She'd been asleep for a long time.
As always, she checked her phone when she woke up. 5:00 PM. That was only a few hours after she'd gotten to sleep, she'd thought to herself, but then she checked the date. She'd been asleep for over twenty-four hours.
She got herself showered and dressed more quickly than usual, horrified by how much time she'd wasted in bed, but once she was a person again, she realized she had nothing to do. She made her way down to the kitchen; there was a note for her left on the counter, in Klaus's handwriting.
(She couldn't believe she recognized it on sight.)
Elena, it read,
Elijah is a captive of my mother's. I've gone to fetch him. You're safe in the compound. I shall text you if anything changes.
KM
Brief and to the point, which was so different from Klaus's usual flair for the dramatic that Elena felt dread building in her stomach. It could be that Klaus was very concise in writing, of course—while she'd seen his writing enough to recognize the slant of his words, she hadn't read much of it—but she thought the likelihood that he was being short out of stress and anxiety far, far higher. The thought of Esther filled her stomach with dread, as it always did, but she took a breath and made herself some coffee, filling her mind with trivialities to alleviate her worry. When had she started worrying about Klaus, anyway?
She made herself a pot of coffee, trying to keep her head clear, and was just carrying her mug over to the table when she heard footsteps.
"You're back early," she said, taking a sip from her slightly-too-full cup.
"Hello, Elena," said a stranger's voice. "It's been a while."
Elena had enough control over her nerves by now that she could restrict her reaction to a simple hitch in her breath, which she covered by taking a swig of burning hot coffee as she spun around. She swallowed it down without flinching, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows at the newcomer. Something about the position made her feel like Katherine, but the thought was comforting—she'd always thought Katherine looked threatening, deadly, self-assured.
"Finn, I take it?" she said. Finn smiled, the look a little too predatory to be friendly. This new face was nothing like Finn's original one, but she still recognized him as soon as she looked properly, seeing the disdain, the superiority, and the clear, probing interest that distinguished those familiar with the doppelgangers from the rest of the world, the same look his mother looked at her with, that most of his siblings looked at her with—she still saw it on Klaus and Elijah's faces, more often than she'd care too—the look she'd received from all the Originals but Rebekah, really, if she thought about it.
"I thought it time you and I had a little conversation," Finn said, stepping around her and sitting himself at the kitchen table, leaving her no choice but to sit across from him. "I understand my mother was a little…forceful, when the two of you spoke the other night."
Elena shot him a tight-lipped smile. "That just about summarizes all of our conversations," she said. Finn laughed, in that charming way people did when they thought themselves very clever and very much in control. It was another clear marker of an Original sibling, although Elena had never seen Finn so relaxed, in his old body.
"Humanity suits you," she told him. Katherine would have tossed a comment about how much less constipated and angsty he looked now, but Elena did not want to escalate the situation if she could help it, did not want to make Finn any more of an enemy than he already was.
"You as well," he told her. "Much better than vampirism ever did, when I saw you wear it from the Other Side. Surely you're very grateful to be rid of that immoral existence."
Elena did not want to answer that, out loud or even to herself. "I can see that you are," she said instead.
"And yet you refused my mother's offer to move you to a new body, a body not haunted by the doppelganger curse," said Finn. "Why is that? Because this form is attractive to my brothers?"
Elena laughed. "You don't get it, do you?" she said, and she felt almost as though Katherine were somewhere inside of her—the part of her that had once turned into Katherine, in another life with different influences and choices—and she leaned forward. "It has nothing to do with your brothers. My body is my body, and I want to keep it."
"But it isn't, is it?" asked Finn, leaning forward as well. "I remember Tatia wearing that face, a thousand years ago, the same height, same voice, the same size. Your body isn't yours at all."
"It belongs to me a hell of a lot more than the one you're wearing around belongs to you," she said. "You want to talk to me about morals? You stole someone else's body, someone else's life, and trust me, as someone who's had that happen to them before, there's nothing remotely ethical about that."
Finn's fists slammed against the table, so sudden compared to his peaceful demeanor from seconds earlier that Elena did flinch, just a little. "My mother sought to offer you a new body, a new chance," he snarled, "but I don't think you deserve one. That face, that body, has wrecked havoc and mayhem and destruction, driven men to madness and murder, and the blood that courses through your veins was willingly given to create the abominations my mother turned us into, is the only thing my vile brother can use to create his foul, disgusting hybrids."
Finn was leaning forward, and there was a light in his eyes, something almost manic about the way his words tumbled out of his mouth. Elena felt as though something was clawing at her heart—people had linked her with the others because they wanted her to be Tatia or Katherine, never because— "My mother would offer you the mercy of another body, but I would see the doppelganger put to death for her crimes, I would see you bleed for what your blood has done, and now that you've refused my mother's mercy, there's no reason that I can't—"
Elena threw her hot coffee in his face, and he screamed, from rage rather than pain, she could tell. She shoved the table into him, sending him falling backwards off his seat, and she ran out and into the living room, not sure where to run to, when a hand wrapped around her waist, her back pulled up against someone.
She could tell just from the feel of his form that it was Klaus.
"Klaus, Finn," she said, and said nothing else, before Klaus growled and Finn was gone. "I'm not—it wasn't me," she gasped, so quietly Klaus would not have heard it were he a human, but she could remember, now, could remember being Tatia, could remember knowing that she'd given Esther her blood, even if she couldn't remember the actual giving of it—and then a few years ago, she'd given Esther her blood again, just like she always had, just like the doppelganger always would—maybe she really was all of them, just as much or more than she was herself—
She was still in Klaus's grip, but two seconds later he had spun her out and backed her into a wall. She could tell he was upset before she saw his face—she'd seen Klaus distraught before, but never quite like this, naked fear etched on his face, lips quivering, eyes wide and pleading.
"Klaus, what happened?" she asked, the words coming out of her mouth on pure reflex.
"My father," he said, after taking a deep breath.
"Mikael?" she asked. "Why would he—he doesn't have the stake—"
"My birth father," said Klaus, and Elena felt as though she'd been struck. She could remember the day she realized John was her birth father, could remember the shock and horror, the feeling that the world was spinning of it's axis, but she'd loved Grayson Gilbert, it had never really upset her that he was really her uncle, and she'd never felt as afraid as Klaus looked. "My birth father, he—I remember his face—Esther brought him back, I remember his face—"
Elena—Elena knew how to offer comfort, somewhere in the back of her brain, but she might not really be Elena at all—I'm Elena, I'm Elena, she told herself, but she was also thinking it's all my fault, and she couldn't, she couldn't pull her mind together enough to offer comfort, not to anyone, not to Klaus, as distraught as her, pinning her against a wall and gasping as fiercely as she was, clutching her shoulders as tightly as she was grasping his forearms.
Klaus leaned in and kissed her so suddenly that her body responded before her brain understood what was happening. Elena had kissed and been kissed a lot—she knew the rhythm of it, mouth against mouth, the push and the pull of it all, how to surrender to a kiss without chasing it desperately. She could have done it in her sleep.
But this wasn't simply going through the motions. This was Klaus, the two of them were the first and the last people who should be kissing in the world, and Elena hadn't even touched anyone since Damon—and she was distraught, and so was Klaus. She didn't know who he was kissing, her or Tatia or Katherine, but something about that, the anonymity of it, the chance to not be any of them, just that girl with that face—
—and this was Klaus—
She reached up and crossed her arms behind his neck, languidly, letting herself lean into the curve of his hand racing down from her waist, the friction of his hipbone digging into her, right where her top was hitched up to reveal bare skin, his other hand pulling up at her shirt, thumb tracing circles under her ribcage, on her ribcage, creeping higher and higher—
—somewhere under her skin, her body knew that they had done this before—
She pulled her fingers through his hair, and she could feel a jolt, barely more than a shiver, really, course through both of them, she could feel his surprise ghosting under her breast and along the exposed skin of her neck. She had been kissing him back, but only through instinct, still passive Elena, halfway between simply letting herself be kissed and dutifully playing her part—this was a response, something active, present, decisive.
Klaus's hand ran along the underside of her leg, and then he lifted her. Her legs wrapped around him so naturally something in her must have known they would do this all along, and she cupped his face in her hands when his head tilted upwards, lips crashing into a kiss before either of them could do something stupid like make eye contact.
His open mouth ran along her neck, pausing to hover over his bite mark, that victory badge from the night of the sacrifice, so many years ago. He kissed the spot, hard, and Elena thought she would let him drink from her, would fuck him right there and then against the living room wall—
Something about this felt so ordained.
It was that thought that broke through her haze.
More quickly than she'd known possible, she was standing again, her hands flat on Klaus's chest, his gripping her forearms, and she knew that somehow, he'd had the very same thought at the very same moment. She could see her own naked horror reflected on his face, and a second later he was gone.
What was she doing?
"That face, that body, has wrecked havoc and mayhem and destruction, driven men to madness and murder…"
Elena was breathing in gasps, choking on air so violently it sounded like sobbing, was turning into sobbing—
"I would see the doppelganger put to death for her crimes, I would see you bleed for what your blood has done…"
She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying desperately to breathe, but her mind was flashing, she was Tatia kissing Klaus, she was Elena kissing Klaus, if she tried to remember hard enough she might be Katherine kissing Klaus. She was trembling, shaking, she didn't know what she was doing—her mind raced back to the realms of the ordinary and landed on, I need to call Caroline and confess, except that was ridiculous, this was far too messed up to be distilled into anything that simple.
She had to talk to someone who didn't know or care anything for the doppelgangers, someone who would just talk to Elena—
Her fingers scrambled with her phone, found a name in her contacts—
The phone rang once, twice.
"Hayley?" said Elena, hands grasping for the phone. "Are you free right now?"
…
She met Hayley at a bar she'd never been to before. It was the kind of place where they had a fully stocked bar, but you still felt like you couldn't really order anything but beer, and even though she would have liked a Corona, she ordered a Heineken.
Hayley ordered a Guinness. Elena didn't really know Hayley that well, despite having lived in the same house and dealt with the same drama for the past while—she knew a lot about Hayley, but they'd never spoken alone before, and even though she knew there was nothing between Hayley and Klaus, something about sitting with her only a few hours after… after whatever had happened with Klaus made her feel tainted, as though Hayley somehow knew, and even though she knew Hayley wouldn't care even if she did know, it didn't sit well in Elena's stomach.
She told Hayley about what had happened with Finn, about Elijah being Esther's captive, and Hayley's expression darkened. "That raging bitch and her mommy's boy really need to be taken down a peg," she said. She didn't ask if Elena was okay, and Elena appreciated it. "Did he say anything about what Esther's planning?"
"Nothing we don't know, except that he really wants me dead," said Elena. "What about you? Did you learn anything today?"
Hayley grimaced. "Just that Esther's more of an asshole than I gave her credit for," she said. She took a deep breath. "She killed a—one of the wolves today. A friend, I guess."
"Oh my god," said Elena. "I'm so sorry."
Hayley's face was still, but she was gripping her beer very tightly. "Yeah, well. It's not like we didn't know she was ruthless. She came after my baby—I shouldn't be surprised she'd kill someone she thought was a traitor."
"She needs to be dealt with," Elena agreed. "And Finn too."
"Yeah," said Hayley, and then took a drink from her beer, long enough that Elena thought she might be planning to chug the whole thing. "What about Kol? Whose side is he on?"
"Not mine," said Elena. "Definitely not. I—I helped kill him, me and my brother. Finn, too." She swallowed. "Kol had it in for me for a while, he came back from the Other Side and tried to kill me once. But I don't think he's on Esther's side, either—he'll remember last time Esther tried to kill them all, and he isn't the type to just do what Esther says."
"So he's a third party," said Hayley.
Elena raised an eyebrow. "There are a lot more than three parties in this war," she said, and Hayley laughed without humor.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," she said. "It's all way more screwed up than that." She tapped her fingers against the table. "Wasn't he with Davina, though?"
"…Yeah," said Elena. "I don't really know what that's about—I think he's really into this whole witch thing, though, and I'm pretty sure he was hanging out with her on Esther's orders, but I don't think that's why he stuck around. I think he kinda likes her."
"Well, as long as he isn't going to hurt her." Hayley said, just as her phone started buzzing. She shot a glance at it, then picked it up. "Klaus?" she said, and Elena's heart started hammering again. "What—you're taking him back to the compound?"
"Elijah?" Elena mouthed, and Hayley nodded absently at her.
"We'll be right there," she said. "Yeah, I'm with Elena."
She pulled the phone from her ear, giving it a curious look, and then shrugged. Elena was already pulling out a twenty to leave on the table.
"I don't understand," said Hayley, as they rushed out of the bar. "He said Esther handed him over without a fight, that she just wanted to talk to him, but he sounded furious and—I dunno, not like he'd just had a conversation."
"Esther brought his father back to life," said Elena, and Hayley shot her a sharp look. "Not Mikael, his birth father, the werewolf one. Klaus came by the compound, and he was… he was really upset by it. I don't know who he is, though."
Hayley groaned. "I think I do," she said, "but I kind of hope I'm wrong." She dialed a number on her phone. "Jackson?" she said into it, after a moment. "I really, really hate to do this, but… how old were the ways Ansel was telling you about?"
Elena tuned out the conversation, her mind on Klaus again. She'd had awkward meetings with people she'd hooked up with before—this wasn't about it being awkward. She'd never even thought about Klaus that way, she'd never wanted—she didn't know what it meant, if she was turning into Tatia, or even Katherine, she didn't know why she'd done it—that wasn't true, she knew she'd been distraught, and Klaus had been distraught, and it was easier for either of them than having breakdowns—but god, it hadn't just felt like searching for oblivion in sex. It felt like a realignment of her own body, as though she'd been swimming against a current forever and had finally turned around and been swept into something natural. But it wasn't natural, and fate didn't exist—she'd already been through this with Stefan and doppelganger destiny whatever crap—
She didn't know what she thought, so she focused on Elijah, dear, sweet Elijah, and getting back to him as fast as she could. She listened to the tension in Hayley's voice and the click-clacking of their shoes on the pavement, on the sound of her own breathing, and refused to think.
