As the second and third blows of the day landed across Elle's face, she tried to control herself, but to no avail. Blue volts crept across her body, scarring as the went, setting her every nerve ending on fire. After the first "session" yesterday, she'd come to a very important conclusion: She didn't like pain.

Sylar watched her head fall to the side with obvious pleasure. He hadn't even bothered with the pretense of wanting information from her. He could still get what he needed, and it would be that much easier when his plans for Elle were complete. He closed his eyes and reveled in the whimper she let out, then snapped them open again, bracing himself on the chair with his good arm and grabbing her roughly by the chin. She tried to jerk away from his touch, but he forced her to face him.

"You're fighting with the wrong side," he said, sadistic smile dancing across his lips. He released her face and started to pace around her. "What good do you think that company is doing for the world? They're all misguided idealists, and anyone with vision is branded insane and locked away. What I'm doing is real."

"You're a murderer," Elle said venomously, a tremble creeping into her voice. Sylar laughed.

"You forget, I've read through your file. Quite the body count you have."

"That was different, I—" she fell short as she suddenly felt his breath against her neck.

"It's no different, Elle. You and I are special."

"I--"

"Shhh… it's a gift. These people don't deserve the life they're given. They don't appreciate it." His voice went to a whisper as he trailed his hand ever so lightly across her neck. "They don't want it, why shouldn't we take it?" he wondered as her breathing became increasingly shallower. He smirked and straightened, stepping out in front of her. As her heart rate returned to normal, she glared at him.

"My father is coming for me."

"Your father?" he laughed. "You're a lab rat to him. On a good day, you're little more than one of his foot soldiers. He doesn't care about you." He smiled as she recoiled from the truth of his words. "I'd be doing you a favor by killing him."

He couldn't have possibly anticipated what happened next.

A sob tore itself from Elle's throat, raw, visceral, gut-wrenching; not the cries of pain Sylar was used to. Instead of the usual sick enjoyment, regret cut through him, washing cold and unpleasant over him, unfamiliar and unwanted. He'd heard her rage, heard her pain, but this… this was new.

She choked back the emotion almost instantly; clearly she'd had practice. Sylar wasn't so quick. He fixed her with a hard, questioning stare, but she refused to meet his gaze, choosing to glare resentfully at his shoes instead. She knew what a weakness she had when it came to her father; Adam used to taunt her about it daily, and Bennett had even known and used it against her. She didn't know what her father had done to her, and she didn't want to know.

But she'd be damned if she was going to give Sylar another weapon. Even as his eyes bored holes into her, she refused to acknowledge him, willing him to forget what had just happened.

A full minute must have passed, neither speaking nor moving. The intensity of her pain still coursed through Sylar's blood, moving against everything he knew, begging to be released.

"I'm sorry."

Elle's eyes snapped up to his at last, and she was surprised to see that they were almost as confused as she felt. But as their gazes locked, an electricity unlike any she could generate began to fill the room, moving in between them, expanding to the corners of the tiny room.

But Sylar's confusion quickly turned to rage, and the spell was broken as he stormed out, leaving Elle to catch her breath from the encounter.

He slammed the door behind him, then collapsed against it, sinking down to the floor and gripping his hair in his fists.

He hadn't planned on this.