Battered Souls
….
Chapter 1 ~
Haunted
...
Summary: When a mysterious illness strikes Elijah, causing him to confuse Elena with former love Tatia, the whole Original family band together with Elena to try and save his life. Elena/Elijah, with a good dose of the Original family as a side dish ;) A fic that plays havoc with canon – in this story, Alaric didn't complete the transition, so is dead for all intents and purposes (sorry readers) – and is set just after the dance in 3x20.
….
He couldn't quite say for sure what brought it on, the first signs of illness. He'd not been bitten by a werewolf, and there was nothing to suggest foul play or witchcraft had had a hand in what was happening, but there was something supernatural at play here which he couldn't quite put his finger on.
Elijah, who was always keen to amend his past behaviour, while upholding the traditional values he always admired in people (certain people, in particular), never felt uneasy, never let his confidence falter for even a moment, and yet in the midst of returning back into Mystic Falls, with the assurances of his siblings that any threat to them had been extinguished (aside from the Salvatores who, in truth, weren't really threats at all), something had struck him.
He'd ignored it at the time, pushing it aside like it hadn't mattered at all. Instead, he'd reunited with his siblings, even Klaus, who he knew instinctively he couldn't trust anymore, but yet still loved all the same (as to be expected, due to their bond that ran deeper than anyone could ever have known), and set about establishing permanent quarters in Klaus' house.
Kol had come bounding back like a faithful puppy (albeit a puppy with the tendency to bark and snap to the point where even he, the ever patient brother, had to pinch the ridge of his nose and restrain his temper), quickly claiming the next best room (naturally), proceeding afterwards to deliver perfectly executed insult after perfectly executed insult in his sister's direction, which had caused her nose to flare and her temper to rise to the surface.
In the midst of all the drama, he'd found himself zoning out for the briefest of moments, a queer feeling taking over for a short period of time. Though he regained his composure quickly afterwards without any of his siblings knowing otherwise, it had still staggered him that he'd lost focus so easily, and so he'd made a valiant effort in trying to anchor himself to the presence.
Now, he found himself sipping delicately at the wine Klaus had poured them all, watching as Rebekah kept shooting dirty (but secretly affectionate) looks in Kol's direction, while Klaus himself seemed to spread himself on the couch, an air of vindication surrounding him.
Elijah wanted to savour the victory, wanted to relish the fact that nothing could vanquish them, but a part of him knew that immortality and invincibility remained too separate qualities to possess; immortal though they were, he wasn't entirely convinced they were invincible as well. It wouldn't be fair to claim they were, particularly since they were inarguably responsible for the loss of thousands of lives over the years, and so to relish this collaborated victory felt wrong somehow.
"What's wrong, dear brother?" Klaus enquired drily, noting his brother's absent-mindedness. "How come you are so deep in thought and not joining in with our celebrations?"
"Leave him alone, Nick. It's nice that one of us can remain quiet for so long," Rebekah chipped in, aiming this particular blow in the direction of Kol, who rolled his eyes and allowed his head to loll back.
"I remain perturbed by the fact we have yet to hear from the Salvatores, who clearly will not let our continued existence remain a fact," Elijah lied smoothly, covering up his own weakness.
Rebekah let out a derisive snort, clearly unworried by that scenario. Klaus likewise remained visibly sceptical, and Kol just didn't even contemplate the matter at all, merely continued shooting mischievous looks in his sister's direction, which did not go ignored for very long.
"Relax. They'll be in mourning over the loss of their dear friend, Alaric, therefore unlikely to attack any time soon," Klaus pointed out, pouring himself another drink. "You must savour the spoils that come after winning a war, Elijah. Haven't we been over this many times before?"
Elijah inclined his head briefly, touching the side of his head as a brief flicker of pain emerged.
It was unlike him, and his very nature, to feel pain like this, unless of course someone was directing it at him. Puzzled, he began to reel through the various options which might've explained it, but nothing seemed realistic enough to be considered true, so, reluctantly, he let it go again.
"I say we throw another ball to celebrate," Rebekah announced, rising fluently to her feet, her sunshine gold hair falling gracefully down her back. "Since I've been deprived of two school dances, I say it's only fair I get to plan and organise another one."
"And doubtless, something will keep you from this one too," Kol snickered, remaining unimpressed as Rebekah sped towards him, her eyes bleeding irritation.
Elijah fought the urge to roll his eyes. He enjoyed the occasional banter between his siblings, but, really, Rebekah and Kol could really push the boat out sometimes.
Klaus just looked amused, casting Elijah a look as if to say let them be, brother. It's all in good spirits.
It was hard for Elijah sometimes to completely relate to his siblings, who let their tempers frequently overrule them. He wasn't pretending he was virtuous by any means, but when he had to be cruel, it was methodical, carefully planned out to avoid any more unnecessary unpleasantness.
Was that his excuse for what he'd put Elena through that night? That it might've been cruel, but it was methodical, it had a purpose? No, he knew there was no excuse suitable enough to justify putting an innocent human in such peril. A part of him knew he'd been punishing for her lying to him, and the fact she was the most useful hostage any of the Originals could dream of using made his manipulatory techniques that much more transparent (and despicable).
But gathering from what little Rebekah had told him about what had gone down between them in the tunnels, he knew Elena had shown admirable strength even then. He didn't know why it constantly surprised him when she showed such displays of strength; if her ancestors were anything to go by, determination and strength were just two qualities destined to be a part of her.
He blinked suddenly, again feel this heavy wave of pain wash over him. He swayed a little on the spot, then recovered, finally feeling a little worried, unsure what was even happening with him.
Rebekah, perceptive as always, spotted his odd behaviour at once.
"Elijah?" She walked up to him, resting a hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"
He blinked, suddenly seeing her with longer hair, plaited at the top the way she'd always done in many, many centuries ago.
"What – What's happening?" he murmured, putting a hand to his head, ignoring Rebekah as he turned away.
He heard Klaus and Kol cautiously rise to their feet, but he blocked out them out for the moment, aware of a dull pain throbbing in his chest. Stretching, he tried to pass it off as just a moment's weakness, but as he slowly turned, he saw Klaus also with longer hair, and he stared, rendered speechless.
He became aware of the voices surrounding him, but couldn't register anything, not even the context of what they were saying.
"Elijah?"
"Is he... Is this some sort of side effect from mother's death?"
"Assuming of course she's dead for good. We can never be quite sure what she's doing on the other side."
"Elijah." This was Rebekah speaking. "Elijah, are you alright?"
He blinked, instantly back in the present.
"Yes," he responded, giving her a curt smile. "I'm just experiencing some mild discomfort. I assume it's because I haven't had blood in a while."
"Define a while," Kol demanded, looking grim, every part of him tensed up, as though permanently prepared for a fight of some kind.
Elijah looked down, unable to quite articulate his own explanation because he knew what his siblings were going to say, could practically hear the jibes and insults already. He was an honourable man, or so he liked to believe, and yet even he knew what he was about to say would sound absolutely incredible, and he wasn't quite sure if there wasn't a smidgen of selfishness hidden amongst the honour in his actions.
"I haven't divulged in a live...snack ...since the night I forced Elena into the tunnels, and made Rebekah play captor," he confessed, already seeing the spark of judgement in Rebekah's eyes.
Klaus rolled his eyes, while Kol seemed to contemplate this briefly.
"Elijah, we've been through this. You don't need to feel guilty," Rebekah said, her tone clipped, cold. "My actions – my threats – were my own. All you did was present me with an opportunity to exact a little payback, like any good brother would."
Elijah glanced at her.
"And I thought I made it clear – we were made into vampires by our mother, but we became monsters by our actions. Putting aside her former actions, Elena is still human. She's still pure and innocent and we continue to corrupt her world like the arrogant beings we are."
Kol stared. "He's sicker than we thought."
"Not sicker, Kol – wiser," Elijah corrected, his voice as hard as steel.
"What say you to this, Nick?" Rebekah demanded, turning towards Klaus, who seemed to be deep in thought.
He looked up briefly, meeting Elijah's eyes for half a second.
"I think it's foolish of him to dwell on doing what he needed to do to ensure our survival," he eventually said.
Rebekah nodded her approval; Kol remained sceptical, sensing (astutely) there was a but there somewhere.
"But he cannot criticise dear Elijah when he's also been giving his heart away to the first girl to give him the time of day," he guessed, sounding triumphant. "Oh, what day is this, Rebekah, when we two seem to be the only sane ones around here?"
Klaus scowled.
"There's a beautiful dagger with your name on it, Kol. Just say the word, and you two can be reunited again."
"Enough." Elijah gave a heavy sigh. "There's been enough blood spilt in this town without us adding to it."
He then proceeded to walk out of the room, unsure whether he was hallucinating or not, because even as he walked out of the room, his eyes peeling back to gaze at his small and broken family, he could've sworn that their younger selves stared back at him, nothing but concern written across their faces.
He wasn't quite sure where his feet were taking him, only that they were steering him in an actual direction, and ignoring the worried chatter now taking place between his siblings, he pushed on, aware there was only one place he needed to be right now.
….
She plastered the walls with paint, determined to forget, determined to heal.
Jeremy had long since given up and gone to bed, but she was still painting away, occasionally pausing to choke back a sob.
When had this all become so hard? Moving on had always been a chore, but now it felt like the impossible, something she could only dream about but never attain. This room seemed to accurately depict her state right now, what with it always doomed to be empty, void of life, and perhaps part of her thought that redecorating it might help start the healing process.
So far, it wasn't working.
Elena was tired of burying loved ones, and it didn't matter that Damon had agreed to take care of Alaric's body in the morning, didn't matter that he'd selflessly offered to carry the burden of her grief as well as his own. The fact remained, their number was down by one, and she was tired of struggling on, trying to put a positive spin on everything. Jeremy had been right before he'd left for Denver.
None of them were going to make it out of this town alive.
She was still clad in her 1920s outfit, almost afraid by taking it off it was like accepting the fact the night was over, and that everything that had happened was real. With this thought in mind, she kept up her steady pace of brushing, the strokes uneven and administered too roughly.
Eventually, she threw the brush to the ground, dropping to her knees, allowing herself to succumb to the emotion. She buried her head inside her hands, sobbing, unaware of the presence behind her until a soft voice spoke.
"Why are you crying?"
She turned, surprised to see Elijah standing there, his expression unusually tender, less guarded than it normally was. But she felt this suppressed rage sneak to the surface, because it was he and his despicable family which were the cause of all this misery, and she instantly wanted to tell him to leave.
"Why do you think I'm crying?" she demanded, somewhat savagely, making sure to encompass as much bitterness as she could around each word, so he could feel, if only for a moment, the sting that was reality.
It wasn't that she hated Elijah, even after everything he'd done, but knowing what he was a part of her exhausted her ability to try and act like she cared. He was honourable, to an extent, and she valued that commodity, but it wasn't enough to redeem his family in her eyes. Maybe he knew that, and this was a goodbye, or apology, of sorts.
He looked thrown for a moment, but walked towards her, his palms outstretched (an offer of peace) and knelt down beside her, taking her hand in his much to her intense surprise.
"Were the boys in the village a little too rough again?" he murmured, examining her palm.
Elena blinked, confused.
"What are you talking about?"
"I know they don't treat you as they should," he continued, oblivious to her confusion. "I know your past makes you seem easy game to them, but I can assure you, Tatia, you are not alone, and you are certainly not unloved."
"Tatia..." Elena trailed, something clicking into place. "Elijah... It's me. Elena."
He gazed at her, the tenderness and warmth in his expression hard to miss, hard to ignore, and she stared back at him, suddenly afraid, instinctively knowing something was wrong here – very wrong indeed.
Then she noticed the glazed look in his eyes, the faint sweat beads gathering along his forehead, and began to do what Elena Gilbert did best – worry.
"Elijah." She shook him gently. "Elijah, it's me. Elena. Look at me."
He did, but his smile wasn't his own; that is to say, it wasn't one of a man who was utterly focused, utterly driven by his need to have his family back together again.
"Please don't cry," he soothed, reaching for her cheek, but hesitating. "It upsets me to see you this way. Niklaus feels the same way."
"Elijah." She swallowed, feeling emotion clogging her throat again. "Elijah, please listen. Please. It's me. Elena Gilbert."
Elijah stared at her, confused, and that was the break in character needed to snap him back to reality. Confused, surprised, and shocked, he drew back, rising fluently to his feet, actually looking skittish, even though it wasn't part of his personality at all.
"Elena." He swallowed loudly. "I must – I must apologise profusely. I – I didn't intend on startling you." He glanced around. "Or coming here at all, I must say."
She rose cautiously, eyeing him.
"It's okay," she said warily. "What's going on?"
"The strangest thing," he murmured, not quite with her. "I have these intense...headaches, and then I feel like I'm...somewhere else. Here but...not quite."
He blinked, and there she was again, clad in this beautiful dress – handmade, naturally ,woven by her own two hands– her sobs pushing past every barrier he'd ever put up around people – mostly his father – and he wandered towards her, drawn to her in a way he'd never been drawn to anyone before.
"Tatia." He knelt beside her, instantly taking her hand. "Why are you crying?"
She didn't respond; her face was lost in a sea of curls, hiding the worst of her emotion.
He glanced at her palms, at the raw marks there, some as red as if they had been bleeding, and felt anger boil inside him.
"Were the boys in the village a little too rough again?" he asked, angrier than words could've expressed.
"One cannot expect otherwise, when one has such a slanderous past," she spoke, glancing up at him, her eyes red raw to match her hands. "I gave birth out of wedlock, Elijah – I'm an outcast. A prey to devilish hands which would have their wicked way with me."
"I know they don't treat you as they should," he spoke, shaking his head. "I know your past makes you seem easy game to them, but I can assure you, Tatia, you are not alone, and you are certainly not unloved."
She gave him a bleary smile.
"Oh, you are one of the good ones, Elijah. Pure of heart, pure of mind. Yours are the only eyes I see which are free of judgement. I feel so alone in the world sometimes, like there is not a soul who cares about me, not a soul who loves me." She cast a bitter gaze at the ground. "Such is the Petrova curse – to be forever alone."
"Please don't cry..."
"Please don't cry..."
"I'm not." Elena felt herself genuinely concerned for the Original, who seemed to dabble in and out of the past like it was a common occurrence. "Elijah, you need to go home right now."
Tatia gave him a sweet smile, laden with sadness.
"You need to go home, Elijah. I shall be fine, I promise. I know a woman who can heal my hands."
"Heal your hands maybe, but not your heart, which I see is sick with sorrow," he observed mournfully. "Oh, if you could share my vision of you, Tatia, then perhaps would you see how loved you are." He hesitated. "I know my...brother is fond of you too. Maybe even more than I, for when my brother loves, he loves as he hates – with intensity. Passion."
"Yes, Niklaus is nothing, if not intense in his affections." She touched his cheek lightly. "But you are good, right to the heart, Elijah. If only you shared my vision of you, perhaps you would not feel the way you do."
"Which is...?"
"Troubled," she replied simply.
Elena waved a hand in front of Elijah's face, frightened when he didn't respond.
After a few moments, he emerged back into reality, took one look at her pale face and tear soaked cheeks, and exited silently, leaving her to wonder what the hell had just happened.
….
Elijah was back to his usual self as he made his way down the dark streets.
His immediate, and primary, thought was what the hell just happened?
He'd frightened Elena, and she'd been buried in her own grief, trying to cope with yet another loss forced upon her young shoulders, and that made another pile of grief rest on his shoulders, weighing him down, each step feeling heavier than it should've done.
Where had all this Tatia business come from? He'd put his feelings about her to rest now, long before Katerina had entered the scene.
What was it about the Petrova bloodline which spoke of the forbidden, but promised so much more? What was it about that smile – the smile that revealed everything and nothing – which could make a man go weak at the knees? How had three Petrovas, each looking alike beyond belief, somehow possess three different personalities, and yet could still appeal to any man?
He quickened his pace, turning around quickly, swearing he could hear the sounds of wolves in the night. There was a bright moon hovering in the sky, its glow so fierce, he felt like it was invading him on a personal level.
"Elijah."
Great. Just all I need.
"What is it, Niklaus?" he asked promptly, not bothering to stop for his brother.
"You're not breaking down on me are you?" Klaus, unsurprisingly, sounded aggressively critical. "You're not going soft on me because of Elena are you? Because that would be foolish."
"She's an admirable human being, Niklaus, and we've torn her life to pieces," Elijah muttered, avoiding his brother's eyes knowing he would see that innocence again which had once existed in Niklaus, and he couldn't let himself get tied down by the past.
"We're vampires, brother, and Original ones too," Klaus argued hotly, matching him in pace. "If I think for even a second you're capable of betraying me, I'll dagger you, grab Elena, run for the hills and create myself a new hybrid family."
Elijah stopped, turning around, raising an eyebrow.
"This same threat again, brother? See, I think you depend on me, Rebekah and Kol far more than you care to admit. If you truly believed us worthless, you would've grabbed Elena and taken her a long time ago."
"True, but I have had other distractions. Maybe I should amend that."
Elijah smiled humourlessly.
"Father was right in one aspect of his judgement of you – you really are impulsive. You make threats left, right and centre, and yet despite your nature, despite your strength, I've yet to see you act on any of them."
Klaus pushed his lips together in a scowl.
"Is that a challenge?" he demanded sullenly.
"Rest assured, I would rather keep Elena under the watchful eyes of the Salvatores if it's all the same to you. And I'd rather not cart Rebekah and Kol around trying to escape your wrath, not when they finally have some sort of semblance of a home again."
"Ever the hero, Elijah," Klaus sneered. "Always looking out for your family."
"As are you," Elijah reminded him. "In your own twisted way."
As he began to march off, he turned, speculating for the briefest of moments before letting another piece of truth fly from his lips.
"Tatia died believing the worst of us, brother, even after finding the good in us. We senselessly chase down every Petrova for a useless cause, and where does that road always lead? Death. Heartbreak. Vengeance. Rest assured, Niklaus, you can make your threats all you want, but if you carry a single one of them out, you know you'll have sealed your fate forever. You'll be alone. Always and forever."
Klaus opened his mouth, the start of an angry retort bursting from his lips, but Elijah never heard a damn word.
All he became aware of was this intense pain building inside his chest, and then he was in free fall mode, his knees hitting the ground, his head snapping back so that his dark eyes perused the sky.
He vaguely became aware Klaus was yelling his name, but everything became dim after that. All he knew was he needed Niklaus right here, right now; he needed his brother, but not to assist him by any means.
"Niklaus," he managed to get out, grabbing his brother's arm. "I need your help! Tatia is in need of our help."
Klaus stared, for once the arrogance which lived amongst his features nowhere to be seen.
"Elijah..."
"Niklaus," Elijah swarmed into sight, observing as Klaus tended to a somewhat sullen Rebekah, who plaited and un-plaited her hair as he spoke soothingly to her.
"What is it, brother?" Niklaus was on his feet at once, concern on his features. "What plagues you?"
"Tatia. She's been roughly treated, I fear," Elijah muttered, taking his brother to one side, away from the curious ears of Rebekah.
"How so?"
"Her hands. They bear raw marks. They look bad. I fear some of the men from our village may be responsible."
Niklaus growled under his breath. "The devils. How could they?"
"They desire her, Niklaus," Elijah explained hotly. "They desire her, and when she denies them of her, they get violent. We've seen it countless times with some of the other women."
"It must be the wolves," Niklaus barked. "They can turn on a full moon into wolves, so who is to say they aren't just as wolfish in their human forms?"
"We mustn't jump to conclusions, brother," Elijah cautioned, cooling down somewhat. "We musn't accuse every man with lust filled eyes of hurting her – we'll start a war we cannot hope to win."
"Let it start then," Niklaus vowed, visibly riled up. "No one can hurt a woman in this way, Elijah. It isn't right."
"What would father say if we were to pursue this needless course of vigilante justice?" Elijah said, giving his brother a meaningful look. "We are not starting a war with the werewolves, Niklaus. It will destroy our whole family."
"Maybe a war is what we need to remind them of how strong a family we are," Niklaus stated coldly, already the first threads of what he would become weaving their way into place.
"I said no, Niklaus. We must tend to her, give her shelter, and nothing more," Elijah warned. "It is not for us to avenge her honour."
Niklaus smiled coldly, clearly intending to do the exact opposite.
"Brother, I appreciate your concern for Tatia. But as the one planning to elope with her when the time is right, I think you should leave matters in my hands." He dug his hands into his pockets, looking briefly contemplative. "I wonder if Henrik is up for a little reconnaissance mission tonight."
"Don't you dare," Elijah breathed, stepping forward. "It is a full moon. Someone shall be killed if you're not careful. Henrik is just a child."
"That as may be, but at least he knows not to stand in my way when I want something," Niklaus spoke, every word wreathed in thinly veiled contempt. "See if father thinks I'm weak now."
"Elijah?" He felt himself being shaken. "Elijah, stop this."
"Niklaus." Elijah propelled himself forwards, grabbing his brother roughly. "Leave Henrik out of this, I beg of you."
Klaus blinked, completely floundered.
"Henrik?" he spoke, sounding intensely confused. "Elijah... what is wrong with you?"
Elijah didn't even respond, but his eyes, speaking of feelings long past, seemed to reveal that wherever his brother was right now, it certainly wasn't here, right now, in the present.
Then, just as instantly, Elijah's eyes snapped back to Klaus', seemingly confused by the events which had just occurred, dipping his head and closing his eyes as he recounted everything.
"I think..." he began slowly. "I may not be myself right now."
"Undoubtedly so," Klaus remarked, concern warring with confusion as the dominant emotion across his face. "Let's take you home, brother, and get you something to eat. Something, needless to say, a little bit stronger than the diet I'm sure you've become accustomed to eating recently."
Elijah tried to argue, but found he'd been robbed of breath. Instead, he weakly nodded in agreement, allowing his brother to throw an arm around him, steering him around, and back in the direction of their house.
A/n: Okay, this is a new idea I'm playing around with. Basically, there won't be much of the Salvatores in this fic, but a little of Klaroline, and definitely a lot of the Originals. Main pairing shall be Elena/Elijah, but it's also Elena/Originals in terms of the fact she's got to band together with them to save him. I'm playing havoc with canon here, so that means playing around with the flashbacks and stuff, which is always fun to do. I have no idea what Tatia is like but in the flashbacks, you'll see she's going to be a lot like Elena but also like Katherine too, so basically her own persona will be a mix of the two. Please review if you like this and if anything doesn't fit with what the show has set in motion, it's most likely deliberate, and so can be classified as AU. Enjoy.