Warning: Mentions of blood and death, as well as heavy thoughts in this chapter.
Inside Of
"I must admit, out of all the possible places this little convo could have gone down, 'Motel In The Middle Of Ass-Crack Nowhere' was not on my list," Damon smirked, self important and self absorbed as always, but there was a spark in his eyes that Elijah didn't like: it was the look of a man who had lost everything, and didn't think he'd lose anymore if he picked a fight he knew he couldn't win, or walk out alive from. It said, 'Come and get me, you can't hurt me any worse.' And he really, truly didn't want to hurt him anymore, and it wasn't just because of his promise to Elena: he knew what it was like to be the elder sibling, to be protector and nurturer and defender, to put someone else's happiness above your own like it was second nature, because to you, it was, and he knew what it was like to be a brother's sole connection to humanity when they reached unfathomable depths of darkness and depravity. Because they were both brothers, and they both believed theirs were not beyond saving.
So, Elijah did Damon the greatest favour in his vampiric existence: he took a breath, thought of Elena just down the hall, and said, completely calm and studiously composed, "This wouldn't have been on my list either, Damon. Care to tell me why it is you're here, then?"
"Don't act as if you don't know," the vampire spat viciously, and the Original refrained from rolling his eyes at his antics. For someone who had been raised in the 19th century, Mr Salvatore wasn't particularly in touch with his manners. Or knowing when to bite his tongue. "Your freaky brother kidnapped Stefan and has likely sent him on a spiral the likes of which C.S. Lewis couldn't even comprehend."
"It was Lewis Carroll that wrote The Adventures of Alice In Wonderland, actually, if you were making a reference to the rabbit hole," Elijah corrected, not without satisfaction. Sometimes Damon made it too easy.
Damon's hands, which had been hanging loosely at his sides for the duration of the conversation, balled into angry fists. "Shut up, you know what I meant. Now, are you going to tell me where Klaus is, or am I going to have to find one of those shiny silver daggers and shove it in your vacuous excuse of a heart?"
Elijah was denied the pleasure of answering by a light, teasing and entirely unwelcome voice crooning, "You boys aren't fighting over me, are you? Cause, let me tell you: been there, done that. I know how nasty you can get and I would really hate to have these shoes ruined with someone's lower intestines. Mainly yours, Damon, since we both know there's no way you could take Elijah in a fight. Isn't that right, Mr Mikaleson?" The Original didn't turn around, was old enough and wise enough not to look up at the sound of Elena walking towards him, didn't show a flicker of anything resembling emotion as she came to lean against his side and give Damon a mocking pout as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do, as if they were a team, a pair, a couple, the bracelet around her wrist jingling as she tossed her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly.
Elijah smiled, dark and bitter and deadly. "You're quite right, Katerina. I do hold all the power in this situation."
"Yeah, yeah," Damon huffed, blue eyes sparking with unbridled annoyance, "we all know you're a Big, Bad Original. Whoop de do." He fixed Elena with an indignant glower, and even though the gesture was meant for another woman, it didn't quell his feverish desire to rip out the vampire's eyeballs any less, especially when he added, "Nice to see you're up to your usual tricks, Kitty Kat."
"What can I say?" Elena batted her eyelashes at Damon, purposefully linking her arm through Elijah's, nothing more than a woman showing off her latest conquest. "Some things just can't be helped."
Damon snorted. "Like your sanity. Do you have any idea what he's capable of?" He flung out a finger in the Originals direction as if he were some simpleton who needed to be put in their place. "He could kill you in a second and go back to sipping his tea like nothing happened."
"I know Elijah would never hurt me, Damon."
He should know. Really, for a man who claimed to love her, how could he not tell, from that one sentence alone, that it wasn't Katherine Pierce standing before him, but the only moral doppelganger left alive, or that ever existed, in truth? Elijah felt a pang of sadness on Elena's part, the knowledge that she had grown accustomed to such behaviour, had anticipated it when she walked out of the room, even though she was wearing clothes Katerina would never wear and half of her hair wasn't curled at the back and there was a lightness, a kindness in her face that no amount of heavy makeup could obscure?
"Do what you want," the younger vampire sneered, "what do I care? All I care about is getting my brother and getting him home to Elena, or have you forgotten about the girl's life you ruined, the fact that you signed Jenna's death sentence, that you're put that amazing woman through the same hell Klaus put you through when he murdered all your family five hundred years ago?" He pivoted to Elijah then, high and mighty and moral. "Is that the kind of person you want to be with, the kind of woman you so willingly want in your life? She's a vicious bitch who cares about no one but herself, and I almost feel sorry for you, pal, because one day you're gonna wake up and smell the roses of betrayal and get cut on all it's thorns, and it ain't gonna be pretty. Maybe I'll be there with a camera, take pictures for posterity's sake."
Elijah raised a brow, straightening his cuffs as he did so. "Are you quite finished, Mr Salvatore, or would like to go one a little more, rather than have me answer the question you drove all the way from Mystic Falls to ask me?" He took his silence for a yes. "I have no idea where Niklaus is, nor what he is doing with your brother. Whatever it is, I can't imagine it being pleasant, and for that you have my condolences. As for Katerina..." Faster than any human could blink, he had Damon up against the vending machine, hand around his throat, the younger vampires wheezing rattle of breath droned out by the shaking of crisp packets and sugary snack bars. "Don't ever talk about her like that again. Do we understand each other?"
"Alright, alright, I got the message. Put me down." Elijah obliged him, dusting imaginary lint from his suit. "Well, if that's all. Run along home, Damon, and let the grown ups handle this."
It seemed Damon had one last trick up his sleeve, one last desperate plea. Grasping Elena by the shoulders, he looked at her with more depth and feeling than Elijah had ever seen on the man's face, and beseeched her, "I know you never loved me, okay? I know it wasn't real, I get that now. After watching Stefan fall for Elena, how happy he made her...I get it. But you, you loved him. It was real, what you felt for him in 1864, or as close to being real as you can get. So I'm begging you, if you still feel even a fraction of that same love for him, please don't let Klaus ruin him. He's good, Katherine, in a way you and me will never be, and we need him. I need him, and I won't loose him. Not to Klaus, not to anybody. Ditch the suit and help me bring him home. Please, Katherine. I've lost so much in my life; don't make me loose my little brother, too."
Elena trailed his cheek with the palm of her hand, gazing up at the dark-haired vampire. "Damon?"
"Yeah?"
"Everything I did was for him," she whispered sadly as she motioned behind her. Dutifully, Elijah used his vampire speed and snapped Damon's neck before the man could take his next breath. The Salvatore crumpled into a boneless heap, and Elijah took the brunt of his weight to save Elena's small frame.
"His car should be near by," the brunette supplied helpfully, a forlorn look plastered over her face. "He can never be too far away from that thing. It's like Venom and the symbiote."
"The what?" Elijah asked confusedly as he scanned the parking lot, indeed finding the familiar Camaro parked in the corner.
"Sorry, too much time with Jeremy watching Spider-Man. It's a comic book thing."
"Was that the third one, where he breaks up with Miss Watson?"
Elena smiled, her surprised yet pleased smile -yes, he'd started categorizing them, yes he was well aware it was a bad idea, but he couldn't seem to help himself. "You saw it?"
Elijah unceremoniously deposited the unconscious vampire in the front seat of the Camaro, perhaps letting the man's forehead purposefully whack into the steering wheel, not that such a thing could ever be proven, of course. "It was in cinemas while I was in New York that year, and I was at a loose end," he told her, closing the door with a backwards kick of his heel.
"Who would have pegged you for a superhero nerd?" She really enjoyed teasing him, didn't she? Elijah was well aware of the stories, of the rumours that floated behind in his wake like a cape in a breeze, so he could appreciate from her perspective how something so mundane and trivial could be such a monumental surprise.
"Sometimes," he admitted in a low voice, "even I need a reminder that there's heroes in the world, even if it's only the fictional variety. Speaking off...you were quite the brave warrior yourself, Elena, doing what you just did. Incredibly risky and foolhardy, of course, but brave nonetheless."
She looked down at the pavement under her shoes, as if finding the cracks in the asphalt exceedingly interesting. "It was nothing, Elijah."
He stalked towards her, tipping up her chin; he didn't like it when she hid from him, when she acted as if her heroism was nothing of note. "If I say something is not nothing, you must trust that I speak the truth, Elena. I've lived so much longer than you, so I believe I know what I'm talking about. You took a great risk, and what motivated you to do so I remain unsure of."
"I couldn't..." she faltered, but picked herself up valiantly, soldiering on determinedly as her chocolate eyes locked with his, never breaking away, although most would be intimidated by the prospect of holding an Original's gaze for so long. "I couldn't just stand there and let him threaten you, again. He has no idea what it's like, what being daggered costs you, not just physically but emotionally, mentally." Her hand strayed to his heart, as if trying to reassure the lump of muscle and valves and arteries that someone out there still cared about it, despite hears of blackness and cruelty and neglect and pain rendering it almost negligible, non-existent. "This whole time, you've been nothing but honest, and kind, and you've taken better care of me than I ever would of myself, probably a lot better than I deserve. And I think...I think a part of me wanted to see if he would notice, if, even with the bracelet and the hair, he could look past it and still see me. But he couldn't, Elijah. He couldn't see me, and that hurts, especially when it took you hardly a second, even in the state you were in."
"Perhaps you aren't giving yourself enough credit for your performance; you did an excellent job," he offered conciliatory, but the words sounded hollow, even to his own ears.
Elena scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Come on, it was crap, and we both know it. I don't think I even needed the bracelet, in hindsight. Damon just couldn't imagine-"
"That you would forgive me, or that I wouldn't take you to Klaus and offer you on a silver platter in exchange for the rest of my family."
"Exactly."
His forehead brushed hers, an innocent, innocuous brush of skin against skin, yet it still set something in him sparking like a lit match, and with it igniting the burning need to tell her, "You know that I'd never..."
"Please." Elena tugged on his tie, a sign he'd come to identify as, 'Shut up and listen to me.' "You don't even need to finish that sentence, okay? This, him, doesn't change a thing. What he said, it wasn't about us, and I don't regret any of what I said. When I started off, everything was for him: he was all I could think about. But having you with me...I don't think you have any idea, Elijah, of what's it's been like to have you with me, to know I'm not alone, that I can walk down the hall or enter a room and know someone's there for me. You don't make me feel like a burden, like I'm hurting you just because I'm around you, that I'm putting you at risk. I know that I can come to you with anything, share you any moment from my past, and you won't make me feel stupid or childish or anything like that. With you, I'm on equal ground, and that's something I don't think I've ever had with anybody. You may be a vampire, Elijah, but you make me feel like I'm more than just another human, weak and powerless and cowering in the corner while everyone else goes to fight my battles for me. So, we'll stick together, no matter what, and for once the future doesn't scare me, and that's all because of you."
We stick together, always and forever. Words Rebekah said to him and Niklaus a thousand years ago, words he'd lived by, words people and died due to the ferocity of which they bound the Mikaelsons. Hearing such a similar vow from Elena, it meant as much to him now as it had then, if not more. Elena was not his sister, was not family, was under no obligation to make any such promises to him, and yet she did so readily, passionately, like she cared as much about him as his happiness than she did about finding Stefan, her boyfriend, the love of her life...
The thought was a shock of ice running down his spine, jolting him back to his senses and banking the embers of whatever desires had been screaming at him from the depths of his mind, a part of him he'd lick away and do his utmost best to keep locked in future. Elena Gilbert was not his, nor would she ever be, and he would be of no use to her in achieving her ends if he pined after her like some hormonal teenager. Because he wanted her; he might as well admit it now, the cat was out of the proverbial bag. In actuality, it had never really been in the bag, not from the minute they'd met, or any moment after when he'd realized how exquisitely remarkable of a person she was, and continued to be.
So -because he had to, because he must, because as much as he wanted her, he wanted to not get hurt again by love of any kind- Elijah pulled away, gathering himself up and buttoning his jacket, as if that could keep the maelstrom spinning around inside him at bay. "You're most welcome, Elena." Inwardly, he cringed at the polite tone, but it was for the best, the best thing for her. "Any kindness on my part has been nothing you did not deserve."
"Speaking off kindnesses, how long do you think we've got before he wakes up and throws a hissy fit the likes of which the county won't survive from?" Elena worried, biting at her lower lip as her attention warily skated to the light blue car behind her and the raven head of hair just barely visible over the rim of the steering wheel.
"A solid four to five hours, I'd say," Elijah calculated, walking back in the direction of their room at a brisk pace. "More than enough time to get done what we need and then remove his memories of our encounter."
Elena seemed to pick up on his tense posture, and rambled apologetically as they walked, "Elijah, I'm sorry if I, uh, overstepped my bounds in any way, during the whole Damon thing, it's just...I wanted it to look convincing, is all."
Wasn't that half the problem?
He hadn't been acting. All he'd had to do was think of all the times he'd seen Damon hurt her, be it by betraying her wishes or keeping secrets, leaving her in the dark or putting her loved ones in danger. Or the sight of her, his last sight before the ritual, when he'd seen the tears and the terror in her at the idea of becoming a vampire, and he'd been powerless to help her, in any way, as she'd drove off with the younger Salvatore. And no one, no one, made Elijah Mikaelson feel powerless, never again. Not after Mikael, not after watching him beat his brother, watched their mother curse him at their fathers behest. Not after Aya and Celeste, women he'd loved and lost all too soon. Not after watching Rebekah fall in and out of love herself and been the one to make her feel whole again. No, Damon Salvatore had deserved what he'd got, and far more, but that was not his place.
His place was beside Elena, slowly dying as the depths of his feelings for her ate him alive. So long as that love hurt him, and only him, it would be worth it, he hoped.
"There's no need to concern yourself, Elena," Elijah heard himself saying as if from faraway, "you didn't overstep. We both had our parts to play; we needed to make it look believable."
"Yeah, of course. Believable. We sure pulled it off, didn't we?"
On the ride to the diner, Elijah was terse and distant, as if Elena were observing him through a wall of impenetrable glass, and try as she might, she couldn't seem to make it crack. After a while she gave up trying, simply sitting in the car in a silence flirting on the edges of awkward and weird. This wasn't like him. This wasn't like them. Elena had no idea what had caused this backwards regression. Damon? Her speech about sticking by him, no matter where this road took them? Had she spooked him, or was he just plain unnerved by her emotional display? She didn't know, and it wasn't like she could exactly ask him outright: that was simply bad manners. And if there was one thing Elijah responded and respected, it was good manners. So, Elena was in a bit of a pickle, as the Brits were wont to say.
God, she really needed to get out of this car before she went mad.
Luckily, fate seemed to be giving her a break, for the next turning revealed the grim scene of their destination, and if she squinted, Elena could just make out the raggedy traces of police caution tape still clinging to the glass front door, and what looked like a smear of blood in the upper-right corner of the sign proclaiming the wonders of their weekly special, the 'Green Eggs and Ham' as it was called. The thought of eating anything there made her a little green, but she stifled her nausea like a champ and pushed all thoughts of Elijah and their relationship -friendship, her mind stressed, friendship- from her mind as she closed the car door and shrugged her messenger bag over her shoulder, suddenly wishing it were winter so she could burrow into the security and warmth of a long coat.
Elijah let her walk in front, likely making sure no one was planning any kind of surprise attack, since she had the instincts of a walnut when it came to self-preservation. The handle was still wet, likely with whatever cleaning product they'd used to wipe up all that blood -she knew from unfortunate personal experience the only thing that could really get blood out was bleach, and even then it was still ruined- and Elena studiously wiped her hand on her jean shorts as she stepped inside, getting a face full of grease, meat, bleach and the overarching copper-penny tang of blood, the amalgamation of odours enough to make her nose crinkle with distaste. God knew what Elijah could smell that she couldn't...
The chalk outlines were what drew her attention first. These were far from the crewd drawings one would find on the playground or at the park on hazy summer days, or even at school come exam season when the English department wrote out important quotes in an effort to get students to remember them, which of course they didn't. Elena wondered if these people would be as easily forgotten as the words of Shakespeare and Fitzgerald and Miller had been by her and her friends, if they had loved ones and families who missed them, who wouldn't want to see someone they cared for reduced to a mere outline, a faint impression on a leather booth, a kitchen counter.
The second thing, was that some of the outlines didn't have heads. Or, if they did, they were far away from their bodies. As if...as if...
Elena bolted from the diner, almost smacking poor Elijah in the face with the glass door, the bell she hadn't noticed there before tinkling merrily at their departure. But there was nothing merry in that place, nothing good, only...
Death. And pain, so much pain.
"My dad was a doctor," Elena found herself saying out of nowhere as she leaned up against the side of the car, trying to remember how to breathe. "He had lots of medical books, on the history of surgery and dissection and such, and he always put them on the highest shelf in his office. Naturally, when I was old enough, I got curious and opened them. And when I looked at all the pictures...I couldn't believe that human beings did that to each other, that they could cut them up like that. My dad found me snooping, and after telling me off he explained how it was all in the name of science, that doctors had to do that back then in order to learn, and therefore be able to help people and treat them properly. I accepted that answer as much as any eight year old can, but there was always this lingering feeling of horror, of someone trying to do that to me. Maybe that's why I jumped into being a writer, rather than going into medicine; I never forgot what it felt like to be reduced down to my parts and how they all work.
"That's what Stefan does, doesn't he? When he's like this, he just sees people as their parts, and what he can get out of them. What he can take from them, because he can't get enough. And then, it's too much for him; he feels sorry. As if sorry will ever be good enough for their families or the loved ones he's making alone! As if that makes it okay, just sticking their-their heads back on like nothing happened, like they never happened."
"But they did."
Elena stared at Elijah through a curtain of tears, startled by the regretful words. "They did, and it hurts us more than it hurts them, to know the people we love can do these things without consequence or proper remorse. Because if they were truly sorry, they'd stop. But they can't. And we can't stop either, Elena. We can't stop until we make them stop, however that turns out to be."
"I miss him," Elena admitted hoarsely, wiping at her face with the backs of her hands. "I miss the man I loved."
"As I miss the brother I loved. But Elena, you should know, I made a call to the police earlier, inquiring about the case. They said that a witness managed to escape, she had only just started her shift as the two were leaving, and she will be our best lead in finding them. So, we can either go back in there and only make the both of us feel more miserable, or we could go and talk to her and see what answers we can gather."
Nodding, she squared her shoulders, marching back over to the door. "I'll only be a minute," she promised over her shoulder as the door swung closed behind her.
Elena always carried a pen and paper, even when she knew the situation wouldn't call for it; it was who she was. Slipping both out of her bag, she set about writing a message. When she was done, she set it on the counter, right by a lone plate of what might have been a half-finished apple pie, or possibly cherry, then studying the space, committing every detail to memory, every misplaced fork and bottle of ketchup, every napkin dispenser and rings from coffee mugs like the rings of an old tree, before she closed the door and joined Elijah in the parking lot, feeling infinitely heavier than when she'd woken up this morning.
Their unwitting witness lived on the outskirts of the little town, in a clapboard house with a lawn going yellow from the heat and a forgotten bike discarded within it's masses, a tangle of ivy sweeping over the fence and reaching out with greedy tendrils towards it's deflated back tire.
Elena did the knocking, and was greeted by a woman not much older than her, face puffy with exhaustion and tears: she knew the look well. Elijah did all the talking once they were invited, asking all the right questions in all the right ways. He was gentle, and compassionate, and before she might have wondered if it was an act merely for her sake, but know she knew better, knew it was because he felt responsible for this woman and her trauma, trauma she'd suffered at the hands of his brother...but mainly Stefan, as they found out. It was Stefan who'd turned the place into a blood bath. Stefan Salvatore, her boyfriend, her protector, her shield and her defender and friend and...
Elena sat there through it all, on a rickety couch with too many flowers and not enough stuffing, hands in her lap like an obedient schoolgirl, but on the inside all she wanted to do was scream. Scream, and perhaps forget that vampires had ever existed, that she herself wasn't an ordinary human, but a mystical doppelganger, one of many throughout time bearing this same face. But some things can't be forgotten, some experiences and feelings and wonders can not be forsaken for easier truths, an easier life. She'd swapped the monster that was grief for the monster in the night with a pair of fangs, and both could hurt her easily, and in actuality the grief hadn't gone away. If anything, it had melded with the other monsters, merging into something she couldn't stop: the thing she'd loved more than herself.
"You are going to forget this conversation, Denise," Elijah compelled the lady, gripping her hand as he did so, "but you are also going to forget the pain you feel at what you witnessed. It will be there, yes, but it will not haunt your every step, your every breath. And, when you are ready, you will be able to let it go and move on."
"That was very honorable," Elena said to him as they got outside, pulling out of the tiny driveway and back in the direction of the motel, "what you did for her Elijah."
"She shouldn't have had to witness that in the first place, Elena." His whole posture was steely, practically screaming, 'Don't Go Near Me.' But when had she ever listened to anyone when they needed her but didn't want to show it? "I had an opportunity, after Niklaus first turned, when our father chained him up in order for our mother to complete the ritual, where I could have stopped him. If Klaus had never been cursed, he never would have pursued the doppelgangers throughout time, or hunted for the moonstone. He could have learnt to control what he was, maybe even known his own father, if we could have saved him. The fact of the matter is, I acted out of cowardice and fear, and submitted to the man I hated above all others, and still do to this very day. I betrayed my blood, Elena, my true blood, and now countless scores of innocents have paid the price. Because of me. And every day, that is something I have to live with. But who can live with something like that? They can't, not really. So they hide themselves away, away from everything, no friendship or forgiveness or laughter or love to be found. They don't deserve those things, and then when they catch glimpses of it, when it comes within their reach, they deny it at every turn..."
"But the people who love them don't let them. They're always there to remind them that the actions of others are not their cross to bear, that you can't fix everything. You can't, 'Lijah, and neither can you go around feeling everyone's grief as if it were your own; it's gonna kill you, and you're immortal. You can't tell me that I'm blameless for all the bad things in my life and then feel the same way about yourself. Don't be a hypocrite."
Elijah ran a hand over his face, admitting to her shamefully, "It's just, I suppose it's easier to ignore, to look past it, when you can't see them, when they're just another face, just another body, when they're not living and breathing and standing right in front of you. I know that may appear cruel but-"
Elena finished for him, "It's the only way you can cope. We all do it, we all disassociate. We see someone dead on the news, and while our mouths are saying, 'Oh, God, that's so sad,' what we really mean is, 'Thank God that wasn't someone I cared about.' Because if we felt every death, every tragedy, as if it were our own, we'd never be able to function, to move past it. All we can do, all you and I can do, is just hope that the next day will be better, and that after all of it there's some sort of happiness to be found."
"But what if there isn't, Elena? What if it's just more of the same, or worse? What if this is all my life shall ever be, this pain and this grief and this guilt hounding my every step, growing by the day as I witness the destruction my brother so gleefully poisons the world with?"
"Then you just have to wait for the next day, and start again."
Elijah laughed, broken and caustic. "Dear Lord, you're far too optimistic for my tastes."
Elena nudged him in the ribs. "Good thing you don't plan on eating me."
"True." After a pause, the vampire began, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so-"
"Human?" she butted in. "No, don't be. I like it, I prefer it. It means a lot, to know I'm still capable of helping someone with my words: it's all I ever wanted to do. It's why I still write in my journal, why I've got a box of unfinished novels under my bed, because words give me hope, and they're the most powerful tool against heartbreak and sorrow."
"I think I'd enjoy reading them."
Elena pretended to consider it. "Uhhh, no. I was like, thirteen! I was awful. There were more spelling errors than you could shake a stick at and all the heroes were basically just me with various super-human powers..Suffice to say, they were totally derivative."
"Well, I could only agree if I'd read them," Elijah drawled jokingly, shooting her a bemused sideways glance, "and since I haven't, I'll take a page out of your book and remain cheerfully hopeful."
"Glad to see I'm making some sort of dent in your otherwise despairing exterior," Elena chuckled, wishing to keep that lightness in his eyes for as long as she could.
"Elena, you talk as if your rubbing off on me wasn't a forgone conclusion the moment we spent more than five minutes together."
She waved his high praise away easily. "I'm no miracle-worker."
Elijah seized the opportunity presented by a red light and pulled her hand into his chest, placing a chaste, gentlemanly kiss on her knuckles. "Sweetheart, you could smile at the ocean and it would part the whole way in the hopes of witnessing another."
"But think about also those beached crabs and starfish!" she protested extravagantly. "They'd die! Who would want to part the seas, anyway? Just get a boat and clear your schedule if you want to get to the other side, idiots."
He grinned at her fondly. "And with that, I rest my case."
When they returned to the motel, Damon was still unconscious, but awoke within minutes, and Elijah made quick work of compelling him to forget all about their little encounter. He'd been concerned about the younger vampire being on vervain, but Elena had pointed out that as far as they'd known, both Originals were far away, and therefore Damon hadn't seen the point in taking any, which did indeed sound like the sort of logic the elder Salvatore would find satisfactory.
Moron.
Once he was on his way back to Mystic Falls, Elijah took Elena's preoccupation with a shower as an opportunity to read over the note his brother had entrusted to Kristopher. It wasn't long, only a few lines, but the haughty tone and simmering undercurrent of arrogance and hatred were enough to set his teeth on edge.
To my dearest brother,
I do hope you're enjoying your little vacation out of your coffin. Tell me, is Tennessee to your liking? Personally, I found it quite the bore. Perhaps that was why I left more of a mess than usual; if there's no fun to be found, you make your own. Of course, you'd know all about that, considering how much fun you had plotting my downfall and all.
But, that's not important. What's important as that you tried to make up for it, and although you admittedly failed to reach the mark, I praise your efforts and your continued belief in my redemption. Seriously, Elijah, you need a new hobby. Stamp collecting, perchance, or maybe even knitting. I'm sure your lovely mansion would look even better with some handmade tea cosies.
Anyway, just wanted to check in, see how you were doing, if you're read to swear fealty to me and the hybrid army I'm in the process of amassing. (It's going splendidly, thank you for asking.) But I see you're not quite ready to return to the fold just yet, and that I can understand. Take all the time you need, brother. I promise you'll be welcomed home with open arms -of course, there may be a dagger at the end of one of those arms, but who can say? We are family, always and forever. Don't forget that.
With love and other such tedious affections,
Klaus
"Elijah? Elijah, are you okay?"
The Original flinched, staring at Elena with wide eyes. Unable to form the words, he simply shook his head.
"Do you want me to toss that for you?" she offered, gesturing to the piece of paper clenched in his palm as she tightened the towel around her damp hair.
Another shake of the head. "No," he muttered hoarsely, "No, it would do well for me to keep it, as a reminder."
"Of what?" Elena asked hesitantly.
"Of all I have to loose."
Author's Note: Hello, everyone! It seems I have become a complete and utter angst nut, and all my chapters must include at least two heavy conversations between Elena and Elijah. Perhaps that will change in the next one... (Cackles at what she's got in store for you all).
Anyway, thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please let me know. Also, I recently created a Tumblr account, my username is the same, Temperance Cain, so feel free to follow me. Would you like me to post snippets and sneak peaks and just general stuff about my fics on there? Let me know!
Until next time!
All my love, Temperance Cain.