The truth is hiding in your eyes
And it's hanging on your tongue
Just boiling in my blood
But you think that I can't see
What kind of man that you are
If you're a man at all
Well, I will figure this one out
On my own
~
Decode - Paramore
Whether it was the intensified heat from the growing fire or the reason behind its swelling he did not know, but for the briefest of moments it felt as if a scorching poison pumped through his veins. He was unable to move, unable to feel, – unable to think, completely inebriated by the sight before him.
He had known every page of that book by heart, flipping through it every so often to keep his memory fresh, as if he were a masochist and it, his fix. The encompassing anger of remembrance it brought on masked the deep-felt agony for a short while that was ever-present within him. Now the pair of emotions freely mingled together and rushed through him in a way he was nearly unable to handle. Though Klaus' words were reduced to ash before him, his deeds could never be erased.
As the fire dwindled down to its original glow, Elena gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she released it. She had been so wrapped up in his troubles that she was still unsure how she herself felt about the matter. Klaus certainly deserved whatever fate Elijah planned to deliver him, but she had still been forced in the middle of it.
He did not know how much time had passed when he faintly felt her gesture and the warmth of her hand leave his; her presence beside him totally forgotten until then. The realization bit at him that he had just revealed the darkest of his family's secrets to her at his own expense yet he could not find it in him to curse himself for doing so. She had done the same for him previously, after all.
When he finally turned to look at her, the pair of brown eyes that met his were filled with concern. He had not been given this look from anyone else in as long as he could remember – the more common being fear, unease, or the ever annoying lust. He had a hard time believing that her troubled expression was entirely for his sake.
"Why would you do such a thing?" He asked, his curiosity apparent in the slight furrow of his brow.
"What it represented," she shrugged slightly in confession though her tone remained sincere. "Klaus used it as a tool to put you at fault for all the terrible things he's done to your family and for every day you've held onto it, you've taken a step closer to giving him exactly what he wanted."
Elijah looked towards the floor, flashing a sad smile at her excruciatingly thought-out response. "That's not what I meant... I meant why do you seem to care?"
His question silenced her for a moment. She didn't know whether to be offended or saddened by his disbelief in her honest concern, but her search for a fitting answer drew a blank. Though she was in an odd position, she figured anyone hearing such a tragic story would most likely respond the same as her (filling herself in on just how few he'd probably shared it with). In all fairness, he did not deserve her sympathy, but Elena had never been one to judge – even when she had every reason to.
When she could not come up with an answer on her own, in order to fill the stretching silence, she went with something a close friend had jokingly called her, though it rang true.
"Well," her lips turned up slightly at the fond memory but her tone remained grounded as she raised a hand to her chest, "I am Elena; savior of the cursed and the damned, at your service," she gave a slight bow for the theatrics of it.
Elijah had to smirk at that. Her humorous take on the question pleasantly distracted him from his turmoil, though he was sure it was meant to deter the subject in question. He almost hated having to pull the rug from under the upturning mood, but he flipped her statement back on her with real interest. "If that's the case, then why don't you save yourself?"
"From this?" Elena asked with the raise of her brow, referencing her current position as 'prisoner'. "I tried to save myself from this and I still hurt because of it." She looked down over her bare arms with a scowl.
"No," he shook his head, slightly amused by her innocent confusion, "from yourself. You take the pain from others and place it atop your own as if it were your burden to bear. Why go through so much trouble for the undeserving?" Himself included.
Elena took a moment to contemplate his words as she turned to make her way to the couch. If the conversation was going to go where she guessed it would, it was going to take a while. She was never too good at explaining herself. Her muscles were already screaming at her for standing so long, so she sat and crisscrossed her aching legs while silently forming her reply.
It was a question she asked herself sometimes, though the answer never seemed to reveal itself to her. She knew people had often talked behind her back about the girl whose heart was too big for her own good, but she had never given it a second thought.
"You honestly feel that way, don't you?" She asked briskly, briefly ignoring the part about herself and picking up on his poorly hidden inflection. "Elijah, the day you kidnapped me I was scared to death because I didn't know what was going on. I didn't care why you were taking me; I just knew I didn't want to be here. But now that you've told me the tragedies you've had to suffer through, how can I blame you?" She paused for a moment to catch his eyes staring at her in – infatuation? It filled her with a sudden warmth and she had to look away, hoping to stop it from reaching her cheeks. She cleared her throat softly before she spoke again. "As I've said, I know your pain. Like you, I have lost a lot. Why is my sympathy so hard for you to believe?"
He suddenly felt the need to sit too, though his muscles were faring just fine. He had warned himself about this – over and over again, but as she sat before him willingly sharing his torment without restriction, it was almost as if she eased it as well.
And that was a relief he could not stray away from.
He walked fluidly around the table, setting his glass upon it as he sat at the opposite end of the couch, angled to face her. This whole 'talking' thing was not something he was used to but the feeling of liberation that seemed to come along with it was tempting enough. He could not remember if that was a common thing or if it was because of the willingness of the girl on the receiving end.
He ran and hand over the lines of disbelief on his forehead before he spoke. "Any sympathy you feel for me is as incredible as it is unjustified," he stated, watching as slight annoyance played upon her features. "You come into this situation a captive, yet you end up weighed down by your own captor's grief." He huffed, the irony of the matter.
"I certainly don't feel like a captive right now," she stated with her coined hint of sarcasm, comfortably curling her legs under her in emphasis, "you're terrible at this."
With that, he let out an unrestrained laugh of defeat. A deep, genuine thing that rolled from his chest, caused both by the wit of her words and the sad truth behind them. She never heard such a sound come from him but the contagiousness of it had her laughing along shortly after.
He sighed passively, multiple meanings thick within his voice when he finally replied with "I warned you I've never done this before."
They stayed that way for the remainder of the night; Elena relating to his troubles allowing her to easily open up and he having someone to talk to in general after so much time alone. When she would reveal a piece of her past to him, he would match her with something of the same depth. They spoke of the pain and sorrow that came with mourning, of family and how it was to be cherished, and even a little of love and its bittersweet tendencies.
She told him of Jenna and Jeremy and how they really were all the family she had left. She spoke of the Salvatores and how they had changed her life in so many ways; some good and some bad, how they loved her in a way that was smothering at times but they were always there for her. She even told him about her parents; how they had showed Jeremy and herself so much love when they were alive and how she still cried herself to sleep sometimes due to their absence.
She told him of her passion for writing. How keeping a journal was her way of coming to terms with all the hardships she's had to face. How this night was going to be written down simply because of the small victory she felt in using her own pain to help someone shed some of theirs – and how getting it off her chest to someone who could relate was doing the same for her in return.
Though he started out more hesitant, he couldn't help himself but to follow her reverent lead.
He told her of his younger siblings and how, when they were human, they looked up to him as a hero in times of trouble. He spoke of the good times, when he had taught each of them how to horseback ride or how he had spent hours bent over scrolls, teaching them to read different languages.
He told her of how he watched Klaus change over time from one of his closest companions to the power-obsessed monster he became. How he had felt like a failure when he was not there to stop Klaus from murdering his entire family, carrying that feeling of shame with him till this day. How there were no bodies for him to mourn over, leaving him without closure for all this time.
He spoke briefly of Tatia, mentioning how similar each of the doppelgängers appeared but spending more time on their wide distinction in personalities (how she held more courage and sincerity than the pair of her predecessors combined). He spoke of Katherine and how he made the mistake of caring for her due to her resemblance; her selfish actions causing him to swear off the emotion all together.
They spoke of lighter things; the changes of music throughout history, how he favored the smoother ballads and jazzes while she enjoyed anything with meaningful lyrics. How he always worse a suit because throughout time, it was the only style that never seemed to fade. They touched upon how he had watched the rest of the world change before him, her eyes widening slightly when he'd tell tales of brutal wars and times of hardship and the lesser known advantages of being a vampire at the time.
Their conversation only came to an end when Elena's eyes could no longer remain open, her head resting sleepily on the arm of the couch. Elijah couldn't help but to simply stare at her for a moment when he noticed her that way. Like her predecessors, she was beyond beautiful, even in her battered, pajama-clad state, but it was her unyielding bravery and selflessness that made her truly remarkable to him as she now lay completely vulnerable in her slumber.
The last time he opened up to someone as he just had to Elena, it was to Tatia herself but she had abused his trust the day she allowed his brother to join him in her heart. Since then, he was unable the share a similar connection with anyone, the pain of betrayal out-weighing the risk.
Elena, on the other hand, wore her new-found trust in him as clear as day as her heartbeat slowed to a steady pace and she fell deeper into a relaxed sleep with each passing minute. Her ease of such a thing left him in a state of awe.
Perhaps that is what compelled him to fetch a warm blanket to drape over her and a book for himself to read in the light of the fire as she slept.
I wanted to wish all my readers a Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday with this warm chapter.
I really do hope you all are having an exceptional holiday season!
I know Caroline telling Elena she is the "savior of the cursed and the damned" comes later in the series, but it was just so fitting for this part (and TRUE).
Reviews are the best present I could ever ask for! Thank you all SO much!
