As a vampire of considerable age -but primarily as a member of the Mikaelson Family- you learned to take the moments of peace where you could. To Elijah, they were as rare and precious as any gemstone or metal, and entirely necessary to ones continued sanity. Sitting in the winged-back chair in his office at the Abbatoir, going over the city's latest financial expenditures, while Niklaus was off in his room, no doubt sulking and drowning his sorrows over the departure of their sister in paint and alcohol -likely numerous quantities of each- and Hayley was out in the bayou spending time with her pack, as she should be, -and after a particularly awful encounter with him, where he'd gone down to the bayou to apologize for his earlier behaviour regarding Celeste, only for her to turn around and say, "You know what? I've changed my mind: I am mad at you. I can't believe you did that, Elijah! I can't believe you would have stopped me from breaking the curse on my pack. I'm not a Mikaelson, okay? You can't just come swooping in and making decisions for me, acting like you care about me, and yet want nothing to do with me. So, I'm returning the favor, and I'm telling you to go, Elijah. Just go, I don't want you here," was one such moment.

That was, of course, until his phone started ringing.

Letting out a sigh of the long-weary, Elijah picked up the offending object with hesitant fingers, reluctant to deal with the latest crisis this city -and his family- had to offer him. The number was unknown, so he decided to proceed with caution.

"Hello?" Elijah answered, picking up on the third ring, deeming that an appropriate amount of time: it wasn't desperate-looking, neither was it rude or dismissive.

There was an exhalation of breath, as of the caller was indeed surprised he'd chosen to answer at all.

And then he heard the last voice he'd have ever expected to reach out to him, and the last words he'd have ever guessed to hear from her.

"Hi, Elijah. It's me. Me being Elena. Do you have a minute? I've got some questions to ask you before I die."


At the end of it, when all was said and done, Elena was still unable to pinpoint the exact reason, the exact moment she'd decided calling Elijah Mikaelson while she waited for the cure to the Ripper Virus that was both killing her and driving her insane was the best way to spend her remaining time alive, but she'd be glad for it all the same.

But right then, all she felt was miserable, and alone, and hungry. So, so hungry, a kind of hunger she'd never experienced before, not even when she'd refused to complete the transition or Stefan and Damon had starved her when they were trying to get her to flip her humanity switch back to its rightful place: on. After she'd freaked out and accused him of lying to her, Damon hadn't answered a single one of her calls, but nonetheless Elena knew he was hiding something from her, something to do with Aaron, and she hoped to God it wasn't what she thought it was. So, she needed someone on the outside, someone known for their control and their calm, someone she trusted and respected and admired, and who had answers to some questions that had been gnawing at her ever since she'd awoken to learn of what Katherine had done to her, while her.

Elena didn't put much thought into the fact she'd memorized his number; she was dying, there was more important things on her mind. And when he picked up on the third ring, and she felt like she might cry, either from joy or relief or happiness or hunger, she didn't analyze the reasons behind her emotional response.

Even just hearing his voice, hearing that one word, it settled her in a way few things had. "Hello?"

Leaning against the wall of the staircase opposite the payphone, Elena splayed her legs in front of her, unable to reign in her heavy exhalation: she was talking to Elijah. It had been so long, and yet in some ways it still felt like only yesterday, when they were kissing at the gazebo in Willoughby, or when they were in the forest together, with him showing her where he'd lived as a boy, sharing his memories, his humanity with her. A humanity he valued in her, as he told her in his letter, a letter she'd let go of, let burn, as she had so many other important things.

"Hi, Elijah. It's me," she began unsteadily, then clarified, "Me being Elena. Do you have a minute? There's some questions to ask you before I die."

He stopped, his sharp intake of breath remarkably apparent. "Elena," he said slowly, carefully, "What an unexpected pleasure. Would you be so kind as to fill me in on what's going on, most pertinently just what's going on with you?"

She groaned internally at the prospect. "The long version or the short one?" Elena inquired tiredly.

"The one that helps you the most."

"Better make it the long one, then." Tipping her head back, Elena studied the slice of ceiling peeking out at the very top of the stairs as she asked, "I'm sure you haven't forgotten that a couple of weeks ago, Katherine was dying, the cure speeding up the ageing process at severely damaging rate?"

"No," he told her seriously, but without regret, "I have not."

"In her final moments, I came to say goodbye to her, and...to forgive her. She looked so small, and frail, swamped in the covers like a doll in a child's bed. And I thought about everything she'd lost -her daughter, her family, you, Stefan and Damon, friends and happiness, a life- and even after everything, after everything she did to hurt me and those I care about, I still sat down beside her, I held her hand, and I forgave her. Of course, in true Katherine Pierce style, she used both that emotional and physical closeness to stab me with a mystical Traveller knife and jump her consciousness into my body. So everyone...everyone thought she'd died, and that I was just me. But I wasn't, Elijah. I wasn't me, and no one noticed. Not Damon or Stefan or Caroline or Bonnie or even my own brother, noticed that Katherine was pretending to be me. For over three weeks. She took over my entire life. She even changed the password on my phone, which is why you didn't recognize my number, because Stefan had to get me a new one. Luckily, most of my data and pictures and stuff are backed up, and the only thing I lost was the fifty two levels I completed on Candy Crush Saga. Stupid fricking Katherine ruining my streak fueled by procrastination and Red Bull."

Elena then mentally reviewed all she'd spewed out to him like so much verbal vomit, before realizing that a) Most of it lacked consistency and b) She was expecting too much of him. "Wait, backtrack, I wasn't implying that you would have remembered something as trivial and unimportant as my phone number, but it's you and you've got a really good memory...anyway, she royally screwed me over. The end."

"Oh, Elena. Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Elijah consoled her, and she wanted in that moment, more than anything, for him to be right beside her, telling her that in person. But he wasn't, and she couldn't have him there: he wasn't hers to have.

Elena let out a bitter laugh that soon dissolved into a harsh cough. Cringing at the scarlet stain now smeared on her palm, she surreptitiously wiped her hand on her jeans and said into the phone, "Sorry about that, it seems my internal organs have chosen this precise moment to give up the ghost. Terrific."

"I still don't understand how exactly this all happened," Elijah puzzled confusedly. "Are you sick because she jumped into your body?"

"From the physical jump? No," Elena shook her head, though of course Elijah couldn't see that. Duh, her mind chided her harshly. "But a few days ago, her daughter Nadia was suffering from werewolf venom. She went to one of the professors here at Whitmore, Dr Maxfield, who is -I should say was, actually, since I just found out Damon killed him- the head of this super-secret secret-society of doctors who have been experimenting on vampires for decades called the Augustine Project, and, guess what, my dad was a member! How awesome is that? Not. And they captured Damon back in the fifties, and held him here for over five years, but he escaped so it's all good. Except that he killed everyone and went after all the board members' families, killing some and then leaving one alive to continue the line so he'd have more to kill later on. And I was friends with the latest, Dr Maxfield's nephew, Aaron! God, I am such a danger magnet, aren't I? Is that a doppelgänger thing, or is it just me? Probably just me. Buuut, anyway, she went to him and asked for a cure, he said no and she got pissed.

"Nadia died, and in the process Katherine's secret got outed to everyone. She decided to leave me a little parting gift for when I woke up though: a giant syringe in my jacket. Next thing I know, I'm trapped here on campus during Spring Break by Bonnie and her new witch friend Liv while Stefan feeds my tiny bits of his blood, since this virus makes vampires crave the blood of their own kind, not humans, and I can only go a few hours before I end up killing someone, apparently. How great is that? Plus, it's got werewolf venom sprinkled in there somewhere, which means it's fatal. So, to sum it all up, I'm hungry, I'm sick, I'm dying, and Stefan and Caroline are out there trying to find a cure not only for me, but for Damon, too, since he got the virus, just minus the fatal werewolfy part."

Elena took a pause, needing to catch her breath: she'd used up a lot of energy telling him all that. "I'm no stranger to death, Elijah, my own or anybody else's. At least this way, its given me time to think about things."

"Like what?" the Original urged her. "What have you been thinking about?"

"Like what a horrible person I am," she confessed brokenly, gaze fixed on the chrome of the handset on its cradle in front of her as the sunlight gleamed off of it. After a moment, it was too bright, so she looked away, back into the dark, where she belonged. "And how out of all the horrible things that have happened to me -not my friends or my family, but just me- I think this is the worst, the one that's gonna finish me off, the nail in the coffin of the life that was Elena Gilbert." She half-laughed, half-sobbed at her own joke. "Why couldn't they tell? Why couldn't they, Elijah? It wasn't me! My best friends, people who have known me my entire life, couldn't tell the difference. Stefan and Damon, the men who are supposed to love me, and love me more than her, couldn't tell. I mean, I can sort of excuse Damon, since Katherine, as me, broke up with him, so he wasn't really around me, but when he was, he should have known."

Elena swiped at her face, her hand coming away wet with tears and hot with fever. "Did you know that the first time he kissed me, it wasn't really me?" she questioned him. "It was when Katherine first came to town, and they had a moment or whatever, and he thought it was me, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised, really. It doesn't make it hurt any less, though. So, I guess that brings me to why I called you, the question I wanted to ask."

"Ask away, lovely Elena," he said without an ounce of hesitation.

"How long...how long did it take for you to figure out I wasn't Katherine in Willoughby?"

Silence hung suspended between them, as light as a cobweb yet as heavy and condemning as the blade of a sword. Because, despite what she told him, Elena suspected this would be her breaking point, finding out if even he had not been able to tell the right away the difference between Elena -albeit without her humanity- and Katherine.

And when he said, so full of heartbreak and fear and pain and worry -all for her, all of it was for her- and sounding as if he himself couldn't fathom the reason why he'd never told her so before now, "I knew before you'd even turned around, Elena," she started crying, and didn't stop, because she'd known so in her heart, deep down. It was the reason she'd picked him to be her last call before it was too late, before she lost control and said or did something she couldn't take back.

So in reply, Elena uttered the only thing left to say. "Thank you, Elijah. That means...more than you'll ever known, and not just because I'm dying."

"Tell me anyway," he practically ordered her, something growling and predatory and protective screaming at her in his tone. "Hang on, Elena. I can be there within a few hours with Niklaus's blood. I don't know how much good it will do but it might buy you more time-"

"Elijah, I've already had more time than I was ever meant to," she cut him off abruptly. "I've had the kind of love that most could only ever dream of, have had so many moments with friends and family that I cherish, a whole life-times worth of care and comfort and friendship. I've had it all, but this is the final act of the Elena Gilbert Show, it's time to pull the curtain closed, stack the chairs and pick up all the popcorn off the floor."

The vampire on the other end chuckled, although it was tainted heavily by tears. "You really shouldn't be making light of this, Elena," he scolded her lightly.

Elena shrugged nonchalantly. "I gotta find the humour in here somewhere, 'Lijah."

She *felt -not just heard, but felt- him go still. "Did you just..."

"Yeah, sorry," she desperately backpedalled, "I think the werewolf venom's really getting into my head now. Is it normal to see dancing elephants with cricket jumpers and riding unicorns?"

"No, it's not. And no, don't apologize. It's just...I never thought I'd hear you say that to me. Only my siblings call me that."

"Why?"

"Because they're the only people I ever let in," he retorted simply.

Elena cocked her head. "Are you implying what I think you're implying? I'm pretty loopy, so I'm afraid you're gonna have to say it out loud, preferably with small, paletteable words."

The dying vampire heard him run a shaking hand through his hair, and she pictured the dark chocolate strands splaying out between his pensive fingers. Was it as short as it had been a year ago, or had it grown out in their time apart, the same way they'd grown away from each other, thinking distance was what the other needed, the best thing for all involved after the kiss they'd shared, the culmination of long-suppressed feelings and even longer-forgotten daydreams?

"I'd really rather say how I feel in person," Elijah hedged, and Elena used the last vestiges of her strength to roll her eyes at his response.

"What a way to leave a girl hanging, Elijah. If I hadn't made it clear enough, I'm kinda running against the clock hear."

"If I say you're not going to die, then you're not." He almost sounded like he believed that. Almost.

Her legs were starting to shake, knees jerking spasmodically, a puppet with wonky strings. Without her noticing, her elongated teeth had pierced her gums, drawing blood, but not what she needed. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough. Suddenly, her mind flooded with thoughts of going upstairs, of knocking on that boy's door again-was it Luke? Luka? Lychee? she couldn't remember- and biting into her wrist, feeding him her blood, and then draining him dry. God, she only needed a little. Just a little more. What she wouldn't give to feel the sweet rush of blood down her throat, pumping through her lifeless body...

"Elena? Elena! Damn it, don't lose focus! You can beat this, sweetheart, you just have to hold on. Come on, tell me something else."

"Like what?" she croaked feebly.

"Anything. Anything, Elena, to stop you from doing whatever your mind is telling you to do."

She tossed her head, unsurprised. "How did you know?"

"I can hear their heartbeat upstairs," he told her quietly. "The same as I can hear yours. You're still fighting, Elena, your body is still trying to fight this virus, as well as the instinct to hurt an innocent person. But it can only do so much of the work; you have to keep it from ensnaring your mind, need to keep yourself distracted, alright?"

"Okay." A pause, then, "Elijah?"

"Yes?"

"Out of all your brothers, I always thought you were the prettiest," Elena confessed out of the blue, too far gone to care that she was spilling such an intimate secret to him, just as her blood was now spilling out of her nose, coating her lip in its sticky-wet substance. Crap. Not again. She wanted out of here, she wanted to go find Liv and make her tear down this stupid barrier, let her out, let her free. She'd been trapped for so long, she'd been trapped for three weeks, a silent passenger while Katherine had free reign of her body, her relationships, and she'd even managed to warp Elena into a more Katherinesque version from beyond the grave.

No, that wasn't right. She couldn't blame Katherine for all of this: some if this was her fault, too. Her punishment. For cheating death so many times, for loving two brothers at the same time and yet being unfair to both, of letting that love be the reason so many people died, why her brother currently had no family but her. Her, Elena Gilbert, a dying vampire who wasn't worth much to anyone, most of all herself.

Through her hazy, cotton-stuffed senses -why is everything both blazingly loud and mega quiet when you're sick?- Elena catches the squeak of a leather chair, like he'd leaned back and was smiling up at the ceiling of some fancy office, lots of dark mahogany wood and polished brass fixtures and ornate bookcases and collection of various strange and intriguing knick-knacks. At least, that was the mental image she'd been going with for the duration of their conversation, and she wasn't inclined to go about changing it. The idea was...nice. Cosy. Certainly a hell of a lot better than the payphone and boring wall in front of her.

"Out of all the doppelgängers I have ever encountered," Elijah told her, pained and honest and melancholy, "you are by far the most beautiful, dearest Elena, both inside and out. Your heart is the purest, the kindest, and the most forgiving I've ever had the pleasure to know. And since that night at my mother's ball, I've wanted nothing more than to know if I had a place in it."

Elena promised him sweetly through a mouthful of her own blood, "You did, Elijah. You still do. Always and forever, right?"

"Always and forever."

"It would have been nice...I often thought about..." her words were slurring, coming out of her straining vocal chords slower, making her heavier, weighing down her head like lead weights. Why was she still upright? The floor looked so soft and inviting, waiting to catch her when she fell. Just like Elijah, when he'd opened up that hole in the earth and made his sister play underground jailor, but he'd still made sure he was there to catch her. "I guess you and just wasn't meant to be," Elena murmured, barely above a whisper. "And I'm sorry...I'm sorry we didn't get to dance together, Elijah. You would have made one hell of a dance partner."

She had to do it, and she had to do it now. She could hear Aaron calling out to her, asking her where she'd been, why she'd left him all alone. Or was it her that was lonely? Or was she leaving someone else alone? She didn't know anymore.

Elijah, it seemed, was already two steps in front of her. "Elena, don't you dare hung up the phone."

Her hand hovered against the glass screen.

"Elena, Elskede, please, don't hang up on me," Elijah begged her, tears not just in his voice bug likely on his face as well.

"I'm sorry I hurt you so much, Elijah. Today, and every day before that. I guess it's just what I do, what I was born to do, since I look like her, like them."

"I don't care," the Original insisted fervently, "it doesn't matter to me, you being a Petrova never mattered to me, and I know you would never mean to hurt anyone, and I'd forgive you anything in the world, Elena, so long as you just stay."

"Goodbye, Elijah. Be happy, would you? And don't...don't mourn a monster like me."

"Elena, no!"

He was met with only silence.

"Elena? Elena!"

She hung up the phone.


The seconds proceeding the end of Elena's call seemed to simultaneously freeze and yet slip through his fingers like sand, each one another marker, another minute towards her death. Faster than any human blink of any human eye, Elijah threw his chair against the opposite wall, detached from himself and his rigorous composure as he watched the shards rain down around him.

It helped, but only somewhat. It didn't help her.

With a few taps of his keyboard, he had a seat on the next flight out to Virginia. Elijah didn't bother packing, didn't even think of putting on his coat before he vamp-sped across the courtyard and up the stairs to Klaus' rooms.

"Niklaus!" he roared, kicking the doors open and stalking in like a primordial god of old. "Niklaus, you better be moping in your studio like a petulant teenager with no date to the promenade or so help me-"

"Alright, big brother, I'm here," Klaus emerged from his studio, covered in paint but grinning ear to ear, a blue and black and red striped Cheshire Cat. "No need to wake the neighbours. What is it that requires my attention so immediately?"

"Yours? Nothing," Elijah dismissed, hawkish gaze scanning over the items in the room, catching on the desk. "Mine? Everything. I need you to shut up, to not make a fuss, and let me slice you with this awfully sharp letter-opener," which he plucked from the desk and brandished threateningly, "since I am in need of your blood."

Klaus arched an inquisitive brow. "Do you mind telling me what for, before I let you stab my like a pincushion? Did one of Hayley's wolves get a little too snappy with your new cabal of followers?"

"This isn't about Hayley, and right now I couldn't care less about petty faction disputes," the elder Original spat, stalking closer and gripping his younger brother's paint-speckled forearm. "I need your blood, and I shall take it, with or without your permission, and you cannot stop me, brother."

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Klaus conceded with surprisingly minimal fuss. "Well then, brother, you better hand me the pointy implement and grab a bottle; would hate for you to spill any after you went to all this trouble."

Blindly, Elijah grabbed a vial from the safe and filled it with his brother's blood, not losing a single drop. He just hoped he wouldn't be too late.

Niklaus stopped him with a hand over his, covering the vial of scarlet. "Who's it for, Elijah? Which one of your previous paramores are you dashing off to save at the drop of a hat?"

Elijah shook off the touch. "It's for no paramour of mine, brother, only someone I care for very greatly and who needs my help. Immediately. So, if you please, stop with this incessant pestering and let me be on my way."

Oh, no, Klaus had his hooks in him, and he had no intentions of letting go. "So," he mused, long fingers tapping his chin rhythmically, the portrait of earnest contemplation. "It's not someone you've been involved with romantically, then. Not a friend, since you don't really have any of those," he smirked without shame. "They must be a vampire, and close enough to us that you still hope to save them. Well, I suppose that only leaves..." The hybrid tipped back his head, letting out a gleefully manic laugh. "Oh, this is too good. This is priceless. Don't tell me you're off to save a dying Elena bloody Gilbert." His brother pinned him with an reproachful gaze. "Really, Elijah? Hayley packs off to the bayou and then suddenly you're running back to the old stand-by of the Petrova doppelgänger? My, I'm glad I'm not one of your conquests; I'd hate to be so easily tossed aside."

"Not that it's any business of yours, Niklaus," Elijah stabbed out a finger, smacking it into his brother's chest with the force of a bowling ball, "but I have denied every impulse I have ever had for that woman, for both of them, and Hayley has made it quite clear that she wants nothing to do with me, and I shall honor her wishes in that regard. But Elena, Elena is dying from some engineered Ripper virus that makes her crave vampire blood, a virus laced with werewolf venom that is killing her as we speak. And out of everyone she could have chosen to call when she was frightened and confused and hurt by the betrayal of those closest to her, she chose me. She confessed her feelings to me, for me, and there's not a single thing in this world or any other that will stop me doing what I can for her."

Klaus lowered his hand, smiling kindly. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Elijah rolled his eyes. "Of course you didn't know."

"No, not about the virus," he corrected him quietly. "I didn't know you loved Elena."

The Original pulled away, defenses immediately going up. "I never said I loved her."

"It's written all over your face, Elijah. It couldn't be any more obvious if I got a spotlight and an accompanying neon sign for it. You love her, so go. Buy her time, at least long enough for her to know she is loved by someone better than the Salvatore Brothers."

"I will," Elijah vowed as he made his way to the door.

"Elijah?"

He turned.

"If, after saving the lovely Elena's life and everything's all hunkydory, give my regards to Miss Forbes, would you?"

"Of course, Niklaus. You have my word."


Just a few hours later, Elijah was pulling up on the outskirts of Whitmore Campus, his breath fogging out into the frigid night air in ragged puffs as he killed the engine and made his way to Elena. He'd used the time the flight afforded him wisely, calling both Jeremy and Bonnie for an update on the antidote as well as the directions of Elena's shared dorm. Luckily for him, Elijah didn't make it halfway across the quad before spotting Elena, pale and weak, clinging to a lamp post for support as vicious coughs wracked her small frame, the smell of her blood setting his blood alight with anger over the injustice done to her, his heart cracking at the sight of her in so much pain.

Blurring towards her, he caught her as she her legs buckled, near-lifeless in his arms. The vial of Niklaus' blood was halfway to her lips when she was wrenched away from him by none other than...

Damon Salvatore.

Just the man he wanted to see.

"Sorry, but we didn't call for a back-stabbing, two-faced Mikaelson," Damon sneered savagely, glancing at the vial with evident distaste. "And I'm sure as hell not letting you give Elena whatever this is. So, take my advice, and crawl back to that voodoo-loving, Bourbon-drinking Quarter of crazy of yours and let me save my girlfriend."

"Your girlfriend?" Elijah scoffed derisively, delighting in the ire that flashed in the other vampire's eyes. "That's funny, since I was under the impression you'd been discarded like the trash you are."

"You're hilarious; you should have your own comedy show," Damon quipped back disinterestedly. "Look, you wanna get into it with me? I'm game. I'll kick your sorry suited ass all night long, I promise, just let me save Elena. She needs this, she needs me."

"I'm not stopping you."

"Oh, you're not?" he arched a dark brow. "So why do I have this sneaking suspicion that if I make a grab for her, you'll twist my head off my neck like a bottle cap and watch me spray out all over the sidewalk?"

"You're smarter than you look, I guess."

"Elijah?"

Both men turned at the sound of Elena's voice, as weak and lifeless as it was, and he couldn't help but be in awe of the relief and gratitude she so evidently displayed when she gazed up at him. Then, all at once, her entire being shifted, and she tried desperately to squirm out of his grip, shaking her head profusely. "No, no, you can't be here, Elijah. You can't be near me, I'll get you all dirty. Look at me, Elijah. Look at me. The plight of Katherine Pierce lives on. She's turning me into something I'm not. I'm a -I'm a monster." She tugged her hands through her hair, clinging to the clumps with a manic frenzy. "Liv, the witch, I almost killed her and my friends...I wanna kill my friends. I think I might have killed my friend."

Tottering out of his embrace on unsteady legs, the dying vampire shifted her focus onto the Salvatore. "That's what you wouldn't tell me, wasn't it? That I'm the reason he's dead, that I killed him."

Damon made to reach for her but Elena wouldn't let him get close. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her clenching her fists, open and closed, trying so hard I fight the urge to rip into either of them.

"Elena, I'm here, it's okay," the Salvatore tried to soothe her, but she refused to listen.

"No, it is not okay. What-it is not okay, Damon! I killed Aaron Whitmore."

"No."

"Yeah," she nodded, breath heaving out in hysteric pants -Elijah wanted nothing more than to help her, but anything he said or did might provoke her further, and he also knew she needed to get the truth from him, a truth he'd picked up on minutes ago when the younger vampire had flinched, infinitesimally, at the sound of that boys name, and that couldn't come from him, only Damon. "I keep seeing him, he keeps popping up everywhere. I'm hallucinating that Aaron's around."

"Look at me," Damon finally got ahold of her, gripping her tightly by her shoulders as he said without hesitation, "You did not kill Aaron Whitmore: I did."

"Wh-what? Why? Was it because of the virus, did you need to turn him?"

Oh, Elena," Elijah thought sadly, why trying so hard to see the good where there isn't any to be found? Because she was the best person he knew, that's why.

"It was before I was infected," Damon confessed in that same unflinching tone. "Listen, if you want specifics, it was the night I thought you broke up with me, Elena. I killed him to convince myself that you were right, that I was the type of person who could kill in cold blood and I was never gonna change, that's why."

For a moment, neither said anything. Then, brokenly, with as much emotion as the Original had ever heard from him, he exclaimed, "I need you to say something, please."

And say something, she did.

"He was my friend! He trusted me, and then you killed him because I -not even me, but Katherine pretending to me- broke up with you?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen! Look, I got the cure from Enzo, it's right here, and once you've had it we can talk about all of this-"

"I think it's best you leave, Damon, and let me take care of this," Elijah suggested with a barely suppressed snarl. In a flash, he pinned the younger vampire to the nearby lamp post, squeezing his neck with immense force, feeling the bones and tendons strain like taught violin strings. Confiscating both the vial of Klaus' blood and the cure for Elena's virus -luckily someone had taken the time to label both syringes so Elijah didn't get the one intended for Damon- the Original leaned in close and whispered in his ear in a tone that promised uncompromising death if he wavered, "If I see you anywhere near Elena in the next five hundred years at the very least, I'll tear you into so many pieces that your brother will have to bury you in Tupperware containers. Are we clear?"

"Fine, whatever. Just make sure she gets that cure." Shaking off his touch, Damon spared one last, helplessly guilty look at Elena before speeding off into the night.

"Elijah."

He was there in an instant, holding her up once again. "Hello there," he greeted her, as he had all those years ago.

She smiled up at him. "I can't believe you're here."

"Did you really think after a phone call such as yours that I was going to let you die? Is my honor really that destroyed in your eyes?" Elijah wondered inquisitively, the idea f her thinking such a thing undeniably smarting.

"No, I just thought it would take a little longer, that's all."

"One of the benefits of being a Mikaelson," he grinned.

Elena snorted a laugh. "Must be a short list."

"It is," he acknowledged ruefully, unbuttoning the first few buttons on her coat. Gripping her waist in one hand and the syringe in the other, Elijah discarded the cap with his teeth, murmured apologetically, "This is probably going to hurt, Elskede," before pulling down the collar of her shirt and plunging the needle into heart. With a whimper from her and a wince from him, he removed the needle, stashing it in his pocket -it might come in handy if the virus was ever replicated. Crashing into his arms, Elijah could only watch, and pray, and hope, as Elena Gilbert closed her eyes.


Elena awoke to a roaring fire, a warm blanket over her legs, and a pensive Mikaelson sitting bolt-upright in her desk chair, his hands clasped painfully tight in front of him. Elijah must have been listening to her heartbeat, for the second after she opened her eyes, he was there instantly, smiling with a potent mix of gratitude and lingering worry.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Elena."

"Don't you mean the undead?" the brunette joked as she tried to sit up, forearms straining from the motion.

Elijah stilled her with a touch, urging her back into the pillows. "You really shouldn't tax yourself; if Damon had been but a few minutes more..."

She reached out and claimed his hand, squeezing softly, both in comfort and to confirm to him that she was alright. "But he wasn't, and I'm fine. I am fine, right? I didn't try and chow down on you while I was asleep or anything?"

He chuckled, low and deep, and sat back down in the chair retaining her grip, much to Elena's surprised delight. "No," Elijah assured her, "there was no 'chowing down' of any kind. I'm no medical expert, but I'd say you've made a complete recovery. All the same," he let go of her hand, but didn't go far, only enough to retrieve something from the table -a vial, filled with what Elena could detect was blood, Original blood- "I'd prefer it if we didn't leave anything to chance. Drink this, and it will hopefully rid you of any lingering effects."

"So I finally get to join the 'I've Drunk Klaus' Blood To Heal Me' club, of which I always inspired to enter. Yay for me. Cheers." Tipping back the vial, Elena downed the contents in one go, grimacing in displeasure at the coppery, yet bitter, taste. "Urgh, that's gross. Why can't it be chocolate flavoured? I use to really like the chocolate-flavoured cough syrup when I was little."

"I'll have to make a complaint to the manufacturer on your behalf."

Elena giggled. "You do that. Speaking of Klaus...did you know that the last time he was here, him and a certain blonde baby vampire had a less than PG encounter?"

"Do I look like some gossiping cheerleader to you?" he drawled dramatically, before tossing her a crooked grin. "Of course I know. I'm sure the entirety of the French Quarter knows by now, the way he was acting. Niklaus is not known for his subtlety, nor his discretion for that matter. You changed your hair back," he commented absently, running a finger down the brown locks.

Elena huffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, messing with my life wasn't enough for her, apparently Katherine had to change my hair as well. I thought about putting it back to the red but that felt like I was trying to go backwards, you know? Recapture the time I'd lost, rather than focusing on the present. Besides, I've been locked up in my dorm: didn't exactly have a chance to buy hair dye."

Silence fell between them, as thick and as heavy as the jacket Elijah had hung around the back of her chair. Needing some way to let out her nerves, her fingers began twisting the cotton of the blanket, weaving it in apprehensive tangles.

"Elijah," she began at the same time he uttered, "Elena." They both looked away in embarrassment, but couldn't look away for long.

"I have this burning desire to explain myself, and yet I don't know what I should say."

Elijah shook his head decidedly. "You don't need to explain anything to me, Elena."

"Don't I? I called you after not seeing you for almost a year, putting things, expectations on you that I had no right to...The last time we were in the same room together -not even a room but an alleyway if you wanna get technical- I didn't have my humanity, and treated you terribly, which you by no means deserved, not after everything you'd done for me and the people I care about. And I kissed you, which is like a total violation and I'm Pro-choice when it comes to most things and I-"

"I wanted you to kiss me," he said slowly, carefully, so that she didn't miss a single syllable, but she blurted out regardless, "You what?"

Elijah went on as if she hadn't spoken. "Well, more accurately, I wanted to kiss you, but the point I'm trying to make to you is that it was not a violation as you may have believed, but quite the opposite."

She couldn't wrap her head around it. "But...me? Why? Katherine was the one you were with then."

"In the five hundred years that I've known her, Katherine has never been with me in the way you're thinking of. She's sought me out when it pleased her, and manipulated me when her desire to survive required that which only I could give, but I never had her, Elena. Not her loyalty, or her love, and any regard I had for her has long since atrophied, if it was ever there in the first place. But you...oh, you amazed me. The brave, bold, fearless, selfless seventeen year old I met in that old house. How you challenged me, and confused me, with every encounter we shared. From the moment I saw you, I had the strongest, strangest urge to protect you, and while I did not always adhere to that feeling, my betrayal of our deal and saving of Niklaus an example of such, I always tried my best to ensure you remained safe.

"It wasn't enough, though," he continued on, the full force of his attention making her feel like the only woman in the world. "I felt a kinship with you that I had never experienced previously, perhaps because we are both elder siblings devoted to our family, or supernatural beings who still believe in the good of humanity, and believe in the importance of maintaining our values.

"Why did you never say anything?" she half-wondered, half-scolded, unsure if she was prepared for the answer.

"Because since before I even met you, you've had a Salvatore on each arm, and I never imagined that your heart could hold any affection for me because of it," Elijah told her, a certain undercurrent of finality to his words, as if he himself had believed that it would never be any different between them, and his following sentence only proved that further. "Most assumed it was a foregone conclusion, inevitable, that you'd choose one of them, and one of them alone, to give your affections to, and I did not hope for any different. My family has done nothing but bring you pain and grief and fear, and while I never wanted that to be the case and had no such intentions for you myself, I didn't think you'd ever be able to get past that, to even see me as a friend, let alone anything of a romantic caliber. And I...I was hurt, by my mother's betrayal, by Niklaus and his paranoia and his incessant desire to try and prove me wrong about the goodness I still chose to see in him, to believe in. Our time in New Orleans had reunited us, but only for a short time: Rebekah has fled the city since Klaus granted her freedom after they came to blows over a secret she had kept from us all."

Elena knew that they were getting off topic, but her curiosity was undeniably piqued at the prospect of getting to see some of the deeper inner-working of the Mikaleson sibling unit. "How bad could it have been? Klaus loves her, she's his family, she stuck by him for so many years."

"She summoned our father to New Orleans, back when we lived there together almost a hundred years ago...because she loved his adopted son, and Niklaus had at the time forbade them from being together."

"Oh, God, that is bad," she conceded. "Are they both okay? Is she okay?"

"She's better than I think she's been in a long time, actually," Elijah admitted hesitantly, as if the idea hasn't quite sunken in yet. "But no matter what, I never would have let our brother hurt her, and I got a mystical blade of torturous agony embedded in my chest to ensure so."

Elena winced sympathetically. "And I thought my problems were bad."

"They are, Elena. A struggle is not defined by the weight behind the assault, only the effort it requires of oneself to get back up again. From where I'm sitting, I'd say you have a will of iron by now. Klaus ruled the city for almost two hundred years, and he did manage to reclaim his throne, only for it to fall into my possession."

"Elijah Mikaelson: King of New Orleans. Has a nice ring to it."

"Thank you for saying so. But it's a city in turmoil, with deceit and treachery at every turn. Truth be told, it is not the kind of atmosphere I'd want my niece to be raised, although Niklaus would ever hear of otherwise."

"Its a girl?"

He nodded, and Elena couldn't stop herself from saying, "Aww, I bet she's gonna get so spoiled by you." She knew he'd be a great uncle, would love her and protect her always, and would do his very best to shield her untarnished innocence from the violence and darkness of the supernatural world, would fight so that she wouldn't grow up as he and his siblings had. Elena knew he'd give that girl a better future; that was who he was.

"I do have a soft spot when it comes to the opposite sex, it's true," Elijah acknowledged with a fond smile before growing serious once again. "The reason I'm telling you all this, Elena, is because I don't want to keep anything from you. Both our situations are...complicated, to say the least, but I came here to make sure you were safe, and there are no strings or attachments or obligations to that. I know that Damon hurt you by killing your friend, but I cannot say that i would have acted any differently if I were in his place."

"What, you're saying you would go on a killing spree if I broke up with you?"

"No, only that I don't think you quite understand how unique you are, Elena, what it's like to be close to someone who is so compassionate for all those around her and is such a fierce force for good, and who, despite all the darkness you've been surrounded by, that you've endured, still reaches out their hand to those that have wronged you, be it in friendship or kinship or trust or...love."

Elena tightened the blanket around her, pulling it up almost to her chin. "I can't be around him, Elijah, not yet. We've been through so much, done some horrible things, both to each other and to others, and it's got to stop. Because if the roles were reversed, if Damon was the one with some crazy doppelgänger who hijacked his body, I would have know. Like that." She snapped her fingers. "I'd take one look at him and I'd be able to tell. I couldn't even do that when Silas was pretending to be Stefan, but Damon is just this intrinsic part of me: he's my heart. Or her was, until he practically ripped out of my chest with his confession, by proving every bad thing that anyone's ever said about him. And I tried, I tried so hard not to ever listen to any of that, to judge him by how he treated me, what he felt for me, what he did for me and was willing to do. Maybe I would have been okay with it, maybe I could have given it time, and we might have found our way back to each other. But what's the point, if he can't tell the difference between what we had, and what we had with her. Because killing Aaron, it's what he would have done, what he did do when Katherine broke his heart."

Ever the one to challenge her, Elijah posed, "Love, in all it's forms, is the most powerful force on this earth, Elena. Do not think it can be dismissed with a few declarations: you may feel differently the next time you see him."

"Why? Because that's what everyone expects me to do?" the vampire countered, stubbornly sitting herself up and smacking him with a fiery glare. "There goes Elena, forgiving everyone their ever sin no matter how much it hurts her? Is that all I am? Is that all I am to you? Some paragon of acceptance and redemption that will absolve you of whatever guilt you feel? Is that the only reason you came here? Well, if that's the case, I'm sorry to say that you wasted a trip, Elijah, because I won't stand for-"

The Original rose from the chair, palms on either side of her face in a heartbeat. "I came," he murmured, his breath warming her lips in gentle puffs, "because I love you, Elena, because when you told me you were dying, for the first time in a thousand years I felt such helplessness and fear, the kind I had not experienced since I was a boy and had to watch as my father beat my brother and I could do nothing to stop it. Because I would not, could not, contemplate losing you, not even for a second. Because the last woman I just offered up my heart to would not take it as it was, and yet I'd never even had the chance to offer it to you. That is why I am here, and nothing else."

"Oh, Elijah, I-"

"I don't need you to make excuses, Elena, nor do I expect you to reciprocate the sentiment," he pulled away, physically and emotionally, picking up his discarded jacket and shaking it out before buttoning it with slightly shaking fingers. She'd never seen him shake before, and it both terrified and thrilled her to be confronted with such stark evidence that she made him vulnerable, that he chose to be vulnerable around her. "I just wanted you to know the truth. I hope you can get some rest and take the proper time to heal. Tell Miss Forbes my brother sends his regards, would you?"

Before she could formulate some sort of answer for him, he'd disappeared into the night, leaving nothing but a swinging door and a restless heart in his wake.


Three days had passed since his departure from Mystic Falls, and Elijah was still roiling with the emotional turmoil from his encounter. Everyone who entered the compound picked up on it immediately, be it a wolf or vampire or witch, they all knew immediately, instinctively, by the rigid set of his shoulders and the darkness of his gaze to keep their distance if they wished for a continued sense of peace. Even Niklaus had postponed the interrogation he was no doubt itching to deliver, only asking if Elena was alright in a rare show of compassion. After telling her he was, Elijah had not seen his brother since, although he could hardly say the solitude was unwelcome. It gave him time to think, to brood, to open that bottle of scotch he'd been saving for the past few decades and re-organize his book collection based on how much he'd liked the author when he met them. Tolkien and Wells at the start, Shakespeare somewhere in the middle, and of course some of the greatest romantic poets and thinkers of the eighteenth and nineteenth century, as was expected of a vampire who had lived through, and enjoyed, the age of romanticism.

"'The human heart has hidden treasures,

in secret kept, in silence sealed;

The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,

Whose charm were broken if revealed.'"

The Original spun around, slowly, meticulously, a million emotions warring within him at the sight he was confronted with: Elena Gilbert, hands on her skirt- clad hips, a pair of sunglasses perched on her head, and a travel suitcase planted at her booted feet.

"It's been a while since I read that one, but I think I got it right," she said by way of greeting, a tentative smile in bloom on her face, a spring bud waiting to open with the right amount of encouraging light.

Elijah closed the book, it's snap echoing between them like the crack of a rifle. "You did."

"Must be my upgraded vamp memory. It's weird, when I turned, even my taste in literature changed. I suddenly found myself unable to really connect with books and characters from that age, maybe 'cause my outlook on life has changed, my priorities and my concept of what's important and what isn't. While I do agree that the heart has many hidden treasures, I think they don't hold any charm unless shared with another person, so I'd go with something more along the lines of, 'Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief; Ah more than share it! give me all thy grief.'"

Inquiring boldly, "This that your covert way of asking me what's on my mind, Miss Gilbert?" Elijah moved over to the box cart by his desk, pouring himself a lengthy glass of Bourbon. He'd be needing it for the ensuing conversation.

"And what if it is, Mr Mikaleson?" she remarked with a smile he could only describe as 'flirty.' "A penny for your thoughts?"

"I'd hope such in-depth and complex ruminations such as mine would hold more monetary weight to them," he mused as he poured out a glass for her. "Do you want me to just get the point?"

She took the glass, and his directness, gratefully. "Please."

"You're here. In New Orleans. Why?"

Elena shrugged, taking a genteel sip from her glass. "Maybe I was just curious to see if your office matched up with the picture in my head while we were on the phone. By the way, it totally does; it's gorgeous."

Elijah raised an unimpressed brow that clearly conveyed the words he didn't need to say, 'Elena, I know you didn't come here to admire my interior decorating prowess, and I'd appreciate it if you told me in the next few seconds before I lose my damn mind.'

"Okay, fine, it's actually pretty simple: I came to see you."

"After I left not three days ago?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Yes, but I spent the last two of those days with my mouse hovering over the 'Book flight' button on the travel website, and it was Caroline who convinced me to spend what little remained of my Spring Break here, with you. She's off with Stefan on some extra-secret thing she won't talk about, but she said it might be a good idea if I wasn't around, so I guess it's got something to do with those pesky Travellers. So, I would have actually been here sooner if I hadn't been so conflicted over how you'd react. Do you want me to go?"

"No," he told her, "I do not want you to go."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"I'm not sure what will happen if you do."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"Likely both."

"Do you think that's going to stop me?"

"Absolutely not."

With deliberate care, she plunked her drink on his desk -on top of his coaster, which he thought was remarkably adorable- and gulfed the distance between them, taking his hand in hers, so much smaller than his, and yet just as strong, as powerful, as capable of causing harm as it was capable of making his heart race in his chest.

"When you told me you loved me, I didn't know what to say, at first," Elena explained, gaze on their twining fingers. "It's not like you gave me a lot of time, anyway. After you left, I drove to the Boarding House and ended things with Damon. It was one of the worst things I've ever had to do, seeing how devastated he looked, like I'd shot him in the chest at close range. And it wasn't even because he killed Aaron, or because he's a violent person, but because the only reason he did it was to prove a point, in that moment. He knew it would hurt me when I found out, but he was so consumed with how he felt, right then and there, that either he didn't care or he did care and wanted me to hurt as much as I'd hurt him.

"And it worked, and it wasn't the only time. Every man I've ever truly loved as hurt me in some way, at some point in our relationship. This whole thing with Katherine has made me realize that I need to think about what I want, what I want my choices to be. No one else is going to live this life for me, and I'm immortal, so that's a pretty long time. And then I thought about you, how you always seem to come into my life at the exact moment I need you, be that through fate or just sheer coincidence. Because you need to know, you deserve to know, that when I saw you in Willoughby, when we kissed, it was the closest to flipping my switch that I ever came. In that moment, I actually wanted to."

"Why?" It was barely a word, a sound, but it was as important as a load-bearing weight, and with one wrong move, he'd come crashing down.

"Because a part of me wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you for real," Elena confessed, and for a moment Elijah didn't believe what he was hearing, wondered if maybe Klaus had bitten him again and he was hallucinating, but he knew he could never conjure up a moment as perfect as this one, with her hand in his and her words rocking him to his very core, shaking up his world view and reforming it into something new and wondrous. "Because you said you'd never care for a Petrova doppelgänger ever again and yet you continued to save me, over and over again. Because sometimes when you looked at me, when you opened up to me, I thought I saw something in your eyes that made me believe you felt otherwise."

"And what was that?"

"Regret. You wished things could be different, that we weren't on opposite sides of the chessboard, that we couldn't meet peacefully in the middle because we loved the people on our side so much. I was stupid, and naive, and I thought that I could never want anything more for myself. But I do, Elijah, I do want more. I want to have it all, but for now I think I'd just settle for crossing just one thing off my list."

He had some idea, but he still pulled her towards him, tilted her chin up, and purred, "And that is...?"

"Kissing you. Would you be open to that?"

Elijah nodded so fast he would have given himself whiplash if he'd been human."Most definitely."

"Okay, just thought I'd ask this time," she said, and crashed her lips onto his. It was slow, and sweet, and then suddenly it wasn't, and his hand was in her hair, cradling the back of her head and she was clutching at the lapels of his jacket like she couldn't get close enough, would never be able to get close enough.

And then it was over, and they were both breathing heavily, despite no physical need to do so.

"God, why did it take me so long to figure this all out?" Elena laughed incredulously, her nose brushing his.

"Sometimes the hardest things to see are those standing right in front of us," he told her truthfully: only now was he realizing that everything he could have ever possibly wanted had been a few hundred miles away, fighting to save herself while he'd pursued a love that would have never lasted.

"Well, I can see you just fine." Elena smoothed out his tie, a gesture he knew he'd come to cherish in future. "On a scale of one to ten, how pissed do you reckon Klaus is going to be when he finds I'm staying here for more than five seconds?" she worried at her bottom lip in a entirely distracting manner, and it short-circuited him for a moment before he replied, "I'd say a solid ninety two, but I also find that I don't really care: let him rage if that's what he wants. I'm tired of letting him dictate my happiness, and you...you make me so very happy, Elskede."

"I've been dying to know what that means."

Elijah grimaced at her attempt at humour.

"What, too soon for a death pun?"

He tugged her back into his chest, his chin finding a home on the crown of her head -he didn't even care that she was still wearing her sunglasses and they were particularly sharp plastic. "Never would be too soon. It's Nordic, the closest dialect to that of when we were human. It means 'my love.'"

"Your way of saying, 'I love you,' without actually saying, 'I love you,'?" Elena reasoned astutely.

Elijah nodded, frowning when she pulled away, but she only went far enough so she could reach up and cup his jaw, thumb caressing over his cheek.

"Now that we're on the subject, I think it's important that you know I'm not quite where you're at with that; I literally broke up with the man I thought I was going to spend forever with three days ago. But I'm also not not there yet, if that makes sense?"

"It does," Elijah soothed her anxieties, "I know exactly what you mean. As I mentioned, I too am still in the process of untangling my heart from another. So we take it slow. You spend your Spring Break here, I come visit you when the city isn't on the brink of catastrophe... we'll make it work."

Her warm brown eyes sparkled, brighter than the setting sun. "Promise?"

"You have my word."

She grinned, admitting, "Just the four words I wanted to hear," before leaning in for another kiss. "Can re-organizing your literature collection wait a little while? I'd really like a tour from an expert."

With a smile of his own, Elijah held out his arm to her, ever the gentleman, determined after all this time they'd spent dancing around each other and their feelings to make sure she was treated as she deserved to be: like a Queen without equal, his to love and care and protect and challenge and above all, finally be happy with. The ever-lasting kind. Just as he was hers for all those things, too. Always and forever.

"Where would you like to start?"


Author's Note: Hello, dearest readers! Welcome to my fiftieth fanfic...and my longest to date. This has been such a special project for me, and I wanted to to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has ever left a review or followed or favourited, or just took the time to read my work. Being apart of this community has been such a great honor and pleasure, not to mention fun!

I've got so many more stories planned, and I can't wait to share them all with you. So, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

By the way, there WILL be a sequel to this, set when the Travellers are after Elena, and Elijah will go into super-protective mode, because who doesn't want to read that?

Another by the way, the first quote Elena says is from Charlotte Brontë's "Evening Solace," and the second is from Alexander Pope's, "Eloisa to Abelard."

All my love, Temperance Cain.