Stefan sat across from Elena at the shiny glossed oak wood table.
Elena had been thinking for the last three days about what Damon had said. His words haunted her.
Now, as Stefan reached across the table to take her hand in his he told her that he loved her. He told her that frequently and normally she didn't mind because she knew it was true, but now was anything but normal and that was what made it hurt.
As he spoke she clasped his hand tighter as guilt settled in around her heart, and the cup of steaming chamomile tea in her hands began to shake. She tried in vain to get the cup and her hand to stop the tremors before he noticed.
"Elena, what is it?"
Elena looked at her husband and saw only concern in his green eyes that now were a burning fiery green against his pale face. How could she lie to him? She had the impulse to tell him everything...
"Stefan..." She took a deep, ragged breath. "Stefan I have something to tell you."
"_Prepare for the worse_." Her mind told her.
"Yes?" He asked her quizzically.
But she found that she couldn't tell him anything. Yet, she didn't want to hurt him worse by not telling him. She didn't like secrets because the longer you kept them the worse it became when the person you kept them from found out.
"_Secrets all come out in the end, anyway._" she thought.
But somehow she still couldn't bring herself to say the truth.
"Never mind, it's was nothing. Really."
"Are you sure? Elena, I saw your hands trembling. You know you can tell me anything."
"_Not quite. Anything is too much at the moment._"
"Yes, I'm sure. I know I can tell you anything." She forced a smile.
"_Why is everything I'm saying true but at the same time, lies? I love him, but is he the only one? This is like de ja vu. Out of all the choices one must make in life...Why must I make the hardest?_ Elena wondered ruefully.
"Okay. I won't push you then," he said, sighing.
"I wish I could tell you," Elena said, thinking she said it to herself. When Stefan glanced at her sharply, then she realized she'd spoken aloud. She put a hand to her mouth.
"_Oh no..._"
"Elena..."
She got up from the table quickly. The cup of tea practically fell off as she jumped up. Stefan stood as well, a strange look on his face.
"Elena, what's going on?"
"Nothing, Stefan." She said, turning to rush out of the kitchen.
Stefan went to catch her arm, but she pulled away.
"Damn it, Elena. You've never hid anything from me!"
"Please," she begged, "I don't want to argue."
"Then please tell me! I wouldn't push you to tell me if I didn't think it was important."
"It is. I mean it's not. Oh, Stefan! Just leave it alone!"
"We're married! We're supposed to trust eachother."
Elena went to move again but this time Stefan caught her sleeve. She raised her arm to pull away once more but he held her in place.
"Elena," he said simply but sharp.
"I mean it Stefan. Leave it alone and we'll be better off!"
Stefan was annoyed and she could tell. He let go of her arm and threw his arms up in defeat. He had an odd look in his eyes she couldn't place. She knew he _wanted_ to trust her but she also know he didn't at the time.
"I don't know what is with you. You've seemed wary, upset and as though something were on your mind for the past three days. I'm your husband and I think I deserve to know."
"Why won't you just let it be?" Elena asked, her voice raising. She hated fighting with him. She had tears brimming in her eyes.
Stefan clenched his fist, as though he wanted to hit something. Elena knew his temper, remembered the boarding house on Homecoming night, remembered Tyler and his loons half dead in he Quonset hut, and the scene of him and Damon fighting on the wet cold ground because of her.
Something told her to move before his temper flared but she couldn't find her legs.
She knew he wouldn't hurt her, but reflexive instincts won over logic.
Elena took it as a sign to shield her face.
"Stefan!" she cried out.
A look of shock crossed his face. "Oh, God, Elena. I didn't mean it! I don't know what got into me." His hand fell to his side.
The tears had fallen now. She'd been scared. She didn't move her hands from her face. He reached out to hold her and she whimpered. "Elena, Elena, I'm so sorry."
She didn't know why she had been frightened. She knew he'd never lay a hand on her, not intentionally anyway. But all the emotions she'd had shoved and hidden inside of her were beginning to find their way out.
"Stefan..." She said, though the words were lost in the tears.
"I'd never hit you."
She'd taken her hands away from her face and the tears were flowing freely. She wanted to tell him she knew, to tell him that she was foolish to be afraid, that it wasn't the thought of being hit that was making her hysterical. But her head was pounding, her throat seemed to be closing and the tears kept coming. She couldn't make her mouth form the words.
He tried again to hold her, and she stepped back.
"Oh, Elena."
He didn't understand, he wouldn't understand, and she needed to get out and breathe before he lungs collapsed.
"Don't." she managed to choke out, barely audible.
She knew he heard as the look of shock dissolved into a contorted look of pain. For her.
Turning on her heel, she fled out the back door.
Elena had been thinking for the last three days about what Damon had said. His words haunted her.
Now, as Stefan reached across the table to take her hand in his he told her that he loved her. He told her that frequently and normally she didn't mind because she knew it was true, but now was anything but normal and that was what made it hurt.
As he spoke she clasped his hand tighter as guilt settled in around her heart, and the cup of steaming chamomile tea in her hands began to shake. She tried in vain to get the cup and her hand to stop the tremors before he noticed.
"Elena, what is it?"
Elena looked at her husband and saw only concern in his green eyes that now were a burning fiery green against his pale face. How could she lie to him? She had the impulse to tell him everything...
"Stefan..." She took a deep, ragged breath. "Stefan I have something to tell you."
"_Prepare for the worse_." Her mind told her.
"Yes?" He asked her quizzically.
But she found that she couldn't tell him anything. Yet, she didn't want to hurt him worse by not telling him. She didn't like secrets because the longer you kept them the worse it became when the person you kept them from found out.
"_Secrets all come out in the end, anyway._" she thought.
But somehow she still couldn't bring herself to say the truth.
"Never mind, it's was nothing. Really."
"Are you sure? Elena, I saw your hands trembling. You know you can tell me anything."
"_Not quite. Anything is too much at the moment._"
"Yes, I'm sure. I know I can tell you anything." She forced a smile.
"_Why is everything I'm saying true but at the same time, lies? I love him, but is he the only one? This is like de ja vu. Out of all the choices one must make in life...Why must I make the hardest?_ Elena wondered ruefully.
"Okay. I won't push you then," he said, sighing.
"I wish I could tell you," Elena said, thinking she said it to herself. When Stefan glanced at her sharply, then she realized she'd spoken aloud. She put a hand to her mouth.
"_Oh no..._"
"Elena..."
She got up from the table quickly. The cup of tea practically fell off as she jumped up. Stefan stood as well, a strange look on his face.
"Elena, what's going on?"
"Nothing, Stefan." She said, turning to rush out of the kitchen.
Stefan went to catch her arm, but she pulled away.
"Damn it, Elena. You've never hid anything from me!"
"Please," she begged, "I don't want to argue."
"Then please tell me! I wouldn't push you to tell me if I didn't think it was important."
"It is. I mean it's not. Oh, Stefan! Just leave it alone!"
"We're married! We're supposed to trust eachother."
Elena went to move again but this time Stefan caught her sleeve. She raised her arm to pull away once more but he held her in place.
"Elena," he said simply but sharp.
"I mean it Stefan. Leave it alone and we'll be better off!"
Stefan was annoyed and she could tell. He let go of her arm and threw his arms up in defeat. He had an odd look in his eyes she couldn't place. She knew he _wanted_ to trust her but she also know he didn't at the time.
"I don't know what is with you. You've seemed wary, upset and as though something were on your mind for the past three days. I'm your husband and I think I deserve to know."
"Why won't you just let it be?" Elena asked, her voice raising. She hated fighting with him. She had tears brimming in her eyes.
Stefan clenched his fist, as though he wanted to hit something. Elena knew his temper, remembered the boarding house on Homecoming night, remembered Tyler and his loons half dead in he Quonset hut, and the scene of him and Damon fighting on the wet cold ground because of her.
Something told her to move before his temper flared but she couldn't find her legs.
She knew he wouldn't hurt her, but reflexive instincts won over logic.
Elena took it as a sign to shield her face.
"Stefan!" she cried out.
A look of shock crossed his face. "Oh, God, Elena. I didn't mean it! I don't know what got into me." His hand fell to his side.
The tears had fallen now. She'd been scared. She didn't move her hands from her face. He reached out to hold her and she whimpered. "Elena, Elena, I'm so sorry."
She didn't know why she had been frightened. She knew he'd never lay a hand on her, not intentionally anyway. But all the emotions she'd had shoved and hidden inside of her were beginning to find their way out.
"Stefan..." She said, though the words were lost in the tears.
"I'd never hit you."
She'd taken her hands away from her face and the tears were flowing freely. She wanted to tell him she knew, to tell him that she was foolish to be afraid, that it wasn't the thought of being hit that was making her hysterical. But her head was pounding, her throat seemed to be closing and the tears kept coming. She couldn't make her mouth form the words.
He tried again to hold her, and she stepped back.
"Oh, Elena."
He didn't understand, he wouldn't understand, and she needed to get out and breathe before he lungs collapsed.
"Don't." she managed to choke out, barely audible.
She knew he heard as the look of shock dissolved into a contorted look of pain. For her.
Turning on her heel, she fled out the back door.