This is a continuation of two stories I've written (posted on archiveofourown under the username buries) titled i don't have time to die and time is eternity. You do need to have read them to have an understanding of the context of this fic. (They're PWP, so they're posted over on AO3.)

This fic is set after 2x19: Klaus, meaning the Elijah and Elena conversation about Klaus, the Sun and Moon Curse, and the elixir at the Lockwood Mansion has happened. The only thing that's different from canon (aside from Elijah and Elena sleeping together, of course) is the fact I'm pushing the ritual out since it seemed to happen so quickly that we didn't get to enjoy them plotting to save her and delve further into Elena's relationship with grief, death and self-sacrifice.

This is my little love letter to season 2 Elena, who I thought was so interesting and multi-faceted, and who deserved better.

i have fault lines in my bones
part one: goodbye

Elena smiles, closing her eyes as she relaxes against her soft bedspread. His weight is warm on top of her, lips leaving hot trails in their wake across her stomach. She keeps her hands above her head where he's quietly placed them, fingers digging into her palms as she tries to push her noises and words up into her lifelines.

She can be quiet, she knows. She's practiced this with her bedroom door ajar while she imagines it's Elijah's hand warming her inner thighs and his fingers tucked inside of her.

Panting, she licks her lips and tries to remain quiet. She's still dressed, her shirt pushed up to her breasts. He's a comfortable presence between her legs as she cradles him as protectively as she can.

"Elijah," she says quietly, licking her lips. She tries to clear her throat to destroy her desire to laugh. His mouth is ticklish against her stomach and his dress shirt and slacks are too heavy and itchy against her legs.

"Sh." Tongue against her stomach, he licks his way to her navel and nips at her skin. His mouth is warm, his hands soft but firm on her hipbones as he presses her quietly into the bed. She makes an impatient noise in the back of her throat. "Quiet," he says softly.

"But Jen—"

"Is asleep on the couch," he says quietly. The downstairs television hums up the staircase, the words indiscernible to her ears. She doesn't try to focus on the sounds, her breathing heavy and his not laboured enough to her ears.

His hands dig into her hipbones, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of her jeans.

"She could—" Elena sighs, shivering as he drags his teeth sharply across her skin. His hands work deftly and blindly to undo her pants, tugging at them sharply to pull them down her hips. This time, she's wearing her best panties. It's a thought that makes her laugh softly.

"Elijah, we'll—"

With a put upon sigh, he lifts his head up to peer up at her sharply. It makes her feel a little scolded, although the hair hanging over his temple and the brightness to his dark eyes makes her feel like misbehaving in the hopes of him trying to teach her a lesson again. She thinks one's on the tip of his tongue, but she can't be sure. He's still a new book she's trying to read. "If you keep talking, I'll stop."

Biting her bottom lip to try and hide her smile, she shakes her head. That's the last thing she wants. His weight is comfortable, hot and heavy every time he's on top of her. Heat floods her body as she presses her lips together and keeps her gaze on his.

She bites back her laugh as he tugs her pants down her legs, kneeling before her. Dropping her jeans carelessly onto the floor with a thud, he slides his hands up the outside of her legs and hooks his fingers into her panties.

Her heart pounds so loudly in her chest her entire body vibrates.

"Let me guess," she begins quietly, lips curving upward. She bites her bottom lip as she stares at his, tipping upwards in a mirror image of her own. "You'll take them?"

His lips curve upward as he slides them slowly down her thighs. She lifts her ass up to help him and feels the hairs on her legs rise as he glides the fabric down her legs, fingers grazing her skin like he simply can't stop himself from touching her. The panties disappear where she expects them to: tucked safely into the back pocket of his slacks.

He slides his hand up the inside of her leg, slowly lifting it to rest her heel on his shoulder. She doesn't fight him when he lifts her other leg and plants it on his other shoulder. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, more than she's ever felt before, she feels her heart thump violently in her chest. Wishes that he won't peer down and look at her cunt.

"You're beautiful," he says, his gaze warm on her face. "And still overly dressed."

With a smile and an amused roll of her eyes, Elena expects he'll let her remove her feet. He latches onto her ankles, keeping them on his shoulders. Hooking her fingers into the hem of her shirt, she leans up and slowly pulls it up and over her head. It's a struggle that she thinks he enjoys.

At the arch of his brow and his pointed look at her bra, she shakes her head. "Nuh uh," she says, hands pressing hard into the bed beneath her. "I think you should take something off."

Elijah smiles. Brushing his hands against her ankles, she watches intently as he places them against the collar of his button up shirt. She waits with anticipation for him to unbutton it to reveal the hard muscle beneath.

Untying his tie, he smiles as he slides it slowly from beneath his collar and holds it in the palm of his hand like it's an offering.

"That's cheating," she says with a soft laugh.

"You wanted me to take something off, Elena," he says, lifting the tie to her thigh. He slowly wraps it around her leg, gently tying it. "I expect you'll take good care of it."

Biting her bottom lip, she makes a noise in the back of her throat when he tugs her closer. She tries to slide her legs from his shoulders, but his hands grip her ankles tightly, pulling them to sit right near the sides of his neck.

Elena furrows her brow as she peers up at him, hands pressing against the bedspread beside her.

"Trust me," he says, tracing his fingertips along the outside of her calves. "I won't hurt you."

Licking her lips, she tries to wet her dried mouth. Her heart thumps in her chest, a pounding that makes her wonder if he can see it beat beneath her skin. Glancing down her body, she grips the bedsheets between her fingers as heat tinges her skin. All she's wearing as a defence against him is her deep red bra and nothing else.

"Lie back," he says, hands gentle against her ankles. She lowers to the bed, hair pillowing her head and neck, and slowly moves her hands back to where they'd been before, locked above her head.

Gazing at her long and slow, her body burns when she spies his lips parting ever so slightly. He looks at her like she's a meal to eat, and for once, Elena doesn't feel like running from the big bad vampire.

Turning his head to the side, his hands are gentle when he wraps his fingers around her calf. He picks her leg up like she's made of glass and kisses her skin, lips warm, leaving little fire trails in their wake. She lets out a shaky breath and curls her fingers tightly into her palms.

He drops his hands from her leg and unbuckles his belt, his gaze on her face as undoes his pants. Elena doesn't think she blinks, staring openly at him as he tugs his slacks down his hips, his black briefs following suit.

Wrapping his hand around his cock, she shifts on the bed, arching her back slightly as he strokes himself. It's such an open display of desire that she feels heat pool in her belly and cheeks.

His hands are warm beneath her ass, palms slightly clammy. She moves her hands, digs her elbows into the bedspread and tries to help him shift her hips up. He guides his cock inside of her cunt slowly, his gaze on her.

She closes her eyes, mouth falling open with a moan. "Oh my god." She hears a guttural sound, feels it burn her throat as she lets it escape the dungeon of her mouth. His fingers are warm against her ass, clothed shoulders searing her ankles.

When she opens her eyes, he's smiling lopsidedly at her. It's the most arrogant he's looked. "Are you okay?"

Pursing her lips in annoyance, she tries her best to swallow her moan. Nodding a little too desperately, she swallows thickly and hums. "Yes," she says.

"Tell me how you feel." He's slow to slide inside of her, hips not flushed against her own.

"Good," she says. The word hardly describes how she feels. His hands are on her hips as he shifts inside of her, pulling a little away to only come back to her. She bites her bottom lip and lets it fall from between her teeth. "You feel big."

He laughs as her face reddens. "You don't mince your words, do you?"

"You have my word," she says, smiling widely. Moaning low in her throat when he presses closer to her, leaning into her body like she's a beacon, she licks her bottom lip and lets out an exhale. "You have my word, Elijah."

"And what word is that?" he asks quietly. He hovers over her, shoulders still a perch for her ankles. His hands slide from her hips to her thighs, all the way up to her ankles. He glides them back down, a featherlight touch that strangely comforts her.

"I don't remember," she says, blushing. He pushes in deeper and she grips the bedsheets, panting.

"I think you're lying to me."

Folding her arms above her head, she arches her chest up off the bed and shakes her head. "I'm not," she says. She shifts her feet on his shoulders and gasps when he thrusts into her. His hands rest against her ass, fingers pinching her skin. "I'm—"

Elena forgets. It's easily the best decision she's ever made. Focusing on talking is such a bad idea. She doesn't need words anymore. All she needs is the quiet pants of him, so tightly wound and controlled that she digs her heels against his shoulders and readjusts them to try and push them out of him.

He thrusts into her, cock deep inside of her. She brushes her hands over her hair and plants them on her ribcage, arching her back off the bed. His panting deepens, his thrusts a little sharper. She slides her hands up her torso to her breasts, squeezing them beneath her bra. Head tilted back, she looks up at her plain ceiling and slides her hand over the cup and tugs it down, palming her bared breast as she moans and shifts against his hips.

When she looks up at him, hands on her breasts, his gaze is downcast on their hips. She flushes again, skin bright red. "What?"

"You're beautiful," he says. She flushes again, heat bursting in her eardrums. His gaze lifts from where they're joined to peer up at her, gaze only dropping to her hands on her breasts for a short moment.

"You're handsome," she says as her attempt to get him back. He barely flushes, a few strands of long hair sticking to his forehead. His hands only grip her ass and he shifts against her harder.

Her hands leave her body as she grips the bedspread, shifting and trying to thrust up into him. His hands are possessive against her body, sliding to the small of her back. He thrusts deeper, sending heat throughout her body. Hair sticking to her back and shoulders, Elena tries to dig her elbows into the bed to prop herself up but finds her entire body is boneless.

She shudders when his finger brushes against her clit. Hand slapping against her mouth, she moans muffled and loud, twisting on the bed as he thrusts into her and brushes her clit again. Tension coils in her back as he rubs at her. She bites the back of her hand hard enough to split her skin as she comes, back arching off the bed as her body tenses.

He doesn't stop, not that she wants him to. His hands are possessive against her hips as he slides them to her ass. Elijah's eyes look dark, possessive in a way she's come to learn isn't entirely frightening nor threatening. She holds her hand against her mouth and squirms when he pinches her ass.

Sliding her hand away from her mouth, she rests her cheek on the bed and looks to her free standing mirror. She wants to see them together, just this once. What he looks like when he's inside of her and what she looks like when she's boneless and defenceless but safe. Disappointment curls with the heat in her belly at the sight of the mirror's reflection being blocked. He's conveniently hung his blazer over it.

Looking up at him, she slides her hand up her belly to cup her bare breast, summoning his dark gaze to settle on her chest. He bites his lip hard, blood pooling on skin when he slides his bottom lip between his teeth.

She watches him as he comes, body tense beneath his suit. Even with his armour on, she can see how his skin brightens, damp with sweat. Immaculate hair sticking to his skin. She wonders if he regrets it, not meeting her skin with skin. His hands grip her hips tightly, imprinting his fingerprints on her like she's his to own.

Elijah brushes his hands up and down her legs gently as he slowly pulls away from her. A sound escapes her lips and she watches him watch her as he leaves her.

"Are you okay?"

She doesn't answer as he pulls her legs from his shoulders, holding one between his hands. Gently massaging her calf, he smiles at her as he lowers that leg down in favour of picking up the other.

"That was…" She brushes her hands against her mouth and laughs in embarrassment. Feeling brave, she arches her brow and teases, "Maybe next time you'll take your belt off?"

He chuckles, dropping his gaze and her leg. When she thinks he's going to stay kneeled between her legs, he's slow to move up her body, hands on either side of her head. He hovers over her like a warm, comforting shadow. His dress shirt's untucked from his slacks.

Ensnaring him in her arms, she loops them around his neck and gently tugs him down in a quiet invitation. He's hesitant to lower himself on top of her, but he does, thinly covered chest pressing against hers, legs between her thighs. She holds him to her, hand sliding up the back of his neck into his hair.

Then she ruffles it to his laughter.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a menace, Elena Gilbert?"

"Would you believe no one has?"

Lifting his head, he peers down at her. Hand gentle against the side of her face, he brushes some of her hair from her damp forehead before he lowers his face down to kiss the tip of her nose.

She holds her breath, waiting for his lips to warm hers. She can smell the blood on his healed lip.

"We really do need to stop meeting like this," she laughs softly.

Dropping her hands by her sides, she waits for him to lift himself up and off of her. She's surprised when he decides to lower his head to her neck, hand curving to the side of her waist as he lies upon her.

Tentatively, she lifts her hand to brush her the edges of her nails against the rumpled fabric of his shirt. She wishes she could feel the bare skin of his warm chest press against her, but Elena doesn't push. She never does, not when it comes to what she truly wants. Forgiveness is a slip of armour she hides behind in her attempt to have him lowers his.

Bowing his head, his warm lips linger against the skin of her shoulder. "What's your favourite colour?" he asks.

Brows lifting up, surprise and shock heat her chest. Her hand stops on his back, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. "My what?"

"Favourite colour," he says, pressing his chin against her shoulder. He peers up at her, brown eyes warm liquid. His hair hangs around his face in a way that makes him look young. "You have one, don't you?"

"I do," she says, brows furrowing for a moment. Palming his back, she rubs her hand up and down his spine, pressing hard enough to try and leave a vague imprint of her lifelines against the canvas of his back. "I like the colour blue."

"Blue?" His brows lift up.

She laughs, cheeks tinging with heat. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I'm not," he says, smiling. Impulsively she reaches out to brush her fingers against the shape of his mouth, pads gentle against his bottom lip. The blood has dried, but she still feels some of it kiss her fingertips. "Blue suits you. It's a very calming colour, much like you."

Breath catching in her throat, she stares down at him as his gaze wanders away from her. He must be looking at her pillows, splayed above their heads untouched. She doesn't make a move to try and shift upwards, not wanting to dislodge them. Selfishly, she doesn't want to lose this moment.

After a moment, she asks, "What's yours?"

"Red," he says, turning to peer up at her. His chin his a sharp indent against her skin. She likes it there, the way he seems to lean against her like she's not just a human girl made of supple skin.

Arching her brow, she teases, "Because of blood?"

He laughs, rich and warm. He shakes his head and rests his cheek against her bicep. "When I was a boy, the earth had a deep red tinge to it. I liked it."

Elena stares at him, not wanting to blink in case she misses seeing him looking so calm and childlike. He looks across her body, hand pinching her side as if he wishes to wake himself up from a dream. Elena refuses to wake, burrowing deeply into the safety net of what's become a secret pocket for them to escape into.

"My mom had a phase when I was younger," she says, her gaze lingering on the way his hair crimps from sweat. When he turns his head, she looks away and to the covered mirror, wishing she could see what she looks like with an Original Vampire laying upon her like she's the red earth he loves so much to remember for centuries. "She used to wear blue all the time. Blue eyeshadow, blue hair clips, blue sweaters and bras," she laughs. "I wanted to be just like her, so I used to demand everything be blue, too. My pens, my lipsticks, shoes, socks… Even my food."

He smiles, peering up at her warmly. His brown gaze feels sharp in a search to find a crack or crinkle in her story. Elena keeps her face straight and tries to hold the bravery in her chest.

"I never stopped liking blue even when she died," she says, pressing her lips together. A welt grows somewhere inside of her, filling with a grief that she thought she'd buried deep, deep down. It's been hard to escape what's been unburied from the ground since learning her fate to die.

"Blue definitely suits you," he says quietly. She glances at him and looks away, inhaling sharply and her throat tightening around the air. She holds it, trying to trap it and her need to stay in control. Control isn't something she's ever had the luxury of knowing the texture of.

She swallows thickly, and laughs softly, a little taken aback at the press of his lips against her shoulder. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, nose pressing against her shoulder as he sniffs her. She wonders what she smells like to him, if he can catch the wafts of human vulnerability deep beneath the iron she tries to encase herself in.

Her hands slide off his back as he pushes himself up, the bed dipping violently deep beside her. She lies on her back, legs feeling flat against the sheets. The warmth of his body fades away like the setting sun.

Sucking in her bottom lip, she watches him with wide eyes and a disappointed curve to her lips as he sits onto his knees and begins to tug at his shirt. Hiding the gentleness of his hands behind gauntlets and the warmth of his chest under a suit of armour she can't even penetrate, she's lost when his warm expression is covered by a helmet of coolness.

He's off her bed swiftly, his tie still wrapped around her leg like it's a token. Perhaps it's meant to be a shackle, keeping her in place on the bed. But he's forgotten to tie her to something to keep her where she is.

Sliding through heavy quicksand, she pushes herself up and onto her hands, swinging her legs beneath her. She tugs her bra into place, covering her bare breasts as if that's enough to keep her from feeling cold at the distance he puts between them.

He stands in her room like he has no place in it, stiffly and tightly coiled around himself.

"Elijah…" It slips out like a chink in a set of impenetrable armour, but Elena knows she's always been easily broken. Gripping the bedsheets tightly, she watches him with lead in her bones.

Gliding to the mirror, Elijah slips his blazer on, tugging at the labels tightly. Not a single wrinkle. Quick to pull her gaze away from their reflections in it, she doesn't want to see the distance he's wedged between them.

He keeps his gaze down, causing her to frown at him. "You won't see me for a while."

She frowns. She shifts on the bed, onto her knees and pushes against them as much as she can. She remains on them, unable to swing her legs over the side of the bed to stand before him.

"You're leaving?"

He looks at her, gaze unreadable. "I have some business to tend to."

"When are you coming back?"

He keeps his back straight, face turned away from her. The sharp, pressed line of his mouth mimics a cage.

Opening her mouth, nothing comes out. She shakes her head, incredulousness and unhappiness eating away at the warmth and giddiness she'd been feeling moments before. She can't demand anything from him. It's hardly her place. She lowers her hands to her belly, dipping them so that she can cover the hair of her cunt. If he's going to hide from her, she'll hide from him, too.

Elijah looks away from her and clears his throat gently. "I'm not certain."

Her chest feels heavy. The only choice she's made is being taken away from her.

Pressing her lips together unhappily, she nods, throat tight and chest twisting into knots. "Okay," she says cooly. Her throat feels like his hand is wrapped around it. She ignores the fact he can hear the pulse in her neck protest her coolness.

Tearing her gaze away from him, she drops herself to the head of her bed and doesn't care that he can see her naked back.

Elena pulls her pillow down from the headboard and rests her cheek stubbornly against it, back turned to him. Closing her eyes tightly, she tries to ignore the sound he makes when he gently opens her window and slips into the night.

notes.

You can find me at tumblr finnicks and archiveofourown at buries.