Title: Guns Hidden Under Our Petticoats
Summary: Post season 5. "But we're all here. That's the important thing," Damon told her. She nodded confidently, repeating the phrase in her mind like a mantra, before drifting off on the boarding room couch.
Rating: T
Notes: The premise of this is inspired by a book I just read, but I can't tell you because it will ruin it if you ever read it! You should understand the twist at the end. The title are lyrics from an Arctic Monkeys song.
On with Elena. God, she's got to be so tired from losing every single person she's ever loved at some point or another. When is enough truly enough for Elena Gilbert?
(Back to the angst with these too, and it's never felt better.)
"What's been happening in your world?
What have you been up to?
I heard that you fell in love
Or near enough
I gotta tell you the truth…"
- Snap Out of It, Arctic Monkeys
"I don't understand why Caroline's been so protective of Stefan and I lately." Elena paused, her eyes locking with Damon's and then breaking out into a smile. "Okay, I guess Caroline and overprotective come hand in hand. But she's been hovering like crazy. 'Elena, are you okay?' 'Stefan, do you want to talk?' I don't get it. We're all here in the boarding house together. What's it all about?"
She collapsed next to the icy-eyed man, placing her head on his chest. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the soft stroking of her hair and breathed out.
"Summed it up right there, in my opinion," Damon answered. "Caroline's a worrier. You just have to prove to her that everything's okay."
"Everything is okay, isn't it?" she echoed, burying closer into Damon's embrace. "We're just straightening out all the kinks. The collapsing of the Other Side, that was scary stuff. It's probably just shaken everyone up."
"But we're all here," Damon reaffirmed. "That's the important thing."
"Yes…" Elena said before yawning and falling asleep on the boarding room couch.
"You come back, and yet it seems like nothing has changed," Elena quipped, eyeing Alaric from her seat at the kitchen countertop. He threw back the rest of his liquor, the ring of glass hitting granite protruding through the silence that followed her statement. "I like this apartment. It's cozy, though you could've stayed at the boarding house a bit longer. You know they wouldn't have minded."
"I think jumping right back in would be a bit much," Alaric replied, hesitating as he chose his words, trouble frosting over his eyes. "Me being back just doesn't seem right… for some. A bit unfair, given the circumstances."
Elena shrugged, tapping her fingers along her empty glass. She hardly noticed his expression or tone. Her head felt light, probably from all she had drank earlier. Despite this, she assured Alaric she was fine and had weaseled a few drinks out of him.
She felt like Damon, the Damon who showed up wasted at The Grill that one time before they had gotten together, when she was human and with his brother. She had chastised him for his lack of social etiquette and scrunched her nose at his glassy eyes. But she had to admit, she hadn't been drunk as a vampire. She could understand the power of it now, the lull it settled her into. It was a new pleasure of hers, especially since the collapsing of the Other Side. That's when it started.
"It's all right with me, if you'd join us, especially while we're rebuilding," she countered, her eyes focusing hazily behind him. "I don't understand why everyone is so on edge lately. Everything is okay."
She echoed Damon's words from earlier, firmly and purposefully.
Alaric didn't say anything, but she didn't notice, reaching for the whiskey.
He let her, tucking her in on his couch when she passed out from her unique mixture of alcohol, effort, and exhaustion.
"Jeremy won't talk to me."
Elena sat with her back against the headboard of Damon's bed. She was dress in one of his shirts and nothing else, perched precariously with her legs crossed and head tilted. She was waiting to judge his reaction.
"You know it's harder for him," Damon told her seriously. There was no dark humor in his eyes, only an unreadable calmness. "He's might never see Bonnie again."
"I know, but I just don't understand," she pressed, crossing her arms in frustration. "He talks to Stefan. He talks to Ric. Why can't I be there for him?"
"Just be grateful I'm here," he told her, crawling towards her on the bed, nuzzling the side of her neck and pressing his lips gently into the curve of her neck.
She squirmed, an odd feeling rising in her stomach. Her breathing sped up, but it wasn't because of the kisses being trailed down her chest. A panicky feeling began to spread through her.
"No, no, no," she whispered, pushing him off of her. She reached to the bedside table for his bourbon, fumbling to get it open and tip it back. After a few gulps and a shudder, she offered it to a quizzical Damon.
He shook his head, and she placed it back on his bedside table. She wanted to ask him about it – he never refused, but suddenly a wave of contentedness began to wash over her, all the way to her toes. She wiggled them, causing a ripple in the sheets. It transfixed her momentarily.
"Can we just lay here?" she breathed, her hands trailing to pull the silk sheets closer around them. "I'm just so tired."
He hummed to her and held her as she fell asleep.
"Caroline seems a lot better about Damon and I lately," Elena said nonchalantly as her and Stefan worked in the kitchen. He usually didn't volunteer to cook, but today was Sunday, and everyone came over for dinner, including Alaric, Tyler, and Jeremy. It was nice. "Although she doesn't say much either. I think she's in the transition stage."
"I see," Stefan said, his back to her and tone even.
"I just wanted to thank you, too," she told him, turning to rinse the knife she was holding in the sink. The running water added a backdrop to the quiet house. "For everything you said a few weeks ago, about Damon and I. And for listening lately. Not many people listen that much anymore."
"People are coping in different ways," Stefan replied. He dried his hands on a top and swept the vegetables he had been cutting into a stainless steel pot on the stove. "But you're welcome. We're going to make it, you know. It's all going to come together eventually."
She wasn't sure what he was talking about, but she found herself in his arms moments later and couldn't recall how or why she got there. An odd sound was coming from Stefan, and she tried to comprehend in her muddled mind.
Then she realized it was not him sobbing but herself. That scared her, and she clung onto him even tighter.
That night she swore she heard Stefan open Damon's door to check on her at least three times. She felt guilty for scaring him and had wanted to tell Damon, but he was fast asleep next to her in the darkness.
Besides, she didn't think she would have been able to find the words.
She was pulled under repeating that to herself like a mantra.
"Elena, I'm running up to The Grill to meet Stefan," Caroline called. Elena turned away from Damon, half-way grinning from their unfinished conversation. She contemplated her friend's words, wondering if she should offer to go. She glanced at Damon, and he shrugged, but she figured he was making a face behind her back and she turned towards the door to yell her reply.
"Want me to come?"
"Only if you want!" Caroline responded, starting to sound a bit impatient. Elena rolled her eyes, imagining the schedule she was probably conflicting with. "You haven't seen it since they've started rebuilding."
"I should go," Elena whispered in Damon's ear as he had suddenly appeared right behind her. She kissed his cheek. "See you soon?"
He didn't reply, but she felt his eyes on her until she shut the door to his room softly, taking a deep breath before descending the stairs.
"Let's go!" She smiled at Caroline, shrugging on a jacket and smoothing her hair down.
They arrived at The Grill. It was still eerily singed, but people were moving in and out. The whole front at to be rebuilt, she was told by Caroline on the way there. Her blonde friend seems optimistic about the changes they were adding to the layout, but Elena zoned out.
She began nervous when they walked in. She hadn't been there since –
She felt the water in the back of her throat.
His hand around hers.
An explosion, the world fire and no ice.
Swimming in ashes, sinking in them.
Running to save herself.
Where was Damon?
Where was Damon?
Can't leave without him, can't leave.
"Caroline," she gasped. Caroline turned around, but she was coming in and out of Elena's view. The world seemed shadowy again, like her time on the Other Side. "Caroline, where's Damon? I can't leave without him."
"Elena, take a deep breath," Caroline instructed her firmly, reaching out.
"Don't touch me, I can't go back without Damon!" she shouted. Why didn't Bonnie realize that she had to wait? No, that was Caroline. Why was she so confused? Where was Damon?
"Stefan!" she heard someone scream, panicky like her own voice but far away.
"Damon?" she breathed, looking up into the dark eyes of some man. But they were brown, not blue, and suddenly she was falling because he wasn't there, he wasn't coming back, she was on this side, and he was on the Other Side but there was no Other Side –
"Why didn't you wait for him?" she cried, staring into Stefan's eyes. She expected to see pity or confusion in them, but all she saw was her own guilt and her own sadness. "Why couldn't we wait for him?"
And he held her again, but this time he cried with her.
On the way home, she slept on her shoulder as tears continued to fall from his cheeks.
"I just want you to know…" Elena started, looking at the sun as it dipped low in the sky. She quieted after trailing off, and Stefan didn't press her. He was seated next to her, her arm looped through one of his and her head on his shoulder. "I think this is Fate. This is the universe. They really didn't want us together."
She was bitter and cold and angry.
"Like I said, he finally got to the point in life where he was happy," Stefan said. "Nothing about it is fair."
There was another prolonged silence in which the sun teased the horizon, colors shooting from it violently – purples, reds, pinks, oranges. It was one of those striking sunsets, but neither could find it within themselves to comment on it.
"I just want you to know," she started again, firmer this time, "I still can't go back."
He doesn't get offended. He doesn't tell her that he would take her back in a heartbeat. (She already knows he would.)
"You're acting like this is a forever thing," Stefan finally said. "Do you not have any faith that we can find another way, no matter how long it takes?"
She was silent for a moment.
"The Other Side is gone," she whispered, shivering. She was hollowed out, a hollow candle with a wet wick. "There is no more halfway. Nobody has ever come back from wherever else they can go. Besides, we don't even know where to look, and I'm just… so tired."
"You'll be better in the morning," Stefan told her as she drifted off. She didn't remember the first week after the incident when she had vehemently fought tooth-and-nail to make a plan. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to take away the alcohol and force her to remember. "We'll get you cleaned up in the morning, and we'll talk about it…"
He didn't know if she had any more hope or willpower in her. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was heavy, but he swore her hands were still shaking.
If something didn't change, one of these days she was going to close her eyes and not wake up.