III.
I Guess There's No Way To Make Love Not Break Our Hearts
Elena paced the waiting area like a determined demon. The clock on the wall showing that it was quarter past two in the early morning, it had been at least three hours since they'd heard anything at all. She went over to the patient information and briefly inquired.
Her arms wrapped about her abdomen, attempting for the life of them to keep her from jumping from her own skin. "Do you have an idea of how long?"
The older woman in toffee and cream colored scrubs looked at her considerately. "I'm not sure sweetie. But I'll see what I can do." The woman then parted with a kind-hearted smile as she exited the station with a stack of patient charts.
Elena detected Stefan's solemn figure strolling over to her. "Gosh, what's taking so long?" She demanded in frustration.
Stefan had returned with a coffee in hand and a plunge in his effectiveness of pacifying her. "I imagine they're doing what they can." His pensive eyes darted about the waiting area as though he meant to speak more at length, but thought better of it. The realization was beginning to dawn on him that there would be times that he would not be able to console her, and this particular situation marked that there would be plenty more times as these.
"I just feel," she shrugged her shoulders. "I feel partly responsible Stefan, no matter what I can't feel any differently. I should've done more."
"What could you have done better," he inquired. "You saw how confused they had been, as were we." He sighed heavily. "I can't make you see what I see, Elena. You acted out of instinct, we still don't know how this might reflect on us. What had gotten her on that road with you is still a mystery."
"That still doesn't make any difference," she replied. "Duly noted in effort though, thank you for trying."
Much to Damon's distress, Stefan brought Elena into his arms. "Is this better," he murmured against her hair.
"Very." She closed her eyes. And just as that there was a momentary standstill as she breathed in the subtle notes of sandalwood that clung to his clothing.
"I want to take you home, Elena." They withdrew from each other, their arms remaining about the other. "There's not much we can do by staying here." He kissed her. "You're exhausted."
Reluctantly she agreed with him, "Okay, but after we at least hear what's going on."
"Sure," Stefan replied.
She removed herself from him entirely, rubbing her hands again along her abdomen and jeaned legs attempting at fighting off the perpetual chill of the hospital wards. "I'll be right back," she informed.
Elena walked away from the near empty waiting area and walked along the bland colored hallways. All the while she ignored the grave stares emitted by Damon. There was no purpose for him to have been here but he felt it in himself to hover, being a constant reminder of what transpired between them. She had a desperate feeling that he was here to torment her, a silent persecutor who simply was there and speaking to her soul of how much she antagonized his heart. She wanted Stefan, and he should never forget it. Too much had taken place for her to take that leap of faith in him ever again, he'd harmed her brother and who to tell he wouldn't kill just because she'd "hurt him" again?
The walls were closing in about her, her mind reeling from running off of about four hours of sleep the previous morning. And these feelings of hers weren't making the situation any better either. Stefan had definitely been right in suggesting he take her home, she needed home. She slipped into the restroom, running the tap on cold for a few moments before splashing water on her face and using a cool palm to salve the back of her neck. Her appearance looked terrible, maybe the reason for the pitiful looks that had been coming her way all night. It were as though she had walked out of a slaughterhouse, dried blood coating the cuffs of her sleeves and for the life of her what would not wash out from beneath her fingernails. Frantically, she scrubbed violently as the tears rolled hot and unforgiving down her cheeks. Jeremy, his blood was on her hands. And who else, who hadn't been hurt so far who was near and dear because of her current alignments.
She loved Stefan, and it was wrong of her to think that way. Perhaps she was the one with bad luck? Bonnie hadn't spoken to her in weeks and everything was slipping away right before her and she was letting it. She was letting herself watch it go by and that was the worst kind of transgression.
~o~
"Are you okay?" Stefan asked. Her eyes were red, swollen from what he supposed a lengthy sob.
She nodded in confirmation.
A doctor emerged from the set of pale double-doors near the nurse station, his eyes searching bewilderedly for a moment before setting upon the peculiar group. Stefan motioned to Elena that he'd be the one to speak and walked across the room towards the doctor with an extended hand.
Damon had always been a man of opportunity, for as soon as Stefan was away from Elena he made his move, sidling up behind Elena.
"Not even a minute and you're here pilfering, behind your brother's back," she remarked.
"Not exactly the welcome I was looking for, but I'll take what I get," he retorted. "Methinks that maybe I'm not the only one who's feeling guilty about something." His forefinger touched the skin exposed at her wrist.
That smug, self-righteous bastard.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She hissed, sending him a dirty look. Oh no, he would not turn this on her.
"You know exactly what I mean." He looked at her fully now, "At least everyone knows when I'm lying and at least I don't deceive myself."
"Damon," she breathed, "Go. Away." She looked over at Stefan who was in deep conversation with the attending physician. There was a possibility that he was at this very second listening in on them. Yet again the same old guilt was making its home.
"I'm sorry but I can't do that," this time his demeanor had been humbled.
"You've hurt us enough," Elena continued. "When will that be enough? When? No matter what you do or try with us, you can't win. I am not your conquest."
Apparently her pleaded case tore at him because his strength wavered. His eyes went glossy and he had to look away in shame, something that wasn't novel to him but what he'd failed to acknowledge for years.
"I'm sorry," Damon said. "How many times do you need to hear it?"
"Apology noted," she glanced at Stefan then returned her gaze to his brother. "How long 'til you're blue in the face or maybe even to choke on your own humility?"
"Fair enough," he submitted.
She made to walk out of the situation but his hand held unto her sleeve, keeping her in check. He knew she wouldn't want to make a scene, but nonetheless she flinched away from his hold.
"I want to talk, Elena." Damon looked at her futilely, pleadingly. "Seriously."
"How dare you," she whispered. "Don't do this here."
The doctor tapped his chart in hand and looked over to the two of them, inclining his head in acknowledgement. Relief engulfed Elena, for she was so desperate to get out of this current situation.
Stefan sauntered forward and she tried greatly to decipher the look upon his face. If she was the reason his brow held a new furrow.
"What did he say?" She inquired.
But he failed to respond, instead his gaze was holding his brother's as though a wordless transaction unfolded right before her. "He wasn't able to say much at length, at first."
Damon retreated to the background, letting a situation that was momentarily bigger than the elephant in the room take its claim.
Stefan continued, "She's regained consciousness but we won't be able to see her. The doctor believes that she should make a full recovery after the blood transfusion."
Elena interrupted, "Transfusion?"
"Yes, she'd lost so much already. We were very lucky to get her here when we did. He's never seen anything like this before. Anyway, they're trying to contact her parents precisely, but any family they can find."
"So they know who she is?" Damon asked out of curiosity. He hadn't been totally disinterested as he appeared and solely been pushing obviously the wrong buttons to inspire any kind of reaction from Elena. Apparently he'd acted on poor decisions.
"Sula Irons. She attends Mystic Falls High. She is alert, able to speak at length."
"That's great," Elena beamed. A great burden suddenly found itself sloughing from her shoulders. "I'm happy to know. But I'ven't heard that name." She shook her head. "That doesn't matter, anyway."
"Are you ready?" Stefan asked.
"Uh," she looked over at Damon. "Sure. I'm ready to go home."
Elena walked away from the pair of brothers who remained close. Seething in a barely masked hostility, which rolled off both of them.
~o~
They walked out into the morning dark, maneuvering the almost packed parking. It looked as though things were just as busy for the hospital staff as any other point during the day.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Elena asked quietly.
Stefan simply threw a glance in her direction. She didn't know what to think. "No."
Yup, they were on the same page. He knew exactly what she was referring to and she absolutely was grateful to have dodged that bullet, if though it were only for a short time.
Damon was a few yards ahead and already nosing about in the back of Stefan's car. Elena was surprised when he emerged with his jacket in tow and distaste clinging to his hard face, "This is dry clean only." He tsked audibly. "How the hell am I going to explain rolling through a slaughter house apart from murdering some young girl?"
"How appropriate, Damon." Stefan commented. "You'll get over it. It's only animal blood."
A sardonic expression crossed his face. "Not my thing Stefan," Damon retorted. He threaded his arms through the leather sleeves. "Your thing. Not mine."
"You got that right." Stefan was as equally combative. And all Elena was capable of doing was to look from one to the other. It dawned on her that they were not merely arguing about a blood-vomited jacket but about something more underlying and significant, like her. She hated this.
"Come on," she pushed at Stefan's back. "Let's go."
As ever Damon remained undaunted. "Bye ladies, I'm walking. I'm going to catch something to eat." He'd always have the last word. He turned on his heel, failing to glance back, and strutted on his way.
Silently they eased into the car. Afraid to say the wrong thing, she looked on as Stefan hammered his fists one after the other upon the steering wheel.
Elena swallowed hard. Of course, she wasn't scared for her wellbeing it was just Damon shouldn't even be a factor in any of this.
And she let Stefan know that. She waited for him to cool off before inching closer, ignoring the crackling seat to kiss his face, his eyes, cheeks, lips. "I love you," she breathed.
He didn't respond, but coolly he eyed her.
"I love you," she repeated more forcefully.
He kissed her. Deeply. And fulfilling and magical, what they'd both been craving this entire time.
"I can't stand it when you're angry with me Stefan."
"It's him, Elena." He insisted. "And I'm not angry with you."
"How could you not? I've been so secretive. God knows what you might think."
"Elena. I'm not angry with you," he persisted.
"And you have nothing to worry about."
"Do I?" He asked. She was a little insulted to have him even ask. Was she not mature enough to know what she wanted? "Do you need to ask me this?" She was very hurt.
His eyes searched hers, appearing as though he were genuinely remorseful. "I'm sorry. But I want you to know, they will always be a part of this. Katherine or Damon might not go away."
Elena withdrew from him, unable to believe what she was hearing from him. "You sound like you're trying to talk me out of something, Stefan. You're this easily submissive?"
"I did not say that," the fight was back in him for he had every intention of holding unto his woman.
"It's not what you say, it's how you say it." A small part of her liked this. They were arguing. She was not a glutton for punishment or the like but she wanted to prove to someone or more so something within her that they were not a couple to tread tepid waters. Stefan and her were good for each other. They could make love and challenge one another. It was just finding an appropriate balance between the two.
"You know what, let's not do this tonight." She settled. "Stalemate? Yes, let's call a stalemate." She kissed him. "And maybe I'll let you win me over a little later, if you're good."
Stefan definitely liked how that sounded. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
"My place or yours?" He asked.
Elena was busy at scrubbing at the cuffs. No matter how much Resolve, she doubted this would wash out. "Uh? Oh, mine. But you'll have to meet me in my room. For all I know my aunt is staking out waiting to catch me red-handed or with some inventive paraphernalia."
He chuckled sweetly. "Its animal blood, you shouldn't worry."
"You think that's funny she would- what? Animal blood?" She brought the fabric to her nose only catching notes of metallic whiffs.
"I'm not sure you could actually catch the difference but trust me. It is."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better," she jibed. "Albeit weird, peculiar and probably reassuring that I had not harbored a cannibalistic fugitive, blood is blood. And this cannot be saved."
"Was it your favorite?" He asked, momentarily taking his eyes form the road.
"Sure was."
His hand squeezed her knee gently and the most heart-breaking, sweet expression clouded his face. "I'll get you another one like it."
How could he? It had been a gift from her mother. But there was no need for him to know this, or for the ensuing guilt trip that would put him on.
A/N: So I am fond of songs that are simply inspirational. The title of the chapter is taken from a line from a song by a fantastic band. "Why We Cry at Movies" by As Tall As Lions. If you haven't heard of them they are great. Check them out.
Now when I'm now spewing music propoganda I actually talk about fics lol:
When it comes to certain vampire literature as well as being totally bias with certain pairings. I'm more of a Sookie/Bill chick and an Elena/Stefan gal. Now that speaks volumes. Bill, southern gentleman reformed hedonist. Stefan, sweetheart with a dark side. Now I won't go painting their nails or such but I'm such a sucker for the bad guys on the other hand. Eric. Damon. Yea, there is the dilemma.
Now y'all, those of you reading do not be afraid to poke at that little 'Review' thingy. (I go off on tangents and bless your heart if you read this. But is it just me that after a full dose of watching True Blood or anything with a smidgen of a southern twang you find yourslef thinking southern, talking southern. And I'm very not southern, I lived in the south- Virginia! yay for quite some time but they're as southern as Seattle- see waht I'm saying about tangents damn. But does this afflict anyone else? Lol)
I'm also definitely game for discussing the dilemma of such preferences of I Can't Pick, So I'll Take Both. Now as with the plot I've got a concise view of where I want this to go (haven't done that in a while). Elena is a very strong character and I love that strength that she has. And although she is ceratin, there is always that lingering maybe. I love that.
Now feel free to give your input of a certain pairing you may like, right now its game. Because I can't even trust myself with Damon when I'm writing. All of a sudden he goes from this effer that you hate- and I'm trying to write him as despicle as I can and there he goes all handsome and smoldering. Dang. I cannot trust myself with him. LOL.
