A/N: The story intentionally begins slow and sort of off-putting. The goal is to try to mimic the pace we may see on the show. Bear with it.

The night had been eventful. Fighting the Originals, rescuing Alaric, and on top of that learning that Stefan was back on animal blood was more than she could process. Not that she ever really got the time to process all the things that have happened to her this past year. But when she learned about Stefan's private decision to put himself back on the wagon to recovery, she wasn't sure what to make of it or even if it should make a difference. It didn't change the fact that there was a gulf between them nor did it change everything that happened. It didn't change the confusion she felt when she looked at Damon and the sadness she felt for hurting him. It didn't change the fact that Stefan hurt her and continually hurts her with his nonchalance.

But as much as he pulled away from her and feigned indifference to her she still caught the way he looked at her. It wasn't a neutral glance; on the contrary it was disarming and pained and nostalgic. She couldn't help herself either. Her eyes always drifted to him. It was just too natural and involuntary. When they were together they would steal glances all the time. She loved to look at him; she missed having those private moments.

There it was: she missed him. And right or wrong; sane or smart, she loved him.

This is how she found herself following him back to the Wickery Bridge that night. She found him leaned over the bridge looking out on the water. This place was the beginning of them and the end of him. Hands in her back pockets, she carefully walked over to him taking deep breaths. It's not that she was afraid of him anymore as much as it still took her a minute to realize he was…him again (maybe? Sort of?). She pushed her hair behind her ear as she watched him. This bridge, what he did, what he was willing to leverage in the name of revenge, in the name of loss and pain, all of that came rushing back to Elena. She had made peace with Matt about losing her parents there. She hadn't made peace with this.

Stefan turned to face her. She couldn't judge by his face how he was feeling. He had gotten good at cloaking his emotions; not good enough to fool her completely anymore but he still made her question if her instincts were right. Stopping in front of him, she looked him in the eye, and gently and carefully raised her hand to his face. He made no moves to stop her but she hesitated as he allowed her fingertips to graze his cheekbones. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn't resist shutting his eyes to the sensations her touch arose in him.

He didn't see the slap coming. She slapped him hard across that delicate cheek. And then she slapped him again. He didn't clench his cheek but his head fell in shame. He owned all the blame of this. He deserved it and so much more.

"Look at me, Stefan. LOOK AT ME," she screamed.

The red welp on his cheek was the first thing she saw as he slowly lifted his eyes to her. The sorrow was second.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why I slapped you? Not even a little bit curious? Do you still believe that I think you are emotionless?"

"I've done unimaginable things Elena. I deserve that and so much worse."

She sighs and takes a breath trying to slow her heartbeat down as she felt it furiously pulsing against her chest. She begins again.

"Stefan, I have lost all of my family. I am eighteen years old and I live in that big house by myself because everyone I love is dead. Because of me. Because they chose me over their own lives. I asked Damon to compel my brother and sent him away because I didn't want him to have to make that same choice. And if he ever finds out, I know that he will never forgive me. I took his free will and his memory twice now. I can say it's for his own good but really it's for mine because I can't live in a world where he's not. If that means I have to do something morally wrong in order to justify that, then that is what I have to do. I stabbed a girl in the back as a means to an end and I betrayed the trust of someone I respect for the sake of the larger picture. I don't know who I am anymore but I'm not the girl who drove off this bridge with her parents. Most times it's a struggle to look at myself in the mirror."

"Elena, stop—"

"I will never be able to get the image of that wall of victims in your liquor cabinet in Chicago out of my mind. I will never forget hearing the stories of the things you've done. I will never forget the way you killed our classmates that night and I will never forget how you nearly killed me when Klaus compelled you to. Stefan, the things you've said to me, the way you've treated me? They make my blood run cold when I remember. I should hate you; I remember thinking to myself one night that I should hate you. I tried to hate you. I came close Homecoming night when I thought you betrayed us. But then you really betrayed me when you brought me here that night. You broke whatever was left between us. And I wanted to hate you. But then I thought about how if I were in your shoes and if I had to choose between my humanity and my brother's life I would have done the exact same thing. And I live in fear that Jeremy will remember and cut me out of his life even though I deserve it. Do you hear what I'm saying Stefan? Do you? I can never justify the lives you took and I can never justify the way you treated me but I can never hate you. And I want to forgive you. Because I want to believe that I can be forgiven. I want to…but you won't let me. Let me forgive you, Stefan."

The tears threatened to fall as he fought against them shaking his head. "I-I can't. I don't deserve it. You said it. I broke the only things I had and there is no getting them back. I hurt. I ache every single day. And it's mine to carry. Keep your forgiveness. Give it to someone who is worth it."

"Stefan, forgiveness doesn't mean I've forgotten what you've done or that I want to take the hurt away. It means that I am letting go so I can move on."

"You can move on. I want you to move on. But you don't need me to do that. Look at you. You're stronger now; you're...you're amazing. You already have moved on, 'Lena."

She looks at him and sees the love in his eyes that he tries to cover with his words. she won't let him give up. "I need to forgive you. All this stuff I'm doing means nothing if my heart is in the same place it was a year ago. I need you to let me do this in order to move on." She moves in closer to him and touches his shoulder. "Stefan, I forgive you. I…forgive…you."

She leans her forehead against his. "I love you," she breathes out. "Better or worse; ripper or no, I love you."

He sighs in response. "I…I can't."

"I feel you Stefan. I feel how much you are fighting this. I feel how much you want me. And I want you too. And I love you. Hold on that." She kisses his cheek, their first kiss in months. And then she walks away.

She waits for him to stop her from leaving just like she did the first time she told him she loved him. But he stands in silence. She gets in her truck and drives away, tears down her face, angry that he couldn't let her love him.

When she arrives home, she showers and allows herself to cry for how much she's lost.

Sometime later, she sees that her phone has a voicemail. When she checks it, she hears Stefan's voice.

"October 12, 2012. I told Damon that I still loved her tonight. I couldn't help it. I don't want to fight with him about it though it is clear that he shares my feelings. She deserves more than both of us but if she chooses him I will hold my tongue. But I know this: as much as I loathe myself and as much as I wonder how I can continue to breathe after all I have done, I cannot live without her but I will never stand in the way of her having the life she deserves and wants."

She ends the message but still holds the phone to her ear, the shock of his words slowly affecting her. Elena looks at the phone and makes a decision to fight for him. Grabbing her keys, she heads down the stairs quickly, about to dial his number and as she reaches for the door and opens it, she meets his eyes.

Her voice is breaking. But she smiles. "Still in love with you. I'm right here."

Before she is aware of it, Stefan steps across the threshold of her door and faces her so close they're involuntarily touching. "I love you, Elena. I'm so sorry I—I'm not who I was anymore."

"I love you, Stef—"and she is caught up by how strongly his mouth moves across hers. He pushes her against the door and she pushes back and switches places. At the moment that she realizes how her body is reacting to these kisses (it had been far too long since she had been kissed like this. Far too long), she pulled away from him.

"Too fast."

He nods and echoes her thought. "I should…I should go."

"Stefan? Stay. Just for a little while."

He nods before she holds up her hand for him to wait and walks inside quickly. She comes back with a quilt in her arms, grabbing Stefan's hand (God she missed that) and walking him over to the porch swing. She covered herself up and sat next to him, leaning her head on his neck.

They sit quietly for awhile adjusting, pacing themselves. Reacquainting themselves with the other.

"We have to start over."

"Yes."

"It's gonna be hard."

"I know."

"It—It's stupid. And I have no right to be... But I can't get over…"

"I know. We have to forgive each other."

"I didn't want to let go of you that night. I was so grateful to see you one last time."

"That hurt me so bad."

"We'll figure it out."

"I have to learn to trust you again."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too. For all you lost. For the decision you had to make that led to all of this."

"I meant that I said the way you changed was good. I felt proud."

"I thought you would want me to be able to protect myself."

"Don't let go okay?"

"I can't."

And they fell asleep on a porch swing.

The next morning they awoke to a sunrise and an agreement to take it slow. They agreed to not use the "l-word" as they needed to figure out if that was enough to get them through this.

He asked her out on a proper dinner date. She said coffee in a public space.

"It's a date."

"No. It's coffee."