Elle had no idea how long she was out, but when she woke up, a dull throb of pain lingered in her head. She felt like her eyes were glued shut, and besides that, she didn't want to be conscious; she had a feeling the waking world wasn't going to be a pleasant place.

Sure enough, she tried to move her arms and realized they were restrained behind her back. What was more, she was definitely attached to a chair. She decided it would be best to open her eyes.

She expected a light, but it was fairly dark where she was being held. She let her eyes focus and looked around; there weren't any windows, and the walls were cement. She looked down; she was ankle deep in a bucket of water.

There goes plan A, she thought. She felt around a little bit, looking for weak points in her restraints, but her wrists were held by handcuffs, and they chair was solid metal.

Just as she started to pull at her cuffs, she heard a very creaky door open behind her and a set of slow footsteps approaching. She stopped moving, almost stopped breathing.

"You're awake," an all-too-familiar voice said. "Good." Sylar's darkened figure moved out in front of her, looming taller than ever. He snapped his fingers and a single light bulb flickered on, temporarily blinding Elle. She winced away from the change, squinting her eyes shut. She took a few seconds to adjust, then got up the courage to look at her captor, but she was surprised by his appearance. He hadn't changed his clothes, and he looked paler than usual. His right hand held a gun, which wasn't surprising, but it looked like he had a fistful of gauze in the other. He looked at her with a hard, resentful expression.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he said, "I'm gonna undo your handcuffs, and I'm gonna keep this gun pointed at you, you're gonna fix my arm."

"But I don't--"

"Don't. Lie to me," he threatened. "You know how to bandage a wound, you had to tend to all those lab rats at that company. So we're gonna do this my way, then you're gonna go back in your chair, then we're gonna discuss that list you handed over to Suresh," anger creeping into his last few words.

Elle was glaring now. Her eyes were mutinous, but she nodded ever so slightly.

Sylar took his jacket off with some difficulty, wincing slightly in pain. As soon as he was done he knelt behind Elle to undo her restraints, keeping the gun pointed at the back of her head. She stood slowly when the cuffs were off, not wanting to give him further incentive to shoot her. As soon as she turned to face him, he gestured toward a table along the back wall of the room. He let the gun down, but kept it pointed at her as she moved to his left arm to examine the wound.

"Did you take the bullet out?"

"No, that's part of your job."

"I don't have the equipment," she explained, eyes still on his arm. "If you have a pair of pliers or something--"

"Oh, FINE," he roared, ripping his arm out of her grasp. She watched in amazement as he stared at the wound, eyebrows pulled together in pain and concentration. After a few second the tiny chunk of metal fell out of the whole in his arm, and he collapsed against the wall again, breathing heavily. Elle looked horrified, almost concerened.

"Bandage," he managed to exhale. "NOW!"

She jumped a little, then started to work. There was a lot of blood, both dried and fresh. It stained the sleeve and the side of his white t-shirt, which, she couldn't help but notice, clung ever so slightly to his well-muscled chest. She repressed a small smile, then mentally scolded herself.

This bastard is NOT going to Stockholm Syndrome me, she thought.

As if to test this theory, Sylar turned to check her progress, and suddenly their faces were very close. Elle's breath caught for a second. Sylar didn't look at her, but heard the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat and had to repress a smile of his own. She was naïve.

She quickly tied off the bandage and speed-walked back to her chair, not waiting for his instruction. He watched her go back and let the smile happen this time.

This is going to be much too easy…