I do not own TVD or TO
So I had this idea while taking a shower and it wouldn't go away, so I had to sit down and write it out.
Just to let everyone know I haven't seen anything pass early season 3 of the Originals and hardly any of TVD after Elena left. So I have only the vaguest knowledge of events. I know Elijah was compelled to forget who he was to keep him from running back to Klaus' side when he enivitably needed him, but I'm taking liberties with the amnesia.
Elena in this story never took the cure, but instead eventually broke things off with Damon and left Mystic Falls behind.
I like the idea of the Boarding School but I don't like the idea of Steroline so I think I'll keep the school and Caroline as the headmistress, but she and Stefan opened the institution as friends. Basically she had the idea and he had the property that was really being wasted on just him after Damon left town.
I also don't write Kennet, and personally don't like Kolvina. I never actually saw much of Bonenzo but I think I'll have them together in this story.
I'm thinking the wedding still went down between Jo and Alaric the same way, but Kai didn't curse Elena because she and Damon had broken up.
Manhattan, the heart of 'The Big Apple': one and a half million people were crammed on the tiny island. Someone could catch a glimpse of the most gorgeous person on the face of the planet, and never see them again.
It should have been a city where she could disappear. Nobody should have ever remembered her face, but it seemed she was doomed to a life of being recognized.
Screw blind dates; her most recent had ended when the guy had called her Katherine. Even dancing in the club she was recognized.
All she had ever wanted was to be forgotten by the world, to leave behind the shadows of Katherine and Tatia and whoever else had come before. She wasn't them, she was her own person, but it was hard to figure out who she was with her past breathing down her neck.
For once she would have loved to introduce herself to another person.
She toyed with the edge of her purse and leaned against the rough bricks of a storefront. Tipping her head back, examining the roiling clouds overhead, she debated grabbing a cab. The coming storm wouldn't make her ill, by any means, but it would be messy and uncomfortable; she still had ten blocks between her and her apartment.
There were countless cabs on the street, and hailing one now would be easier than waiting for the rain to start.
She stepped sidestepped her way to the curb ignoring the cat-call coming from somewhere to her left. There was so much noise in the crowd and outside of it, and she heard it all: babies crying, men and women yelling, squirrels chattering, cars honking, and dogs barking.
She was anxious to leave it behind for a while, but the moment a yellow taxi came to a stop in front of her she froze. The air flew from her lungs in a rush.
There was a man across the street facing away from her.
There was a man across the street wearing jeans, an off-white Henley, and a black leather jacket, and facing away from her. In spite of the casual clothes she knew it was him, she would know his stance anywhere.
It would be rude not to say hello.
It had been a very long time since she'd had a stimulating conversation with anyone that challenged her. Now that she had seen him, now that her eyes had located him in a crowd of thousands, she wanted to see him; she wanted to hear his voice say her name in that way only he could: rolling off his tongue sending shivers down her spine.
He was beginning to think that venturing into the city might have been a mistake. The sound was deafening, and the smells were overpowering. There were the pleasant ones drifting from the open doors of coffee shops, and then the ones that made even his stomach turn: diesel, brine, the foul combination of human waste.
Underneath all of it he could hear the pounding hearts of the humans closest to him. They beat frantically on the busy city streets, fueled by anger, lust and fear; the rich smell of blood caused his throat to burn and his gums to ache.
He swallowed down the primal urge he suddenly felt and banished the images in his mind of luring the nearest passerby into the darkness of the alley and draining him or her of blood. He had fed not too long ago and wanted to prolong the time between taking the life of another human being; the bloodlust wasn't urgent yet.
It could wait.
He let the people pass him by and stared off down the street looking for anything that might be familiar, but he recognized nothing.
His mind was as blank staring at that street as it had been when he woke on the bus.
Somewhere behind him he heard a woman's voice calling out. It was distinctive in tone and full of a friendly determination that grew louder and annoyed the closer it got to him. He suspected she was going to be very angry at her friend for not answering her.
He stiffened when a hand landed on his arm and looked down to see a blue stone encased in silver circling a slim finger. The woman's voice was teasing, but there was some definite annoyance underneath.
"I know for a fact you heard me," she tilted her head, "even in a crowd this big you heard me. Now, I know we haven't seen each other in a while, but I can't seem to recall doing something to upset you."
He dragged his eyes up from the hand that was sending tiny jolts of energy up his arm to her face.
Her hair hung to her shoulders in a glossy brown curtain; loose curls twisted the ends and brushed her collarbone. Her pink lips were parted slightly as she looked at him. An air of familiarity shone from her dark brown eyes, and for a moment when she smiled up at him softly he felt the clouds part and the sun on his skin, but it didn't burn as he knew it would without his ring.
He didn't know anything about himself, but he knew he couldn't take off the ring; the ring that was so similar to hers.
She had longed for anonymity for half of her life, ever since meeting Stefan and learning the truth of what she was. She had wanted to be unknown, to meet someone for the first time and ask those first questions, to hear them directed at her, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined hearing those words from him.
"I'm sorry," he frowned, "but who are you?"
Her brows shot up. The last person in the world who wouldn't know her on sight was standing in front of her; he had known her face longer than she had.
"Is this a joke?" She pursed her lips. Was she so easily forgotten?
"Who are you?" He shook his head, very aware of her hand still on his arm.
He saw something that looked like hurt flash in her dark eyes and for a moment that wonderful light dimmed. He caught her wrist before she could pull away and repeated the question.
"Elena… you know me," she swallowed. She thought he might be the only person who did.
He didn't, but he wanted to.
"Alright, Elena," he tasted the name on his tongue; it was sweet. "Who am I?"
Her mouth popped open. Tilting her head she took a small step back and peered into his eyes; there was a quiet desperation there. She could see it then; he was begging her for an answer without actually begging.
"You're Elijah Mikaelson," she murmured, knowing full well he could hear her.
A single drop of rain fell from the sky and rolled down his cheek. His mind flashed to the cufflinks in his pocket; one of the only clues to his past.
She could see in his eyes that the name meant nothing to him.
Twisting the wrist he held she took his hand and started down the street as the sky cracked open and sheets of rain bore down on them. This wasn't a conversation for the street.
She used a fluffy towel to sop up the worst of the water dripping from her hair and offered him one. She shrugged out of her brown jacket and hung it over a chair.
"Coffee, tea, blood?" Elena opened the fridge. Her gums ached, and her throat burned for sustenance. She had discovered over the past decade that her ideal feeding schedule was three blood bags a day and she was due for the third.
She frowned into the fridge when she heard his heart stutter, and turned around with a couple of blood bags in her hand. Personally she preferred hers warm so she poured it into a ceramic mug and popped it in the microwave; the fifteen seconds passed quickly and before she knew it she was pulling the warm blood from the appliance.
She caught the slight shift beneath his left eye and passed him the first mug because for his features to shine through he must have been famished; maybe even close to mal-nourished. He did look a little paler than normal.
"Here," she placed the steaming blood on the counter, "I'll fix another." She busied her hands with the task and considered going to change, but she didn't want to be in dry clothes while he was stuck in wet.
"What happened to you?" She moved to her small table and sat across from him.
"There's not much to tell," he ran his forefinger around the rim of the mug.
"You have no idea who you are," she sipped her blood, "you didn't know who I was, and you're wandering around half-starved."
His eyes narrowed and widened when she tapped the area below her right eye; it was then he felt the veins pulsating and the sharp sting of his fangs.
"Something happened to you," she leaned over the table, "and I'll help, but it'll be much easier if I know what I'm dealing with; if you can give me some indication."
She traced his features with her eyes in fascination, always having wondered what his vampire visage looked like.
Elijah tapped the side of the mug before lifting it and sipping the rich liquid. The blood paled in comparison to that taken directly from a human being, but it was warm and flowed through his veins to satisfy the burning hunger raging through him, and nobody had to die for it.
For six long days and nights he had thought himself alone in the world, but then he had found a kindred spirit. She was like him, but so different, and if there was one then there were bound to be more.
"I woke up a few days ago on a bus," he began, "with no memory of who I was, or where I came from."
"You don't remember anything?" Elena crossed her arms on the table. Her foot brushed his under the table when she moved to cross her ankles.
"Aside from the briefest flash of a man there is nothing," he frowned.
His eyes narrowed at the sudden exasperation in her gaze.
"Was this man blonde by any chance?"
"No," Elijah blinked, "he had dark skin, and no hair… late 20s."
Elena tilted her head. None of the description rang any bells, and she had honestly been expecting Klaus to have been involved in some way; like he had gotten more creative than the daggers.
"Anything else?" She lifted her mug to her lips again.
"Yes," he reached into his pocket.
Elena picked up the cufflinks he placed on the table. They were gold and emblazoned with an 'E'; very much on par with the Elijah she knew. The second thing he placed on the table was a folded slip of paper.
Flipping it open she felt her eyes narrow. She knew the hand that had penned the three simple words, though their meaning was lost to her.
"Don't look back to what?" She glanced up at him through her lashes.
"I wish I knew," he chuckled. "Who was the blonde man you thought I remembered?"
Elena chewed her bottom lip and leaned back. She hooked one arm over the back of her chair and tapped the table with her other hand.
"Klaus," she inhaled slowly, "he's your brother."
"I have a brother?" He gave her a sceptical look. Wasn't that something he should have remembered?
"You have four," she smiled sadly, "but only two are still alive. You've also got two sisters."
"Large family," he murmured. "How do you fit in to this?"
"In a way I wish I didn't," she snorted and was surprised when blood didn't gush from her nose. She sighed before leaning back over the table; her eyes flickered over his windswept hair when he mirrored her motion. "I can only tell you what I know, and I'm afraid that's not going to do much for your lost memories. I don't want to think about something with the power to make you forget who you are."
"Why not?" His eyes flickered over her face mere inches from his.
"Because you're an Original," she bit her bottom lip. "Vampires can compel humans to forget things, and Originals can compel vampires, but nothing should be able to compel an Original."
"Compel?" He inhaled the floral smell of her shampoo.
"You really don't remember a thing," she breathed.
He held in his shiver when her cool breath fanned over his chin. He felt the strangest sensation in her presence, like a gravitational pull drawing him into her orbit.
"Compulsion is a little trick held by vampires," her eyes flashed with amusement, "it lets you impose your will on someone else provided that person is free of vervain."
"Is something funny?"
"Kind of," she laughed softly, "I'm explaining the nuances of vampirism to one of the oldest vampires in the world. It's a little… funny's not the right word. It's just…" Elena's tongue swiped along her lower lip. "… It's not a situation I ever would have seen myself in."
"Exactly how old am I, Elena?"
"Exactly?" She exhaled. "I don't know how old you are, exactly, I just know you've been alive for a thousand years. You told me once… the story of how your family became vampires."
"Perhaps you could enlighten me."
Elena nodded and tilted her head while thinking of where to start. His story was so convoluted that there was no good spot to begin, so she started with the day they met and moved on to present leaving out nothing. He was silent until the end.
"I left you in a cave with a woman who I knew wanted you dead?"
There was a hard edge to his voice, and something akin to horror in his eyes. It brought back memories of his letter.
"You left me with your sister," she nodded. She could see the apology on the tip of his tongue and held up her hand. "I forgave you for that a long time ago."
"How could you ever?"
"Because you did it for your family," she shivered. "That's something I can understand, and in case you've forgotten I did betray you first."
"It sounds like you had every reason to," he inhaled sharply. "You had every reason to want Klaus dead, and war often comes with collateral damage."
"I was pissed with Klaus, but I didn't want to hurt anyone else; I didn't really want to hurt him." She straightened her spine. "You were defending your family and I couldn't have stayed angry with you for that, not when I would have done the same thing."
"Were we friends Elena?"
She was mildly taken aback by his question. The answer was on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitated.
Were they friends? She had trusted him with her life on several occasions and gone to him for help when the situation permitted it. She had tried to protect him and find a way to keep him alive after his mother's spell because he had tried to help her. She couldn't bear to think of him dying; the horrible rumor of his death, clearly unfounded, had brought her to a standstill. She had always cared about him, respected him, and looked out for him, but were they friends?
Did friends cast longing glances at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking? Did friends feel the energy field drawing them closer? Did friends look at each other the way he was looking at her now?
She had thought his attraction to her was because of the face she had worn and the women who had come before, but if that were the case then why?
There had always been something unspoken between them, but clearly drawn lines had never been crossed.
Were they friends?
It was the closest noun that described their complicated relationship, so she nodded, but the brief moment of hesitation was not unnoticed.
They were friends, but they weren't friends. They had always been something more.
"You're not a deceitful person, are you Elena?"
Her mind flashed back to their conversation in the woods.
"You're not going to break a hole in my kitchen floor, are you?" She cocked an eyebrow. "I like this apartment, and I'm fairly certain I won't get my damage deposit back for that."
"I'm sorry?" He frowned at the amusement in her eyes.
"You said something like that once," she explained, "seconds before trapping me in the tunnels." She flattened her palms on the table. "I've only ever told you one lie in my life, Elijah."
"There's something more," he murmured.
Elena's heart wasn't sure whether to stop or pound out of her chest.
Was he going to mention the unspoken thing; the tension that had existed between them since day one?
"Will you tell me?"
She blinked and tilted her head.
"About my family." His mouth twisted on the word like he couldn't fathom the concept. "Not the things you say I told you, but your impressions of them."
"Okay," she nodded, "I don't know them all, but I'll tell you about the ones I do."
She considered for a moment before deciding to start with the worst of the worst.
"There's Klaus; he's the Original hybrid. He and I aren't really friends because I never forgave him for murdering my aunt and using me to break his curse, but we've worked together in the past and from what I understand he's mellowed a lot. You always sided with him even when he was wrong because he's your brother. You were focused on redeeming him; even when the rest of your family wanted to give up on him."
She had always imagined Elijah for that. The bonds of family were what made him who he was.
"Then there's Rebekah. We had a sort of Thelma and Louise thing when I turned off my humanity. I think we would have been good friends in another life if I didn't have the face I do. She can be ruthless and vindictive, but also really sweet when she wants to be. The three of you swore a vow after your mother died: Always and forever, you would stick together. As far as I know you've never broken it."
"Finn… he was your older brother. When he died it was because my friends were intent on killing all of you. I never saw any of you grieve for him, but I'm sure you did. He was under the effects of a dagger for nine hundred years. I didn't know him well, but the interactions I had made me dislike him, but I dislike anyone who would turn on their family. I heard he came back from the other side and made peace with all of you."
"I don't really know Freya, and Henrik passed long before my time, but I knew Kol about a decade ago."
She took a deep breath. Kol was one of her biggest regrets; it hadn't been until years later that she had realized part of her decision had been influenced by the sire bond, but she had never gotten over it and had breathed a sigh of relief when the new reached her from the Crescent city.
"We should have listened to Kol. He likes to play the role of a trickster and a madman but he's quite sane, and he knows his magic. I should have listened to him, but I was blinded by my circumstance and helped my little brother k… kill him."
She pushed a hand through her hair and blinked at her coffee cup.
"He's alive. I don't know the full circumstances of his resurrection. All I know is that he met a girl, a witch, and she found a way to save him. He'd probably know how to fix your memory."
He tilted his head when she bit her lip and looked away.
"You're hesitant to call him."
"We didn't leave things well," she admitted. "The last time I saw him he was technically still dead and royally pissed off. He was going to kill me, but my dead brother made a reappearance and saved me, pushing Kol back behind the veil as it closed."
He couldn't explain the rage that flooded his veins when he thought of anyone harming her. He thought it somewhat strange since she had just admitted to killing two of his brothers, but there it was; maybe it was because his family was an abstract concept and she was tangible, but he got the feeling he would have forgiven this woman for anything.
"I never apologized to you, or him," she breathed suddenly lost in her memory. "I was going to let him kill me."
"Why would you ever do that?"
"Because I deserved it," she shrugged one shoulder, "I killed him and countless others went with him. I killed a hunter. I was a murderer, and for one moment, one brief moment, I didn't want to live that. I still have trouble living with that," her voice dropped to a murmur almost too quiet to hear.
She cleared her throat and leaned back in her chair. The sun had gone down while they were talking, and a glance at the clock told her it was nearing one in the morning. Based on what he had told her she had a hunch he had arrived in the city that day.
"It's late," she sighed.
"I should go." He startled as if just noticing the hour and moved to stand up.
"You can stay if you want," Elena picked up the mugs and moved into the kitchen to rinse them off. She caught his eyes when she glanced up. "I've got a spare room, and I can call Bonnie in the morning."
"Bonnie?" He tilted his head before the name clicked. "Right, your witch friend."
"She might be able to help you remember," Elena loaded the mugs in the dishwasher. "She could be here tomorrow."
He watched her for a moment, considering the offer. She was warm and bright, and possibly she could even teach him some control.
"I wouldn't want to impose."
She smiled because even without his memory he was still polite.
"You're not," she reassured him.
She sent the message before sliding between the sheets of her bed and closing her eyes, but sleep eluded her for the longest time. It was hard to sleep when she could hear his heart beating steadily across the hall.
The room smelled of her; everything inside had been touched by her floral perfume.
How was it possible that he could feel her warmth from so far away?
The sun was rising in the sky when he heard the unmistakable sound of the shower. It roused him from his light slumber and for several moments he just sat on the bed and examined the view from the window. There wasn't much to see beyond the flower box on the window sill across the alley.
Eventually he stood and moved towards the door; in the back of his mind he registered the water had stopped, but he thought nothing of it until he opened the door and collided with a towel clad woman.
Instinctively his hands moved to steady her hips and pulled her tightly to him to keep her from stumbling.
Elena's breath caught in her throat when she tipped her head back and met his eyes. She saw there the same look she had once seen the moment before he had kissed her in Willoughby, but this time he wasn't hiding anything and she was vividly aware of the thin towel wrapped around her upper body barely covering her thighs.
For a moment neither said anything, and both were struck by the thought of how right the impromptu embrace was.
Even as vampires they needed to breathe. Elena was the first to draw in a ragged breath and with it the smell that was him and only him; it was enough to turn her knees to water.
Elijah breathed next, quick and shallow; her lavender shampoo bombarded his senses and made him dizzy. His hands tightened on her hips pulling her impossibly close in an attempt to ground himself further and stop his head from spinning.
He could feel her heart pumping in time with his, and wondered what else they could do in sync.
His left hand splayed over her lower back, gripping the soft towel; his right hand lifted to cup her cheek tenderly.
Elena's flesh tingled under his touch. It was déjà vu in the strangest sense; the same but different because this time when he touched her she had humanity. This time she could think about the way he was making her heart thunder in her chest, and take note of how his was racing just as fast.
She made no move to stop him and voiced no protest when his mouth landed on hers. There was less hesitation before she met his motions. Her fingers curled in the collar of his shirt. Opening her mouth marginally she allowed his tongue to dart inside countered his exploration by nibbling softly on his bottom lip, sucking the skin into her mouth and soothing the bite with her tongue.
And that unspoken thing… it passed back and forth between them with each brush of lips.
Her mouth was swollen and her breaths were harsh when he pulled back left a gentle peck on her lips. She couldn't open her eyes for a long moment after he rested his forehead against hers.
It was Elijah who finally broke the silence, his warm breath fanning over her cheek.
"We've done that before?"
"Once," she breathed. Elena opened her eyes and looked up through her thick lashes. Her chest expanded with her attempt at a deep breath. "You thought I was someone else."
He tipped her chin up and stared down into her pupil blown eyes.
"I can't imagine believing you were anyone but you," his fingers curled in the soft material at the small of her back.
"Because you don't remember," she reminded him.
"You're right," he nodded, "I don't remember, but I have this feeling I would know you anywhere. And if I kissed you, Elena, I'm certain it was because I wanted to kiss you."
"I can't speak for the past of course," he ran his thumb along her jaw, "but I can speak for now. I wanted to kiss you a moment ago, and I'd like to do it again."
She shivered when he backed her into her bedroom door. Between him and the wood she was boxed in and perfectly comfortable with her cage.
"Shall we go three, lovely Elena?"
He was hovering a hairsbreadth from her lips, and her hands were inching upwards to his neck when there was a harsh knock on the door.
Elena wanted to scream at the person to go away. She wanted to stay right where she was and revel in the knowledge that for once she had been chosen because of her by someone who had no knowledge of Katherine or even Tatia; even if they were locked away somewhere in his mind, for one brief moment it was only her.
But she couldn't ignore the second knock when it was accompanied by the low voice of Bonnie.
What do you think?
This won't be an overly long fic, it was just something that popped into my head.