Battered Souls
~Chapter 11
Battles
...
It was a cold draft that Elena found herself waking up to. Her body felt frozen, so she had to massage some warmth back into her skin, and it made her wonder just how long she'd been out. Her eyes opened slowly, taking in the dark room, and the first thing she registered was that she was in some sort of basement, presumably Tia's.
She pushed herself to a sitting position, realising she'd been dumped unceremoniously on the floor, which she took a few moments to be indignant about before quickly moving on. She cast her gaze around, surprising that for a basement it was pretty bare, but her eyes still caught sight of a few objects, like the odd rickety shelf with several empty jars along it – and the odd cobweb – and a discarded fridge, to name but a few.
Then her eyes fell on the witch responsible for being the one to drag her down here, and her mouth pressed into a hard line. Tia sat on the floor cross-legged, observing her quietly, her eyes a shockingly bright shade of green, and Elena found her stare seemed to contain an unspoken challenge there that she couldn't quite work out, and it unnerved her. Having dealt with only Bonnie before, she'd always assumed that witches were all the same in nature, at least when you got down to the heart of the matter, and she'd hoped they all shared the same desire to protect humans, and not be on the side of a corrupted bloodline.
It was then Elena remembered Greta, and she grimaced, slowly becoming aware that even witches, supposedly the purest of all supernatural species, could be drawn to the dark side given the right influences. But she summoned her friend's face in her mind, and wondered if she could use her humanity to help persuade Tia to let her go.
"It's not going to work, honey," came Tia's deep voice. "I know you're trying to figure out a way out of here, but I promised Klaus I'd keep you here until he's finished doing what he has to do."
Elena rose to her feet, quietly fuming.
"It's not right that he's using me yet again," she seethed. "So, what, my life is now tied to his? Whatever happens to him happens to me?"
Tia smiled. "Not quite. It's not voodoo. That's a different form of magic altogether. It's an insurance policy...for both of you. His fate is tied to yours, and vice versa, but it doesn't necessarily mean what happens to you will happen to him."
"Where's his body? Is it in this house?"
"No. I've made special arrangements for him. He always stays one step ahead, and he knows there's a chance the witches who attacked his family before will be back, so he told me to make sure his body didn't stay in this house."
Elena decided to ask a different question, seeing how Tia was being decidedly unhelpful, but with so many soaring around her mind it was hard to pick one which had a good chance at being answered. Did she even want to know what was happening right now? She felt tired, drained, her head was pounding, and above all else she felt afraid.
She also didn't particularly want to admit she was thinking about Elijah more than perhaps was considered normal, given what he'd done to her even though she knew it wasn't his fault. She'd never seen Elijah vamped out before, so to see him looking as far from composed and noble as she'd seen him before was more than a little disconcerting.
"So how will you know when Klaus has done what he needs to do?" she asked, before adding, "And what does he even have to do? His mother's a powerful witch; she could destroy him."
"Witches are powerful, but we have certain limitations," Tia spoke, wrestling with something in her hands that Elena couldn't quite see. "If the Original Witch is as powerful as I've heard, granted she'll try her best to attack Klaus, but if she's got a different agenda entirely, chances are all he's doing now is for nothing."
"What do you mean?"
Tia sighed, as if the question was a useless one.
"See, honey, without Klaus' brother here, it's impossible to bridge the connection between them without at least something of his to work with. It's like throwing someone into a random ocean trying to retrieve a lost item, hoping against hope it's the one you want, but knowing full well there's an enormous risk you're sending a man to drown for potentially nothing." Her eyes locked on Elena's. "If there's one thing a witch really hates – besides vampires, of course – it's doing a spell blindly. I'm sure you've encountered enough witches before to know they seem to enjoy moaning about the consequences about everything. It's why I don't listen to a damn warning I get from the other side."
Elena stared.
"You're a rogue witch, aren't you?"
Tia grinned.
"Guilty as charged. As Klaus warned you, I enjoy perpetuating the old stereotypes of what a witch really is. I have broomsticks, black cats, and a house that creaks more than these bones do." She slapped her thigh jokingly. "I prefer going at this alone. I know I'm supposed to be united with the entire witchy community at every goddamn moment of every goddamn day, but being an outcast just seemed the easier life choice."
"How come?"
"You don't get judged for the choices the make, the deals you uphold," Tia responded, her emerald green eyes lowered away, lingering on her own hands. "Klaus was right – you do ask a lot of questions." Her eyes were back on Elena's before she could even keep track of what the hell she was staring at. "Figured as the doppelganger you must surely be used to having a life where you don't get to make a damn decision for yourself."
"It's not the lack of free will that gets me. It's the fact that everybody needs me for something," Elena complained, very bitter all of a sudden, wondering why she was unloading this useless bit of trivia to a witch who clearly didn't give a crap about her. "Why are you even helping him anyway?"
Tia opened her mouth to answer, but a resounding crash interrupted her, and they both looked up at the ceiling. Elena felt a prickle of fear cripple her spine, but she followed Tia as they crept through the darkness and tiptoed up the stairs, lingering by the door like amateur spies.
"What was that?" Elena whispered, before she was rudely shushed by Tia, who, suddenly as bold as anything, strode confidently out into the hallway, before something hit her chest, causing her to stagger backwards.
Elena watched in mute horror as a scarlet area started to spread around Tia's chest, and as Tia fell to her knees, she attempted to remove the dagger, before looking ahead with hateful eyes, her arms outspread, clearly about to do a spell in retaliation when all of a sudden another flash of silver pierced her skin, this time at the base of her throat, and, with a loud gargle of horror, the blood pouring out of her like a waterfall, Tia fell backwards, her eyes widening for the last time before freezing there.
Closing her eyes, Elena felt fear gather quickly inside her chest, and she clung to the wall for a few moments, praying for courage she clearly did not have right now. Tentatively, she glanced around the corner, her eyes catching a familiar suited figure, who stood there wearing a smirk that wasn't his own, his eyes pooling with a coldness that she'd only seen the once, and it had chilled her to the bone.
"Oh, Elena," came Elijah's mocking voice. "Will you not come out and speak with me? I know you're there."
Elena remained frozen for a few moments, wishing she had her phone on her. Hell, she even wished Klaus was around because she knew her chances against an Original were slim at best.
Then, unexpectedly, the courage she required came to her, and she stepped cautiously out of hiding, half expecting a knife to hit her in the chest, but something far more frightening came into view.
Elijah stood there, completely calm, a match resting between the fingers on one hand, while the fingers on the other held a matchbox. His eyes seemed to drink in her appearance, the smallest of smirks gracing his face. She stood there, waiting for the inevitable strike to fall her, but he didn't speak at first, merely watched her, in the same way a hunter would watch its prey, with the same calculating look in his eyes, as if he was deciding how far he would push her before striking.
"What are you doing?" she asked, coming into view, her hands balled into fists by her side.
"I cannot get into the house as you well know," Elijah spoke, his eyes drifting from hers to land on the match, which he began to light. "So we can do this one of two ways: either you come out, or I burn the house to the ground with you in it. Your choice."
Elena swallowed.
"What happened to you?" she asked, stalling for time. "Where's the real Elijah?"
He smiled.
"Oh, I'm still the same man you've always known, Elena. What you're witnessing here is just the side of me that's always been a part of me, a part of me that's despised what I am; a part of me that knows I shouldn't have lived this long. It's unnatural."
Elena stared coldly at him.
"So that's it? You're just giving up? Letting your species be annihilated? You're okay with dying?"
For the briefest of moments, it looked like he struggled with the answer, but she might've imagined it because his face smoothed over so it looked expressionless, and she realised there was probably no reasoning with him right now.
"It's the right thing to do, Elena. You know this. Your life has been ruined by vampires. You lost your aunt because of them, and your friends' lives have been upended because of their existence. You cannot deny this, surely?"
"No, but –"
"There we go." His lips pressed into a hard line. "You are the key to Klaus' downfall, Elena, and therefore the key to saving the lives of an entire generation of people. Why would you not want to be a part of it?"
"Because the way you justify genocide is not right," she shot at him. "There's good and bad in every species, Elijah. You taught me there's always another way. You taught me to look at things differently, and I did. I looked at you differently. I respected you. This? This I can't respect."
Again, she felt like he was on the verge of some sort of personal breakdown. The way his composed expression crumbled for just a moment gave her some sort of indication that perhaps the real Elijah was still in there, fighting, and this gave her a surge of confidence.
She stepped forward, but went no further, folding her arms, making sure her eyes were locked on his. She felt like perhaps if he saw the confident, no-nonsense side of her, maybe she could get on the same level as him. All she needed was for them to remain in a stalemate while she figured out how best to retrieve the old Elijah back.
"So you will go down defending monsters?" His lip curled into a sneer. "Do you realise how pathetic that makes you?"
"No." She shook her head defiantly. "Don't you call me pathetic. It makes me strong that I can see the good in something that became progressively evil throughout time. You admired that about me, remember?"
She thought she saw a flash of recognition in Elijah's eyes and stepped forward boldly, edging closer and closer to the door. It was gone in an instant, naturally, but she felt like she was getting closer and closer to achieving her goal altogether.
"Your mother is behind this," she said slowly. "She's poisoned you against everything you ever stood for before. Doesn't that bother you?"
Elijah lit the match in response, watching her face as he aimed it and then threw it behind her so it landed on the carpet. She jumped, flinching as the flames roared into life on their own. Backing away, she tried to run towards the kitchen to be able to access water to drown out the fire, but the flames were quicker, and she realised he'd poured gasoline, or something similar, along the carpet.
How had she not noticed the smell?
He'd lit another one, and thrown it in, before she could even react to the first attack, and she started to tremble, even more aware of the situation he'd put her in.
"So, what do you say, Elena?" Elijah remarked. "Are you going to step out of the house, or are you going to stay inside and burn? I learned this trick from Rebekah."
"I worked that out for myself, funnily enough," Elena replied frostily, eyeing the flames with a mixture of fear and anger.
"Then what is your next move? Because there are only so many places you can run. Why not end this now, and step outside? Where is this remarkable courage you are supposed to possess?"
"You always admired that about me. Don't act like you've never seen it. It just confirms you're not Elijah," she retorted, clinging to the wall, eyeing the trail of flames as it quickly engulfed every exit possible, barring the front door.
She had to make a split second decision in that moment, and with the decision she eventually made, she decided to use this opportunity to try and find Elijah's humanity at the same time. The method she had in mind she wouldn't have normally used, but, hell, desperate times called for desperate methods, right?
Launching herself forward, in a move she could automatically see caught Elijah off guard, she propelled herself out of the door, making sure her body collided with his, and the movement actually caused him to stagger backwards.
Instantly, she could gage reactions from two different individuals, which confirmed her theory about him. The way his hands steadied her, lingering too long on her before releasing her, felt like the hands of a man who'd spent a long time trying to make sure he kept the object in his hands safe and well protected. However, his eyes, which were hard and angry, honed in on hers, and they spoke of an individual worn out from a chase that stretched back into the vaults of history, an individual who just wanted to complete his mission and then retire into oblivion.
They spent a moment like that, him locked in a battle she could only bear witness to. He seemed to struggle internally, his hands lingering either side of her, not quite touching her but close enough that she could feel their presence. Her eyes travelled upwards, taking in every expression that passed across his eyes, from anger to confusion back to anger again.
She managed to pick up on when the anger became the dominant expression, because soon one of those hands came towards her throat, so she spun neatly out from in front of him, but he was quick with his response, and with an even quicker response, he'd grabbed her, pinning to the ground, his dark eyes boring down on hers, in a way which left her almost breathless.
She'd never quite notice before how intense his stare could be, even putting aside the fact he wasn't himself right now. His eyes, which could contain an entire world of emotions, were beautiful, a deep shade of an in-between colour that seemed to contain a mixture of the darkest shades of the darkest colours along the spectrum, and she almost felt herself sliding into another world for a moment.
Then Elijah pulled her violently out of a fantasy which had spawned from nowhere, his hands grasping her throat tightly, his lips pressed together in a hard line.
"Sorry, Elena, but your death seems to be the key to achieving my mission here," he said, not a note of genuine sorrow audible in his voice. "I'll make it quick."
He pressed down, and she could vaguely see from the corner of her eyes the flames consuming the house she'd been in momentarily. They roared and burned with an intense glow, almost blinding to the naked eye. She turned her head, fighting, kicking out, doing anything to try and preserve her life but Elijah was stronger.
"Please," she wheezed out, using her doe eyes to try and reason with the real Elijah she was sure was still locked in there, somewhere. "Don't do this. You're better than this."
Elijah snorted, but he couldn't help blinking rapidly when her face seemed to change before his eyes, to the face of his own sister, and he remembered something which momentarily caused his grip on Elena to slacken somewhat.
...
He was chopping wood when Rebekah had filed silently into view, her hair cascading down her face, hiding something he was sure of it. He watched as she came to sit by him, watching him for a few moments as he turned great big logs into manageable piles of wood for the purposes of building fires.
"You are silent, little sister," he spoke, giving her enough time to spill whatever secret it was she was harbouring.
He knew her well; when she wasn't scolding, or singing, or using her voice to make sure she was heard, that's when he knew something was bothering her. She could hide it well enough, but there would be the telltale sign in her eyes, showing a sadness himself and Niklaus had learned to recognise at this point.
"Perhaps I have not much to say," she retorted, her gaze too focused on what he was doing to give her answer much conviction.
"Might I remind you that you only usually come to find me when something upsets you and you feel you cannot share it with our brothers," Elijah pointed out, finishing the last of his chore before coming to sit next to her.
With careful fingers, he tucked her hair from her face, blanching at the sight of an ugly bruise lingering around her right eye. It was a violent purple in colour, and it seemed to resemble the shape of a handprint, which made anger shudder through his body at the same force as an earthquake.
"Who?" he spoke, his anger barely concealed.
"Let's just say it was one of those inconsiderate pigs in the village, and leave it at that," she returned, fury and sadness woven into one emotion which coated her voice. "Apparently some people cannot take no for an answer."
"But he didn't try anything else, did he?"
She glared at him.
"We both know I can handle a sword well enough to scare any fool who dares try. On this occasion, he just happened to get in a good blow before I could find one to do so."
"Rebekah..."
"Elijah. You mustn't speak of this to Niklaus. He will kill him, and Father will be furious at him for disturbing our peace with our neighbours. You know what Father is like; he looks for any excuse to punish our Nik."
"This I know, but he will see the mark. Any fool can see it bears more than a passing resemblance to a fist," he pointed out, still shaking with fury. "At least let me exact vengeance in my way. I'll spare him his life, but perhaps not all of his limbs, if you just point out – "
"No." She was adamant. "I can fight my own battles, Elijah. I am not some delicate flower you can shield from view in the hopes I'll blossom into something strong. That is not how life works. I must bleed to learn the best ways to protect myself in the future."
"How can a man stoop so low as to attack a woman?" Elijah fumed, putting his arm around his sister. "What gives him the right to address himself as a man if dares lay a hand on someone more vulnerable than himself?"
"Women are stronger than you give them credit for, Elijah," Rebekah chided, resting her head against her shoulders."They are warriors too, if you allow them to be. This is just my battle wound."
He gazed at her softly, entwining his fingers with hers, the heat of the midday sun warming his back, even though the rest of his skin was cold to the touch at the thought that Rebekah had been attacked in this way. He could see her point though; Niklaus' temper was famed throughout the village, with only their parents unaware of the true violent nature of the boy who cowered before them simply because the way he dealt with the blows their father delivered to him involved taking out his issues on anybody else who even looked at him funny.
Perhaps, therefore, this had been a case of revenge, the attack on Rebekah. Perhaps Niklaus, with his impulsive nature, had riled up someone, and rather than attack him, they'd elected to use the cowardly way out and go for Rebekah instead.
Elijah couldn't believe such cowards existed. What gentleman raised a fist to a lady – and no matter what Rebekah said, that was what she would always be to him – and could still walk about like they'd not committed such a despicable act?
Maybe Rebekah was right in one respect; women were warriors. Rebekah was the strongest woman he'd ever known, perhaps rivalled only by their own mother of course, and the fact she'd grown up with a set of brothers with clashing personalities and manners even the wild boars would turn their tusks with disgust at and survived never ceased to amaze him. She was beautiful and strong, qualities he would eventually look for – somewhat in vain – over the next few centuries, before finding it again in a set of warm brown eyes.
For now, beckoning his sister to remain where she was, he went to fetch a cold cloth, and then, with all the tenderness in the world, proceeded to hold it against her bruise.
"I thought since you took the beating, I would take the role of playing nurse," he said, smiling at her in response to her questioning look, "My brave warrior princess. May the next battle be on more equal footing." He kissed her forehead tenderly. "You have a temper, and the determination, to rival that of a thousand men."
She smiled, her eyes shining with newfound pride.
"But where would a warrior princess be without her dear brother soldier by her side? You would defend as bravely as any man before or after you, and fight with the integrity I know you'll have inside you always and forever."
He smiled, playfully nudging her.
"Though I fiercely loathe the idea of you at the frontline of any battle, I would be more than proud to fight alongside you." His smile widened. "If the speed at which you can wield a sword is equal to the speed at which your tongue travels sometimes, lord knows mercy should be bestowed upon us all."
It was her turn to shove him playfully.
"I do not talk that much, brother. But I appreciate the sentiment all the same." She eyed him meaningfully. "I hope you find a woman who can keep up with the high standards you set for yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"I've yet to see a woman on your arm. Nik and Kol and Finn all have had their share of women; when will you show an interest in one?"
"Perhaps the day I find a woman whose tongue is as sharp as yours, or a heart as big as yours, will be the day I settle down, but for now, sister, we shall both have to put up with each other as companions," he laughed, tussling her hair with affection.
"If she is prettier than me, I shall sulk and profess to mock her behind her back," Rebekah warned. "I shall not play fair if her beauty is more obvious than mine. Take note."
He laughed again.
"Fair warning, dear sister. Fair warning."
...
The memory came to him as vivid as a dream, and it was hard to shake Rebekah's face out of his mind, how dark the bruise had been, how intense his desire for revenge had been, and now here he was, threatening to kill a woman because she was simply a means to an end.
"Do not let memories old tempt you into abandoning your mission," crooned a voice in his mind; it was unclear whose voice it belonged to. "Be strong, and fulfil the task I set you out to do."
He looked down at Elena, who was gazing up at him, the fear evident, but his eyes focused on the red marks on her neck where his fingers had been. A split second's hesitation was all she needed; she rolled away from him and began to run, and it took him moments to respond, only because the memory now playing in his mind seemed to control him.
He caught up to Elena within seconds, his fingers all set to snap her neck seeing how strangling her was time consuming, but before he could fulfil his mission, two sets of arms threw themselves around him, wrestling him away. He recognises the strength; why did his family insist on protecting her when they'd never given a damn about her before?
A part of him rejoiced that Kol and Rebekah had taken it upon themselves to save her, and he knew why.
As much as he pretended he was calm and collected, the real Elijah lay bubbling under the surface, fuming about what was going on, ready to rip out the hearts out of anyone who dared lay a hand on his family or Elena. He was trying to keep this voice silenced but because he'd not fed in a while – poor mistake on his part, he'd admit – it meant whatever dark magic had feasted itself inside of him, it wasn't as strong as it'd been before.
Maybe that was the key.
Not feeding.
"Easy, brother," came Kol's mocking voice. "You've got to stop leading us on a merry bloody chase, brother."
"How did you find me?" Elijah snarled, his eyes on Elena; always on Elena, it seemed, and not always for reasons he understood.
"Like my brother was just going to take the doppelganger back to her precious family and friends," Rebekah sneered, not even bothering to give her nemesis a scathing glance. "I know my brother's tricks. He likes to make a dramatic exit, and travelling around with him for a thousand years means I know who my brother knows, and from there it was just about working out where his closest contact was, so ta-da."
"We share a lot more than just good looks, brother," Kol added, tapping his head as if to prove his point.
Rebekah threw him a dirty look but didn't comment.
"We've got your back, Elijah," she told him. "I will always find a way to save you, but that isn't going to happen if you're off fighting your own bloody battle. We remain as one, always and forever."
"You can't throw that in my face, Rebekah. I wasn't there for that family moment," Kol pointed, pouting dramatically.
"Oh, bite me, Kol."
Taking advantage of them distracting each other with petty quarrels, Elijah twisted both their arms, and barrelled forwards, grabbing Elena and whisking her off before Rebekah and Kol could even do so much as register what had happened.
"Damn it," Rebekah screeched, shaking her blonde hair with disgust. "We need to find Klaus' body."
"Oh, sure. That'll be an easy task. He's been so forthcoming with every other part of his plan up until now," Kol quipped.
"Then we tear apart every bloody house in this bloody town until we find him," Rebekah seethed, her face only inches apart from Kol's. "He can't be too far. The stupid witch wouldn't have had enough time to take him any further."
"Stupid dead witch," Kol pointed out, somewhat morosely as he gazed at the burning wreckage of the house. "Elijah never likes doing things halfway, does he?"
"Assuming it even is Elijah we're dealing with here," Rebekah added, somewhat gloomily.
Guess it's time for the warrior princess to step up to the bat to help her fallen soldier brother, she thought, as she and Kol, in perfect synchronicity, broke into a run to get the help they needed.
She also couldn't help thinking about that simpler time, when she and Elijah had sat in the grass, nursing wounds that could actually be fixed with good old fashioned methods, talking and joking about battles they'd never dreamed they'd actually be fighting. He'd believed in her, even as they'd given each other cute nicknames, and so she owed it to him to believe that they could save their brother, no matter what.
If somewhere along the line that meant killing the one woman she was sure Elijah felt more than strongly connected to, Rebekah knew who she'd pick every time.
It's just now, unlike previously, she would actually feel guilty if it actually came down to it; not because she liked the girl – not by any means – but because she'd learned to read the signs of when somebody had fallen in love, even without them knowing it – and Elijah's behaviour pre-madness had shown every single symptom of love ever possible to show on one face.
Whether Elena felt the same, however, remained to be seen, but all Rebekah knew was that the girl had had plenty of chances to get the hell out of here and she'd stayed, and that had to mean something. She just wasn't sure what.
A/n: THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS. You guys are amazing. Truly. I wanted to include a cute Elijah/Rebekah scene because I feel like those two haven't shared enough screen time together just yet. I loved their bond in the few scenes we've been given though. Not sure if I'm really happy with this chapter but it's something isn't it? This is dedicated to HazelHeart93 for all her support on Tumblr (wearetheoriginals) Hope you enjoyed this chapter hon! Keep reviewing, it makes me smile and – hopefully – update faster.
