A.N: I'm most likely going to work on this one more than
'Counting The Days' so just a heads up.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, sadly.
Elijah found himself coming to with excruciating pain. His eyes burning with tears as he tried to make out where he was. He could feel himself healing with each heaving breath he took, but the pain wasn't dull enough for him to ignore. The Mikaelson, now full of rage, sought after who ever decided to cross him. But that would have to wait 'til he gained his strength back.
Groaning, Elijah stood up and looked down at his now dusted suit. He brushed most of the filth off, but aside from that his hair and skin were still powered. He could feel his teeth pinching his gums and his eyes becoming bloodshot. He knew he had to feed.
Elijah scanned his surroundings, his heavy breathing cutting through the thick silence. He let out a shaky breath, noticing when he did, it let out a puff of smoke. The night air not affecting him like it would for a human, he needn't worry about the cold.
Realizing he was alone with no source of provisions, he started to limp along until he was beside a dirt road. Not knowing where he was, went with his gut and headed right.
When he walked for about an hour he came across a man lying in the middle of the road. His pace quickened, only to slow when he was close enough to recognize who the young man was.
Elijah gave out an involuntary curse, and closed his eyes. His breath still clawing at the insides of his chest.
The young man then opened his eyes to reveal light blues behind his lids. He sat up with a knowing trademark smirk on his face.
Damon Salvatore.
"Well, well. Look who we got here, my favorite original, Elijah Mikaelson." Damon, fully standing now, started to approach the elder man. "I could have sworn you ditched this town a couple weeks back," his grin grew, "unless you fell just as hard as me and my little brother." Damon's eyes shone with the insult that he himself knew wasn't true, but like the man he was, he wanted to get a kick out of the original.
Elijah sighed at the pitiful attempt to get him even more angered, but disclosed it as he readjusted his cuff links. "I left awhile back, yes," he nodded his head, "And I didn't plan on coming back either. But it seems as though I can't get as far from here as I would like." He started to walk pass the older Salvatore brother, towards the town he thought he wouldn't have to see again 'til he was deemed so.
Damon looked at Elijah's suit and brought his gaze up, and noticed the dirt on his face and in his hair. His grin seemed unremovable as he gave out a short chuckle, "What happened?" he asked, one side of him genuinely curious and partly because he wanted to make fun of how he, an original, got lacerated and put in this condition.
Elijah slowed his stride and gave a quick glims towards the Salvatore. He looked ahead and tried to decipher what had occurred this evening. He barely scratched the surface of it, and that made him register the fact that he had no recall or memory of what happened to him.
His jaw ticked as he gritted out, "That's none of your concern." and that's all he was going to say to this exasperating vampire. Damon gave him a pointed look, but decided not to push his luck with the man and brushed it off.
They continued to walk side by side until Elijah couldn't stand the silence, "Why were you lying in the middle of the road?" he voiced, though he wasn't very interested in the subject.
Damon's grin disappeared as he sighed, "Let's just say I've had a tough night." Noticing that his voice became aggravated by the topic, Elijah only gave out a slight nod as to indicate he understood that he didn't want to discuss it.
As the time passed, the two men found themselves arriving at the Mystic Fall's park at an unforeseeable hour. The street lights and moon giving off little to no light in the silence of the unoccupied area.
They stopped by a worn bench, and Damon looked to Elijah, "Tell me," giving off a lower tone, "why are you really here? You know you aren't the only Mikaelson who decided it was a good idea to leave."
The original faced him, "I have no intention of staying," he resorted, "I'll be out of this forsaken town by daybreak." His voice becoming reassuring for not only the Salvatore, but himself. As he looked over all the reasons he could possibly want to stay, he knew of only one. But he stopped his train of thought, just before it could entail anything. The younger man studied his face and nodded his head before he was gone.
Elijah's gaze brought him to scan over the town square and finally behind him, where the old bench sat. He unbuttoned his suit before he seated himself, and leaned back, closing his eyes. He listened to the soft chirps of crickets and the wind coming to a stop. His lungs still ragged as he tried to manage the ache. He stayed like that for awhile.
As he listened for early risers, he felt a light tingling. At first he dismissed it, but pain threatened to spread within his chest, Elijah let out a sharp gasp. His hand immediately grabbing towards it. He bend over and fell to the ground, the pavement rough against his hands and knees.
What caught him off guard was what came with his suffering. The sole thing he could possibly think about was her. How she would collapse next him. How she would offer him her blood. He could see her pleading eyes glisten with small tears. Her compassion dulling out the throbbing, tugged at the corners of his lips.
When he could see pass his lids, the original wasn't met by the caring encounter, but the clear cold and dark night sky.
He sat up with ease, finding that he no longer had the throbbing sensation within his chest nor trouble breathing.
But he didn't feel the same. The guilt and anguish he grew so accustomed to through out the years was gone. As if it had dwindled away with the pain.
No.
He was sure at any second it would come. It would hit him harder than before.
But it never did.
Elijah stood up, not quite grasping the feeling. But he could only think of one thing he could possibly do in that moment.
He wanted to see Elena. Hear her voice. Touch her skin. Do things he didn't realize he wanted to do until now.
Elijah felt his teeth cutting through his gums, heat of blood coursing through his veins, and his breathing becoming labored.
He could feel something carnal ready to break free. But Elijah already knew that it was his instincts pushing to take the wheel, urging him to let go.
Taking calmer breaths, he tried to place it in the back of his mind. Only for it to push him harder.
Why are you fighting? It sounded as though it were him, but darker and graveled. As if his voice was drained of water.
The intrusion sent an unwanted shiver down his spine.
Because I know what will happen if I submit to your audacity. Elena will be the first on your crazed list. Elijah flung his hand in the air as to draw a point.
You really think by taking her it'll turn you into a monster? Is that it? He gives off a darkened chuckle. The feeling of him pressing even more makes him wobble back onto the bench.
Elijah placed a firm hand at the arm, not wanting to give in. Not willing to stand by. The action of just keeping conscious was such a struggle he could feel his face peppered in little dews of sweat.
The merciless voice sighed in aggregavation, and tired a different approach.
You know you could have your way with her. Do so with the knowledge that your pleasing her as well. His lips pulling up to a grin at the end.
The Mikaelson shook his head. No.
He paused for a slit second before he continued. No I will not be swayed into your treacherous game. You may have had me in the beginning, but there's no way I'll ever fall back in. There's no way you'll attain me! His inner voice raising at the end.
We'll see.
Silence followed.
The weight, gone.