Waiting in the Wings
Family always know which wounds to irritate, which weaknesses to exploit.
"I thought you'd be annoyed," Niklaus drawls, "given that Miss Gilbert has shuffled off her mortal coil in exchange for vampirism, there won't be another doe-eyed doppleganger for you to fawn after in five hundred years' time."
He gives a sardonic smile and drains his glass of whiskey, smug in the way only a sibling can be towards another. Klaus has rid himself of the lovesickness for dopplegangers, something Elijah himself has never achieved, though he doubts very much that any amount of hypnotism or elixirs could save him from the curse.
He seeks refuge from familial taunting at the Grill, nursing a bottle of Shiraz he suspects may be older than the Salvatore brothers. Introspection inevitably follows.
He supposes that Elena's vampirism will end this vicious circle. He will never meet another woman who wears that uniquely exquisite face and perhaps this is a blessing.
The doppleganger is a supernatural entity at heart and yet it is rare that he gets a glimpse of the sublime in her. Vampirism has cloaked her heartbeat to a dull thud but he still remembers the tell- tale heart threatening to burst from her chest when he first leaned forward to sniff her in an obscene parody of a suitor's kiss.
In his dual role as his brother's consigliore and bloodhound Elijah has learnt the importance of patience. The Salvatores can only fight over Elena like two dogs with a bone until she eventually has enough. He remembers the farcical ball that his mother threw in their family's supposed reunion. He'd had to restrain a laugh when Elena had reluctantly taken both Salvatores' arms, all the while masking a scowl. He will not join the fray. Love is not something that can be pried from a brawl or even offered regretfully as terms of a negotiation. It must be offered freely….still the burning sensation of her lips on his remains- a brand that urges him to do something rash and impulsive.
He knew it was not his Katerina. The second doppleganger is more like himself in temperament, keeping the passion reigned in in some allegiance to decorum that is a bygone era to her. Katherine Pierce uses her beauty like a whip, mercilessly and knowingly. Elena on the other hand is mostly unaware of her charms. All the more reason he yearns to make her see stars.
Agreeing to meet Katerina had been a mistake. True, the cure was of mutual interest but he should have been more self-aware. He was a man who was renowned for negotiation but he should have remembered that Katerina tended to parlay with her body when she feared words would fall short. One would consider this method of negotiation as beneficial but being Klaus's broker merely leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, one that none of her kisses can cure him of. It felt disturbingly like blackmail and for the briefest second, like prostitution. Elena's kiss, although spontaneous and unprecedented, was revitalising. No matter how many times he buried himself in Katherine Pierce, he could not tempt the girl he had once loved out to embrace him.
His impulsive claiming of the newly discovered Elena's mouth was then a saving grace. The taste of surprised youth quickened him once more. What a fool he'd been pining for Katerina for all these centuries when only the cool façade of Katherine Pierce the maneater remained.
He'd remained blissfully unaware of his attraction to Elena during their initial encounters. It took a dagger-induced sleep to bring the truth to light. Klaus's maniacal measures are inconvenient but at least they offer the opportunity for introspection, he muses. But the Salvatore feuding and his family's obsession with self-preservation hindered him once again, forcing the infatuation deep down within. He will wait for her to come, when she will finally realise that teenage spats and trysts cannot carry on into eternity.
The eldest Salvatore sits beside him, feigning drunken nonchalance.
"Hello Damon," he smiles wryly.
"'Lijah," he nods.
"A bit late for you to be starting isn't it?" he asks nodding at the glass of bourbon.
Damon smiles, "Two dopplegangers under one roof, it's exhausting and not in the way I'd enjoy. Less, 'Dear Penthouse', and more like screaming, psychotic newborns."
Elijah acknowledges the bait but doesn't take it.
The eldest Salvatore does have the potential to reclaim her from her embittered stupor but she would quickly hoist him with his own petard, burning and consuming him like a candle through wax. No, what Miss. Gilbert needs is a knight who waits for her to seek him out and offer him her love. He will not mimic the Salvatore's and tear at the vessel until it is devoid of feeling and rendered mush.
Damon doesn't seem to care for his faraway look and lack of formative action.
"And why would I trouble myself with cleaning up another of your messes?"
"I think you like playing the referee more than you'd like to admit. Plus, she's gotta hit rock bottom before she can start crawling back to the top. Maybe a peak at one of your Mad Men adverts will create a fashion crisis so intense that she has no choice but to pop that pesky switch back on."
Derision aside, Elijah can see that Damon genuinely feels that he can help her. The sad thing is that he doesn't know if he's mad or sane. He cringes inwardly at the idea of this exchange getting back to one of his siblings.
"Come on, act Jiminy Cricket to Elena's shrivelled raisin heart? Make her a real girl again?" Damon sputters from his now emptied glass.
Elijah stares fort the briefest of moments, unsure whether to deride Damon's transparency or applaud him for attempting any form of intervention between two dopplegangers and an Original scorned. He performs neither. Instead he finishes his wine in one gulp and follows the similarly lovelorn vampire out.