How long she slept, she wasn't sure, except that she knew more than a few hours passed since she'd closed her eyes. She listened for a moment, but after hearing no one in the house, she climbed out of bed and headed towards the shower.

This time, she was able to shut off her mind enough to enjoy the shower. Water poured down her body, rinsing away the final remnants of her break down from the night before.

Once she was cleaned to her satisfaction, she turned off the water and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. She rifled through her closet and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. At least Rebekah picked clothing she was most comfortable wearing.

It made her more than a little bit uncomfortable though, how they knew what her clothing preferences were. They would have had to dig through a lot of her life to figure out what she was most comfortable in since all of her public appearances were in cute dresses and skating outfits.

Just how much did they know about her and why did she get the feeling that they knew more about herself than she did?

After dressing, Elena curled back up in her bed, pulling the blankets around her shoulders. She had no desire to leave her bedroom or get out of bed now. Her energy was depleted much more quickly than ever before.

Someone knocked on the door.

She wanted to say something, but the words died before they reached her tongue.

"Elena, may I come in?" Elijah asked.

She needed to say something, didn't she?

"Elena?"

"Sure," she whispered.

He entered the room and approached her slowly. Sitting down beside her, he ran his hand over the top of her head.

"How are you feeling?"

She ducked her head deeper beneath the blankets.

"Do you need blood? You must be thirsty"

At the mention of her thirst, Elena peeked out from under the covers, the veins beneath her eyes writhing. Was this to be her fate, a slave to her need for blood, no matter how she felt?

Elijah's lips curled up into a gentle smile as he bared his wrist and held it out to her. Glancing up at Elijah's face, Elena took his hand in hers and bit down on his wrist. He sighed softly before pulling her close to his chest, his breath warm against her temple.

Warmth flooded her body, filling her with euphoria. She found herself moaning in response to the pleasure coursing through her, so lost in the moment, she felt a euphoria she hadn't experienced since the last time she left the ice as a human.

Though somewhere through the haze of blood lust, the intimacy of the moment sent heat coiling through her belly. As she continued to drink, she realized that Elijah was affected, almost as much as she was, and with his free hand, he caressed her, tracing patterns over her back and Elena thought she felt him tremble. But she couldn't focus on his reaction too closely when her own senses were so fully overwhelmed.

Finally, her protesting stomach forced her to accept that she couldn't drink anymore. With great reluctance, she retracted her fangs, licking away the blood on his wrist that had dripped from the wound before letting go of his arm.

Elijah pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed around her mouth, his touch gentle.

After a few moments, the high of Elijah's blood faded, taking the good feelings with it, and she curled back under the blankets.

He pursed his lips for a moment, as if considering something, then reached into his pocket and pulled a small object out. As he moved to set it on the nearby bedside table, Elena realized it was a ring with a blue stone.

"I asked Freya to create a daylight ring for you, if you want it."

Elena buried herself deeper into the bed. She had no desire to face the sun, not yet. Let the darkness embrace her, shield her from the reality that the light would reveal. Hidden in the dark, without the temptation of blood, she could pretend she was human and that the last three years had been nothing but a terrible dream.

"When you're ready." He patted her leg and stood up. "I'll be back later."

Elena closed her eyes and tuned out the world for a while. If she'd been able to care, she would have been surprised to find that she could no longer disappear into her secret world. But her lack of energy proved too much.

She heard voices from somewhere in the house, but she couldn't make herself tune into the conversation, her mind suddenly taking her back to the table in the lab. How many times would she be forced to relive what happened?

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, trying to force all thoughts from her head, not even allowing her mental ice skating rink in. That no longer provided the comfort that it did before. All going there in her mind did was remind her of the lab.

How much more would the lab take from her before it was over? She wasn't there anymore and yet she was still suffering the consequences of what they did to her and that didn't even include the pregnancy itself.

If she cared to think about it, she would marvel at the difference three years brought. She used to be a people person. Being surrounded by others, the crowds she performed in front of, used to fuel her, give her energy, give her life. Now, having anyone around left her feeling strained and she couldn't be left alone soon enough.

The girl she used to be wouldn't recognize who she was now. That girl was a fighter, someone who refused to give up, who skated through pain. But that girl had dreams too, a future. She was supposed to go to the Olympics, possibly win, then maybe fall in love, compete again, get engaged, and get married, not drink blood and be a teenager for all eternity, while being a mother to a child conceived in horror.

Her mind kept going on a loop, unable to break out of the cycle of her thoughts. Some part of her wanted to get out of the rut her thoughts had formed in her mind, but what else was there? What else could she think about that might free her from this quicksand?

Elena curled up, pushing her thoughts as far away from the forefront of her mind as possible. There was no pain anymore as she floated in this sea of oblivion. Here, in this nothingness, it was as close to peace as she'd experienced in years.

It was too bad that she knew she was only fooling herself, feeling nothing wasn't the same as peace, only she couldn't bring herself to care. Time had no meaning here, just the nothingness and despair so complete she couldn't think to try to make it stop.

She missed Elijah opening the door to check in on her, his face contorting with worry, and drifted into sleep.

"How is she?" Freya didn't look up from the spell she was working on.

"She's suffering from depression, if I had to hazard a guess," Elijah replied.

"After everything she's been through, and still dealing with, I can't say I'm surprised," Keelin commented as she entered the room, a bowl of water in her hands. She walked over to Freya and set the bowl on the table.

Without seeming to be aware of what she was doing, Freya brushed her fingers along Keelin's arm as the werewolf stepped back.

"You think carrying the child makes things worse for her?" Elijah turned to look at her. The thought of her being negatively affected by the presence of his child in her womb twisted at his heart.

"Honestly? Yes, I do." Keelin sighed. "All we can do is let it be her choice whether or not she continues to carry the child. It will make things easier for her, if she's more in control of her life."

"What can I do?" He held out his hands. "There must be something I can do to alleviate her suffering."

"Just be there for her." Freya lifted a small sprig of herbs and broke off a branch. "I know you want to help her, but forcing her to do something that may be good for her when she's not ready for it will only harm her in the end."

She found herself strapped down on the lab table, unable to move. Davenport stood in the corner, watching, with a sadistic smile on her face, as Maxfield knelt above her. No. NO! She couldn't let this happen. She couldn't! After everything they took from her, they couldn't take this too. Please! Someone help! NO! No, she could save herself. Enzo wasn't there, so she had nothing to lose now. They couldn't get away with this.

Gathering every ounce of strength she had, she managed to break one hand free and desperately, she tried to escape, attempting to claw at his face and eyes, but she was no match for his strength. She screamed, even though she knew it would do nothing except further his enjoyment of the pain he was causing her.

"Elena!"

Wait. That wasn't Maxfield's voice. Maxfield brought pain and reveled in the fear he caused.

She knew the voice though. It never brought danger. This voice meant safety. Didn't it? Somewhere in her mind, she thought it might mean that, but she wasn't sure. The fear from her dream made it difficult to think.

"Elena, wake up!"

Elijah. It was Elijah's voice. That's how she knew it. Yes, he was safe. He rescued her from the lab and now he protected her. He was her friend.

"Elena, come back to me."

She blinked as the haze of fear finally left her mind and found herself in her bedroom in New Orleans. It was a dream. Nothing more than a horrible dream. Looking back at Elijah, she realized that healing scratch marks littered his face and buttons were missing from his shirt. He'd been the one she'd attacked.

Guilt ate through the fear. Everyone she came into contact with anymore got hurt.

"Elena." He traced the backs of his fingers down her cheek. "You're safe."

Once she got her breathing under control, Elena lay back down and curled in on herself, tucking the blankets under her chin.

"They can't hurt you here. You're safe."

Elena glanced up at him and then looked back at the wall beyond his shoulder. She struggled to swallow and closed her eyes as shame filled her. Yet again, Elijah had to wake her up from another nightmare. Just how many times did he have to see her in such a state, to witness the aftermath of what she'd suffered at the hands of humans?

"One day they will have no power over you and even your mind will be free of them."

Tears stung her eyes and she blinked hard. She wished she could believe that, but how could she? Maxfield was still out there, along with the people who ordered the torture and everything else to be done to her.

"Do you want me to stay? Or would you rather that I left?"

"You- you can stay."

"I have to go for a minute, but I'll be back." He chuckled once as he tugged on the collar of his ruined shirt. "You did quite a number on my clothes."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He straightened. "We've all struggled from time to time with the horrors we've experienced."

Elena found herself looking up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment, before looking away once more. The intensity in his eyes unsettled her and attempting to process it touched a part of her emotions that made her uncomfortable.

"You're not alone, Elena." Elijah leaned closer to her, cradling her cheek in his hand, but didn't force her to move her head. "You're not alone."

"You keep saying that, but you have no idea what I'm dealing with."

"You're not the only one Davenport hurt."

Elena looked at him sharply.

"How do you think I felt, finding out what she'd done." He raked his hand through her hair, his expression tortured. "She forced me to participate in a rape that I had no way of knowing was happening and wouldn't have allowed to occur had I known."

Elena's breath caught in her throat, hearing him describe it in such a horrifying way.

"When Freya told me, I nearly choked her out for lying." He made a strangled sound as he leaped to his feet. "I've never forced anyone into my bed. Sex has always been about mutual pleasure and want." He closed his eyes and drew a few deep breaths. "Then she did what she did and suddenly, my honor, my very self was called into question."

Witnessing his pain over what happened to her, to them both, threw everything she thought she knew on its head.

"So yes, Elena." He turned to face her once more. "You're not alone. No, I didn't have to endure what you did at her hands, but never, for one second think you're alone in this."