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_
Date posted: 25 January 2002
Author's Notes: I know this is really, really late and I apologize most abjectly! But it's here! And it's my longest chapter to date. Two revelations in this chapter: one that I chose and one that chose me. Guess which is which. =) Please tell me if they're unexpected (or _totally_ unexpected) or if they're too outrageous.
~ Thirty Five ~
"...leads to the main hall," Jerrick said, tapping the appropriate position. A large blueprint of the Old One's domain had been tacked up against the wall so that everyone had a clear view. Jerrick had just outlined the route taken by the Old One to and from his room.
"What's that?" Alvin asked, pointing to a small, anonymous room. It was set deep in the heart of the building, adjacent to Old One's rooms and a stone's throw from the main hall.
"That's the ceremonial chamber. It's not used very often; only for initiations and deaths," Jerrick said, nodding to Alvin as he would a particularly quick student for pointing it out.
The original eight members of the strike force were gathered in the cramped sitting room, along with their four additional teammates, forming two rough semi-circles.
"We will strike near dawn, when things are at a lull and their guard is down." He went on to detail where each of them would be stationed and what they could expect to encounter there. The witches and the two new fighters, Gabrielle and Benjamin, would be stationed at the internal entrances to the Old One's chambers. Eiran and Taura would guard the external entrances, while Jason and Elsa covered the perimeter of that wing and Karen took the sniper's position on the roof of the building. They were to keep out of sight, their presence a precaution against physical attack at Elena while she dealt with the Old One.
"Remember: the odds are heavily in their favor, they have the home ground advantage and they will be vampires. Stealth is vital; we cannot take them all." Taura looked faintly disgusted, no doubt having looked forward to a noisy, messy and altogether satisfying battle.
Elena twisted the slender gold ring on her finger, barely listening. The lapis lazuli set on the band had drawn odd looks from the other members of the team, but someone had murmured that it was a kill-trophy of sorts and she had not bothered to correct them. The fourteen of them had arrived in Antalya, on Turkey's Mediterranean coast, three days ago. As soon as they were provisioned and equipped, they would strike out west and north, heading inland to the Old One's domain.
Jerrick went over several other details of their attack plans, then paused to scan the room and asked, "Are there any questions?" No one said anything. "Is everyone clear, then?" Nods around the room.
"Good. Do not let any of them raise an alarm. This Old One's followers are fanatically devoted to him and will become dangerous if they realize that he is at risk. They revere him as their father and–"
"How do you spot an Old One?" He was interrupted by Gabrielle. There was a calculating look in her eyes, the same one in her partner, Benjamin's. Their interest was transparent: given half the chance, they would love to add an Old One to their list of kills.
Jerrick's pale eyes fixed on her coolly. He said simply, "You don't."
No one spoke up, either for lack of response to the flat reply or waiting for him to continue.
"You had better not, because the only thing that will happen if you encounter them is get yourself and everyone else killed. _You_ certainly cannot hurt them," Jerrick said, brutally candid. It was just as well he quash that idea here and now with the truth. "Elena is the only one who can and she does so through no physical method." If he wanted to draw some reaction from her, she was not about to oblige him. Elena's eyes remained fixed on the spot on the blueprint marked X in bold red.
There was an awkward silence before Karen ventured calmly, curious, "How _do_ you know if it's the Old One?"
Everyone held their breath, not sure how Jerrick would react to this. His eyes narrowed dangerously then he underwent one of his rapid, startling mood changes. "There is no way to tell for sure," he admitted in an almost affable tone. "They don't even wear any lapis lazuli talisman."
This drew a chorus of "What?" and "How can that be?" from several members of the team. Elena remained motionless and mute, scarcely aware of Eiran's concerned eyes on her.
"No way," Trent scoffed. "They're vampires."
"That's where you are wrong." All eyes on him except Elena's, Jerrick limped over to the remaining chair left free for him and lowered himself into it a little stiffly. "I might as well sit down if we're going to have this discussion; it's a long one and I'm not fit to stand around all day anymore," he confided with a touch of dry humor.
He regarded the attentive faces turned to him, as if trying to remember what they had been talking about.
"Vampires," he said, evidently recalled the topic. He ticked each known fact off on his fingers as he enumerated them. "Vampires are afraid of sunlight; exposure without a talisman will kill them. Vampires experience bloodlust; they need blood to survive. Vampires are vulnerable to wood; it is the one substance that can harm them lastingly. Vampires cannot cross running water; the stronger they are, the more this constrains them. Vampires cannot enter human dwellings uninvited."
He paused, lending his next statement emphasis. "None of these limitations apply to the beings we call the Old Ones, for all that they are the origins of vampires."
Everyone shifted in their seats. Here was a tale that explained things no one had ever really thought about or even guessed at. They all waited to hear it, except Elena, who already knew the story and wished she could leave.
"In the infancy of this world," Jerrick began, as if recounting an age-old legend, "They came into existence. They were never human, they were never changed into vampires. They simply were. There were seven of them and they were Power. They drank blood, not because they had to, but because they drew power from the life-essence it held. They looked like humans, as a swan might look like a goose; similar, but not, ever, the same.
"They are immortal in the absolute sense; they cannot die, cannot even be injured. There is no name for their kind because they have no need for one; they recognize their own through Name, a true title that changes to show each individual's nature. No one can read their Name except another of their kind.
"They are all male and sterile; being immortal, they have no need to reproduce and perpetuate their genes. Their powers and abilities extend beyond those known of vampires. Shape-changing, manipulating energy forces–" Elena was reminded of Klaus gathering lightning, "–telekinesis, rock shaping, wood shaping, animal telepathy… there's no telling what an Old One can do. Each has his own abilities. They are completely invulnerable. They fear neither running water nor sunlight nor wood nor fire. They can enter any home they wish.
"So how did vampires come to be? One of the Old Ones wished to be able to give immortality to his followers. Through his intervention, vampires were born. Fortunately, humans cannot make the full transition to Old One and so they exist, neither human, not … other. A subspecies."
Giggles exploded from Taura, dispelling the somber, stately mood that had pervaded the sitting room while Jerrick talked. "Subspecies," she chortled. Her mirth was infectious, drawing chuckles and grins. It was a few minutes before she could contain herself enough for Jerrick to finish.
"The limitations of vampires previously mentioned are... flaws. And the change arrests the human's physical growth, rendering them unable to age. It also causes them to be sterile." He tented his fingers and regarded them as a university professor might, benign in conferring enlightenment upon his students. "And so you see, Old Ones are not, as you thought, vampires."
Everyone paused to digest this startling new information, with a wayward chuckle from Taura. "So... how does Elena identify Old Ones? And how come she can do them in?" Gabrielle asked with a sidelong look at the quiet blonde.
"As to the second, the Old Ones made themselves a bad enemy. Said party armed Elena with a large, very specific hammer and sent her to do her work. And of course, said party also enabled her to recognize them," Jerrick answered smoothly with characteristic dry humor.
An oversimplification, Elena thought, but sufficient. After that, Jerrick wrapped up the session and the gathering dispersed at that point.
Elena gratefully got to her feet. "I'm going to take a walk," she told Eiran softly. He nodded. "I'll come too." He had been slightly discomforted to find himself flanked by his two former trainers. They quizzed him endlessly about his progress in their respective disciplines and argued the merits of the bow against barehanded combat. He was more than happy for the excuse to escape their heated bickering, however good-natured it might be.
As they slipped out the door, Elena heard Taura's chuckling still, "Subspecies..."
* * *
Pebbles clattered noisily underfoot. The heat of summer left Elena's skin sticky with perspiration and a few tendrils of hair that had escaped the knot on the top of her head clung to her neck and cheeks annoyingly. The cool breeze off the Mediterranean Sea only lightened her brooding mood slightly. Eiran kept pace with her, aware of her black humor and prudently keeping silent.
Elena drew a deep breath, tasting the tang of brine in the air, and let it out slowly. She told herself to relax and felt the strain seep away from her neck and shoulders. She rolled her head and rotated her arms a little. It was not anxiety over the mission that caused her muscles to knot; it was the friction between the members of the strike force.
Gabrielle and Benjamin were toughened warriors who heeded only Jerrick – grudgingly at that – and did not get along with anyone in the band except each other. They were arrogant and overbearing, which infuriated Taura and Karen. By virtue of their involvement in the first strike, the two women had some measure of seniority over the newcomers. Instead of obedience or at least cooperation, however, they were faced with scorn and intransigence from the two seasoned fighters. As it was, Taura had come within a hair of putting one of her knives through Gabrielle's palm. Karen had taken to carrying a gun – or 'packing a rod' as she termed it – at all times and her usually unflappable gray eyes grew frigid when they rested on Benjamin. The man usually returned a lazy smile that was half-leer, further incensing her – and everyone else in the team.
After three days of being cooped indoors with such tension, coupled with the discord between herself and Jerrick, and the strange looks she received for wearing the ring, Elena had had enough.
Eiran broke the quietude, eventually. "You've had a falling out with Jerrick, haven't you?" he asked in his quiet way.
Elena's jaw clenched at the mention of that name. "Yes," she said shortly.
Since that night at the club, she had avoided her 'guide and guardian' like a plague. The only time she came near him was during team briefings and chance encounters. During the meetings, she forced herself to pay attention to what he said but did not acknowledge him otherwise. When their paths crossed outside group conferences, she ignored his very existence. She was not surprised that the other members of the team noticed their estrangement and while she realized on some level that it was not good for morale, the outraged part of her did not care.
"Why?" Eiran prompted and Elena held back annoyance.
"I don't agree with some of his principles and actions. No, I _strongly_ disagree. I also don't like the way he manipulates things to suit his needs or the way he pushes everyone else without consideration," she surprised herself by adding. "He doesn't give a damn how everyone else fares or who suffers, as long as we accomplish the objective."
She could see Eiran's expression asking if she and Jerrick didn't share a common objective. "We may have the same goal but that doesn't mean I'll blindly do as he says. I may just be a means to an end for him, a tool to complete this mission, that I have feelings and convictions, too. This tool _cares_ how it's used. Can you see what I'm saying?" she asked in return.
He was silent for a while, considering her words. "I think, a little," he said eventually and lapsed into silence. The time let Elena brood over the progress of their task, what little there was of it.
::Five more,:: she thought, fighting the despair that threatened to crash on her. ::But when this is over, you will have earned your reward. You would have _Stefan_ and a wonderful life with him ahead of you,:: she reminded herself fiercely.
Her fingers of her right hand stroked the ring on her left unconsciously. ::Soon.:: Doubts assailed her; what if he didn't want her anymore? What if he hated her? ::He doesn't hate you. It's the misunderstanding. When this is all over, you just have to explain everything to him. He loves you; he'll not leave you,:: the reasonable side of her reassured. Elena felt a surge of bittersweet pain that threatened to drown her. She missed him so much that she could almost feel his arms, cool and solid around her.
She came to a circular slab of stone that might have once been part of a building in ancient Rome. She sat down, biting her lip as she turned her face to the Gulf on Antalya. To her right, the sun was setting, light bouncing off the waves with almost painful intensity.
"Elena?"
She had forgotten about him momentarily. She acknowledged him with a tiny smile and patted the stone beside her.
"You looked really sad there for a while there," he commented, accepting the invitation to sit, but twisted sideways to face her. Concern shaded his voice and showed in his eyes although the rest of his expression remained casual.
"Nothing earthshaking," she said, forcing a light tone. He kept his patient expression, waiting. She sighed again, feeling the need to just _talk_ to someone, to pour her heart out. "I was thinking about this whole 'quest' of mine... ours," she admitted.
"We've only eliminated two of the Old Ones. There are seven of them. That leaves five more. So much has happened, so much pain and effort that makes my head reel just thinking about it – and we're barely more than a quarter way through. It just feels so..." she trailed off, searching for words to explain her feelings.
"Hopeless," he murmured. He understood hopelessness, perhaps more than she. He hesitated, but she looked so sad... His hand reached out, his fingers touched her chin, tipped her face up with gentle pressure. "It's a heavy burden you carry, the unmaking of these ancient and powerful beings. It is understandable for you to feel the pressure and strain of the responsibility.
"But you're not alone. You have us and we – the Turned, at least – will not abandon you to do this alone." Their gazes met and held for an intense second. "We'll take one day at a time, each step as it comes and someday, not too long away, we will succeed." He said it with complete faith and refreshing confidence, "We will."
Shakily, Elena laughed, but there was a bitter edge in it. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out the thought that his words called to mind, "Well, I don't know about _we_, but I will." She could tell that her words had startled and stung him. He had said 'we' in an effort to show his support and she had thrown it back in his face. She had to explain.
She caught his hand as he pulled it back. "I _will_ finish the task, Eiran. I have no choice," she said earnestly, a tinge of apology in her eyes. "Even if I live a hundred years, a thousand years, I will finish the task. Nothing can stop me, not time, not even death."
He stared at her uncomprehending. "I will not – literally cannot – die until my task is complete," she explained more explicitly. "Until then, I will live forever and no matter how mortal my injury, I will come back." She released his hand, looking miserable. "It's... very disturbing to know that you have no choice but to go on, that death is no escape."
Minutes passed in silence and the sun dipped below the horizon. Lights came on behind them, in the streets and buildings of Antalya, but for the most part, the beach remained shrouded in shadow.
"Well," Eiran breathed at length. "Burdens on the soul indeed."
Elena did not respond, embroiled in her personal turmoil; angst and guilt and fear and desolation. She started when she felt his hand close on her own. He took it and enclosed it warmly in both his palms. "We'll try and stay with you for as long as we can, milady. It will be an honor. And I pray that we live to see the end together."
She stared at his face, half seen in the dimness. Her heart lurched at such graciousness on his part. "I don't deserve you," she whispered.
His face lifted, curved, as he smiled. "Nonsense!" he chided, such mischievousness in his voice that it wrung a laugh out of her. "Now," he added when her spurt of hilarity ended. "Was that the reason for the unhappy look earlier?"
Elena hesitated. She wasn't sure she wanted to reveal such personal thoughts and feelings. But talking about her misery and her temporary immortality – what an oxymoron! – had been such a relief.
"It's...It's Stefan. He was so angry when he left. I could see it in his eyes, he felt completely betrayed. And here I am, my life and death sold for a second chance with him, and at the end of it all, he might refuse to see me, to listen to me, to let me explain. And then where will I be? If he hates me–"
"He won't!" Eiran said firmly. "He can't possibly hate you. He'd be a fool to. Not when you love him so much. If he had a lick of sense, he'd realize how lucky he is and fall on his knees in thanksgiving!" he went on with feeling. Elena almost giggled at the mental pictures his words conjured, of Stefan collapsing onto the floor before her, hands and face lifted in awe and gratitude. She was so engrossed in the image that she missed the odd strain in Eiran's voice.
"A fool," he muttered. Abruptly, he rose. "It's getting late. We should get back before the others worry," he said, extending a hand to help her to her feet.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. Please take a moment to drop me a note with comments - it would be much loved and appreciated!
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
Date posted: 25 January 2002
Author's Notes: I know this is really, really late and I apologize most abjectly! But it's here! And it's my longest chapter to date. Two revelations in this chapter: one that I chose and one that chose me. Guess which is which. =) Please tell me if they're unexpected (or _totally_ unexpected) or if they're too outrageous.
~ Thirty Five ~
"...leads to the main hall," Jerrick said, tapping the appropriate position. A large blueprint of the Old One's domain had been tacked up against the wall so that everyone had a clear view. Jerrick had just outlined the route taken by the Old One to and from his room.
"What's that?" Alvin asked, pointing to a small, anonymous room. It was set deep in the heart of the building, adjacent to Old One's rooms and a stone's throw from the main hall.
"That's the ceremonial chamber. It's not used very often; only for initiations and deaths," Jerrick said, nodding to Alvin as he would a particularly quick student for pointing it out.
The original eight members of the strike force were gathered in the cramped sitting room, along with their four additional teammates, forming two rough semi-circles.
"We will strike near dawn, when things are at a lull and their guard is down." He went on to detail where each of them would be stationed and what they could expect to encounter there. The witches and the two new fighters, Gabrielle and Benjamin, would be stationed at the internal entrances to the Old One's chambers. Eiran and Taura would guard the external entrances, while Jason and Elsa covered the perimeter of that wing and Karen took the sniper's position on the roof of the building. They were to keep out of sight, their presence a precaution against physical attack at Elena while she dealt with the Old One.
"Remember: the odds are heavily in their favor, they have the home ground advantage and they will be vampires. Stealth is vital; we cannot take them all." Taura looked faintly disgusted, no doubt having looked forward to a noisy, messy and altogether satisfying battle.
Elena twisted the slender gold ring on her finger, barely listening. The lapis lazuli set on the band had drawn odd looks from the other members of the team, but someone had murmured that it was a kill-trophy of sorts and she had not bothered to correct them. The fourteen of them had arrived in Antalya, on Turkey's Mediterranean coast, three days ago. As soon as they were provisioned and equipped, they would strike out west and north, heading inland to the Old One's domain.
Jerrick went over several other details of their attack plans, then paused to scan the room and asked, "Are there any questions?" No one said anything. "Is everyone clear, then?" Nods around the room.
"Good. Do not let any of them raise an alarm. This Old One's followers are fanatically devoted to him and will become dangerous if they realize that he is at risk. They revere him as their father and–"
"How do you spot an Old One?" He was interrupted by Gabrielle. There was a calculating look in her eyes, the same one in her partner, Benjamin's. Their interest was transparent: given half the chance, they would love to add an Old One to their list of kills.
Jerrick's pale eyes fixed on her coolly. He said simply, "You don't."
No one spoke up, either for lack of response to the flat reply or waiting for him to continue.
"You had better not, because the only thing that will happen if you encounter them is get yourself and everyone else killed. _You_ certainly cannot hurt them," Jerrick said, brutally candid. It was just as well he quash that idea here and now with the truth. "Elena is the only one who can and she does so through no physical method." If he wanted to draw some reaction from her, she was not about to oblige him. Elena's eyes remained fixed on the spot on the blueprint marked X in bold red.
There was an awkward silence before Karen ventured calmly, curious, "How _do_ you know if it's the Old One?"
Everyone held their breath, not sure how Jerrick would react to this. His eyes narrowed dangerously then he underwent one of his rapid, startling mood changes. "There is no way to tell for sure," he admitted in an almost affable tone. "They don't even wear any lapis lazuli talisman."
This drew a chorus of "What?" and "How can that be?" from several members of the team. Elena remained motionless and mute, scarcely aware of Eiran's concerned eyes on her.
"No way," Trent scoffed. "They're vampires."
"That's where you are wrong." All eyes on him except Elena's, Jerrick limped over to the remaining chair left free for him and lowered himself into it a little stiffly. "I might as well sit down if we're going to have this discussion; it's a long one and I'm not fit to stand around all day anymore," he confided with a touch of dry humor.
He regarded the attentive faces turned to him, as if trying to remember what they had been talking about.
"Vampires," he said, evidently recalled the topic. He ticked each known fact off on his fingers as he enumerated them. "Vampires are afraid of sunlight; exposure without a talisman will kill them. Vampires experience bloodlust; they need blood to survive. Vampires are vulnerable to wood; it is the one substance that can harm them lastingly. Vampires cannot cross running water; the stronger they are, the more this constrains them. Vampires cannot enter human dwellings uninvited."
He paused, lending his next statement emphasis. "None of these limitations apply to the beings we call the Old Ones, for all that they are the origins of vampires."
Everyone shifted in their seats. Here was a tale that explained things no one had ever really thought about or even guessed at. They all waited to hear it, except Elena, who already knew the story and wished she could leave.
"In the infancy of this world," Jerrick began, as if recounting an age-old legend, "They came into existence. They were never human, they were never changed into vampires. They simply were. There were seven of them and they were Power. They drank blood, not because they had to, but because they drew power from the life-essence it held. They looked like humans, as a swan might look like a goose; similar, but not, ever, the same.
"They are immortal in the absolute sense; they cannot die, cannot even be injured. There is no name for their kind because they have no need for one; they recognize their own through Name, a true title that changes to show each individual's nature. No one can read their Name except another of their kind.
"They are all male and sterile; being immortal, they have no need to reproduce and perpetuate their genes. Their powers and abilities extend beyond those known of vampires. Shape-changing, manipulating energy forces–" Elena was reminded of Klaus gathering lightning, "–telekinesis, rock shaping, wood shaping, animal telepathy… there's no telling what an Old One can do. Each has his own abilities. They are completely invulnerable. They fear neither running water nor sunlight nor wood nor fire. They can enter any home they wish.
"So how did vampires come to be? One of the Old Ones wished to be able to give immortality to his followers. Through his intervention, vampires were born. Fortunately, humans cannot make the full transition to Old One and so they exist, neither human, not … other. A subspecies."
Giggles exploded from Taura, dispelling the somber, stately mood that had pervaded the sitting room while Jerrick talked. "Subspecies," she chortled. Her mirth was infectious, drawing chuckles and grins. It was a few minutes before she could contain herself enough for Jerrick to finish.
"The limitations of vampires previously mentioned are... flaws. And the change arrests the human's physical growth, rendering them unable to age. It also causes them to be sterile." He tented his fingers and regarded them as a university professor might, benign in conferring enlightenment upon his students. "And so you see, Old Ones are not, as you thought, vampires."
Everyone paused to digest this startling new information, with a wayward chuckle from Taura. "So... how does Elena identify Old Ones? And how come she can do them in?" Gabrielle asked with a sidelong look at the quiet blonde.
"As to the second, the Old Ones made themselves a bad enemy. Said party armed Elena with a large, very specific hammer and sent her to do her work. And of course, said party also enabled her to recognize them," Jerrick answered smoothly with characteristic dry humor.
An oversimplification, Elena thought, but sufficient. After that, Jerrick wrapped up the session and the gathering dispersed at that point.
Elena gratefully got to her feet. "I'm going to take a walk," she told Eiran softly. He nodded. "I'll come too." He had been slightly discomforted to find himself flanked by his two former trainers. They quizzed him endlessly about his progress in their respective disciplines and argued the merits of the bow against barehanded combat. He was more than happy for the excuse to escape their heated bickering, however good-natured it might be.
As they slipped out the door, Elena heard Taura's chuckling still, "Subspecies..."
* * *
Pebbles clattered noisily underfoot. The heat of summer left Elena's skin sticky with perspiration and a few tendrils of hair that had escaped the knot on the top of her head clung to her neck and cheeks annoyingly. The cool breeze off the Mediterranean Sea only lightened her brooding mood slightly. Eiran kept pace with her, aware of her black humor and prudently keeping silent.
Elena drew a deep breath, tasting the tang of brine in the air, and let it out slowly. She told herself to relax and felt the strain seep away from her neck and shoulders. She rolled her head and rotated her arms a little. It was not anxiety over the mission that caused her muscles to knot; it was the friction between the members of the strike force.
Gabrielle and Benjamin were toughened warriors who heeded only Jerrick – grudgingly at that – and did not get along with anyone in the band except each other. They were arrogant and overbearing, which infuriated Taura and Karen. By virtue of their involvement in the first strike, the two women had some measure of seniority over the newcomers. Instead of obedience or at least cooperation, however, they were faced with scorn and intransigence from the two seasoned fighters. As it was, Taura had come within a hair of putting one of her knives through Gabrielle's palm. Karen had taken to carrying a gun – or 'packing a rod' as she termed it – at all times and her usually unflappable gray eyes grew frigid when they rested on Benjamin. The man usually returned a lazy smile that was half-leer, further incensing her – and everyone else in the team.
After three days of being cooped indoors with such tension, coupled with the discord between herself and Jerrick, and the strange looks she received for wearing the ring, Elena had had enough.
Eiran broke the quietude, eventually. "You've had a falling out with Jerrick, haven't you?" he asked in his quiet way.
Elena's jaw clenched at the mention of that name. "Yes," she said shortly.
Since that night at the club, she had avoided her 'guide and guardian' like a plague. The only time she came near him was during team briefings and chance encounters. During the meetings, she forced herself to pay attention to what he said but did not acknowledge him otherwise. When their paths crossed outside group conferences, she ignored his very existence. She was not surprised that the other members of the team noticed their estrangement and while she realized on some level that it was not good for morale, the outraged part of her did not care.
"Why?" Eiran prompted and Elena held back annoyance.
"I don't agree with some of his principles and actions. No, I _strongly_ disagree. I also don't like the way he manipulates things to suit his needs or the way he pushes everyone else without consideration," she surprised herself by adding. "He doesn't give a damn how everyone else fares or who suffers, as long as we accomplish the objective."
She could see Eiran's expression asking if she and Jerrick didn't share a common objective. "We may have the same goal but that doesn't mean I'll blindly do as he says. I may just be a means to an end for him, a tool to complete this mission, that I have feelings and convictions, too. This tool _cares_ how it's used. Can you see what I'm saying?" she asked in return.
He was silent for a while, considering her words. "I think, a little," he said eventually and lapsed into silence. The time let Elena brood over the progress of their task, what little there was of it.
::Five more,:: she thought, fighting the despair that threatened to crash on her. ::But when this is over, you will have earned your reward. You would have _Stefan_ and a wonderful life with him ahead of you,:: she reminded herself fiercely.
Her fingers of her right hand stroked the ring on her left unconsciously. ::Soon.:: Doubts assailed her; what if he didn't want her anymore? What if he hated her? ::He doesn't hate you. It's the misunderstanding. When this is all over, you just have to explain everything to him. He loves you; he'll not leave you,:: the reasonable side of her reassured. Elena felt a surge of bittersweet pain that threatened to drown her. She missed him so much that she could almost feel his arms, cool and solid around her.
She came to a circular slab of stone that might have once been part of a building in ancient Rome. She sat down, biting her lip as she turned her face to the Gulf on Antalya. To her right, the sun was setting, light bouncing off the waves with almost painful intensity.
"Elena?"
She had forgotten about him momentarily. She acknowledged him with a tiny smile and patted the stone beside her.
"You looked really sad there for a while there," he commented, accepting the invitation to sit, but twisted sideways to face her. Concern shaded his voice and showed in his eyes although the rest of his expression remained casual.
"Nothing earthshaking," she said, forcing a light tone. He kept his patient expression, waiting. She sighed again, feeling the need to just _talk_ to someone, to pour her heart out. "I was thinking about this whole 'quest' of mine... ours," she admitted.
"We've only eliminated two of the Old Ones. There are seven of them. That leaves five more. So much has happened, so much pain and effort that makes my head reel just thinking about it – and we're barely more than a quarter way through. It just feels so..." she trailed off, searching for words to explain her feelings.
"Hopeless," he murmured. He understood hopelessness, perhaps more than she. He hesitated, but she looked so sad... His hand reached out, his fingers touched her chin, tipped her face up with gentle pressure. "It's a heavy burden you carry, the unmaking of these ancient and powerful beings. It is understandable for you to feel the pressure and strain of the responsibility.
"But you're not alone. You have us and we – the Turned, at least – will not abandon you to do this alone." Their gazes met and held for an intense second. "We'll take one day at a time, each step as it comes and someday, not too long away, we will succeed." He said it with complete faith and refreshing confidence, "We will."
Shakily, Elena laughed, but there was a bitter edge in it. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out the thought that his words called to mind, "Well, I don't know about _we_, but I will." She could tell that her words had startled and stung him. He had said 'we' in an effort to show his support and she had thrown it back in his face. She had to explain.
She caught his hand as he pulled it back. "I _will_ finish the task, Eiran. I have no choice," she said earnestly, a tinge of apology in her eyes. "Even if I live a hundred years, a thousand years, I will finish the task. Nothing can stop me, not time, not even death."
He stared at her uncomprehending. "I will not – literally cannot – die until my task is complete," she explained more explicitly. "Until then, I will live forever and no matter how mortal my injury, I will come back." She released his hand, looking miserable. "It's... very disturbing to know that you have no choice but to go on, that death is no escape."
Minutes passed in silence and the sun dipped below the horizon. Lights came on behind them, in the streets and buildings of Antalya, but for the most part, the beach remained shrouded in shadow.
"Well," Eiran breathed at length. "Burdens on the soul indeed."
Elena did not respond, embroiled in her personal turmoil; angst and guilt and fear and desolation. She started when she felt his hand close on her own. He took it and enclosed it warmly in both his palms. "We'll try and stay with you for as long as we can, milady. It will be an honor. And I pray that we live to see the end together."
She stared at his face, half seen in the dimness. Her heart lurched at such graciousness on his part. "I don't deserve you," she whispered.
His face lifted, curved, as he smiled. "Nonsense!" he chided, such mischievousness in his voice that it wrung a laugh out of her. "Now," he added when her spurt of hilarity ended. "Was that the reason for the unhappy look earlier?"
Elena hesitated. She wasn't sure she wanted to reveal such personal thoughts and feelings. But talking about her misery and her temporary immortality – what an oxymoron! – had been such a relief.
"It's...It's Stefan. He was so angry when he left. I could see it in his eyes, he felt completely betrayed. And here I am, my life and death sold for a second chance with him, and at the end of it all, he might refuse to see me, to listen to me, to let me explain. And then where will I be? If he hates me–"
"He won't!" Eiran said firmly. "He can't possibly hate you. He'd be a fool to. Not when you love him so much. If he had a lick of sense, he'd realize how lucky he is and fall on his knees in thanksgiving!" he went on with feeling. Elena almost giggled at the mental pictures his words conjured, of Stefan collapsing onto the floor before her, hands and face lifted in awe and gratitude. She was so engrossed in the image that she missed the odd strain in Eiran's voice.
"A fool," he muttered. Abruptly, he rose. "It's getting late. We should get back before the others worry," he said, extending a hand to help her to her feet.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. Please take a moment to drop me a note with comments - it would be much loved and appreciated!