Chapter One
College was going to be the death of her. From paying back student loans to housing, Elena Gilbert was seriously lacking in the cash department, which was why at 11:16 pm on a lonely, Saturday summer night when her laptop froze, sputtered, started getting hot then died forever with a crackling pop, the brunette was forced to go to the library in the hopes of finishing her paper.
Honestly, going to Whitmore's student library was far from a chore, in fact it was quite the welcome reprieve from the angry cacophony of noise that was the floor of her shared dorm as soon as classes were done for the week, but studying in her room was just so convenient: she knew where everything was, didn't have to worry about someone stealing her seat if she had to go to the bathroom, and she could eat as much noisy junk food as her sleep-deprived heart desired.
But still...Elena's room didn't have nearly so many books. She was majoring in English Lit; of course she loved it here. The smell of the paper, the quiet hush of the stacks, that almost sacred lack of sound reminiscent of that in churches or any other place of worship. As she walked through the double doors, Elena noted hers was the only presence tonight, minus the bored-looking young man perched languidly at the front desk -likely only there to get some extra cash- who didn't even look up from his perusal of some tech magazine as she trailed her way to her favourite table: far enough away from the entrance so that every time someone came in she wasn't distracted and/or blasted with a draught, but close to the middle so each section was easily accessible.
Plopping down with a weary sigh, Elena allowed herself a brief moment to close her eyes before logging on to one of the computers and opening up her Microsoft Word account, eternally thankful that she never switched off auto-save. Bringing up her unfinished document, her fingers began skating over the keys, blurring as she picked up momentum like a rock speeding down a hill, words flying out at a rapid-fire pace. Twenty five minutes ticked by without her even noticing. Stretching her arms, feeling her wrists snap, Elena made her way to the poetry section, checking to make sure her Cristina Rossetti quote was correct (it was). It was only then that she realized how heavy her eyelids were, how desperate to droop, sentences mingling together as she squinted at the screen, desperate to stave off her exhaustion.
Elena checked the clock. 12:09. The library wouldn't be open for much longer and she was nowhere near done! "Focus, Elena," the young woman muttered to herself. "You can do this. You have to do this. No one is coming to save you from failing grades." But everything felt so heavy and suddenly she couldn't see the ceiling anymore...
"Miss? Miss, are you alright?"
Elena bolted upright, her forehead almost connecting with that of the figure standing over her, their hand still resting lightly on her shoulder. "Oh my God!" she yelled, cheeks burning with mortification, turning her a vibrant shade of scarlet rivaling the time she'd gotten red streaks in her hair -she'd only done it because Caroline dared her. "I am so, so sorry. Are you alright? I didn't hit you in the face or anything?"
The man smiled kindly, looking at her with the deepest pair of brown eyed she'd ever seen. "An apology isn't necessary, Miss. I'm quite alright, thank you," he assured her, his smooth accent sending a thrill down her spine. "I should be the one asking you that: you seemed rather...out of it," he broached delicately.
Bring in the shame police. "Oh, God, was I drooling?" she queried, rubbing at her face. "I hope I wasn't drooling, especially not on any of the books. Some of these books are like, ancient, and therefore very expensive and I'm babbling..." Elena cleared her throat, straightening the sleeves of her thin cardigan and squaring her shoulders, but not before she caught the amusement dancing about his features. "I'm sorry, I'm usually a lot more coherent than this, but a lack of sleep and a lack of caffeine are totally catching up with me tonight."
He waved a hand gracefully. "Again, no need to apologize," he insisted. "I myself am intimately familiar with the concept of all-nighter. What are you working on?" He seemed genuinely interested, and that alone was enough for her to open up to a complete stranger: she didn't get many chances to gush literature with her friends, since Caroline was persuing Broadcast Journalism and Bonnie was planning on following in her grandmother's footsteps in Occult Studies. She had just begun telling him all about her English Literature course and her current paper, and how she was utterly stuck on her comparison and only had a few hours before the paper was due when he pushed off from where he was leaning against the table, straightening his suit jacket and disappearing into the stacks with a murmured, "I might be able to help in that department." The man returned moments later, a large, dusty tome carefully tucked under his arm. Elena scanned the gilt title, excitement buzzing through her.
"I've been looking for this for ages!" the tired student exclaimed, suddenly feeling not-so-tired. "I can't believe you found it just like that." She narrowed a mock-threatening glare at him. "Are you magic?"
He laughed, the corners of his mouth quirking up as he took a seat on the other side of the table, draping his jacket over the back of his chair. "Nothing quite so spectacular, I'm afraid. I just spend a great deal of my time in this particular library."
Elena nodded. "I can't blame you. I love it here; it's my favourite part of campus. I'd rather spend my evenings here than at some party and watch young adults make complete fools of themselves in varying states of inebriation."
"Truly? I thought parties were an integral art of the 'college experience.'" He implemented air quotes on the last past, and it looked entirely foreign to him, which made him seem even more attractive.
"They are," Elena conceded, "and it's not like I've never been to one...I guess I'm just wired a little differently than everyone else." She shrugged. "Sue me if I don't want to be waking up with a blazing hangover in some stranger's dorm every other weekend."
"Don't worry, I wasn't much one for parties myself," the man confided in her. "Whenever my mother threw big gatherings, I escaped to our family library the first chance I could."
The brunette tilted her head, as if seeing him from a different angle. "That sounds lonely."
"It was," he admitted tightly, "but I had plenty of siblings to keep me occupied. As in, dealing with their shenanigans and then having to clean up after them when everything eventually went wrong."
"Oh, so you were *that sibling," Elena mused, eyes bright with familiarity. "Yeah, I was like that with my brother, Jeremy. God, how is it possible for someone so small to make so much trouble? Like this one time when we were little, Jeremy wanted to make homemade caramel sauce. Our parents were only going to be gone for a little while, so it was just the two of us. I, being a weak heart with a disturbingly sweet tooth, caved to his adorably enthusiastic pestering. It did not go well."
"How bad was it?"
Elena reminisced, both fondly and exasperatedly, "Two broken plates, a burned kitchen stove, a scorched wall and two split bags of sugar. Suffice to say, I never let Jeremy talk me into anything ever again."
"Ah, the antics of a well-spent youth."
She grinned widely, "You can say that again."
Elena's phone chimed on the desk at the same time as Elijah's, kindly informing her of the text awaiting her examination. Groaning, she read Caroline's frantic message, '911 Hotness Alert: Jesse is here and wants to talk. Reinforcements requested, please!' and she couldn't help but giggle quietly at the dramatics of the Drama Major.
"Have you ever had a friend who you just wish..." Elena didn't finish her sentence, for there was no point talking to empty air: Elijah was gone. Slumping with disappointment, Elena almost missed the note he'd hastily scribbled on the open page of her notebook.
'My deepest aologies for the hasty exit, work has claimed my attention once again. Good luck with your paper; I'm sure you'll do most excellently.'
That was it. Not even a name. But God, he had gorgeous handwriting. He'd known where that book was, so maybe he worked here? It was as good a place to start as any.
Scooping up her academic debris into her bag, Elena made her way over to the front desk, clearing her throat to attract the young man's attention, who slid his gaze to her so slowly it was like he was trailing through molasses.
"I'm sorry, there isn't anyone like that working here."
What?
Another week off her calendar, another weekend of studying before her. Reaching into her bag for her sunglasses, Elena's hand froze as she caught a glimpse of a familiar suited figure at the other end of the quad, strolling with a girl with beautiful, straight blonde hair, a long-suffering yet amused expression etched deeply onto his face as she talked animatedly, gesturing about with her cup of coffee so wildly he was likely in fear of getting that gorgeous navy suit of his ruined if he -or she- wasn't careful. She'd be lying if she claimed some small, secluded part of her wasn't the tiniest bit disheartened by the sight, yet Elena wasn't surprised, not in the least. Someone like him -even though they'd barely talked for more than a half hour, she just had a certain feeling about him- deserved to be looked at with such a loving and caring expression.
"So tell me, dearest brother, have you finally reclaimed the tatters of your heart and healed the wounds from that bitch Katherine and found yourself a new girlfriend?" Rebekah pried incessantly as they walked, an eager smirk dancing about her red lips.
Inwardly, Elijah groaned at his little sister's meddling. "Rebekah, why do you ask me the same question every time you see me? Can we not enjoy a single weekend together without you harassing me about my love life?"
The blonde seemed to consider this for a moment before responding bluntly, "No, I don't think that's humanly possible for me. You know I worry about you, 'Lijah; I only want you to be happy. But answer me, honestly: has there been nobody who's caught your attentions in the romance department?"
Elijah thought back to his encounter the other week, of chocolate doe eyes and a brilliant smile that accompanied an even more brilliant mind. "No," he drew the word out, knowing even as the word passed his lips that his sister would see through his gossamer-thin lie.
And see through it she did, for she exclaimed, "You're lying! Yes, there is someone, it's written all over you, it's practically glowing like neon. Spilleth your secrets to your favourite sibling, I demand it!"
"There really isn't much to tell, Rebekah," Elijah tried in vain to shrug off her avid glee.
Pouting, she blinked at him innocently. "Tell me anyway?"
Past experience warned him that she wouldn't rest until she'd pulled the answers from him, so Elijah decided to save himself a monumental headache and admitted, "I met her last week, at the library."
"Ah, you're both stuffy book nerds; that's so sweet." She made a face that suggested quite the opposite. "Go on."
"She's kind and charming and witty and funny and incredibly smart and her eyes sparkle when she laughs...but there's a problem."
"What is it?" Rebekah frowned. "Does she turn into a pumpkin at midnight or night like red grapes? Dear lord, Elijah please tell me you didn't fall for a Justin Bieber girl."
"No, nothing like that," the elder Mikaelson was quick to placate her, before blurting abashedly, "I don't know her name."
"So, you can wax poetic about this girl until the end of time, oh please you were going full-on Bryan Adams romantic ballad there, Elijah," Rebekah exclaimed at the glaring look he shot her, "but you didn't think it prudent to find out her name?"
"It didn't come up. In my defense, she doesn't know mine, either. She's probably forgotten all about me."
Rebekah snorted disbelievingly. "I sincerely doubt that, brother. You're a Mikaelson, therefore an instant catch to anyone with taste."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence."
"You're welcome," his sister nodded sagely. "Now, what do you intend to do about learning the identity of this mystery lady of yours?"
"There's not really much I can do, Bekah," Elijah admitted sadly, sliding his hands into the recesses of his jacket pockets. "It's not like I can exactly put up a flyer saying, 'Did you happen to frequent the student library last weekend and talk to a mysterious stranger in a suit? If so, please call the enclosed number so that I may take you out to dinner.' Be reasonable, sister."
"Why not?" Rebekah posed relentlessly. "Sure, you might not meet this particular girl, but you may meet someone equally suitable."
"No," Elijah shook his head, "people like her don't come by often."
"Dear Lord, she's really made quite the impression on you. You are one smitten kitten. It's adorable, in a disgusting sort of way."
The brother refrained from rolling his eyes, a common urge whenever he was amongst family. "This is all your fault," he chided lightly, "if you hadn't thrown that ridiculous party and been so hungover, I wouldn't have had to finish your paper for you. Again. For the third time this semester."
Rebekah flapped her hands indignantly. "I like to have a good time! So what? That's hardly illegal, but knowing you I'm sure you'd come up with something, you crafty lawyer devil you."
"I resent the implication that I am anything but stalwart in the pursuit of justice for the innocent."
"Come on, you love being the smartest person in the room and making sure everyone knows it."
Elijah frowned, much like a hurt puppy dog. "But I am smart."
Rebekah smiled mischievously. "Did I forget to mention modest? Anyway, back to the subject at hand...I think I might have come up with a solution."
Elijah was almost -correction: was- afraid to ask. "And am I going to approve of your problem-solving methods?"
"Absolutely not, brother. But, five years from now when you're happily married with a gaggle of angelic children, you'll be thanking me. And making me godmother before Freya."
The lawyer doubted that outcome sincerely, doubting such happiness could ever be on the cards for him, but reluctantly aquiesced to her idea of a party nonetheless. He never knew; maybe this time it would all work out in his favour. Maybe, this one time, he'd be able to make a genuine connection with somebody, and keep it, rather than losing it to unending heartbreak and agony.
Maybe.
Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Welcome to another Elejah fic. While I promised myself that I wouldn't post anything new until I'd updated some of my other current works, I just couldn't resist putting this out into the world. I had originally intended for this to be a short work, but it's taking on a life of its own...so I guess we shall have to see.
If you enjoyed this, please leave a review and let me know!
Happy Tuesday!
All my love, Temperance Cain.
