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AN: And with this I'm done for today.
* Negotiation *
The first sense that returns to him is hearing. It's always hearing. He can't move yet, his heart isn't even beating, though he can feel the muscles of it knitting back together and he knows that soon it will begin pumping the stagnant cells around his deadened body again.
Like a cornered animal he listens for something that will tell him what to expect once he opens his eyes… once he's able to open his eyes. But it's almost silent… almost… no, he can hear someone breathing, and underneath that there is the steady thrum of a calm heartbeat.
It's… familiar.
He cannot place it however, not until the next sense returns. The air around him is slightly dusty. The most powerful odor in the room is alcohol, it permeates every surface. It mixes with sweat and blood and he guesses he might be lying in some bar, though how he got there he can't begin to guess. And underneath that there's the pleasant scent of pomegranates and… honey? Plus something else, something that has always caused his mouth to water. Something that has very little to do with bloodlust, and very much to do with… lust /love/. The simmering rage that always accompanies the removal of one of his brother's daggers calms.
He would recognize that mix anywhere. The heartbeat is a confirmation.
A minute later, once he can open his eyes and they focus on the room's ceiling, he doesn't have to turn his head toward the other person to whisper her name.
"Elena."
He doesn't have to look at her to know she's there, but he does so anyway. He's… missed her.
"Hello Elijah."
She's sitting atop the bar counter – so he's guessed correctly, - her legs swinging absentmindedly over the edge and a slightly superior but genuinely sweet smile on her face.
She's beautiful. She always is, but there's something about her that wasn't there the last time he saw her. There are emotions, for one. So she has regained her humanity, he had heard that was the case, but it's somehow a relief to see it himself. That's not all of it though, there's more. A fire. A… hope? Life.
"How long?"
He has grown tired of asking that question. The answer is never satisfactory.
"Last time I saw you was thirty two years ago, so you tell me."
He sighs. No. The answer is never satisfactory. Three decades. He wishes those damnable daggers worked on Niklaus. Maybe giving his brother some of his own medicine would teach him some manners. Maybe he'll use one of the old weapons anyway. Maybe three hundredth time's the charm.
"And I'm awake now because?"
Elena's smile widens. He guesses it's exactly the question she's been waiting for.
"Well… I didn't stumble upon you on purpose. But now that you're here, and I'm here, I do have a… problem, that you might be able to help me with. So how about for old time's sake… we make a deal?"
Elijah laughs. The lovely Elena Gilbert, his most favorite negotiator.