Chapter 12

A night of passion

The night the attack on the bayou happened, Elijah brought Hayley home with him in order to help her heal before she returned to the bayou and to her "people" to begin the clear up and burial process of their fallen comrades and family members. Elijah went to help. When he returned he was at a loss to find Abigail- she was nowhere within the lower rooms of the compound. So he wandered upstairs calling he rename as he went.

"Sweetheart? Abby?" He called as he neared their room, he opened the door a little and found her sat on their bed, a pile of drawings around her. His drawings.

"Hello, Elijah." She smiled, sadly at him.

"What, pray tell, are you doing?" Elijah asked, moving into the dimly lit room and closing the door behind him.

"Admiring your skill." She said, simply. Elijah blushed.

"They are not as good as Niklaus' but.." He was cut off by Abigail, pulling him by his tie towards her and kissing him on the lips tenderly.

"They are wonderful." She said as Elijah moved a few sketches to sit beside her when the broke apart. As he sat he removed his jacket and tie, draping them on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

"Well, I suppose they are alright." He admitted shyly. His shirt was singed and his chest, slowly healing after the bomb explosion in the bayou. It was tender and his back was sore too as he lay back on the bed with a groan.

"Holy Gods, Elijah, you're hurt." Abigail said in response as she saw his bruised chest as Elijah unbuttoned his shirt.

"I'll heal, look its doing so already." Elijah stated calmly, admiring his bruised and battered torso.

"Let me help." Abigail said and scrambled over to him, in her thin nightdress, the drawings completely forgotten.

"Abby, I'm fine... Honest." He said to her as she began running her hands and fingertips over each cut and bruise, each slowly fading and healing quicker than Elijah's body normally would have. Having a witch for a wife did seem to have benefits. He groaned and then sighed as a deep wound healed. It took several minutes until only the tiniest bit of pink remained over the healed scratches- there wouldn't be any scars.

"There, that's better," Abigail said and Elijah nodded, I pressed with her skills as much as she was of his artistry. "I worried for you today."

"Why, I wouldn't have died."

"You could have, Elijah and I don't like you putting yourself in that position, even for Hayley." Abigail explained, preparing to lie down beside him so as not to hurt him, before Elijah lifted her p and brought down to settle on his lap.

"But I didn't so, can we please forget about it? Eh?" Elijah agreed, his arms tight around her waist.

"Kiss me." She said simply and Elijah complied. Abigail broke away from him as his hands made their way to her nightdress hem. "No, I'll hurt you. You're still healing."

"Being with you, holding you, will make me feel even more better." Elijah said suggestively, his lips against her neck, he tickled the back of her knee and made her shiver. "Well, love is said to be the best medicine, darling."

"I thought it was laughter?" Abigail said again, huskily.

"Love and laughter, now that's a new one. I love you." He said as he pulled her nightdress over her head, leaving her bare to him.

"Then show me." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "I love you too."

So that was just what Elijah did, he shared in a night of passion with his beloved wife, the last before the great apocalypse arrived that was Mikael Mikaelson. It was nearly noon by the time they appeared from their bedroom the next day, an hour or so before the funeral of Father Kieran and a matter of hours before danger invaded their home.