Disclaimers: Elena Gilbert, Stefan Salvatore and friends, along with the Vampire Diaries I - IV belong to L.J. Smith. Everything else is mine. No harm intended or money made from this fic.
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
~ Five ~
"Elena?" Stefan called, shutting the front door. He checked each room and frowned when he found the apartment empty. Going into the modest kitchen, he spotted a note on the fridge.
::Out for a while,:: it read. ::Back in two hours.:: Elena had put the time beneath her initial; she had left more than an hour ago.
Stefan wandered through the apartment aimlessly for a bit, then sat down on the well-used leather couch that had come with the apartment. He picked up a book on the coffee table, which he had been rereading, and tried to lose himself in it.
It was a struggle; his mind wandered, and he had barely turned a page when Elena returned twenty minutes later.
"Hi there, sweetie," she said with a big smile on her face. She planted a peck on his cheek and sat down beside him. The couch sunk in a little more. "Guess what?"
"Hm?" Stefan put down the book and looked expectantly at her.
"I got a job!"
It took a second for that to register. "A job."
"Yes! Isn't that great? It was a little difficult, since I can't show any qualification or even identification, but I dazzled them – I think – and they offered to let me start immediately!"
"I hadn't realized that you were looking for a job," Stefan said slowly.
"Oh, remember when I was throwing around ideas about courses to take and what to do with my life? Well, I saw this sign in the window the other day and thought I'd give it a shot. And I got it!" Elena jumped up and pumped her clenched fist in the air victoriously. "Yes!"
Stefan stared at her for a few moments. "What will you be doing?" he asked eventually.
"Event management! Conventions, exhibitions, that sort of thing. Isn't it great?" His unemotional reception finally penetrated her jubilation. She stopped whirling around in excitement. "Stefan? What's wrong?"
He was momentarily at a lost for words. Finally, he came up with, "Why?"
::Why didn't you discuss this with me first? Why are you doing this? What about our plans? We weren't planning to stay here long, were we?:: his mind supplied, once the temporary halt was broken.
"Why what? Why am I taking this job?"
"Why are you taking _any_ job?"
Elena waved her hands expressively. Talking with her hands, they called it. "I want to... to pull my own weight, be able to support my own needs, not having to rely on you for everything –"
"And why not? Do I begrudge you anything?" Stefan asked intently. He was tensed, sitting forward, nearly quivering with distress.
"_No!_" Her denial was immediate, a knee-jerk response. "You've given me everything one person can give another. But there are some things you _can't_ give me; self-fulfillment, a sense of achievement. I want to make something of myself."
::Am I not sufficient? Is being my beloved and someday, my wife, not fulfilling enough for you?:: he questioned but could not bring himself to ask aloud. Even to his own mental ears, it sounded appallingly self-centered. His stomach was a tight knot and his throat was closed.
Conceited or not, an honest little voice in him pointed out that it was exactly what he wanted – to be her whole world, as she was his.
Elena was carrying on reasonably. "I guess this is a little bit of a surprise, but I _have_ mentioned that I'd like to take up something, develop new skills–"
He shot out of his seat. "Perhaps, but it was just talk with no mention of immediate action."
She fixed her wide eyes on him, sinking onto the couch he had just vacated. "What is this? Why are you so upset?" she demanded again.
He jammed his fingers into his hair, then combed them to the back of his head and dropped his hand, angry, hesitant, and frustrated all at once.
"I can see that this is important," Elena said quietly. "Stefan," she prompted when he remained silent. Even now, a year on, she could catch his attention just by saying his name. Lapis lazuli eyes bore into forest green ones. She reached out and caught his hand. The metal band of his ring suddenly felt very cold compared to the warmth of her fingers. "Talk to me."
He took a deep breath, searching for words to express how he felt. Unfortunately, it came out as, "How can you think of taking a _job_ when we already only have so few years together?"
When she stared at him this time, it was in utter amazement. "What are you talking about, 'so few years'? We have an entire lifetime ahead –"
"A human lifetime," he blurted and paled. This was the first time he had ever brought up the subject of her mortality.
She looked nonplussed, but only for a moment.
Her mouth opened but nothing came out; she drew a short, sharp breath instead. Her expression became outraged. She dropped his hand and jumped to her feet. "What?" she half shouted.
He groped for something to say but did not manage to find anything before she went on. "After all we've been through, after this… this second chance, this great blessing. A lifetime: Isn't that enough? Aren't _I_ enough for you?" Stefan was disconcerted to hear his own thought coming out of her mouth. "What, you want me to change again so that we can have 'joyful eternity together'? And if I don't? Am I suppose to devote my entire life – excuse me, my entire _short, mortal_ life – to you? Won't I get a chance to _live_?"
"And spending your time with me is not living? How odd that most people on the street would say differently," Stefan flared back. "I'm not asking for anything I'm not willing to give as well, Elena. I'm devoting my life to you, too."
"You have time! Eternity. You'll have all the time you want to live it up after I'm dead and gone–"
"So I'm suppose to just put my life on hold until you're gone, while you go about having your own life?" Stefan put in quietly, but Elena went on, talking right over him.
"_I_ only have this one life – eighty years, tops. What will I be forty years down the road? What would I have made of myself? I'll be old and ugly, if nothing else. And you – you will be young and handsome and powerful and wealthy, with the whole world spread out at your feet."
"Is this what it's all about? Your desire to be independent? You're building a security net for yourself in case I run after some young, pretty girl?" Stefan asked. His lips twisted in a half-sneer and his jaw tightened.
"_No!_–" Elena began in a scathing, sarcastic tone, then broke off. "Well, now that you mention it," she said, more reasonably.
Now it was Stefan who stared, offended.
A tiny, sad ghost of a smile touched Elena's lips. "Truth is truth. Have you considered how we'll look, forty years down the road?" She sank back onto the couch and tilted her head back to look up at him. Her shoulders relaxed and drooped.
"Do you think I care?" he said heatedly. She shook her head, still wearing that bittersweet smile.
She was denying his unspoken avowal, not disagreeing with his statement. "I don't think either of us will be able to help ourselves, then," she said honestly.
Silence descended and stretched. Finally, she asked, "How long have you been thinking about this – my being human?"
"A while," he said uninformatively.
"When?" she insisted.
Their gazes clashed and held until Stefan gave in. "Since we left Fell's Church."
A look of pain crossed Elena's face. "I'm taking this job," she said calmly, finality in her tone. "I'm not asking you to sit around all day and wait for me, either; it's up to you to build your own life." She paused and Stefan, touching her thoughts, saw her grasp the issues of mortality and the future... and push them away.
"As for the rest... let's leave it for now," she said. Stefan's nostril's flared briefly and his lips tightened, but after a moment's consideration, he nodded.
Later that night, they lay on the same bed but the air was cold between them. Stefan could sense Elena's need to be held and comforted conflicting with her pride, hurt and anger. For himself, he longed for the oblivion of sleep and hoped that no dreams would find him.
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
~ Five ~
"Elena?" Stefan called, shutting the front door. He checked each room and frowned when he found the apartment empty. Going into the modest kitchen, he spotted a note on the fridge.
::Out for a while,:: it read. ::Back in two hours.:: Elena had put the time beneath her initial; she had left more than an hour ago.
Stefan wandered through the apartment aimlessly for a bit, then sat down on the well-used leather couch that had come with the apartment. He picked up a book on the coffee table, which he had been rereading, and tried to lose himself in it.
It was a struggle; his mind wandered, and he had barely turned a page when Elena returned twenty minutes later.
"Hi there, sweetie," she said with a big smile on her face. She planted a peck on his cheek and sat down beside him. The couch sunk in a little more. "Guess what?"
"Hm?" Stefan put down the book and looked expectantly at her.
"I got a job!"
It took a second for that to register. "A job."
"Yes! Isn't that great? It was a little difficult, since I can't show any qualification or even identification, but I dazzled them – I think – and they offered to let me start immediately!"
"I hadn't realized that you were looking for a job," Stefan said slowly.
"Oh, remember when I was throwing around ideas about courses to take and what to do with my life? Well, I saw this sign in the window the other day and thought I'd give it a shot. And I got it!" Elena jumped up and pumped her clenched fist in the air victoriously. "Yes!"
Stefan stared at her for a few moments. "What will you be doing?" he asked eventually.
"Event management! Conventions, exhibitions, that sort of thing. Isn't it great?" His unemotional reception finally penetrated her jubilation. She stopped whirling around in excitement. "Stefan? What's wrong?"
He was momentarily at a lost for words. Finally, he came up with, "Why?"
::Why didn't you discuss this with me first? Why are you doing this? What about our plans? We weren't planning to stay here long, were we?:: his mind supplied, once the temporary halt was broken.
"Why what? Why am I taking this job?"
"Why are you taking _any_ job?"
Elena waved her hands expressively. Talking with her hands, they called it. "I want to... to pull my own weight, be able to support my own needs, not having to rely on you for everything –"
"And why not? Do I begrudge you anything?" Stefan asked intently. He was tensed, sitting forward, nearly quivering with distress.
"_No!_" Her denial was immediate, a knee-jerk response. "You've given me everything one person can give another. But there are some things you _can't_ give me; self-fulfillment, a sense of achievement. I want to make something of myself."
::Am I not sufficient? Is being my beloved and someday, my wife, not fulfilling enough for you?:: he questioned but could not bring himself to ask aloud. Even to his own mental ears, it sounded appallingly self-centered. His stomach was a tight knot and his throat was closed.
Conceited or not, an honest little voice in him pointed out that it was exactly what he wanted – to be her whole world, as she was his.
Elena was carrying on reasonably. "I guess this is a little bit of a surprise, but I _have_ mentioned that I'd like to take up something, develop new skills–"
He shot out of his seat. "Perhaps, but it was just talk with no mention of immediate action."
She fixed her wide eyes on him, sinking onto the couch he had just vacated. "What is this? Why are you so upset?" she demanded again.
He jammed his fingers into his hair, then combed them to the back of his head and dropped his hand, angry, hesitant, and frustrated all at once.
"I can see that this is important," Elena said quietly. "Stefan," she prompted when he remained silent. Even now, a year on, she could catch his attention just by saying his name. Lapis lazuli eyes bore into forest green ones. She reached out and caught his hand. The metal band of his ring suddenly felt very cold compared to the warmth of her fingers. "Talk to me."
He took a deep breath, searching for words to express how he felt. Unfortunately, it came out as, "How can you think of taking a _job_ when we already only have so few years together?"
When she stared at him this time, it was in utter amazement. "What are you talking about, 'so few years'? We have an entire lifetime ahead –"
"A human lifetime," he blurted and paled. This was the first time he had ever brought up the subject of her mortality.
She looked nonplussed, but only for a moment.
Her mouth opened but nothing came out; she drew a short, sharp breath instead. Her expression became outraged. She dropped his hand and jumped to her feet. "What?" she half shouted.
He groped for something to say but did not manage to find anything before she went on. "After all we've been through, after this… this second chance, this great blessing. A lifetime: Isn't that enough? Aren't _I_ enough for you?" Stefan was disconcerted to hear his own thought coming out of her mouth. "What, you want me to change again so that we can have 'joyful eternity together'? And if I don't? Am I suppose to devote my entire life – excuse me, my entire _short, mortal_ life – to you? Won't I get a chance to _live_?"
"And spending your time with me is not living? How odd that most people on the street would say differently," Stefan flared back. "I'm not asking for anything I'm not willing to give as well, Elena. I'm devoting my life to you, too."
"You have time! Eternity. You'll have all the time you want to live it up after I'm dead and gone–"
"So I'm suppose to just put my life on hold until you're gone, while you go about having your own life?" Stefan put in quietly, but Elena went on, talking right over him.
"_I_ only have this one life – eighty years, tops. What will I be forty years down the road? What would I have made of myself? I'll be old and ugly, if nothing else. And you – you will be young and handsome and powerful and wealthy, with the whole world spread out at your feet."
"Is this what it's all about? Your desire to be independent? You're building a security net for yourself in case I run after some young, pretty girl?" Stefan asked. His lips twisted in a half-sneer and his jaw tightened.
"_No!_–" Elena began in a scathing, sarcastic tone, then broke off. "Well, now that you mention it," she said, more reasonably.
Now it was Stefan who stared, offended.
A tiny, sad ghost of a smile touched Elena's lips. "Truth is truth. Have you considered how we'll look, forty years down the road?" She sank back onto the couch and tilted her head back to look up at him. Her shoulders relaxed and drooped.
"Do you think I care?" he said heatedly. She shook her head, still wearing that bittersweet smile.
She was denying his unspoken avowal, not disagreeing with his statement. "I don't think either of us will be able to help ourselves, then," she said honestly.
Silence descended and stretched. Finally, she asked, "How long have you been thinking about this – my being human?"
"A while," he said uninformatively.
"When?" she insisted.
Their gazes clashed and held until Stefan gave in. "Since we left Fell's Church."
A look of pain crossed Elena's face. "I'm taking this job," she said calmly, finality in her tone. "I'm not asking you to sit around all day and wait for me, either; it's up to you to build your own life." She paused and Stefan, touching her thoughts, saw her grasp the issues of mortality and the future... and push them away.
"As for the rest... let's leave it for now," she said. Stefan's nostril's flared briefly and his lips tightened, but after a moment's consideration, he nodded.
Later that night, they lay on the same bed but the air was cold between them. Stefan could sense Elena's need to be held and comforted conflicting with her pride, hurt and anger. For himself, he longed for the oblivion of sleep and hoped that no dreams would find him.