It was a long time before Elle's father called her this time, but he eventually did. Sylar almost hurt watching her go, rushing out and promising to come back tomorrow. After staring at the spot where she'd disappeared for a few seconds, he threw himself on his cot and stared at the ceiling, running over the last two hours in his mind. He could hardly believe how much he knew about her now, not to mention how little there was to know. She'd been in facilities like this her whole life. She couldn't remember her mother, or much of anything about her childhood for that matter. She thought she had the best daddy in the world, but Sylar had a feeling that she had no idea how a father should act (not that he had much of an idea himself.) She never had toys, so she played with people instead.

And her ability… now that was one he wanted to try out. He'd have to find someone else to take it from, though… he'd really rather not kill Elle.

A sudden wave of fatigue overtook him, and he realized it had been some time since he'd slept. He tried to keep his eyes open, irrationally afraid that he'd miss her when she came back, but soon he drifted into his first dream of Elle.

They were on a beach somewhere. Not the harsh, bright beaches of the west coast. It was the way you'd imagine Greece to look like if you'd never been there. There was a light breeze, just barely enough to toss around the loose strands of Elle's hair, sometime pushing it across to obscure her curious eyes that stared out at the sea as she leaned against Sylar's chest. He had one arm looped around her waist, his fingers interlaced with hers. He looked around… it was starting to get dark, and there was no one else around.

As if sensing this along with him, Elle craned her neck up to plant a few light kisses on his collarbone. He reciprocated by pressing his lips against her hair. Growing more persistent, she turned fully around to push him down to the ground, continuing her slow progress up his neck, and she was rewarded with an appreciative noise that came from the back of his throat. Just as he was trailing his hand down her back in search of the ties that kept her sky blue bikini in place, she whispered, her breath tickling his ear…

"Gabriel…"

He froze and opened his eyes. He was about to turn to look at her when she planted her hands in the sand on either side of his head and pushed herself up, screaming in a voice that wasn't her own.

"GABRIEL!"

Sylar awoke with a start, nearly falling off of his cot in surprise. When he'd righted himself, he looked up to see that Bennet had brought by another spectator. It had been him yelling.

"Glad to see you're awake, Gabriel," he smirked. The man next to him, a slightly overweight man, balding, with glasses, watched the exchange warily. Sylar said nothing, still trying to control his breathing.

"Gabriel, this is Bob. Can you say hello to him for me?" Bennet antagonized. "This is the threat that you were, no doubt, aware of. He's responsible for several murders across the country, including the Walker family and Chandra Suresh… he's been a busy boy. The cell he's in uses the dampening technology we discussed earlier, and the glass is made of a conductive material that we run a deterrent system through, in case he tries to escape while he has visitors." Bennet was clearly trying to impress this man. "We can guarantee Gabriel won't be hurting anyone again."

The word "Sylar," came quietly from the cell.

"What was that, Gabriel?"

"SYLAR!" he shouted, glaring mercilessly. As the name echoed around the cell, Bennet smiled the same way he always did, and turned to leave, Bob following him out.

As Sylar sat there, stewing in his rage, an idea, unbidden and sheer genius, occurred to him…

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There's some shameless and blatant exposition in there that I couldn't seem to get rid of, but please forgive me. Thank you for the reviews, they keep me writing.

Love, Lindsey