head. "Before I... went against my father, you told me, you wanted me around. It was my choice to follow you, but I could have just as easily stayed behind. Why do you want me around? I believe they were your words?"

He studied the burger in his hands, before looking at her with eyes that she immediately made her feel uneasy once they were upon her. "We have things in common, we can help each other."

"You don't need anyone's help, and we have nothing in common."

"Have you read your file?" Sylar asked, taking a large bite. Elle watched him chew slowly, swallowing and his eyes remaining locked on hers. "I think you may see things differently once you have."


After Elle places rolled up towels along the middle of the bed, feeling foolish the whole time, he moved under the sheets, and shut out the lights. They hadn't exchanged any words since they'd eaten. Her dinner was sitting heavily in the pit of her stomach, rolling every time he looked at her.

She couldn't bring herself to move onto the bed beside him, even with the hastily assembled buffer in place. She hadn't opened her file yet, all the hints that Bennett had given her over time had given her an idea of what she could expect. Seeing it written in black and white, proof of all that she had endured, been forced to endure, she didn't think she was ready for that. She had to prove to him though that she wasn't anything like him.

Yes, she had killed, but there had always been a purpose to it. It had never been about taking a power from someone; she had been following orders, like a good company girl was supposed to do.

It hardly made them similar.


Elle wasn't expecting pictures.

Of blistered skin, weeping wounds, her younger tear-streaked face.

Sitting in the bathtub she turned the pages slowly, feeling the electricity flowing through her as she looked at the photos of what she'd been through, at her father's hand.

She was so young - she couldn't have been old enough to tie her own shoelaces. With tubes connected to all kinds of machines, she looked so small.

After the photos there were medical reports, several pages filled with intricate details of all that had had been done to her. Elle couldn't believe what she was reading; hours hooked up to machines, thousands of volts of electricity flowing through her. Pushing her to the brink leaving her drained, and lifeless. Her father couldn't have allowed this; no father would allow his only child to endure such treatment. Elle told herself that as she read the reports, it wasn't until she saw his signature on the last page that she realised that he had known, and he'd ordered it.

The hardest thing a parent ever does is to have to see their child in pain. Most parents.


She crawled into the bed, as close to the edge as she could manage. It wasn't as bad as it got some times, but she could see the thin veins of blue racing under her skin. Gritting her teeth, Elle tried her best to ignore it, breathing steadily to calm herself. She had learnt over the years how to control these moments, when her emotions got the best of her, and the electricity ran out of control. It was easier with the sedatives that the nurse at the Company had on hand, but it should pass.

Clenching her fists tightly Elle prepared to ride it out, thinking of happy things. Of sunshine, puppies, ice cold Slush-o's; anything but her father.

"What's going on Elle?"

Shaking her head quickly, "It's nothing." A high powered surge went through her as she spoke, her voice coming out higher than she intended.

The bed shifted as he moved closer, his arm reaching over the towels he clasped his hand around her.

"What... What are you doing?" Elle said, his grip was too tight for her to pull her hand away.

"Let it out Elle, you're mad, at your father, at everything. This won't stop till you let it out. Give it to me," he urged. "Let me help you."