Le notes: Another AU future fic, and I own nothing. The lyrics belong to Within Temptation and obviously the characters are not mine. I would never kill off DAlaric (JP, you break my heart) nor would I ever tear apart Mabekah (my otp!) or do all these horrible things to Bonnie or Elena. Regardless, enough ranting, on with the show!
Summary: She made him selfish and in return, he made her a coward. —-ElenaElijah (AU, future fic).
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._.
let the fire burn the ice
.
._.
but every sign will
say your heart is dead
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/ / /
present
/ / /
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Dawn came seeping down the mountainsides as he rose, rolling to his side, facing her bare back (as bare as a blank canvas, itching to have his fingers paint flames upon her skin) and wondering outloud. "Are you?" He questions half-complete but, she knows what he means. Afterall, he's been asking for a while now, she owes him some answers. She knows she does. However, he never does offer her much time to speak. "Are you?" He repeats, with more desperation and pleading in his tone. She looks through the window, beyond the horizon, searching for answers to questions that shouldn't even exist. His fingers latch on to her wrist, grasping tighter and tighter, harder and harder (enough to snap her bones, to break her skin.
—it would hurt less, she thinks; it's easier than burning him).
"Elena, say something."
She'd rather die.
"I don't know." She tells him, breathlessly. It's the same answer she's offered him countless times before. Elena looks over her shoulder, afraid to meet his broken gaze. He doesn't move an inch but, it's his eyes. They speak in endless volumes, questioning her without cease, and setting her mind on fire.
His motive remains unspoken.
Stay.
But, he knows that he must go as well. For his family awaits him, his family needs him. And she is no different.
I can't.
She too represses her true desires, clutching her fingers in to fists, biting down on her bottom lip, shutting her eyelids tightly (closed, she's always so closed).
I'm sorry.
She could say as she sees him and unfortunately, she can only describe him as a weightless man. As if he needed an anchor, someone to hold him there.
—for all the things I want, or wanted, or have been too afraid of wanting since.
Elijah is still not sure if he'll ever fully understand, either.
When they first began, he recalls it as merely 'simpler'. Of her hand in his, firm and strong. Her skin like fire and his like ice. He remembers tugging at her clothes, in a sinfully delicate way and the moment where she held her breath. When he pressed his lips to the corners of her limbs, marking her and looking at her tanned body enveloped by his white skin. He remembers twirling her around. And around. And around. And around.
.
/ / /
past
/ / /
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She lies beneath him, nails digging in to his shoulder, observing the way she leaves crescents on his skin, like fallen stars. He heals, erases her oh-so quickly, as if nothing had ever occurred between them. That's the worst part, she thinks, that they can't mark eachother.
Everything always fades away so quickly.
She can't help but wonder out loud. "You don't think of them?" He could leave at any second, he really could. He has duties to fulfill and he is honorable, of course.
"I do." It's his choice not to. She still seems…lost. Elijah grabs her before rolling her over, sinking his hips against hers, momentarily distracting her from her usual wonderment.
Then, why do you stay?
She forgets to ask as he leaves open-mouthed kisses from the side of her neck, all the way down to her navel. She shudders when his fingers reach for the hot flesh of her inner thigh. Elena, once again, feels lost. But this time, she's lost in the way that he wants her to be lost. He wants her unfocused on any other task, to stop caring for everyone so much.
To simply care for him, to belong to him and no one else.
It's selfish, it truly is. Elijah can no longer recognize himself these days. This girl, the desire for her is so strong, that he's become a different man.
It's okay though, nothing ever remains his for too long anyway.
She is no different, he thinks, as he recalls the countless lives she's lost. She must be broken, still. As is he. This is why he holds her close and tightly, so tightly that she can't even breathe, sometimes. She feels like her chest might break.
I stay because no one else does.
.
/ / /
Afterwards, she lets her fingers dance upon his spine; she looks at the area where the marks she had left disappeared in to nothingness. Elijah looks over his shoulder, smiling slightly at her cat-like curiosity. She's always thinking about the 'whys' and 'hows'. It took him a while to realize that he enjoys this aspect about her. How much she cares. How much she refuses to forget. How much strength she truly holds. He had always admired her compassion.
He just never thought that it would be directed towards him.
"Sometimes," she starts, her hair swinging over her shoulder, eyes like broken glass and pain, so much pain in her tone. "Sometimes," she repeats, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I think that no matter what I do, I'll never get it right." She confesses, thinking of her countless mistakes and all the people who have sacrificed for her sake.
He feels her tears as she presses her face in to his back. "What exactly do you mean by 'it'?" He questions, patiently waiting for her to wipe her own tears.
"Life." She specifies.
He can only allow her to hold him as he speaks. "I've lived for over a thousand years Elena, and I don't think that there is any concept of right or wrong when it comes to 'life'." Elijah advises, letting his hand rest over hers. "You only have the choice to stay strong and keep going. Never stop."
She feels his back, suddenly tense. He sounds so sure of himself and yet, his body language claims uncertainty.
"I don't think that I want to go anywhere else right now."
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/ / /
Before her, he doesn't think that he's ever known true, real, actual compassion.
The way she throws her head back in laughter, how her eyes light up with the break of morn, how she smiles as if she could never forget how to care. And even if she did, she'd always come back. He wants to crack her open and see everything that goes on inside of her. He wants to rip her skin off and climb in, explore her for ages, if he could see in to her mind—
the words written, watercolors on paper.
He's longed for this, (a constant in his life) for unrelenting light in his life (a life which was always covered with such darkness).
He thinks that maybe, she might just be the answer to all the questions that he never even got to ask himself.
.
/ / /
present
/ / /
.
Stay.
Elijah wants to say, but fails to find the perfect timing.
Her bare back is still turned away from him, with the bedsheets bunched up and pressed to her chest. She pulls at them hard, as if she might rip them apart. She doesn't know if she can face him.
"My brother," she begins, "Damon, Stefan, Caroline, Matt…school and…my life is in Mystic Falls, Elijah."
"But you ran." He reminds her.
She holds in a gasp. "I know." She tells him. "But it was wrong of me to do so. I shouldn't have been such a coward."
He would stop her, he really would however, he knows one too many things about running. And he's fully aware that fleeing never solved a problem. It didn't even offer him time to think things through.
It simply made everything that much more difficult.
But, she's made a selfish man out of him.
He doesn't let her go.
"You once told me that," Elijah's voice is slightly muffled by a pillow he holds, "you said that you didn't want to go anywhere else."
"I don't want to."
Suddenly, he loses his usual calm composure. "Then why even consider—"
"Because!" She too lights up in flames. He grows silent and cold, like stone. "I don't want to do this Elijah, but I have to go back."
Don't you see the difference?
.
/ / /
"Don't go." He finally gathers enough courage to say.
Her hand holds his, firmly. "I'll be back." She whispers. "I promise."
.
/ / /
future
/ / /
.
Once upon a time, centuries ago, he too made a promise and told her that he would wait for her.
.
/ / /
He receives a letter, ages later.
I'm sorry. It says. I tried but I just couldn't leave again.
I'm sorry.
There's no name or return address, it's not even addressed to him. Yet, he crumples the paper and shoves it in to his right pocket. He would recognize her handwriting and her scent, anywhere.
Elijah does (not) scream. He does (not) shout. He does (not) lock himself in his chamber and drink until the break of dawn.
She had stolen his bravery along with his heart.
He does (not) feel like a vessel; empty and hollow.
Fading and fading, over and over again.
Until he is nothing but darkness, nothing but blankness.
.
/ / /
End
/ / /
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Le more notes: oh dear, did I make you shed a tear? (Please review anyway or because you love Elejah just as much as I do?)
—Xoxo Carter