Niklaus Mikaelson never particularly put much thought into his dreams.
He had a thousand years worth of them anyways, so to hold onto a new one seemed rather unnecessary. Still as he sat up in bed, cradling his head in his hands all he could recall was the vivid colors that had previously danced through his mind.
Her hair lies black, twisted into a messy bun and accented with a simple hairclip. She has strong cheekbones. The kind angels were recorded as owning, and her nose is cute and pert. She is the sort of girl to be accosted in the grocery store as stealing the hearts of men and women, and every bit of her is to be worshipped and loved. Her skin was passing delicate golden browns, and try as he might, Niklaus cannot turn away.
The sky is perfectly blue and the air smells just right, but something is inherently wrong. So very wrong.
She's wearing a dress, it's ripped and blood valleys at her chest. And she is trying to say something to him. Almost screaming, but no words leave her mouth.
She holds a coin, old and covered in dirt, the engravings worn and the head of the king so tarnished as to be stolen from view. She presses it into his hand, and the heat of it burns his palm.
"I want to worship you," The words fall out of his mouth and his hands tighten into fist. And he knows deep down he truly does, she is noticeably pretty, and the dress clings to her body in ways he finds painfully unfair. Beneath the light she glows, and as she holds her head high she reminds him of a queen.
He wants to touch her, smell her, taste her- and her eyes are the jolt that stops him. And she smells like a bakery, more delicious than any one flavor, and it reminds him of a home he never had.
"You know we can't talk like that." Her voice is delicate and she is closer than he remembers her being. He could feel her breath, and those eyes, they stare at him so beautifully, there is no fear or loathing in them either, he wonders for a thin moment if she is an enchantress.
They are immobile. Content to just watch one another. Damn the skies, she is beautiful. He can feel her power, it is made up of-
"Shadows and light," he whispers out. "Fascinating combination."
"Mostly shadows, to be honest." She leans towards him, and the smolder in her eyes make him feel like a child. "But lets just keep that between us."
And then she cries, eyes closed to him, shut against his feelings. She screams- how she screams as the wound on her chest grows larger and more blood is pooling, dripping to the floor.
"No, no!" Klaus lurches from his bed as he awoke, fingers scraping over his chest, heat screaming in his throat. In his hand a gold coin is holding heavy, and his mouth runs dry. He pulls himself from the bed and keeps a tight hold on the coin, it is his now. When he lifts the coin to his face and smells it, all he can smell is the girl from his dreams.
Before he knows it he is heading to his painting room, a rush of inspiration filling him, desperate to get the girl down on paper before she flees from his mind.
Greta is awake, just outside his room. He can see she is desperate to reach for him, because he knows her. He knows Greta like he knows fighting, like he knows killing. He knows the smell of fear and the rawness of blood against her skin. He knows that she flares her nostrils very slightly when she lies and that she puts her hand between her knees when she sleeps.
But she is not the girl from his dreams, and although he is fond of her, it is like how one cares for a lap dog until they bite.
"What are you doing, love?"
She flinches at the question and he watches as she steels herself and a flirty smile forms on her face. "I wanted to visit you."
Niklaus kept his face blank and finally feels an anger so deep, he is angry she loves him. Angry she thinks he is hers.
"You're in love with me," Niklaus works the words slowly, he still needs her after all. "But I could never be in love with you."
She just stares, the wound in her eyes raw and growing. And he kisses her to soften the blow before brushing past her. He knows she won't hold it against him, and that tomorrow all will be forgiven. He had found the newest doppelganger after all and was about to get everything he rightfully deserved, but first he had to find the right shade of green to paint his dream girl's eyes.
When Bonnie woke up all she could think about was her coin and a man with a nice smile.
Her hands are shaking and for some reason her chest hurts. Jumping out of bed, she immediately look for the protection coin Grams had given her, one of the last things she had ever gotten from Sheila Bennett. She grows more desperate in her searching when it doesn't immediately turn up and she swallows down her panic.
It was just a dream.
She couldn't have just given away her coin especially to a man that only existed in her dreams. She wouldn't have. And yet the panic that claws at her chest grows in every second.
"Are you okay?" Susannah stands in the doorway, as always coming as if she could feel Bonnie's emotions, her hair a frizzy mess. Bonnie always liked seeing Susannah like that, it made her feel more relatable.
"I'm fine," She replies immediately, nearly cursing herself for lying so freely. Her tone had been too aloof, too nonchalant to be the truth.
There's something of a twitch in her cousins face as her gaze meets Bonnie's eyes. It always felt as if she were being pulled apart into her base instincts, read and translated as if she were on paper.
"Okay." Susannah says a second later though she sounds hesitant.
"Really I am, just had a weird dream."
Susannah hums at that. She drops into the bed beside Bonnie, her face carefully blank. And Bonnie can't help but wince because she knows, she knows what Susannah is going to ask of her.
"Have you made a decision?"
Bonnie flinches and digs her nails into her palms.
"Susannah, you can't ask me to not help my friends...they are my family and I love-"
"And I understand that," Susannah replies heatedly, she knows Susannah is trying for patience, trying to hide her fear. Because that's what this all comes down to. Susannah doesn't want to lose her. It had always been hard to explain, their attachment to one another but it's there.
Bonnie thinks its because Susannah always seemed so alone. She never talked about her parents or any siblings, but from what she can conclude they weren't kind to her. Grams- a pinch twists her heart- Grams had always seemed especially sympathetic towards Susannah. And Bonnie was far from blind, Susannah wasn't a sharer by any means but she wasn't completely hidden either.
And Bonnie, well what did she have other than Susannah?
Her mother left- as if she didn't matter, her father couldn't bear to stay close, and Grams...Grams was in the ground due to a spell she should have never done. Bonnie tries to not feel angry at Susannah for not stepping in, for not doing to spell in place of Shelia, but she can't help the sting of bitterness. She knows it wasn't her responsibility and that Susannah had been against helping in the first place citing that "Damon was a childish dick who didn't deserve anything" but the pain and anger still did linger.
And some instinctive part of her, oddly enough, felt like Susannah knew that.
"How about we compromise?" Bonnie asks lightly.
Susannah tilts her head although her face doesn't change. Bonnie knows that means she's wiling to listen.
"Seducing Elijah could be potentially dangerous and I don't want you in a dangerous place ever," Bonnie's breath catches at the idea of burying Susannah, her only true family, and Susannah sensing her thoughts drops her hand onto Bonnie's thigh. "But I know you and I know you wouldn't willingly put yourself in a situation you couldn't get out of and I trust your judgement. But you asking me not to help my friends- I- I don't think I am capable of standing by and doing nothing. I can't disconnect myself from everything like you-"
Susannah flinches at that, and Bonnie knows she didn't word that right but too late to go back now, setting her jaw determinedly she pushes forward.
"I won't let my life come into danger in helping them, is that okay? Is that enough?"
And Bonnie rubs her face wondering when everything truly got so complicated. Because it's not like she wants Susannah to do anything dangerous, and she knows when push comes to shove she would protect her over Elena, over everyone, but when other people's lives hang in the balance is it wrong of her to ask her cousin to do this?
Bonnie doesn't know. It certainly doesn't feel right, but Susannah almost seemed thrilled at the prospect. Is Susannah attracted to Elijah? Bonnie nearly wants to ask, but Bonnie knows she wouldn't necessarily be equipped to handle the answer. I mean how could she, truly, vampires took her Grams.
"I guess it has to be," Susannah sighs. "It's not like I could really stop you anyways."
When Susannah walks out later to get started on breakfast, Bonnie can hardly hold back her breath of relief.
Almost as quickly as Susannah had invaded her thoughts she is gone.
And only the man from her dreams remains.
Are you prepared to be seduced?
The text is short and Susannah snorts wondering if the original even knew how to operate his phone. She had saved her number in it when he hadn't been looking, mostly because she wanted to catch him off guard, it seemed fun at the time anyways.
She had long started breakfast when she feels the vibration of her phone against her thigh.
Digging into the pockets of her sweats she smiles at his response.
Always, sweetness.
"I thought I said we could meet at two?" Susannah says instead of a proper greeting, though she looks alarmed enough to excuse the abruptness. She looks over Elijah with wide eyes, and tucks a stray curl behind her ear to expose modest pearl earrings. She truly makes a stunning, classic image. "Did I not say two? Honestly, I can't remember anymore-"
He's an hour early, deliberately of course.
Before Susannah can work herself into a frenzy of thoughts, Elijah's hands find her waist, reeling her in for a chaste kiss on her cheek. He can feel the prickling sensation of eyes on him, subtly he glances towards the bar and sees the Salvatore's and Ms. Gilbert watching, he suppresses a smile.
"You are the finest of treasures, Sweet Susannah."
Her head snaps up. There's a sharpness about her, assessing the truthfulness of Elijah's words and the intent behind it. He wonders if she has been conditioned to analyze every compliment she's ever received, or if she's just skeptical of Elijah specifically due to their arrangement (which has grown increasingly more complicated due to Susannah now 'seducing' him). He quickly decides that is unacceptable.
"Alright," She whispers sounding on the knife's edge of embarrassment and pride. Susannah draws close and nuzzles hesitantly at his jaw, it is affectionate and sweet and purely for the eyes watching them.
"Apologies on my early arrival, it seems I overestimated traffic."
Susannah raised a brow, "Or you wanted to see me on your terms rather than mine."
Elijah doesn't show the thrill that shoots through him at being so easily understood but its there, its consuming.
She pulls back and laughs, it is summery and warm and gives him more pleasure than it should for being entirely fake.
"You brought food? To a place with food served?" Susannah looks at him with genuine amusement, biting her lips. For a moment the light glimmers over her and she shines But the moment is gone to quickly for him to pin down.
"I feel as though my own culinary abilities will far surpass whatever is served here."
Her eyebrow archs.
"Your ego is impressive, Mr. Mikaelson," She said with a slyness to her voice- a surprising amount of flirtation in it. "What did you bring me?"
There is a persistent sense of anticipation at the thought of Susannah consuming his cooking. Perverse satisfaction, anyone else would call it, if there were anyone else to know. "Lamb Kokkinisto and orzo, with a salad of tomato and cucumbers."
Susannah pauses, in her movements glancing down at the bag as though she might see straight through it, and then turns back to Elijah. "Really?"
"Yes," he replies with a faint frown. "I hope that's acceptable."
Their hands are twined. Susannah's fingers are chilled. The angle they rest hidden in there is no way for the Salvatore's or Elena to see their hands, or Elijah would use that excuse to rub warmth back into her skin."I mean, yeah, of course, I'm just—" she laughs, a little awkward, she touches her face, ducks her chin. "It's kind of you."
Ah, so the discomfort lies in being provided for. Susannah is a solitary creature used to looking out for herself. It's likely that any sort of unexpected attention will always make her feel ill at ease—at least until she grows to expect it. Elijah wonders absently if she could perhaps be trained to anticipate care, demand it, to seek out Elijah to fulfill her needs.
Her responding expression is complicated; a little bit of a smile, a bit of a frown. "You could have just said no to this."
And he knows she means more in the game they are perpetuating, more than the bargain between them. He is close to her, fulfilling her terms.
"Nonsense," Elijah replies. He leans closer and crowds Susannah comfortably, absorbing the warmth of his body and savoring the subtle dilation of his pupils. "You wanted to see me, I wanted to see you. Bringing you something was the least I could do for you, Susannah."
She flushes and presses back, "I have to go to the bathroom."
Elijah smiles good-naturedly, "Take your time."
He watches her leave, the subtle sway of her hips.
And then someone sits down across from him.
He's not sure what he expects-some curious friend of Susannah, perhaps, or Bonnie coming to in inquire of his business with Susannah. When he sees Elena Gilbert, with her familiar features, pursed lips, and dark eyes. He's not sure what he is supposed to pull from her presence.
"Hello, Elijah," she says with a bright smile. She inclines her head towards the bathroom. "Here with Susannah?"
He wore a veneer that was calm, collected, and politely interested, projecting just enough eccentricity to come off as mysterious and somewhat other. It was a clearly constructed front, intentional, but genuine enough that it wasn't immediately apparent what might dwell under such a carefully crafted presentation.
Elijah follows her gaze. It's sharp attentiveness, and realizes quickly that Elena is not Susannah's friend at all and the doppelganger maybe even trust Susannah less than she does him. The saccharine-sweetness of her tone strikes him artificial.
It's an expert rendition of friendly interest, he'll admit. But there's shrewd calculation on her face, and Elijah is a master of seeing through pretenses. From what rapid-fire information his mind gleans, he pieces together a quick conclusion- Elena Gilbert has no genuine interest in Susannah beyond her usefulness.
Elijah matches her smile with one of his own, unfailingly polite. "Hello, Ms. Gilbert, and yes I am visiting Susannah."
"You two seem rather close," She leans forward, elbows on the table, and rests her chin on them. The gesture gives a rather generous view of her breasts if one cares to look.
Elijah does not.
Instead he notes her careful avoidance of the Salvatore brothers eyes, and raises a brow of his own. If she intends to test him, Elijah will let her think she won. Overconfidence is often the most revealing tell.
He levels her with a charming smile, and sits more upright; he angles his body towards her in subtle mimic. "I'm sure we do."
Elena's eyes flash with interest and flickering fury; she's young yet, and has not learned to hide her emotions. Her eyes crinkle in a way that is well practiced at appearing harmless, she is lacking nothing in her picture-perfect overture of welcome. If Elijah were a less intelligent man, he might not pick up on her friendly tone masking her irritation.
"So, Ms. Gilbert," Elijah continues without any particular weight, any indication that her name means anything to him, "How long have you known Susannah?"
"A while," She replies, her grin flickers but holds firm. He sees a flash of jealousy, inadequacy, she isn't used to not being preferred- no, no its more than that, she thinks Susannah is somehow better. "When Bonnie and I started getting close- seems like she was always here."
There's a brief moment of silence. There's just something about Susannah- an air of confidence and regality- that gives people pause. It's almost as if she was not made for this earth, dangerously eloquent and confident that even Elijah can almost see why Elena would be jealous. Almost.
Elena alludes to friendship that Elijah knows doesn't exist. She's still avoiding the Salvatore brothers, searching for Elijah's interpretation of Susannah before she submits anything. "How long have you known Susannah?"
Elijah tilted his head and the doppelganger rushed to correct herself.
"It just seemed like you knew her before Trevor and Rose..."
She lets her words hang off, as Elijah contemplates silently. How much of Susannah does she know? Elijah doubted she really knew anything, that anyone truly knew who she came from.
"A while," He parrots giving no specific time.
He searches out Susannah without being fully conscious of doing so, an automatic honing beacon that seems to have set itself in his mind. She has left the bathroom and is talking to a blonde bartender a sweet and surprisingly real smile on her lips. The bartender, Matt, his tag reads is a true friend of hers. If it weren't for the fact she's consumed in the conversation. Elijah might suspect her of engineering the way her skirt creeps up her thighs and stretches over the shapely curve of her ass.
"We get along quite well," Elijah adds, and the corners of his lips twitch, his eyes linger and slip up the slope of Susannah's spine, follows the trickle of a loose curl down the nape of her neck. "Intellectually compatible and singularly beautiful."
He bites down a small smile at the doppelgangers flinch.
Susannah straightens as though she feels the wight of Elijah's eyes as a physical touch. For a moment she is still and silent with her back to him and one ear tipped to the air, a wolf listening for the howl of her pack...
"That's good." Elena grounds out, her smile too wide to be real.
...or the growl of an enemy.
There is murder in Susannah's eyes and a lover's smile on her lips, and she must know that smile is a weapon, as she summons herself to Elijah's side. Elena eyes Susannah with cruel contemplation, but even she hesitates at the ease with which Susannah leans over Elijah's seated form. She slips one hand into Elijah's hair and tenderly cradles the back of his neck. It's so intimate and possessive that even Elijah is momentarily caught off guard.
"Elena good to see you," Susannah says with every tonal indication that this is uneventful but pleasing news. Even outside the scope of Elena's narrowed eyes, Susannah's thumb massages sensual circles at the base of Elijah's skull.
Two can play at Susannah's little game, and Elijah is as experienced at playing clueless as he is at being clever. "Yes, we were just talking about you."
Her smile is frozen, chilling. Elena's beaming grin is a porcelain mask.
"Thank you for keeping him company, Elena, but I think I'm done now."
Elena leans back in her chair, every muscle in her body held stiff. "Shame, and I thought we were getting along so well," she says, and her eyes fall to Elijah. Her voice is smug with satisfaction. She pronounces every syllable when she purrs, "Intellectually compatible."
It's a purposeful dig at Susannah, for what reason, Elijah isn't quite sure.
It's a shame for her that Susannah is a predator backing away, but not backing down, and Elijah is always willing to indulge.
Then she laughs, soft and clear as a bell. She bends at the waist to nuzzle the top of Elijah's head; Elijah slips his arm comfortably and possessively around her waist. It is a display any encroaching prospect would wisely heed: a statement shared by a mated pair that says I am his and she is mine.
After all the greatest complement as an artist is to inspire another's work. Elijah is most keenly interested in attending this exhibition of Susannah's own making, watching the reverent eyes of the student become the steady hands of a master.
"You're in high demand, Elijah," Susannah says, and smooths back Elijah's hair to press a tender kiss to his jaw, her lips leave no trace, but for the burning impression Elijah feels on his skin. He gets the feeling Susannah doesn't touch many people, but since this is 'pretend' she doesn't seem so worried.
"My attentions belong solely to you," Elijah replies warmly. It's a two a subtle shot at the doppelganger (he does feel the vaguest of sympathies for Elena, for the girl who shares his first loves face, but he can hardly look at her with Susannah shinning so brightly) and Elena's lips thin with displeasure. Elijah offers her a polite nod. "The terms of our arrangement are still valid Ms. Gilbert, but I won't take any more of your time. Enjoy your day, Elena."
"You too, Elijah," She says sweetly. She rises and slinks towards the Salvatore's with frequent backwards glances, though whatever emotion she is feeling is not entertained.
Susannah sends him a short but victory induced smile. Picking up her phone she types out the words- Are you being seduced effectively?
Elijah chuckles lowly at that. Her playfulness is much appreciated although odd, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Susannah doesn't trust him- like at all- but he likes that she makes it feel so welcoming regardless. Even after he held a knife to her throat.
"Shall we have lunch?"
"Why not?" Susannah replies with sweet indulgence, and only pulls her hand from Elijah's in favor of gathering her belongings. "I think I can get away with some self-care time."
Elijah smirks and places his hand at Susannah's lower back, pitches his voice to be intimate but audible. "I believe your care is my responsibility and privilege, if I'm not mistaken."
"Sometimes," Susannah says with a coy glance over her shoulder. "When I decide you've earned it."
"Have I earned you yet today?"
Susannah zips her bag closed; Elijah reaches over before Susannah can stop him and lifts it onto his own shoulder, then slips the straps of the tote containing their lunch over his forearm. He can see her visibly war with herself and considers arguing. She's unsettled by Elijah taking care of her in this way, but their audience demands a gracious and thankful lover, and so Susannah has been put in check. Her brow crinkles at the realization before she smoothes it over. It's a victory for Elijah, albeit one that only he and Susannah can understand and enjoy.
"I think I'll let the food decide," Susannah says. She turns, their bodies close together, and is conscious of their curious audience when she reaches out to snag Elijah by his tie. She lingers close, head tilted, eyes fixated on Elijah's lips—
Susannah drops the tie gracelessly and turns away.
"If that's the case, then I'll have faith in my abilities," Elijah replies.
"You're that confident in your cooking skills? Don't get me wrong, you are a good cook, but you don't honestly think you can change my mind, right?"
"Yes I do," Elijah says. Elena is well out of earshot but her boyfriends aren't, plus they have enough witnesses for Elijah to know he can get away with it when he says, "And in my ability to please you, my dear."
Susannah pauses, she shoots Elijah a sidelong look, coolly unruffled despite the boldness of his suggestive implication. "That remains to be seen."
"All appetites at some point demand to be sated."
Her eyes flash. There is the threat of danger in her aura, and the vibrations of Susannah's irritated instincts in the atmosphere are addictive. Elijah could happily find himself in trouble if he continues to indulge without temperance.
Elijah lifts the lunch bag, a deflection and a ceasefire—for now. "Shall we sate yours?"
Susannah tucks her hands in her pockets, and the curl of her lip exposes the very points of her canines. "Yes, perhaps we should. I am getting pretty hungry. It would be a terrible shame if you were to tease me for too long and I decided to sink my teeth into you, instead."
It's meant as a tease; an offhand threat from an irritated, lovely thing with her patience pushed too far.
It still sends a shock through Elijah's blood.
"So long as you didn't waste me," he replies. There is a pressure in his chest that he cannot dispel.
It's want. Terrible, terrible want.
She hums, aloof. Curls fall in front of her face in the aftermath, catching in the folds of her shirt. Her eyes are fixed ahead, off Elijah entirely. And then she finds his gaze. It was cool and dark, distinctly free of the usual mess of untamed emotions and desires that tended to overwhelm Susannah when she made eye contact. There was something almost like detached curiosity in the darkness of his eyes, but Susannah looked away before she could latch onto anything concrete.
"I can't kill easy," She whispers out. It's the most real thing she has said and he knows with the loud buzz of the world around them there is no chance the Salvatore's could hear. "Doesn't mean I won't."
It's a threat and oddly enough he enjoys her more for it.
"Not many can."
"I especially can't. I become both the killer and the killed. It's in my cells. It's in my brain. In my skin. And once they die by my hand they stick to me. I try to compartmentalize before they become nightmares...before they become a part of me I can't lose."
She flinches and drops her eyes to the table. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I told you that."
"I believe this is the first time you've truly been honest with me," he keeps his voice low as well, and Susannah noticing this closes her eyes for a quick second. When she reopens them the air feels different, thicker. Her magic is like a shot of energy in the air, and he immediately knows the Salvatore's or any vampire for that matter will not be able to hear. "How endearingly candid."
"You've just caught me when my guard is lowered. I'll probably regret saying anything later." And Susannah, somehow, is more beautiful than she's ever been.
"Well, in that case it would be extremely remiss of me not to take full advantage of this," replies Elijah, quick as a whip. "Explain more to me of your nature."
Susannah can't help but grin at this. "You're completely merciless, aren't you?"
"Entirely so."
"Sometimes I can't understand why you want to interact with me. I can read your darkest secrets like they are common knowledge."
Elijah leans forward. "Simple, curiosity."
"I don't like eyes because they reveal all, and I've seen enough of them to learn to hate them, resent them for the secrets they hold that I shouldn't be able to know. The place the iris meets the pupil is the ugliest of all because I feel like I am falling into them, going to a place where the labyrinth of the mind falls away. I always see a persons darkness before I can see the good, and it's always bad enough, always bleak enough that no matter how much good offsets the evil, I can't find my way out. I'm trapped and all I can see are other people's monsters."
Her voice takes on a bitterness, a harshness, that he wasn't expecting but isn't surprised to hear.
"Does that satisfy your curiosity today, Mr. Mikaelson?"
The morally superior look is gone and Elijah wonders if it was ever genuine in the first place, or an attempt to push his buttons to elicit a response. Susannah likes to tests things, many times even at her own risk.
"To an extent." Elijah unzips the insulated carrier and sets two sealed Tupperware containers before each of them, utensils and napkins beside. He's come prepared. The stew is still warm and the orzo fragrant; watching Susannah absorb the mingled scents when she removes the lid is an exercise in restraint.
Elijah waits, watches with rapt fascination while Susannah takes the first cautious bite.
Her lashes flutter as she closes her eyes. She savors. Elijah immediately likes Susannah better for it, that she takes the time to roll the flavors over her clever tongue before she chews and swallows. When her eyes open, she seeks out Elijah with a wry twist of her lips. She looks conciliatory and challenging in equal measures, and Elijah can tell she is biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling.
Elijah raises one brow in expectant relish; Susannah looks very much like she'd like to hit him for it.
And yet again, Susannah surprises him. She demurely crosses her ankles as she leans over, draws Elijah in with soft fingers along his jaw to offer a chaste, appreciative peck. Then she goes back to eating like nothing at all has happened.
"It's delicious," Susannah says, and pointedly doesn't meet his eyes. "Thank you."
The food has decided things. In this moment, without anyone of importance watching them, Elijah has earned Susannah's approval. It's gratifying. Complicated.
Elijah takes a slow, silent breath, and removes the lid of the kokkinisto. Underneath the table, he feels the smooth toe of a high heel brush against his calf. He turns his head to look at Susannah; in profile, her vibrant eyes are concealed by the wisps of his bangs, but her cheeks glow with warmth.
Elijah hides his smile and takes a bite. "My pleasure."
She shakes her head then. She laughs at him then, throws her head back and let's the sound echo towards the sky. Elijah gets the heady feeling again, pressing in the place of his heart.
"You told me I didn't make you feel safe, when you first met, is that still true?"
She doesn't flinch at the question some what used to impromptu interrogations.
There's a flicker of light that dances in Susannah's eyes. It's there only for a moment, but it's enough for him to stop and take notice. He wouldn't go as far to call it an outright war in her eyes, but it is something of a battle. When she looks up into Elijah's eyes she is absolutely stunned at the pure nothingness she sees, the emptiness of a void like there is no person beneath.
A pause.
Here's a fact. Susannah knew there was something off about Elijah. She knows a man that can present himself so perfectly, with that blank of a poker face has something to hide. It's more than likely something fairly horrific, since you don't become that skilled without a very good reason. Susannah doesn't actually want to know though. She is utterly content in never trying to open his heavily sealed red door.
But she can't help but wonder if Elijah even opened that door.
"Do you see that woman over there, with the child?"
Elijah followed her gaze serenely, "yes."
"She is from a wealthy family. Bore two children during a marriage to a councilman. She's not entirely unlike yourself." Doing a nonchalant double-take, Susannah scowled a little, hearing her coo at her child like a tiny pigeon.
"The only difference being our sex, and being the fact she is married with children?"
"Had children." An intense emotion registered in Elijah's eyes. "One day, overwhelmed by her duties as a mother, and in her delusional state, she took to drowning her children as they bathed."
Elijah said nothing, dissecting the flutter of the woman's eyelashes.
"She came from a rich family and was spared institutionalism or imprisonment. All hours of the night and day she can be seen pushing that empty stroller."
"I fail to see why you would compare me to a woman who committed filicide."
"Are you pushing your version of an empty stroller, Elijah?" Susannah pauses and throws out quietly. "She has a locked door in her mind as well."
"A locked-"
"Sometimes I wonder what you truly are. How long it took you to hide yourself, even from the eyes of an empath." The voice she used was the kind that people used to coax out a wounded animal out of hiding and on people who should never be allowed scissors for extended periods of time. "Since you met me you have been building a palace in your mind filled with more and more locked doors."
"I never invited you in Susannah, you came in on your own." The words of his muddle, slipping over each other like the ripples of passing boats. "Although, I wouldn't try and look," He pauses, thinking.
Elijah thinks of blood, of bone, of death. He thinks of being seen, and the gleam of steel, the cold shine of a blade-the museum halls from which art is appreciated. Susannah is, first and foremost, the premiere curator of emotional masterpieces. "There are corners of my mind even I dare not touch."
Oh, don't I know it.
Elena sits pressed tightly against Stefan, his hand rubbing comforting circles on her upper thigh. She can feel the bite of his touch threw her jeans and shifts when heat wells in her. Taking a deep breath she watches as Damon pours himself a drink, not bothering to offer any to either her or Stefan.
They sit in the parlor room of the boarding house, quiet and contemplating.
"I asked Bonnie to tell her to seduce him to get information so we would know more about the sacrifice, about Klaus...I just didn't expect-"
Damon's scoff cuts her off, "Please, Susannah, isn't loyal to anyone but Bonnie and herself. Did you honestly think she would do this out of the kindness of her heart?"
Stefan taps his foot, his brows furrowing.
"It's more than that." Stefan stands pacing. "Elena, you said you felt like Elijah knew Susannah before Rose and Trevor, Right?"
Elena nods her dark hair falling in front of her face.
"And Susannah has never been an open book to any of us, even Bonnie. So what if they do know each other or at the very least know of each other...and something also doesn't seem right why would Elijah be so interested in a human girl?"
Elena bites her lip and Stefan immediately sends her an apologetic glance.
"Unless she's a witch."
"Bonnie would have told me," Elena immediately says. Sure of that if nothing else.
"I've never known a true born Bennett to be powerless, besides, her blood is too rich to be human."
Elena's eyes widen. "You bit her!"
Snorting, Damon rolls his deep blue eyes. "I don't need to, unlike your bunny chasing boyfriend, my sense of smell is far superior- she smells good. Better than good."
"So what?"
"So, we have to find a way to get rid of both of them."
"Damon."
"Oh come on, Susannah and Elijah are threats. How long will Elijah hold onto his word? How long until Susannah helps him gift wrap you and mail you to Klaus? We find a way to neutralize the threats before they become a problem."
Elena and Stefan shared a look, seeming to speak a thousand words between their eyes.
Elena stands.
"You're right. I can't take any more risks."
It seems no sooner than Elijah arrives that Susannah is seeing him off.
As she wanders toward the parking lot tucked under Elijah's arm, she wonders what they look like to people who don't know them. Does the age difference make it seem sordid? Do they look happy together? How many people see heels and skirts, long hair and makeup, all of it at a distance and think that Susannah is Elijah's girlfriend, not his…
Well, she's not really Elijah's anything.
Homemade food, casual touch, a sharp mind to spar with—Susannah languishes in Elijah's attention and walks the tightrope of her want. There's only so much she can give under the guise of their arrangement. Anything more feels… greedy.
Elijah wants to study her, Susannah reminds herself. Study her in exchange for a mask, connections, and confidential information. Their flirting is a means to an end, a reputation shared and built for the eyes all around them.
There's no need to touch Elijah in private. Of course, there isn't really any reason for Susannah to see Elijah in private.
The thought leaves her strangely lonely.
If she gets attached, gets used to this war of wills and trials of affection, it'll only making losing Elijah more painful when their arrangement comes to an end.
"You're thinking quite loudly," Elijah says as they cross from the sidewalk to the pavement. His arm is a strange and comfortable weight around her shoulders. She's not even sure how he came to be in the position, she only knows that it makes her heart race, but she feels settled. Safe. "Would you like to talk about it?"
Susannah bites back a growl and sharp retort about being psychoanalyzed. She exhaled through her nose. "I'm just irritated by Elena," she lies.
It's not entirely a lie. But it's just enough of one.
Elijah hums in response. If he sense dishonesty, he doesn't indicate it. "Her interest will pass. For now, she sees me as a gateway to getting to Klaus and you as someone not to be trusted. You needn't worry- the novelty is temporary, and her perception of our relations will grow boring."
"I'm not worried," Susannah replies. "I'm angry. You could be anyone and she'd still stick her nose into this. She just won't leave me alone."
Elijah's hand curls on Susannah's bicep. His fingers flex, and for a moment, it almost hurts.
"Do you believe she seeks to influence you?"
"She doesn't know how to take me." Susannah sighs in irritation. "She's used to people liking her, she's not used to indifference. Elena has never truly trusted me because of it and knowing Damon and his influence on her I wouldn't be surprised if they attempted something."
Elijah makes a noise of interest. "That seems excessive, Ms. Bonnie Bennett is her best friend, would she truly risk losing that."
"Well, Elena won't be thinking like that," Susannah grumbles. "You still have time to back out of the bargain. It seems it isn't truly worth it."
The words sting, but Susannah knows she means them as soon as she says them. Perhaps it would be the kinder thing to do—for Susannah to struggle hiding herself alone without pulling Elijah into her world.
"I welcomed you into my life, if you'll recall," Elijah replies pointedly. "I don't have an unrealistic expectation of what that might entail."
"It's nearly impossible to expect the things that follow me around," Susannah replies darkly. "I just want to warn you ahead of time so you can't say I didn't try."
Elijah stops in the middle of the parking lot; she stumbles ahead, then turns back to face him. His expression is unreadable, up until the moment he steps forward and grasps Susannah by the shoulders.
"Whatever unpleasantries haunt your steps, you don't have to face them alone," Elijah says seriously. He surveys Susannah's face with singular, rapt attention.
Susannah averts her eyes and focuses intensely on Elijah's cheek. Elijah is still one of the most perceptive people she has ever met in her life. She doesn't want to know what personal truths may be unearthed through eye contact. "That's not your responsibility. Not part of the bargain."
Elijah's gaze intensifies. "Is it not?"
"No," Susannah says, and swallows hard. There's panic in her chest, and she takes a breath. She lets it out in a shudder. This is uncomfortable. She doesn't like it. She's being boxed in, and like a feral, nervous dog, she's feeling pressured to bite by the instincts rattling around her skull. "I'm an adult, I can handle myself."
"Everyone needs a support system, no matter their age. For the foreseeable future, I am yours and you are mine." There's such possession in those words that it feels like a collar, thick enough around her throat that Susannah feels every swallow like a tug on her chain. She wants to run, to plunge directly into the frigid stream behind her house and never emerge, so long as she drowns while untethered. They're not committed, Susannah is not owned, so why does it feel like she is? "There's not much difference between pretending to be something and the reality of being something. If I'm to confide in you, Susannah, you may also confide in me."
Susannah's heart kicks up to double time, but she's sure she manages to conceal it well- other than the heat she can feel in her cheeks. "That's not what we agreed on, either."
Elijah's hands draw together,, creeping steadily across her shoulders with enough pressure that Susannah wonders if she's about to be strangled in the way he taught her. When Susannah glances up, he is stricken still and silent- the light catches Elijah's eyes, and they glow red like coals, like hellfire. He is beautiful, and for a second, he is truly terrifying.
Susannah cannot look away.
"I want to help you, you stubborn thing," Elijah growls. "If something threatens you, Susannah, it threatens me, too. We were seen together already. Like it or not, we are in this together. You think I will throw you to the vultures? Incriminate you to save myself?"
"It's what you would do if you were smart," Susannah murmurs. She tears her eyes away, and focuses on the embossed buttons of Elijah's coat. It's fine wool, dyed a rich navy blue. If it weren't for Susannah's hunter green coat interrupting the blue, they two would nearly match.
She likes that idea more than she should.
She's getting attached.
Fuck.
Elijah's hands reach either side of Susannah's throat. She closes her eyes. What would it be like if Elijah snapped her neck right now? Put Susannah out of her misery, her aching loneliness, her troubled mind, her gray morals?
No, she thinks as she feels a thumb stroke gently over her earlobe, the faux pearl earring. No. Elijah wouldn't do that to her.
Elijah cradles her jaw, and Susannah opens her eyes. "Then mark me a fool because I have no intention of turning you away. Our choices will determine whether we rise of fall, but fate has brought us together."
Susannah swallows. Elijah's pupils dilate at the feel of it.
"Then fate is a bitch," Susannah replies. "And a cheating whore." And despite being deliberately glib, Elijah looks truly amused. Honestly fond, and honestly annoyed when Susannah adds, "We're gonna get hit by a car if we don't move pretty soon, you know."
Susannah grins.
The tension breaks.
There is something vulnerable inside her that is peering through the cracks in her shell and likes what it sees, and it may very well be the person Susananh is when she first wakes up in the morning. The person she is before she puts on her armor, becomes someone who can keep up with Elijah. That person is the one who takes Elijah's hands away from her face, but kisses the backs of Elijah's knuckles before she pulls him along.
"It has been quite a while since I've been in a romantic relationship," Elijah throws out carefully. Like a ball in an owners hand, hoping their pet jumps along after it and brings it right back.
Her eyebrows lift, what is he trying to say? What is he trying to get Susannah to say?
Susannah nodded. "That makes sense."
"It does?"
"Yes," Susannah was in no hurry to elaborate, but Elijah was watching her expectantly, so in the end she just sighed and relented. "Most people love in a soft way. They want warmth and comfort and something natural, they might even believe it to be selfless- but I doubt a love like that could survive you...I think if you were to love and have it last...it would need to be like a battlefield. With blood and pain and every inch gained never returned. I think you might even approach it with a plan, a strategy. I think that when you love, it's a dagger to the heart. It burns. It's all consuming. You don't let yourself feel it often," She twists her fingers together. "I know I wouldn't."
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Hard to find someone worthy of the dagger," she muttered with a strained attempt at a smile following.
"What else can you see?"
A part of her wants to snap, to tell him she didn't want to be a mere curiosity to him. To tell him she was more than her abilities.
Her voice, with a mind of it's own, has taken over. "You have lovers occasionally," Susannah said, her voice dreamlike and distant. "But not for very long. They're affairs, not courtships. You find them entertaining, the newness they bring into your life, but after a time you get bored, and the you elegantly extract yourself, careful to not entertain the wrong impression about the relationship."
Elijah gives her a long look, near breathless. It was simultaneously invigorating and terrifying. "I thoroughly enjoy listening to the way you speak, the way you phrase things."
It startled a laugh out of her.
"Thanks, I guess," her head ducking on it's own accord. Heat flares across her cheeks and crawls up to the tips of her ears.
Susannah shifted and touched their palms together. She lingered there before her fingers moved over to ghost over the ancient vampire's wrist, thumb rubbing the soft skin on the inside of it. Elijah caught her hand and brought it to his cheek, scenting the inside of her wrist in one fluid motion, gazing at her warmly. It was a perfect display.
"I thought I would have to learn every inch of you," Elijah says, voice quiet. "But I underestimated your ability to improvise. I have no doubt you will react beautifully to any challenge before us."
A rare moment of complete transparency. Susannah wasn't sure if the slowly roiling coil in her stomach was because she was sick or because Elijah's voice was like silken, liquid poetry that ignited her insides like wildfire.
"Played the part of a seductress well, did I?" Susannah laughed around the words. The only thing she knew of seduction was from plays and novels. And even so, she doubted Elijah would actually allow himself to be taken with it.
"Yes, you truly have- I had meant to ask you," Elijah segues, "there's an upcoming benefit gala for the Symphonic Orchestra in a few weeks. I was hoping you might accompany me- as my guest, of course."
Susannah raises a brow. "Is that you asking or telling?"
Elijah's lips thin with momentary irritation, and against her better judgement, Susannah feels a flicker of satisfaction. Then his face smooths over; after a second of silence, he almost looks amused. "Where are my manners? Yes, Susannah- would you do me the honor of attending as my plus-one?"
Susannah hums in approval. "Much better. Although I'm not sure you should be asking me."
"And why is that?"
"There are people there. People having emotions, and drawing on the occasion as an excuse to indulge in their emotions, and oh yes, other people who gossip and want shallow conversation, with their emotions and on the generalized subject of emotion."
All the small talk about everyone under false identities with real emotions, and false jobs, and false stories, never forgetting to always brag about their marital status. It is exhausting.
He chuckles at this. She supplies him with endless amusement, which is precisely why he wants her there.
"Would it truly be so horrible?"
With a fizzle of warmth and anxiety muddling together in her belly, she sighs quite obnoxiously. "Yes, Mr. Mikaelson, I will go with you. Besides I need to stay close to you according to the terms of the bargain and I can't see a gala like that held in Mystic Falls."
Elijah seems to dislike that answer; a strange and curious smile plays about his mouth. "Indeed."
"It's decided, then," Elijah says. He makes a sound of recognition, and there's a flash of keys in his free hand. "Ah, here we are."
Susannah stares at the sleek black vehicle, its immaculate chrome grill, the classically square silhouette. Even in the height of road salt season, it's perfectly detailed. Her lips part in awed apprehension. "I'm hesitant to admit that I don't know what kind of car this is."
"That's not terribly surprising, since it's not an American-made vehicle. It's is a Bentley Arnage. European." Elijah unlocks the car and reaches in to put the lunch bag into the passenger side footwell.
"No expense spared, huh?"
Elijah stands, arms crossed casually on the roof of the car. He watches every move Susannah makes, and Susannah has the distinct feeling of being hunted. It's both intimidating and exhilarating. "I prefer to think of it as an investment. Few things are still made like the classics."
"Yeah, I guess so." Her technical side is intrigued. Of course, she would never dare lay hands on such an intricate system that's worth more than, in Bonnie's words, her entire mortal soul.
She lays her good hand respectfully on the Bentley's hood, much in the manner that one would pat a prized racehorse. She imagines that she can sense the power beneath the steel, combustion fueled by gasoline and human will. Motors are truly one of humankind's most ingenious inventions. She strokes her fingertips lightly over the glossy paint. "I should get going, too. I have some errands to run before I can go home."
Not precisely a lie. Half-truths seem to be the best way to escape Elijah's sharp-eyed scrutiny.
There is a slight furrow between Elijah's brows. "If I knew you planned to go, I would have walked you to your car, not the other way around."
Susannah smiles. Offending his genteel sensibilities could become a dangerous pastime. "Don't worry, I think I'll survive the walk in broad daylight."
He frowns at her. "It's the principle of the thing. It's only polite."
"I think a little impropriety is good for the soul every now and again, don't you?"
"Perhaps." Elijah looks slightly mollified,"I'll see you soon okay?"
"Yes, that'll do nicely."
Susannah pauses. Denying Elijah is all in good fun, but denying Elijah is denying herself, too. She realizes all at once that she wouldn't mind a goodbye kiss—but perhaps that's even more reason not to let herself have it.
Games of propriety are truly exhausting.
"Drive safely," she says, and hopes a softer smile conveys her genuine feeling. "I'll be out until late, probably. You know, if you feel like calling."
Elijah's expression relaxes. It's not relief, per se—but Susannah is filled with a certain clarity in regards to his clenched jaw not a minute ago. Of course he won't ask for what he wants. It's simply take first, unless it's outside the range of what seems well-mannered and polite.
"Of course, Sweet Susannah." Elijah stares at her intently over the roof of the car. He doesn't blink. "Enjoy your afternoon."
Susannah nods, lifts her hand in farewell, and retreats.
Hours later, in a bar across town, Susannah drops into her seat in a graceless slump. She meets sharp blue eyes; she watches her like a hawk. The weight of her gaze is familiar, and in its own way, comforting. She knows exactly what to expect from her, and what to expect from their time together.
Susannah reaches across the table, and they clink glasses.
"So," she says, and her red lips spread into a sly grin, "tell me about this original of yours."
Susannah groans softly and tips her head back against the booth. Her curls tumble in a wave down her back, fuzzy from a long day of exertion and work. She is her echo, her foil—perfectly posed and sleek, a flawless woman off the cover of a magazine. She is Susannah's teacher, her support system, and most importantly, her closest and most trusted friend.
"Kenia," Susannah sighs emphatically, "I don't even know where to begin."