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_
* Author's Note(s)
Date posted: 10 February 2003
* Sorry this is late! And thanks to Moreta for so graciously agreeing to be my interim editor while my regular editor's away for a week!
~ Thirty Eight ~
Waking. The languorous return of awareness. He shared it with her, through the light touch he maintained on her mind. The first thing she noticed was how stiff her entire body felt. She shifted minutely and he felt through the link, the pain in her chest that caused her to abandon that course of action. Cautiously, she opened her eyes to find an unfamiliar ceiling above her. He followed her train of thought as her mind groped instinctively to orient herself. Breath choked painfully as memory caught up with her.
He watched her chest heave with a sharp intake of air and her lips twisted in remembered sorrow, then formed a soundless 'no' in denial. Deliberately, he moved, noting as the motion registered in the periphery of her vision. Her head turned slowly on the pillow. When she saw who it was, she reversed the action. He felt the sharp stab of loathing and frustration that went through her; loathing for him, frustration at her inability to escape his presence.
Jerrick, seated by her bed, leaned forward with an elbow planted on each knee and steepled his fingers. He regarded her dispassionately. "I could say well done, but you wouldn't appreciate the praise. I'll advise you instead to deal with it. We both know it had to be done and so did he; there was no other way."
"That's a lie. If it weren't for your self-centeredness, it would never have come to this," she said as forcefully as she could, staring resolutely at the pristine white plaster above her. He felt the sting of her eyes, burning and dry.
"It takes two to tango, or so they say," he said acidly, "I might point out that you agreed to this bargain freely. Neither am I the only one who stands to gain. If it weren't for me, you would never have been offered your second chance."
"This is not the price I would have paid. Monstrosities like Kier Achmed and Ambrose Meremoth deserved to die. But Athanasia Omar was... good. If it left up to me, this undertaking would have stopped there," she vowed.
"You thought that all Old Ones are evil. You thought you were doing the world a favor by ridding it of them." He felt her pang of guilt as his statement of facts fell like accusations on her ears. "It never occurred to you that they simply _are_ and they go through lives of their own in whatever strange fashion they choose. It is your own fault for letting your prejudices dictate your actions. Now that you have been proven wrong, do not try and cast all the blame on me!" he retorted heatedly. She made no reply, but he sensed her intractability and tried another tact.
"What if the other three are as vile as the first two were?"
"What if they aren't?" she countered immediately.
"You already know for a fact that the one called Klaus, at least, deserves his fate," Jerrick reminded pointedly. Then he went on, wearily. "Elena, finish this. You've already passed the point of return. You know as well as I do that in this, it is all or nothing."
The twist in her lips clued him that she doubted his words. Again, he changed his approach. His voice hardened. "Think of the consequences if you don't complete the task. Do you want to live immortal and invulnerable for all eternity?"
Her head turned marginally, enough for her to shoot him a poisonous look. He ignored it, for the link showed him her rebellious acquiescence; she would not balk at their agreement now. She had no other option; she preserved her own sense of self-interest as well. He turned to a different matter, distracting her. "Don't you want to know what happened after you were stabbed?"
Her newly-healed heart began to pound as the question sunk in. He caught the mental images her imagination showed her as speculation ran rampant. None of the visions were favorable.
"What happened?" she asked finally in a near-whisper.
He gave her the run down in chronological order. "There were humans living in the clan. One came down the hall. Gabrielle made the mistake of letting her live. She brought down the entire clan on the team. She died for her folly. Trent died as well. Maddy went down – but she survived – leaving Ben and Alvin guarding one door each. The ones outside fared better.
"The two women in the room didn't get through the team; they were in the ceremonial chamber already. Apparently, the younger one was suppose to become a vampire that night," Jerrick reported, inflectionless. It was something they had not been prepared for but Jerrick did not apologize or make excuses. And besides, he thought, the outcome of that misadventure had not been altogether bad.
"They chose a grand time to appear! If they had come before or after the unmaking, I might have been able to act against them," she said. The frustration that rang in her voice would have been obvious even without the emotion searing like a beacon in her mind. "As it was, I was too caught up to do more than stand there and take the hit–" she broke off with a tiny gasp of horror and a sinking sensation in her stomach. Jerrick knew that exact instant her mind lit on the unleashing of the accumulated Power.
"What happened?" she asked a second time. No need to define what she was referring to.
"All went well," he said in a reassuring tone. "Your subconscious took over and channeled the Power through your gift. It neatly solves our other problem; there won't be a mob of fanatic vampires hunting us down in some misguided sense of revenge."
It took a while for his vague account to be assimilated and then he watched as realization bloomed in her mind. ::...won't be... vampires…:: The thought echoed in her head hollowly. "What do you mean, channeled Power through my gift?" she hissed in dawning horror.
"Turning," he said shortly, matter-of-fact. Then he let his voice take on tones of excitement. "Now I understand why you were given that ability. It all fits. You're supposed to take the Power loosed when an Old One is unmade and Turn vampires back into humans." If he was satisfied, even smug, she was not. A sick feeling settled in her stomach and she felt bile rise up her throat. He heard her next question before she spoke it.
"Are you telling me," she asked slowly, carefully, "That I Turned _all the vampires in that clan against their will_?"
He met her eye as squarely as the position of her head would allow. "Yes." Her mind overturned in turmoil, emotions too strong for her to find words. He let go of the link then; there was no further need for it. "I either wiped their minds or planted false memories on them. My agents are scattering them to various surrounding towns as we speak. The vampires will wake with no memory of being other than human."
Elena turned on her side, presenting him with her back. Her fist thumped on the mattress in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "No...no..." she whispered tearily. He rose and took a limping step towards her, wondering if he should have kept the link open a while longer. "Get away!" she hissed at him when his hand was an inch away from touching her trembling shoulder.
He let his hand fall to his side but did not retreat otherwise. "Calm yourself," he commanded flatly. "It was best for everyone. Would you have them live with the grief of losing their 'father' in all but blood? Or for us to forever dodge their vengeance?"
She flung a hand at him, unmindful of her recovering injury. "Get away from me!" she shouted wildly. Behind him, he heard the door open as her cry summoned Madelene. "Jerrick, maybe you should let Elena rest quietly a while," she said diplomatically. She bustled into the room, as brisk as if she did not carry marks of recent wounds herself. Thankfully, Omar's children were peaceable for the most part and merely wanted to get past her to their sire. Had it not been for their governing philosophy, Maddy would have lost her life along with the others. As it was, her body would bear scars to the end of her days.
Clearly evicted, Jerrick spared her an unnerving stare before withdrawing with ill grace. When he was gone, Maddy subsided from fussing over her patient. "Elena. Have a care for my handiwork," she said gently, coaxing with a weak attempt at humor. "Is there anything I can get you?"
Elena still had her back turned to the rest of the room. She shook her head mutely. "Just leave me alone. Please," she begged in a desperate whisper. Maddy laid a hand on Elena's shoulder, a gesture the blonde allowed from the healer where she had rejected Jerrick's touch. The healer felt the fine tremors that ran through the slender body, but refrained from comment. "If you need me, call," the witch said in parting.
When she was sure she was alone, Elena let out a breath she had been holding in. Tears slipped over her skin, tracing an awkward path over the bridge of her nose and down the other side of her face to disappear into the pillow. Each silent sob brought wrenching pain from her injuries but she barely noticed; the mental and emotional hurt was so much greater.
"I'm sorry," she cried silently to the memory of Athanasia Omar. "I promised to use my gift to help and I promised to protect your children. But not like that, oh, not like that at all!
"And you won't even live on in their memories and hearts! They won't remember you, they'll forget all you've done for them, all you've taught them!" She dissolved into tears then, sore to her very being for breaking his trust and letting him down. It was the least she could have done since she could not spare him, and she had failed even in that.
* * *
Eiran sat by his window. It was night and he felt the stillness envelope him. In his hands, he gently cradled a simple picture frame. The moonlight through the casement was sufficient to show the smiling faces of the couple in the photograph, a moment of happiness captured and immortalized beneath the pane of glass.
The girl's rich mahogany hair cascaded over one shoulder as she leaned against the boy, arms thrown around his neck from behind. He in turn had one hand clasped around her wrist, cheek turned to lay against hers, eyes shining with quiet joy.
Eiran stared at the picture, with its color bleached in the moonlight. He looked much the same; a bare year had passed since he had been Turned and resumed the aging process. The girl's bright smile seemed to radiate from the picture, imbuing a still image with the essence of her vitality and personality. A thousand memories flashed in his mind's eye, fragments of remembered conversation sounded in his head. "It is not days that we remember," he quoted softly, "But moments." He sighed, trailing a finger over her face, trying to imagine that he was touching warm flesh.
"Grace, sweet," he began, searching for words to express the quandary he felt inside. "I still love you. And not a day goes by without me missing you. I wish you were here..." If she had been there, this dilemma would never have come about – would it? If she had been here, she would only be hurt by his infidelity... He grimaced impatiently. He had enough trouble without borrowing more from what-ifs and might-have-beens.
It had taken him a long time to come to terms with having killed her. In the end, it was she who had released him. He had known her too well after their time together; in the midst of his guilt and self-recriminations, his subconscious had supplied the response she would have given, had she been around to deliver it herself.
"Shall I be a harridan and yammer about how you should have changed me into a vampire when I asked?" he could almost hear her say in a tart tone. "What would that have gained us then? We would have been vampires for eternity, and you hating every moment of it. If things _hadn't_ run the way it did, you wouldn't have drawn Elena's attention and would never have been Turned." The irony had not been lost to Eiran. Given a choice between Grace and humanity, what would he have knowingly chosen? Shuddering, he had been thankful to never have been faced with that wrenching decision.
His mind wheeled, coming back to the present, where he faced another difficult conversation with her ghost. How to tell the woman you love, he wondered, that you might be in love with someone else? She had been gone a year, but it did not lessen the sense of guilt and betrayal he felt.
But even now, he could easily hear her saying in fondly scolding tones, "Eiran Blake, you really are hopeless sometimes. You finally got what you've always craved and wished for but could never hope to have; humanity! So I can't be there to share it with you. Fish-sticks!" Eiran nearly smiled; how she had hated seafood. "That's no excuse to waste the chance," she went on in his head, "Live! Laugh, cry, fight, and yes, love!" He ought to have known that she already know what was on his mind and in his heart. She would probably have known before he realized it himself. He drew in an unsteady breath, released it in an equally shaky sigh. "Oh, sweet," he started again. She didn't let him talk this time either. "Don't 'oh sweet' me! Just get off your behind and go! She needs you now!"
As if on cue, he heard Elena cry out. He was scarcely aware that he moved, but suddenly found himself out of his chair and bursting through Elena's door. His hand groped for and found the light switch. He flipped the knob and the room flooded with light.
She was sitting up in bed, knees drawn in beneath the covers and head buried in the sheets. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and her hair, loose and tangled, fell around her, making her look, very briefly, very bizarrely, like Cousin It.
::How could Grace – he – have known–?:: And then all other considerations were banished. "Elena?" His gentle query drew no response from her. He approached with quick steps. Behind him, the others crowded at the threshold, alerted by her call. He heard Maddy shoo everyone else off when it became apparent that there were no attacks. Having sent them back to their beds, the healer cast a last, measuring glance into the room and nodded. She closed the door, leaving it open a crack.
Eiran could see Elena's body trembling. Cautiously, he perched a hip on the bed and laid a hand lightly on one shaking shoulder. "Elena?" he tried again. This time, her shoulders heaved under his hand as she pulled in a long, calming breath. She lifted her head and met his concerned gaze in acknowledgement.
"Sorry" she murmured, brushing away the tears, embarrassed. "Bad dream. Didn't mean to wake you all up."
"It's all right. I was awake anyway," he said ruefully. He watched her push back her golden locks, combing her fingers through them in an automatic gesture of getting it out of her face and semi-organized. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She looked abstracted. "Hm?"
"The dream. Or...anything at all," he temporized.
"Oh. That." It was obvious by the flash of horror on her face that whatever she had seen was still fresh in her mind, the fear still raw. His hand, still on her shoulder, squeezed lightly in an attempt to reassure. She gazed at him solemnly, and Eiran had the unsettling feeling that she was taking his measure. He nearly withdrew the offer to talk but she nodded slowly. She placed a hand over his on her shoulder and squeezed in return. "You'd understand, wouldn't you?" she murmured, more to herself than to him. The wan smile she gave him held gratitude for his constant support of her and made his heart lurch spasmodically.
She slid backwards, propping a pillow behind her back and leaning against the headboard. She drew her legs up under the covers, rested crossed arms atop them and perched her chin at the back of one wrist. Her posture was compact, a protective ball, an upright version of the fetal curl. He wondered if she noticed. He planted his hand beside his hip and he rested his weight on it.
Her eyes dropped to the covers as she spoke. From her blank expression, Eiran guessed that she wasn't seeing the abstract floral print of the bedspread. "I dreamt that I lost control and Turned all the vampires against their will. I saw Stefan and Damon among them. They were angry and confused. And then I turned and saw my sister and aunt, and my childhood friends. They had fangs; they'd all become vampires. It was like I switched them, vampire for human. They closed in around me, screaming accusations, pleading for me to change them back–"
Elena broke off and closed her eyes. She drew another deep breath before she opened them and looked at him with an empty smile. "Well. You can imagine my relief when I woke up to realize that it wasn't real!" she said, injecting a false light tone into her voice.
He did not return her attempt at levity. "I don't think you can change people into vampires," he offered cautiously. "But the first part of the dream...It's what you're really afraid of, isn't it? Changing vampires against their will."
Her smile slipped, then disappeared altogether. "Of course." Her head bowed with the admission.
"I _do_ understand how you feel. I even agree with you, for most part. But... let me play the devil's advocate for a bit," he said, wanting to put the situation into perspective. Maybe if she saw things from a different angle, she would realize that she was hurting herself for no reason. "Most people wouldn't see a moral dilemma in this. Vampires were human once. It's balance of a sort, for them to become human again."
"It's not my place to decide that," she said firmly. "If I Turn them without their consent, I am no different from the vampire that changes a human against their will. My role is to help them if they should want to return, not dictate to them!"
He had no answer to that vehement response and the silence drew out for a long time. When Elena broke it, it took him a moment to realize that she had spoken.
"And besides," she breathed, "I have promises to keep."
"Promises?" he asked.
"I made Omar three promises." Her head came up, showing a hint of the proud old Elena Gilbert. He must have looked confused. "The Old One," she clarified. Her reply only confounded him more. "You made promises to an Old One? Why?"
She stared at him directly and he felt anew the full force of her deep blue eyes. Their color reminded him of the talisman he had worn for thirty years, the curse she had released him from. He felt his breath catch and hoped she did not notice.
"It was all I could do for him," she whispered at last. He refrained from asking why she would need to do _anything_ for one of _them_ and waited for her to continue. She laid her chin back atop her hand and spoke broodingly. "That girl had it right. He didn't deserve to die," she broke off again. Eiran could see her frustration as she struggled to convey how she felt and what she knew.
"The others – Kier Achmed, Ambrose Meremoth – their Names mean death. They thrive on it. Athanasia Omar means everlasting life. All he cared about was giving and preserving life. Not just existence, but _living_; the essence of life. Emotions. Actions. Experiences. Am I making any sense?" she demanded of him.
"Yes. I think I see," Eiran enunciated slowly. And yet, at the same time, his mind turned to others like himself who had been forced to live off other people like parasites. In his head, he saw victims robbed of their sanity by contact with vampires and others whose lives were stolen outright. "But, his good intentions created a race of dangerous predators. And through them, he brought torment to so many–"
"He wouldn't have hurt anyone! Names do not lie," Elena retorted hotly. She uncoiled from her position, hands flattened against the bed on either side of her and legs straightening.
"No, I'm not saying _he_ would, personally," Eiran agreed evenly. "But not everyone has his scruples. Or the benefit of his influence." Now it was she who had no answer. "Let's not forget that he got his power from other living creatures. And his followers don't drink tomato juice either. Don't romanticize him, Elena," he said quietly.
"I'm not!" she flared. She made a slashing motion with one hand. "All this is besides the point. He was _good_. Decent. If there were more people like him, the world would be a better place."
"Elena–"
"Stop it, Eiran. You didn't know him, you don't understand," she snapped. "I don't want to hear anymore," she said angrily. She was being unreasonable. It was obvious that she did not want him to destroy her shining mental image of the Old One. Didn't she see that by clinging to that image, she was only hurting herself?
He took a calming breath and inclined his head. She was in no frame of mind to listen just then. An awkward silence ensued.
"What were your three promises?" he asked finally, to break the uneasy stillness.
She had resumed her curled position by then. "Not to harm his children. To only use my gift to help those who don't want to be vampires." She paused and looked up at him as she recited the third vow. "And not to cry for him." Her lips twisted wryly. "Does that make me thrice forsworn, do you think?" She didn't sound concerned about breaking the third promise; it was the first two that weighed on her.
"I...I'm afraid so," he replied neutrally.
"Darn," she said with irony. She sighed. "Oh Eiran. What am I to do?"
"About what, milady?"
She was so distracted that she didn't notice his use of the old address. "About this new development. Channeling the Old One's Power to Turn vampires. Now that Trent–" she paused to steady her voice, "We'll need to find an alternative way to dispel the Power harmlessly. Magic and healing don't take up enough of it. Jerrick," her voice hardened at the mention, "Will seize this new option rather than 'waste time' finding another way." Her features drew together in determined lines. "I _won't_ Turn vampires by force. I _won't_!" She thumped the bed with one fist to emphasize her point. Eiran saw her wince and one hand go to her wound.
"Be careful," he admonished, closing his fingers urgently over the fist that still lay on the bed. "Maddy has enough to do with Ben and the others' injuries, not to mention keeping up her own strength, to patch you back up all over again.
A guilty look passed over her face briefly and he felt her relax. "That's better. Now, it's late and if you don't get your rest, Maddy will come after my neck." She rearranged herself in preparation of going back to sleep but her eyes were still open and lucid where her face lay in the crook of one elbow.
"I won't misuse my gift like that," she repeated."It's _wrong_. Even without my promise–" She broke off and brooded. "Do you know what he said to me? He said he didn't blame me for what I was doing. He knew why I was doing it and _let_ me do it. He _sacrificed_ himself to my duty, my benefit." No need to specify who _he_ was.
She was getting worked up again. He leaned forward to lay a finger across her lips. She quieted at the touch and her eyes locked on his. The contact sent a jolt up his arm, as if he had been electrocuted. "Sh," he managed to say soothingly. "Rest now." The expression in her eyes – hunger and loneliness – made his throat constrict. They were so close. If he moved forward just a little and tilted his head to one side...
Elena blinked, as if coming out of a daze. She smiled and her head bobbed a little on the pillow. "Right. Think Maddy," she said wryly.
The spell was broken. Eiran felt a small smile touch his own mouth as he drew back, but inside, he was still shaking from the near encounter. "You got it," he replied softly. He rose and walked towards the door. One hand on the light switch, he turned to look at her, "Good night, Elena."
She momentarily looked as if she wanted to tell him not to leave her alone, or perhaps to leave the light on. But all she said was, "Good night, Eiran. And thank you."
"My pleasure," he replied, and threw the switch.
Back in his room, he buried his face in his hands. When he finally looked up, a glint of light drew him to the window. The picture frame lay on the floor, having fallen forgotten from his lap as he rose abruptly. He bent to pick it up and stared again at the smiling girl in the photo.
* * *
Their band of nine made their way across the airfield to the waiting plane. Gusts snatched the edges of their coats and at their hair. Elena's golden locks became a shining banner against a sky streaked with the pink of dawn. Eiran was a dark figure beside her, a pseudo shadow.
Pale blue eyes trained on the blonde broodingly. Like the rest of the team, he was aware of her nightmares. Eiran and Madelene had taken to sitting by her bedside at night. The healer's soporifics seemed to have little effect in calming her troubled spirit.
They had lingered in Turkey to allow her wound to close and her strength to recover enough to endure the journey. And now they were going home.
During those idle days, Jerrick had been embroiled in many impromptu team meetings. The fact that all the vampires in the two-mile radius of the Palace had been Turned had also been the topic of spirited discussion. Those who truly hated vampires had been eager to use Elena's abilities as a weapon. Others who enjoyed the challenge of actually fighting vampires had balked at the idea.
There had been no point trying to hide Elena's invulnerability. In view of that, some of the hunters felt that they were no longer needed for the missions. What Jerrick could not divulge was that, if his plan was to be implemented, the hunters would be needed more than ever before.
He felt the burn of discontent and his heart stirred, disquieted. He wanted closure: he yearned to put his half-formed plan into motion, to see if it gained him the desired outcome. All this would have to wait until they got back to Seattle, however.
He mounted the stairs and took his seat. Across the aisle, Elena stared out the window. Eiran finished storing their luggage in the overhead compartment and slid into the seat beside her. The rest of their party spread out in pairs and trios.
As he pretended to pay polite attention to the air stewardess demonstrating the safety procedures, his mind mulled over Elena. He had not imagined they would come to be at such bitter odds. Perhaps it was better this way, in the end, he reflected.
However, she had to get over her guilt of changing vampires, if she was to fall in with his plan. Pushing her may drive her dangerously close to the edge. It was time for an oblique approach.
The image of a petite girl, black hair streaked with dark pink and a ferocious scowl marring her brow, rose to mind. And, he mused, he had just the tool he needed.
He would find out if he was right, when they got back to Seattle.
NOTE: (I doubt this is really necessary, but just in case) Cousin It is from the Addams Family, a creature that basically looks like a mound of hair with no other visible features or limbs.
* If you read this, if you like it, if you hate it, please let me know! Your feedback really makes a difference. Thanks. =)
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
* Author's Note(s)
Date posted: 10 February 2003
* Sorry this is late! And thanks to Moreta for so graciously agreeing to be my interim editor while my regular editor's away for a week!
~ Thirty Eight ~
Waking. The languorous return of awareness. He shared it with her, through the light touch he maintained on her mind. The first thing she noticed was how stiff her entire body felt. She shifted minutely and he felt through the link, the pain in her chest that caused her to abandon that course of action. Cautiously, she opened her eyes to find an unfamiliar ceiling above her. He followed her train of thought as her mind groped instinctively to orient herself. Breath choked painfully as memory caught up with her.
He watched her chest heave with a sharp intake of air and her lips twisted in remembered sorrow, then formed a soundless 'no' in denial. Deliberately, he moved, noting as the motion registered in the periphery of her vision. Her head turned slowly on the pillow. When she saw who it was, she reversed the action. He felt the sharp stab of loathing and frustration that went through her; loathing for him, frustration at her inability to escape his presence.
Jerrick, seated by her bed, leaned forward with an elbow planted on each knee and steepled his fingers. He regarded her dispassionately. "I could say well done, but you wouldn't appreciate the praise. I'll advise you instead to deal with it. We both know it had to be done and so did he; there was no other way."
"That's a lie. If it weren't for your self-centeredness, it would never have come to this," she said as forcefully as she could, staring resolutely at the pristine white plaster above her. He felt the sting of her eyes, burning and dry.
"It takes two to tango, or so they say," he said acidly, "I might point out that you agreed to this bargain freely. Neither am I the only one who stands to gain. If it weren't for me, you would never have been offered your second chance."
"This is not the price I would have paid. Monstrosities like Kier Achmed and Ambrose Meremoth deserved to die. But Athanasia Omar was... good. If it left up to me, this undertaking would have stopped there," she vowed.
"You thought that all Old Ones are evil. You thought you were doing the world a favor by ridding it of them." He felt her pang of guilt as his statement of facts fell like accusations on her ears. "It never occurred to you that they simply _are_ and they go through lives of their own in whatever strange fashion they choose. It is your own fault for letting your prejudices dictate your actions. Now that you have been proven wrong, do not try and cast all the blame on me!" he retorted heatedly. She made no reply, but he sensed her intractability and tried another tact.
"What if the other three are as vile as the first two were?"
"What if they aren't?" she countered immediately.
"You already know for a fact that the one called Klaus, at least, deserves his fate," Jerrick reminded pointedly. Then he went on, wearily. "Elena, finish this. You've already passed the point of return. You know as well as I do that in this, it is all or nothing."
The twist in her lips clued him that she doubted his words. Again, he changed his approach. His voice hardened. "Think of the consequences if you don't complete the task. Do you want to live immortal and invulnerable for all eternity?"
Her head turned marginally, enough for her to shoot him a poisonous look. He ignored it, for the link showed him her rebellious acquiescence; she would not balk at their agreement now. She had no other option; she preserved her own sense of self-interest as well. He turned to a different matter, distracting her. "Don't you want to know what happened after you were stabbed?"
Her newly-healed heart began to pound as the question sunk in. He caught the mental images her imagination showed her as speculation ran rampant. None of the visions were favorable.
"What happened?" she asked finally in a near-whisper.
He gave her the run down in chronological order. "There were humans living in the clan. One came down the hall. Gabrielle made the mistake of letting her live. She brought down the entire clan on the team. She died for her folly. Trent died as well. Maddy went down – but she survived – leaving Ben and Alvin guarding one door each. The ones outside fared better.
"The two women in the room didn't get through the team; they were in the ceremonial chamber already. Apparently, the younger one was suppose to become a vampire that night," Jerrick reported, inflectionless. It was something they had not been prepared for but Jerrick did not apologize or make excuses. And besides, he thought, the outcome of that misadventure had not been altogether bad.
"They chose a grand time to appear! If they had come before or after the unmaking, I might have been able to act against them," she said. The frustration that rang in her voice would have been obvious even without the emotion searing like a beacon in her mind. "As it was, I was too caught up to do more than stand there and take the hit–" she broke off with a tiny gasp of horror and a sinking sensation in her stomach. Jerrick knew that exact instant her mind lit on the unleashing of the accumulated Power.
"What happened?" she asked a second time. No need to define what she was referring to.
"All went well," he said in a reassuring tone. "Your subconscious took over and channeled the Power through your gift. It neatly solves our other problem; there won't be a mob of fanatic vampires hunting us down in some misguided sense of revenge."
It took a while for his vague account to be assimilated and then he watched as realization bloomed in her mind. ::...won't be... vampires…:: The thought echoed in her head hollowly. "What do you mean, channeled Power through my gift?" she hissed in dawning horror.
"Turning," he said shortly, matter-of-fact. Then he let his voice take on tones of excitement. "Now I understand why you were given that ability. It all fits. You're supposed to take the Power loosed when an Old One is unmade and Turn vampires back into humans." If he was satisfied, even smug, she was not. A sick feeling settled in her stomach and she felt bile rise up her throat. He heard her next question before she spoke it.
"Are you telling me," she asked slowly, carefully, "That I Turned _all the vampires in that clan against their will_?"
He met her eye as squarely as the position of her head would allow. "Yes." Her mind overturned in turmoil, emotions too strong for her to find words. He let go of the link then; there was no further need for it. "I either wiped their minds or planted false memories on them. My agents are scattering them to various surrounding towns as we speak. The vampires will wake with no memory of being other than human."
Elena turned on her side, presenting him with her back. Her fist thumped on the mattress in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "No...no..." she whispered tearily. He rose and took a limping step towards her, wondering if he should have kept the link open a while longer. "Get away!" she hissed at him when his hand was an inch away from touching her trembling shoulder.
He let his hand fall to his side but did not retreat otherwise. "Calm yourself," he commanded flatly. "It was best for everyone. Would you have them live with the grief of losing their 'father' in all but blood? Or for us to forever dodge their vengeance?"
She flung a hand at him, unmindful of her recovering injury. "Get away from me!" she shouted wildly. Behind him, he heard the door open as her cry summoned Madelene. "Jerrick, maybe you should let Elena rest quietly a while," she said diplomatically. She bustled into the room, as brisk as if she did not carry marks of recent wounds herself. Thankfully, Omar's children were peaceable for the most part and merely wanted to get past her to their sire. Had it not been for their governing philosophy, Maddy would have lost her life along with the others. As it was, her body would bear scars to the end of her days.
Clearly evicted, Jerrick spared her an unnerving stare before withdrawing with ill grace. When he was gone, Maddy subsided from fussing over her patient. "Elena. Have a care for my handiwork," she said gently, coaxing with a weak attempt at humor. "Is there anything I can get you?"
Elena still had her back turned to the rest of the room. She shook her head mutely. "Just leave me alone. Please," she begged in a desperate whisper. Maddy laid a hand on Elena's shoulder, a gesture the blonde allowed from the healer where she had rejected Jerrick's touch. The healer felt the fine tremors that ran through the slender body, but refrained from comment. "If you need me, call," the witch said in parting.
When she was sure she was alone, Elena let out a breath she had been holding in. Tears slipped over her skin, tracing an awkward path over the bridge of her nose and down the other side of her face to disappear into the pillow. Each silent sob brought wrenching pain from her injuries but she barely noticed; the mental and emotional hurt was so much greater.
"I'm sorry," she cried silently to the memory of Athanasia Omar. "I promised to use my gift to help and I promised to protect your children. But not like that, oh, not like that at all!
"And you won't even live on in their memories and hearts! They won't remember you, they'll forget all you've done for them, all you've taught them!" She dissolved into tears then, sore to her very being for breaking his trust and letting him down. It was the least she could have done since she could not spare him, and she had failed even in that.
* * *
Eiran sat by his window. It was night and he felt the stillness envelope him. In his hands, he gently cradled a simple picture frame. The moonlight through the casement was sufficient to show the smiling faces of the couple in the photograph, a moment of happiness captured and immortalized beneath the pane of glass.
The girl's rich mahogany hair cascaded over one shoulder as she leaned against the boy, arms thrown around his neck from behind. He in turn had one hand clasped around her wrist, cheek turned to lay against hers, eyes shining with quiet joy.
Eiran stared at the picture, with its color bleached in the moonlight. He looked much the same; a bare year had passed since he had been Turned and resumed the aging process. The girl's bright smile seemed to radiate from the picture, imbuing a still image with the essence of her vitality and personality. A thousand memories flashed in his mind's eye, fragments of remembered conversation sounded in his head. "It is not days that we remember," he quoted softly, "But moments." He sighed, trailing a finger over her face, trying to imagine that he was touching warm flesh.
"Grace, sweet," he began, searching for words to express the quandary he felt inside. "I still love you. And not a day goes by without me missing you. I wish you were here..." If she had been there, this dilemma would never have come about – would it? If she had been here, she would only be hurt by his infidelity... He grimaced impatiently. He had enough trouble without borrowing more from what-ifs and might-have-beens.
It had taken him a long time to come to terms with having killed her. In the end, it was she who had released him. He had known her too well after their time together; in the midst of his guilt and self-recriminations, his subconscious had supplied the response she would have given, had she been around to deliver it herself.
"Shall I be a harridan and yammer about how you should have changed me into a vampire when I asked?" he could almost hear her say in a tart tone. "What would that have gained us then? We would have been vampires for eternity, and you hating every moment of it. If things _hadn't_ run the way it did, you wouldn't have drawn Elena's attention and would never have been Turned." The irony had not been lost to Eiran. Given a choice between Grace and humanity, what would he have knowingly chosen? Shuddering, he had been thankful to never have been faced with that wrenching decision.
His mind wheeled, coming back to the present, where he faced another difficult conversation with her ghost. How to tell the woman you love, he wondered, that you might be in love with someone else? She had been gone a year, but it did not lessen the sense of guilt and betrayal he felt.
But even now, he could easily hear her saying in fondly scolding tones, "Eiran Blake, you really are hopeless sometimes. You finally got what you've always craved and wished for but could never hope to have; humanity! So I can't be there to share it with you. Fish-sticks!" Eiran nearly smiled; how she had hated seafood. "That's no excuse to waste the chance," she went on in his head, "Live! Laugh, cry, fight, and yes, love!" He ought to have known that she already know what was on his mind and in his heart. She would probably have known before he realized it himself. He drew in an unsteady breath, released it in an equally shaky sigh. "Oh, sweet," he started again. She didn't let him talk this time either. "Don't 'oh sweet' me! Just get off your behind and go! She needs you now!"
As if on cue, he heard Elena cry out. He was scarcely aware that he moved, but suddenly found himself out of his chair and bursting through Elena's door. His hand groped for and found the light switch. He flipped the knob and the room flooded with light.
She was sitting up in bed, knees drawn in beneath the covers and head buried in the sheets. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and her hair, loose and tangled, fell around her, making her look, very briefly, very bizarrely, like Cousin It.
::How could Grace – he – have known–?:: And then all other considerations were banished. "Elena?" His gentle query drew no response from her. He approached with quick steps. Behind him, the others crowded at the threshold, alerted by her call. He heard Maddy shoo everyone else off when it became apparent that there were no attacks. Having sent them back to their beds, the healer cast a last, measuring glance into the room and nodded. She closed the door, leaving it open a crack.
Eiran could see Elena's body trembling. Cautiously, he perched a hip on the bed and laid a hand lightly on one shaking shoulder. "Elena?" he tried again. This time, her shoulders heaved under his hand as she pulled in a long, calming breath. She lifted her head and met his concerned gaze in acknowledgement.
"Sorry" she murmured, brushing away the tears, embarrassed. "Bad dream. Didn't mean to wake you all up."
"It's all right. I was awake anyway," he said ruefully. He watched her push back her golden locks, combing her fingers through them in an automatic gesture of getting it out of her face and semi-organized. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She looked abstracted. "Hm?"
"The dream. Or...anything at all," he temporized.
"Oh. That." It was obvious by the flash of horror on her face that whatever she had seen was still fresh in her mind, the fear still raw. His hand, still on her shoulder, squeezed lightly in an attempt to reassure. She gazed at him solemnly, and Eiran had the unsettling feeling that she was taking his measure. He nearly withdrew the offer to talk but she nodded slowly. She placed a hand over his on her shoulder and squeezed in return. "You'd understand, wouldn't you?" she murmured, more to herself than to him. The wan smile she gave him held gratitude for his constant support of her and made his heart lurch spasmodically.
She slid backwards, propping a pillow behind her back and leaning against the headboard. She drew her legs up under the covers, rested crossed arms atop them and perched her chin at the back of one wrist. Her posture was compact, a protective ball, an upright version of the fetal curl. He wondered if she noticed. He planted his hand beside his hip and he rested his weight on it.
Her eyes dropped to the covers as she spoke. From her blank expression, Eiran guessed that she wasn't seeing the abstract floral print of the bedspread. "I dreamt that I lost control and Turned all the vampires against their will. I saw Stefan and Damon among them. They were angry and confused. And then I turned and saw my sister and aunt, and my childhood friends. They had fangs; they'd all become vampires. It was like I switched them, vampire for human. They closed in around me, screaming accusations, pleading for me to change them back–"
Elena broke off and closed her eyes. She drew another deep breath before she opened them and looked at him with an empty smile. "Well. You can imagine my relief when I woke up to realize that it wasn't real!" she said, injecting a false light tone into her voice.
He did not return her attempt at levity. "I don't think you can change people into vampires," he offered cautiously. "But the first part of the dream...It's what you're really afraid of, isn't it? Changing vampires against their will."
Her smile slipped, then disappeared altogether. "Of course." Her head bowed with the admission.
"I _do_ understand how you feel. I even agree with you, for most part. But... let me play the devil's advocate for a bit," he said, wanting to put the situation into perspective. Maybe if she saw things from a different angle, she would realize that she was hurting herself for no reason. "Most people wouldn't see a moral dilemma in this. Vampires were human once. It's balance of a sort, for them to become human again."
"It's not my place to decide that," she said firmly. "If I Turn them without their consent, I am no different from the vampire that changes a human against their will. My role is to help them if they should want to return, not dictate to them!"
He had no answer to that vehement response and the silence drew out for a long time. When Elena broke it, it took him a moment to realize that she had spoken.
"And besides," she breathed, "I have promises to keep."
"Promises?" he asked.
"I made Omar three promises." Her head came up, showing a hint of the proud old Elena Gilbert. He must have looked confused. "The Old One," she clarified. Her reply only confounded him more. "You made promises to an Old One? Why?"
She stared at him directly and he felt anew the full force of her deep blue eyes. Their color reminded him of the talisman he had worn for thirty years, the curse she had released him from. He felt his breath catch and hoped she did not notice.
"It was all I could do for him," she whispered at last. He refrained from asking why she would need to do _anything_ for one of _them_ and waited for her to continue. She laid her chin back atop her hand and spoke broodingly. "That girl had it right. He didn't deserve to die," she broke off again. Eiran could see her frustration as she struggled to convey how she felt and what she knew.
"The others – Kier Achmed, Ambrose Meremoth – their Names mean death. They thrive on it. Athanasia Omar means everlasting life. All he cared about was giving and preserving life. Not just existence, but _living_; the essence of life. Emotions. Actions. Experiences. Am I making any sense?" she demanded of him.
"Yes. I think I see," Eiran enunciated slowly. And yet, at the same time, his mind turned to others like himself who had been forced to live off other people like parasites. In his head, he saw victims robbed of their sanity by contact with vampires and others whose lives were stolen outright. "But, his good intentions created a race of dangerous predators. And through them, he brought torment to so many–"
"He wouldn't have hurt anyone! Names do not lie," Elena retorted hotly. She uncoiled from her position, hands flattened against the bed on either side of her and legs straightening.
"No, I'm not saying _he_ would, personally," Eiran agreed evenly. "But not everyone has his scruples. Or the benefit of his influence." Now it was she who had no answer. "Let's not forget that he got his power from other living creatures. And his followers don't drink tomato juice either. Don't romanticize him, Elena," he said quietly.
"I'm not!" she flared. She made a slashing motion with one hand. "All this is besides the point. He was _good_. Decent. If there were more people like him, the world would be a better place."
"Elena–"
"Stop it, Eiran. You didn't know him, you don't understand," she snapped. "I don't want to hear anymore," she said angrily. She was being unreasonable. It was obvious that she did not want him to destroy her shining mental image of the Old One. Didn't she see that by clinging to that image, she was only hurting herself?
He took a calming breath and inclined his head. She was in no frame of mind to listen just then. An awkward silence ensued.
"What were your three promises?" he asked finally, to break the uneasy stillness.
She had resumed her curled position by then. "Not to harm his children. To only use my gift to help those who don't want to be vampires." She paused and looked up at him as she recited the third vow. "And not to cry for him." Her lips twisted wryly. "Does that make me thrice forsworn, do you think?" She didn't sound concerned about breaking the third promise; it was the first two that weighed on her.
"I...I'm afraid so," he replied neutrally.
"Darn," she said with irony. She sighed. "Oh Eiran. What am I to do?"
"About what, milady?"
She was so distracted that she didn't notice his use of the old address. "About this new development. Channeling the Old One's Power to Turn vampires. Now that Trent–" she paused to steady her voice, "We'll need to find an alternative way to dispel the Power harmlessly. Magic and healing don't take up enough of it. Jerrick," her voice hardened at the mention, "Will seize this new option rather than 'waste time' finding another way." Her features drew together in determined lines. "I _won't_ Turn vampires by force. I _won't_!" She thumped the bed with one fist to emphasize her point. Eiran saw her wince and one hand go to her wound.
"Be careful," he admonished, closing his fingers urgently over the fist that still lay on the bed. "Maddy has enough to do with Ben and the others' injuries, not to mention keeping up her own strength, to patch you back up all over again.
A guilty look passed over her face briefly and he felt her relax. "That's better. Now, it's late and if you don't get your rest, Maddy will come after my neck." She rearranged herself in preparation of going back to sleep but her eyes were still open and lucid where her face lay in the crook of one elbow.
"I won't misuse my gift like that," she repeated."It's _wrong_. Even without my promise–" She broke off and brooded. "Do you know what he said to me? He said he didn't blame me for what I was doing. He knew why I was doing it and _let_ me do it. He _sacrificed_ himself to my duty, my benefit." No need to specify who _he_ was.
She was getting worked up again. He leaned forward to lay a finger across her lips. She quieted at the touch and her eyes locked on his. The contact sent a jolt up his arm, as if he had been electrocuted. "Sh," he managed to say soothingly. "Rest now." The expression in her eyes – hunger and loneliness – made his throat constrict. They were so close. If he moved forward just a little and tilted his head to one side...
Elena blinked, as if coming out of a daze. She smiled and her head bobbed a little on the pillow. "Right. Think Maddy," she said wryly.
The spell was broken. Eiran felt a small smile touch his own mouth as he drew back, but inside, he was still shaking from the near encounter. "You got it," he replied softly. He rose and walked towards the door. One hand on the light switch, he turned to look at her, "Good night, Elena."
She momentarily looked as if she wanted to tell him not to leave her alone, or perhaps to leave the light on. But all she said was, "Good night, Eiran. And thank you."
"My pleasure," he replied, and threw the switch.
Back in his room, he buried his face in his hands. When he finally looked up, a glint of light drew him to the window. The picture frame lay on the floor, having fallen forgotten from his lap as he rose abruptly. He bent to pick it up and stared again at the smiling girl in the photo.
* * *
Their band of nine made their way across the airfield to the waiting plane. Gusts snatched the edges of their coats and at their hair. Elena's golden locks became a shining banner against a sky streaked with the pink of dawn. Eiran was a dark figure beside her, a pseudo shadow.
Pale blue eyes trained on the blonde broodingly. Like the rest of the team, he was aware of her nightmares. Eiran and Madelene had taken to sitting by her bedside at night. The healer's soporifics seemed to have little effect in calming her troubled spirit.
They had lingered in Turkey to allow her wound to close and her strength to recover enough to endure the journey. And now they were going home.
During those idle days, Jerrick had been embroiled in many impromptu team meetings. The fact that all the vampires in the two-mile radius of the Palace had been Turned had also been the topic of spirited discussion. Those who truly hated vampires had been eager to use Elena's abilities as a weapon. Others who enjoyed the challenge of actually fighting vampires had balked at the idea.
There had been no point trying to hide Elena's invulnerability. In view of that, some of the hunters felt that they were no longer needed for the missions. What Jerrick could not divulge was that, if his plan was to be implemented, the hunters would be needed more than ever before.
He felt the burn of discontent and his heart stirred, disquieted. He wanted closure: he yearned to put his half-formed plan into motion, to see if it gained him the desired outcome. All this would have to wait until they got back to Seattle, however.
He mounted the stairs and took his seat. Across the aisle, Elena stared out the window. Eiran finished storing their luggage in the overhead compartment and slid into the seat beside her. The rest of their party spread out in pairs and trios.
As he pretended to pay polite attention to the air stewardess demonstrating the safety procedures, his mind mulled over Elena. He had not imagined they would come to be at such bitter odds. Perhaps it was better this way, in the end, he reflected.
However, she had to get over her guilt of changing vampires, if she was to fall in with his plan. Pushing her may drive her dangerously close to the edge. It was time for an oblique approach.
The image of a petite girl, black hair streaked with dark pink and a ferocious scowl marring her brow, rose to mind. And, he mused, he had just the tool he needed.
He would find out if he was right, when they got back to Seattle.
NOTE: (I doubt this is really necessary, but just in case) Cousin It is from the Addams Family, a creature that basically looks like a mound of hair with no other visible features or limbs.
* If you read this, if you like it, if you hate it, please let me know! Your feedback really makes a difference. Thanks. =)