ellectrical | (no subject)

She's in the Other Room for the sixth time when he comes back.

She hadn't been unconscious for so long this time. Her hair is still damp, clothes wet, like she'd just risen out of a swimming pool. There was no tray, so Elle had curled up against one wall, her mind going nowhere very far.

When the door opens, the brief glimpse of the hall beyond makes the memory of a hospital flare up in her mind. His suit is blue this time, with a red tie. She makes her decision then, as he closes and locks the door without even moving his hand, that she won't attack. There's a pang in her stomach apart from any other ache; she's not sure she'd have the strength to knock him out, and even if she did, she couldn't kill him easily, and if he even touched her –

He doesn't speak immediately. Even if she can't attack, she can talk. What difference does it make.

The first thing she says is, "You cut my hair."

There's no response. Elle looks away, and leans her head against the wall, whatever small part of her that cared melting from her once more. Maybe it's the cue he wanted, as he stays just within her periphery vision, and folds his hands.

"London. Tokyo. Then you come here with Claire Bennet, of all people."

She doesn't ask how he knew about the first to – doesn't have to or doesn't care. He waits, like he thinks she'll respond. Then –

"I can guess what you've been looking for. And that you still haven't found it."

The thought to ask why she isn't dead abruptly surfaces in her mind, but with it a kind of fear, like she doesn't want to know the answer. The pause here is longer, though she can't imagine he really thinks she'll have anything to say. He hasn't asked her a single question, made even one demand. She doesn't know want to do. Maybe he knows this bothers her in a way that even those hours spent in physical agony could not. Elle doesn't know that, either.

"You know, when you were young –"

His tone is suddenly conversational once more, and for the first time, Elle flinches. If he sees this, he continues as though he hadn't, "– six or seven – you must have been too out of it by nine – you were often alone during testing, sometimes for hours. I don't know if you know or remember this, but children, when they're alone, call out to their parents. If they've had a nightmare, or think they've seen something that scares them – the want to know someone they trust is there. I remember how both of my sons used to do it when they were very young. What their voices sounded like, the reasons they gave –"

(Elle doesn't remember.)

"And I remember how you would do it. Not from you room, but during the testing, when it had gone on so long and you still couldn't see him. Isn't this what you've been searching for?"

She can't bring herself to look at him. Her head stays against the wall, eyes on the floor. But when he's quiet for more than a minute, Elle finds herself moving her head slowly against the wall, into a silent nod.

"You called out to both your parents at first. I don't think you understood or cared that your mother obviously couldn't hear you or come for you. But he did, and he'd listen and wait. He wouldn't do anything until you called for him. He did this often enough that after a few months, you would only call for him."

Elle doesn't move, doesn't nod to hear more. His voice has become less conversational, his tone flattened like he doesn't trust himself to speak with any more inflection.

"And then – he'd start to wait when you called for him. He'd wait for longer and longer, leaving you alone, no matter what was happening – to see how long you'd keep calling for him. It was an interesting experiment. To see if what you felt for him was strong enough that you wouldn't stop, wouldn't give up on him, no matter how long he took, that you'd believe he'd come for you."

She doesn't ask him why he's telling her this now. She doesn't care.

It's how she knows how it ends.

"But you did stop. He waited long enough, and you stopped calling for him. You must have given up. Or maybe you thought you were doing something wrong by calling for him. Regardless, he was very angry. I'm sure he wanted you entirely dependent on him."

Petrelli takes a step forward, but Elle doesn't move. "I think he should have been proud, when you recognized that no one was there to help you."

Elle's not sure which it is. He sighs. "It's a shame you've forgotten that."

It gets her to speak again. "What's that supposed to mean."

He takes a step back, but doesn't turn away from her. "You don't call out to anyone now, but I can hear it in your thoughts when you're in there. In your mind, you're screaming their names."

She's stopped breathing. Like a wave rushing over her, she suddenly does want to die, does want to find some way to destroy herself, even if she can't, even if he wouldn't let her, she has to try, she can't – her body becomes poised to spring at him when –

"It really did make you insane."

Her hands have closed into fists, though it sends a pang through her muscles, keeping up her heartbeat even as there's a small part of her mind that has already been doused in a cool sense of relief.

"That's quite a cast you've created for yourself."

Elle makes a sharp motion to turn toward the wall, like she doesn't want to look at him, thinking of nothing else in her mind - Get out get out get out get out -

"Did it happen before, or did your father's death set it off?"

She presses her nose into the concrete, as though she could slip right through it if she tried hard enough. Maybe she hopes it will make her look crazier, but more than anything, after so long in one cell or another, it's now that she feels trapped. Elle doesn't know how to explain herself, or how she could stop herself from giving it away. She hears Arthur Petrelli sigh, and take another step back.

"They're not real, Elle. You know it. You know what's wrong with you."

Her right hand raises to grasp at the wall, but she nods, immediately. Hastily

"I know."

"You're going to have to do better than that."

The door has clicked behind him before she can try to figure out what he means.