She twists up the stairs, not realizing she's running until she's halfway up. Elle doesn't want him to see that she's running, but in the moment, she couldn't quite stop herself, and she doesn't slow down. She can reach the door at the next flight before he reaches the one below at this pace. It's the medical wing, probably full of more makeshift weapons than any other part of the facility. She doesn't know where the real weapons are. Petrelli hasn't told her. Her hand reaches the handle of the door one flight up as she hears the door directly below it swing open.
Elle doesn't know what he wants – but that's not true. She'd passed by his cell enough times, heard what he yelled when she was barely conscious on the floor of Level 5. She knows exactly what he wants. Maybe not here or now, but instinct or paranoia (if they can be split apart so easily) set in when she heard him following her, a steady pace behind her, though his range was more than enough to close the space between them. As was hers. But she wouldn't be fighting on his terms – so she chose the stairwell, and ran.
Now that he's followed, what he wanted didn't matter – he'd be getting a fight.
Her head start allows her time to peek into the rooms that line the hall, her choice made before the door she came through opens, and the burly pyrokinetic crosses through the threshold. He's much taller than her, and muscular enough to break her arm with his sharp twist of his hands, but none of that will matter. She stops at a door, as though she had just reached it, and turns back to him.
"What?" she snarls, forcing an unsettled tone into her voice, though she's not letting herself feel it. Flint grins at it, swallowing it whole, and takes a step toward her.
"You never came down to visit me, princess." She stays where she is as he takes another step, though her eyes glance to the surrounding doors. "I wanted to catch up."
Something flickers in her mind as she watches him move; it almost derails her focus, as abruptly everything in her mind seems to shift, her view of the world different than it had been a moment before. It's still not easy, but it's becoming less difficult.
"I'm busy," she answers, much more like an afterthought.
Her distraction doesn't go unnoticed – Flint's grin disappears, and his voice lowers to a growl. "You'll have time for me, bit–"
He's caught off as Elle fires a bright electric arc down the hall toward him. Flint cries out, but it may be in surprise; she doesn't have time to see for sure as she's forced to rip open the door she'd chosen, metal reinforced with heavy concrete. Dark blue flames blast down the hall toward her, and the door provides her only shield. The force of it is still enough to whip up her short hair and force her back into the room, away from the heat. There's a line of empty beds in it, with metal carts and hooks for IVs lining one wall, while the wall closer to her is stacked with small oxygen tanks. She creeps over to it as the flames in the hall die, sliding up against the wall with one of the tanks in her hands.
And she waits. The open door makes him step around it, facing the room full on. It's a risk, but Elle knows a few things about Company prisoners, especially those in control of their powers, and caught more than once. They tend to be overconfident.
And when she's very lucky, a little stupid.
While Elle is pressed against the wall just inches away from the doorway, Flint walks past her, into the room, facing it straight on as though she'd be waiting for him. She takes one step to the side, as quietly as she can, and then follows it with a step back, into the threshold of the door. Elle slides her hand, and twists open the oxygen tank clutched in her arms.
She tosses the tank into the air, and throws herself into the hall, out of the way of the doorway. One more thing she knows about Flint: he shoots first, and doesn't bother with questions.
The resulting explosion, blue flames quickly receding into the blast of red fire that scorches even the far side of the hall, is enough to knock Elle over the floor as she jumps away from it. A wave of strong heat seems to burn her back, but once the flame as pulled back, she knows it's nothing more than a patch of sore skin.
The hall is soon full of footsteps – Elle watches their shoes pass her, a few stopping, but most collecting around the door, hesitating to enter the still-burning room. She pays enough attention to the shouting voices to know the pyrokinetic's alive, but not much more until Petrelli himself arrives, grabs her by the arm, and pulls her up, forcing her into a nearby room and locking her in. Without anything more than a faint glance around the room (windowless, a single light above, a nice empty metal vase on the bedside table), Elle sits at the edge of the white hospital cot, and waits.
Petrelli returns about half an hour later. She looks to him the moment he opens the door.
"Do you want to tell me why you nearly killed him?"
Her expression is empty, though there's one glance away, in the space of which she allows the slightest hint that she may be suppressing a smile.
"He attacked me first."
Petrelli continues to watch her for nearly a minute, like he'll glean something behind her words. She doesn't look away again, and without another word between them, he exits the room again, leaving the door open for her.