AN: Let me just say, the whole situation is supposed to be problematic, and supposed to get you to really grapple with A) the things going on, but also B) the characters as real people. Obviously no one is claiming Kol is at all justified, and I'm 100 percent not victim blaming either, but really trying to show how messy people are and the real consequences of terrible actions. Mostly because on TVD people do some pretty terrible things, and then after a few episodes it's fine and the consequences aren't really followed through, or just excused because of the reasoning 'well, they're a vampire' which...not okay? Or the character does a really awful thing but solves it by doing another, equally awful thing? (cough cough Klaus). The point: you're supposed to critique everyone's actions, and not supposed to swallow what each character says as 100 percent true or valid. I wanted to show true consequences, and then maybe... real redemption.
WRESTLE WITH MY MATERIAL like English class... haha. Anyway, enjoy. This will be a few parts, and then there'll be another couple-part thing, so don't be afraid. I do not believe this darkness will not endure. :)
Irremissible
Irremissible, adj. 1: (of a crime) unpardonable. 2: (of an obligation or duty) binding.
The phone's shrill buzz resounds through the dark bedroom, intruding on Leah's lovely dream. "Mmph," she groans, prying open her eyes to peer into the darkness. "Um. Your phone or mine?"
Elijah presses the vibrating square into her hand. "Yours," he says, and Leah takes a moment to appreciate the rough, sleep filled tone. He sleeps far less than she does, and she likes to take advantage of the moments that he is not completely put together.
"It's Fay," he adds, and her attention shifts.
She sits up and answers the call. "Fay?"
Gasping sobs echo down the phone line.
"Fay, are you all right?" Leah demands, now alarmed. Elijah puts a hand on her back.
The sobs become hiccups and the only word Fay can gasp out is "Leeeeahh!" The wail, long and raw, is equal parts panic and despair.
"Fay, what's wrong?" Leah begs, clutching the sheets and trying desperately to figure it out. She would be in New York —had she gotten mugged? Raped? Kidnapped? "Fay!"
Her sister takes a breath and manages to spit out three words before dissolving into wrenching sobs again. Leah freezes, and her world comes to a screeching halt.
"Kol turned me!"
Elijah pries the phone out of Leah's frozen hand and speaks. "Fay, where are you?" His voice is calm, but Leah can hear the anger lurking in his tone. "Did you complete transition?"
Leah tunes in to hear the answer, and at the tearful affirmative, Leah feels her world shatter all over again.
Elijah's next question is, "Where is Kol?" and some part of Leah knows her husband is feeling murderous. She pities Kol, but she's not going to object to whatever Elijah does. He turned her sister, condemned her to the darkness and death, and he doesn't get away with that.
"Stay there, Fay. Keep calm. We will come get you," Elijah says.
"I love you," Leah chokes out before Elijah ends the call. Then she cries, burying her head in her hands as her husband holds her. This isn't what she wanted –not at all.
She isn't sure how long she cries, but Leah finally gets a hold of herself and takes a deep breath. She has become fantastically good at putting her life back together by this time. The world will continue —she will help her sister cope; return the favor when she turned. They will be all right.
"What are we going to do?" Leah rasps, wiping her eyes and reaching for Elijah's hand.
"We're going to New York," he says, like it's obvious. "Malachi can watch Grace."
Leah nods. That makes sense. Ky, at fifteen, can suitably watch out for Grace, approaching nine years old. He's done it before, certainly.
Leah focuses on those years. She needed help then —Fay needs that help now.
"Okay," Leah whispers, turning into Elijah's muscled chest and nestling into his neck. He is always comfort, always strength for her when she needs it.
Winding his hand through her hair, he kisses her forehead and sighs. "You'll be there for her. Her adjustment won't be as bad."
Leah nods, trying to believe it.
"And I'll deal with Kol."
Leah licks her lips and musters strength for the words. "Try not to kill him." Kol deserves it —but her husband will regret killing his brother, even if he thinks it might be necessary. Even if his brother was, to use Fay's favorite expression, 'a little shit.'
"That depends on Kol and what he has to say for himself."
"What is there to say?"
"We'll see."
When they reach New York and Fay's apartment, Elijah waits to see Fay run into Leah's arms, crying, assuring himself of the facts before setting off to find his little brother.
According to Fay, Kol had given her a drink —"it tasted funny" —and then he broke her neck. After she woke up, he force-fed her blood. She had screamed at him to get out, and apparently hit him hard enough to make her point. The why, however, was still to be discovered.
"Kol," Elijah says, with all the weight of granite behind his tone.
"Hello, brother," Kol replies, looking up at him with a crooked smile. He sits in an alleyway a few blocks from Fay's apartment, clutching a bourbon bottle in his hand. He takes a long swig from the bottle and then stares at the concrete. "Does she hate me?"
"You have exactly one minute to explain yourself." Elijah stares down at him, face immovable.
"Or you'll do what?" Kol asks, tone cocky but eyes hard.
"Do not test me, Kol."
He leans back and the smile drops off his face. He takes a long pull at the bottle, and says, in quite a different tone, "I can't live without her."
"And so, naturally, you decided to kill her," Elijah says sarcastically.
"In a few years, she'll be obviously older than me! A couple more and she'll feel obligated to move on, and then she'll wither and die and I'll have lost her." Kol shakes his head, jaw tight. "I couldn't have that."
Elijah says, "Now, because of your actions, she may never have you."
Kol shrugs, a flippant, arrogant gesture. "I can live with that." His smile is cracked, and his eyes are dead.