Elle didn't come back for two days. Given their previous visit, Sylar was beyond excited for her to come back. Therefore he was stunned when she came in looking dejected and sad.
"Elle… what's wrong?"
She took her usual place, cross-legged on the floor, before speaking.
"We're going home tomorrow."
"Home?"
"New York."
Sylar closed his eyes in defeat as he imagined the staggering distance between New York and Odessa. He walked closer to the barrier and looked up at Elle, whose head was bowed.
"Elle?"
She lifted her head; she was crying. The sight nearly broke Sylar's heart, if such a thing existed. He put a hand on the glass; she smiled sadly and did the same. With a meaningful look, he moved his hand to the left; she did the same. He moved his hand around on the glass until he knew she had the idea, then pulled it away, toward his face. She looked confused for a second, until he brushed an imaginary tear off of his own cheek, the magnetic force between them leading her to wipe away a real one. She laughed, but then looked incredibly angry. He searched her eyes for the reason, but before he found it, she pulled herself up off the floor and ran out the door.
Sylar stood there for a long time, confused, panicked, and angry. Where had she gone? Why hadn't she said goodbye? He pounded a fist on the glass once then threw himself onto his cot, letting misery take him.
He must have laid there ten minutes, maybe more, trying to block out the rush of emotions he felt, so unfamiliar to him, when an alarm sounded.
He stood, eyes raised to the ceiling, as if the flashing lights would give him answers. A loud bang issued from behind the door… not the door on the other side of the glass, but the massive steel contraption embedded in the cement wall of his cell. He stared at it for a moment, until it flew open in a glow of blue light, and he got a glimpse of a man in a lab coat flying back and hitting the wall.
And in stormed a blonde angel, all business and concentration, and she did not break stride until her lips were pressed against his.
That kiss was everything. It was repressed physicality; it was the sadness of their parting; it was the neglect of their respective childhoods; it was the love of two people who never knew the meaning of the word. Her arms locked around his neck like iron, his hands held to her waist like a lifeline. That moment was an eternity, a whole lifetime.
But it was a lifetime cut short, as hands tore his angel away from him and a scream escaped his lips as a syringe plunged into his neck. He heard her crying his name, and all he could think was hers, but soon he couldn't even think that as consciousness slipped away.