Warning: Character is drowning and comes very close to death in this chapter,, I just wanted to warn you beforehand in case anyone might find it upsetting.
There was water. Water, and pain. But the pain was not watered down, no she felt that in every cell of her being as Elena Gilbert helplessly fought to keep her eyes open, to stay conscious for just one more minute. She didn't want Matt to be alone, he was already so alone, with his sister gone, his mom not around. Everyone hear was all so incredibly lonely...
But it was okay. They had the pain to keep them company, like she did now, a constant companion that was stealing her every breath, just as tragedy had stolen her parents from her on this very same bridge...
Then arms were around her, pulling at her, fighting her, fighting the dark, fighting death. She wanted to tell them to give up, that it wasn't worth it, that they should just let her go, but she couldn't form the words, so Elena opened her eyes, blinking through the water at...
Elijah. Elijah was here, looking at her with such a terrified expression she was almost tempted to look over her shoulder at whatever hulking monster was making him look like that. As it turned out, the only monster to him was the thought of letting her die. But she didn't know that then, no, all she knew was the water, the water and the pain, the pain that was not watered down...
Had her parents felt like this? Had they wanted to scream in agony during their final moments, but been unable to? Or had they been calm, peaceful, since they knew she was going to live, that Elena Gilbert was going to live, and that's as all that mattered? Not the pain, or the fear, or the death hovering so very near, just like it was now...
Breaking the surface, breaking the light, she feels him all around her, his voice in her ear telling her to hold on, that's she's going to be alright, that's he's sorry, he's so sorry, but he promises he'll never let any harm come to her ever again...
Then he's jumping, and she feels pavement under her back, hard and unyielding as the arms still wrapped around her, then another voice, crying, "Get away from her!"
But he says, "Stefan, she's dying, and so is Matthew. I can only save one at a time, so why don't you make yourself useful and resuscitate him before he drowns with all that fluid in his lungs and I make sure your girlfriend lives."
A hand on her chest, pumping desperately, a mouth pressing into hers, so valiantly trying to keep her alive. But what's the point? The universe wants her gone, and the universe always gets it's wish, one way or another.
"Dammit, Elena! I will not have you die like this! After everything you've been through, I refuse to let death claim you now. You're going to grow up, and you're going to be amazing, as you are now, and the world will be infinitely better because you're still breathing. So breathe, Elena. Please, sweetheart, just breathe."
Again, again, and again. Breathe, breathe, breathe. He doesn't stop. He hasn't stopped fighting for her, not since the moment they met. And neither will she.
Maybe it because of how desperate he sounds, how ragged, like he's a wire stripped down to it's core, base metal shining through, his love shining through, a love they both knew was always there yet never talked about, an unspoken cord that bound them into each other's orbits.
It was only a matter of time before they collided.
And she knows that in her head, and she feels it in her heart, and she's fighting, she's fighting so hard, because the future he paints for her is so beautiful, but it's incomplete: he's not there. He's not there, so she has to live, has to live and force him into it like hee parents had forced her and Jeremy into ugly jumpers for the annual Christmas Card photos, like Damon forced his blood down her throat, like Katherine and Klaus forced her to grown up too soon with their looming presence in her life.
Elena Gilbert wants to live, and she wants to live with him.
So her lungs contract, and she's surging upwards, and her hearts pounding and her throat is raw and her lips are dry from the water but she still manages to get out a single word, a very important word, "Elijah," and then his arms are around her yet again, and she feels safe and cherished and seen, and in her mind, she gives death the middle fingers, because it can try to take her as much as it wants, bit she knows that he won't ever let it, not until she's seen and felt and lived it all. It's not her time.
It's theirs.
She makes sure that Matt's okay before she's burying her head in Elijah's ruined jacket, feeling his hands in her hair, smoothing it out, so gentle and sweet with her, as she knows he always will be if she gives him the chance.
She wants to. Elena wants to prove him wrong. He said he'd never care, never care about another doppelgänger, not after losing Tatia and never really having Katherine, he didn't want to go through it all again, perhaps because in his heart, he knew that this would we be different, that *she would be different, yet here they are, in spite of all that history. What else can she prove him wrong about, if he gives her the chance?
So, so much.
Her hands reach up, grasping at his face, his jaw, like flowers gasp for light. Her thumbs ghost over his cheekbones in the lightest caress, and all she can say is, "Thank you for turning back."
"As it happens, I find it impossible to walk away from you. When I learnt of your connection to Alaric, I should have put it together sooner, and for that I am truly sorry, lovely Elena. I can understand if, after all this, you would wish to never see me again."
"It would be the smart thing," she acknowledges ruefully.
Elijah inquires pointedly, "Then why aren't you moving?"
"Because I don't want to."
"You don't?"
"No, Elijah. I don't. Because I-"
He cuts her off, scooping her up off the ground at into his arms. "It can wait, sweetheart," he assured her gently, "until you're in some warm clothes and aren't at risk of contracting hypothermia. Nothing is more important than making sure you're alright."
Her skin is freezing cold, yet with his words, Elena feels warm all over.
She's in her room, staring out into the night from her window seat, a cup of tea in her hands and her hair drying around her shoulders. She feels mildly ridiculous, sitting here in her bunny pajamas and fuzzy slippers while he's dressed in a clean suit and silver-blue tie, yet his soft smile at her comfortable attire urges her not to feel so. And for once, she's in this room with a vampire and feeling no sense of expectation, no fear of tomorrow or if breaking another heart. If anything, she hopes she can heal this one, can conquer whatever darkness he thinks he deserves, because doesn't love conquer all? Isn't it the thing we all fight for, each and every day, in each and every way? To feel it, to protect it, to be worthy of it, or to inspire it.
"How's Rebekah doing?"
"Are you really concerned about her welfare at this present moment, my dear? She did just try to kill you; you have every right to be angry, and to instead focus on your own well-being. No one will think any less of you," Elijah assures her delicately.
"*I'd think less of me," she insists over the rim of her mug. "What she did, she did because she was scared, Elijah. Her brother was in danger, and she did what she thought was right, what she saw as the only way to protect her family. I'm just sorry Matt had to be caught up in, he doesn't deserve it."
"Neither do you, Elena," he argues with her fervently. "You should be granted a normal life, of not having to look over your shoulder, to be free of this supernatural burden set in motion by people you didn't even know. It's not fair, it is not fair that someone as brave and kind and good as you should have to keep fighting like this. If I hadn't been there tonight...you would have asked Stefan to save Mr Donovan, wouldn't you?"
Elena nodds tensely. "Yes, I would have."
"And you would have died, then resurrected as a vampire, the one thing you have never wanted for yourself."
"But Matt would have lived!"
"But you wouldn't have!" Elijah surges to his feet, pacing the length of her room. "You would have been dead, would have been denied the chance to grow up, to have a family, to be happy in a way that vampires can never again experience. You would have been denied something better, which is all I have ever desired for you, it's the very reason why I..." he trailes off, but Elena picks up his sentence: she's always been good at picking up the pieces, would call herself an expert at it by now.
"Left. It's the reason why you left. Despite how you feel about me, you thought I'd be better off without you."
"It's complicated."
"No, Elijah, it's not." She stands, tipping forward slightly when her knees wobble: her heart stopped, she's allowed not to be in peak physical condition. But he's there to catch her, to guide her onto the bed, and when he moves away her hand shoots out, faster than an adder, faster than the death that tried to take her tonight, and coils around his wrist, tugging him back to her, just like he'd urged her to stay.
"No more hiding, Elijah. If you have something to say, please, just say it." She leans her head on his broad shoulders, his shirt buttons impossibly large from this angle, his voice midnight soft as he confesses, "I have always felt a deep regard for you, ever since the moment we met, an inexplicable pull that I tried to so hard to fight, but could not. Even when I wasn't around you, I did not leave such a tether behind: I carried it with me, burning quietly yet steadily. But the moment I knew exactly how I felt, was the day of my mother's ball, when you lied to my face -a part of me was proud that you had the nerve to try and hide the truth from an Original- but I found that I wasn't even angry over it, that I couldn't be angry over it because it was you and...I'd forgive you anything, Elena. You could burn down the world and I wouldn't bat an eye, I'd only ask that you keep the south of France, of which I have a soft spot for."
"But I'd never want to burn down the world," Elena replies, "I've only ever wanted to be a part of yours. Because I felt it too, Elijah. That connection, that pull. Because I've always known I can trust you, and when I had to face the idea that you could die, and it would be my fault, I couldn't handle it. And I missed you. While you were gone, I missed you so much. Even though we haven't exactly spent a whole lot of time together, when we have...it's always meant something to me. And as much as I love Stefan, and always will, I'm not that girl he left in the summer: I've changed, and that's okay. I'm *supposed to. He's changed, too, done things that I can't forgive or look past. But even if he hadn't...I want you to know that this would have happened eventually, Elijah, that you aren't a substitute or a rebound or whatever. That I love you, that I'm in love with you and it has nothing to do with you saving my life tonight, and everything to do with you and who you are and how you make me feel when I'm around you and..."
Earlier tonight, Elijah had asked, begged her to breathe, and now, with a kiss, he took that breath away, but she didn't care. He could have it, could have every part of her, so long as she had every part of him.
The kiss was...magic. Passion and love and tenderness and kindness and adoration and simmering desire all cascading into one, filling her up, making her whole. She frowns when he pulls away, but he doesn't go far, only rests his chin on the crown of her head and traces absent patterns on her knuckles.
"This changes things," he says to her, half worried, half amazed.
"This changes everything. But that's okay. We'll deal with it, together."
"We will. Always and forever, if you'll have me."
"I was more worried about if you'd have me."
Elijah's hand stops. "I don't know if you know this, but there is, somewhere out there, a cure. A cure for vampirism. Should that be something you'd want on the table, later on, I wouldn't be opposed. I wouldn't be opposed to a mortal, normal, always and forever with you, Elena."
Her heart stops.
Did he just...did he just...?
"You'd become human? For me?"
He chuckles at her shocked expression. "You make it sound like such a chore, my love. Of course I would. I've been alive a thousand years, have experienced every pleasure, and every pain. But the one thing I've never had is you, and I never want to be without you again."
"Klaus would go mad," Elena argues, but he only smiles.
"He would, but I don't particularly care what he'd think. Besides, he has the lovely Miss Forbes to keep him otherwise occupied."
"She's still with Tyler."
"Right now, yes. But in future...you cannot fight how you feel for long. We should know, shouldn't we?"
"Yes," Elena agrees, pulling him in for another kiss, "we most definitely should."
In his arms, with his mouth on hers, in her room, in this little, sacred space between them, filled with love and hope and a wish for the future, Elena can finally breathe again.
Author's Note: Hi, everyone! It's me, hi, I have an Elejah problem, it's me. Yes, that was an Anti-Hero reference! Speaking music, yes, the title is taken from the Sara Bareilles song, 'Breathe Again,' which is actually used in season two of Vampire Diaries. I've been in a bit of a slump with my main fic, Nothing Goes As Planned, so I decided to finish this off.
Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot. And thank you for all your love and support lately with my work, it means a lot to me, especially on the hard days. Have a lovely rest of your week!
All my love, Temperance Cain.