Elle hadn't been sleeping well. She was too worried about Noah and Sylar to really relax, especially after Claire and Peter had their respective breakdowns. Sighing and giving up on sleep for the moment, she pulled on a robe over her nightgown and headed out into the courtyard to get some air. Maybe it would help. Maybe it wouldn't. But trying was better than sitting around doing nothing.
She heard crying and, even though she wasn't exactly a model of compassion, she made her way over toward the sound. She froze as she saw her son and felt a fresh wave of anger at whatever was messing with people. "Noah," she said softly, crouching down next to him. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?" When there was no immediate response, she settled down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Monkey," the childhood nickname came out in an effort to get his attention, "talk to me."