Sorry for taking a while! I'm struggling with some serious writer's block... I know what I want to write but it won't come out, that sort of thing. Thank you for all the kind reviews, they really warm my heart – which is cold in this -10C and dropping climate. Here's the next one!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Vampire Diaries
I had trouble remembering everything that happened next. All I knew was that, when I eventually got some sense of self back; I wasn't in the cemetery anymore, but sitting on a bed in an unfamiliar room.
My eyes swept the place tiredly. Light wallpaper, dark flooring. Inconspicuous. Then I saw Elijah, sitting in a chair against the wall and looking at me.
''Where are we?'' I asked, the memory loss scaring me a little. My mind was foggy, only bits and pieces were clear. I knew Elijah. And I knew that I was probably going to remember every part of what had happened, whether I wanted to or not.
''I couldn't take you to the hotel,'' Elijah replied.
The hotel. Lafayette. The image of a parking lot entered my mind. It turned into another parking lot, and a big open field with grey specks all over-
I pressed my arms closer to my body, stiffening more and more with every piece of memory slowly returning to me. With every ounce of pain settling in me. ''This is yours?'' I asked, trying to push it away but feeling close to breaking apart again.
''In a manner of speaking.'' Elijah leaned forward on his elbows. ''You don't remember?''
''Trauma will do that to you,'' I mumbled, heart stinging when I remembered why I even knew that in the first place. My eyes drifted away from him to a crease in the wallpaper.
''Will you be alright if I go get some food?''
''Sure,'' I mumbled.
He was probably looking at me, but I couldn't really tell. I stared into the wall until I heard the faint whooshing sound indicating he had gone. Then I crawled onto the bed and laid down. I hugged my knees close to my body, curling up into a ball. Everything felt numb, and, still, everything hurt. It made no sense. Nothing made sense.
I could hear him when he came back. Not even he could open a creaky door silently. Then I heard his voice. ''You should eat something.''
''Sure,'' I replied quietly, not intending to at all. I was ready to lie here forever – and it felt like I already had. Picturing the outside world seemed impossible. Lafayette. Mystic Falls. There was no Mystic Falls without my mother. There was no home without her.
Hardly moving, hardly breathing – feeling like nothing mattered – I made no move to touch whatever food Elijah had brought for me. What was the point in eating if I was already dead? Because that was what it felt like. She died, and I died with her. I didn't exist anymore. It felt like I didn't exist.
''I too know what it feels to lose someone,'' Elijah's voice sounded from somewhere in the room. ''And I know it seems of little importance right now, but it does get easier.''
Easier? He thought I wanted it to get easier? I was floating in nothingness, in a strange paralysing pain, and I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay there, wherever there was. There was nothing else. Nothing.
His soft steps came closer, almost matching the beat of my heart, and then a tray with something on it was set down on the nightstand in the corner of my eye. He lingered before me briefly, and then he disappeared. When the door creaked, I knew he was leaving, and I knew he had heard me crying.
It must have been hours since I last ate, but my stomach wouldn't even growl in protest. I could stare at the food now gone cold next to me without gaining the slightest bit of appetite.
Maybe Elijah was in there with me, maybe he wasn't. I had spaced out a few too many times to hear anything.
My eyes itched from crying, and I was cold. So cold. Trembling, I curled my hands into fists and pressed them against my chest. Right where my heart would be. The shards where in there, digging into me, like ice. I held my hands closer, and wondered for a minute how far I could go without breathing. What it would feel like, getting no air. Matching my body to my deafened and dying mind.
So I held my breath.
It was surprisingly calming, the first seconds. Until I started fighting to keep holding it, and the strain in my ribcage made my body twitch in protest.
That's when I felt a hand on my arm.
Elijah rolled me over gently but quickly, and looked at me with urgency.
''You weren't breathing,'' he said quietly, when he saw me with my eyes open, looking back at him.
With a sigh, I pulled myself up and didn't realise how close he was until I was sitting right next to him.
His eyes were so dark, almost black. I wished I didn't see how warm they actually were. I wished I didn't care about him. I wished I could keep to myself and not care about anyone or anything.
But he was right there with me. And I cared... God, I cared.
''I'm sorry,'' I whispered, and searched his face for something to give me a clue as to what he was thinking.
''For what?''
Inhaling deeply, I brushed my hand over my forehead and tried to wake up from the dreamlike state I had been in for what felt like such a long time. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to let him know that I wasn't apathetic all the way through. Let him know that without him I didn't know where I would be right now.
''You don't have to stay with me you know,'' I continued, and immediately wished I had said something else. Something less pathetic and closer to what I actually wanted him to hear.
''I may not have to, but I want to.''
If the last few minutes had never happened I might've never gotten up from that bed voluntarily. His eyes, and his words, brought something back to me I had forgotten, or pushed aside. I was in no way less devastated – but at least I was sitting up.
Snippets of my memory came back to me. How the ground had felt beneath my fingers when I collapsed. The sound of my phone dropping. Pain, excruciating pain. And hands. Elijah's hands.
''How did you do it?'' I asked.
He looked at me in question.
''How were you not affected by me?'' I asked again, trying to rephrase it. My mind was working slow, struggling, and exhausted.
''I was,'' he said. ''But you became calm quickly.''
''But how did-'' I sighed, frustration growing when the words wouldn't come to me.
''I suppose...'' he began. ''Since you had no guards up you were as vulnerable to outside influence as it would be the other way around.''
I still didn't understand. I wondered how much of it he had felt. Wondered how he hadn't collapsed to the ground like I had.
''You really should eat something,'' he said, and nodded towards the food on the nightstand.
I stared blankly at the fries, and sandwich neatly wrapped on the tray, but still felt like eating was one of the last things I ever wanted to do.
''I can go get something fresh,'' Elijah suggested.
Shaking my head slowly, I wrapped my arms around myself. Before I knew it, I had a blanket slung around my shoulders. Tentatively, I reached out and grabbed a fry. It was tasteless, but that was probably me. I struggled to get it down, but I did it. Then I forced myself to take another.
''I don't know what to do,'' I said in a frail voice, the words escaping me without thinking.
''You eat,'' Elijah answered. ''Everything else can wait.''
I think Elijah might have turned the sound off on my phone, or it broke when I dropped it. After forcing the rest of the fries and a quarter of the sandwich down, I was still sitting up and trying my hardest not to fall back on the mattress again. A faint pounding around my temple was the beginning of a headache, no doubt.
My eyes kept darting to where my phone was.
They would want me to come back. Or they would come here. Neither of those things were anything I needed. No, I needed to stay away. Because if I went back there...
Tears started running down my cheeks again. I didn't bother to wipe them away.
At that moment, Elijah came through the door with a bottle of water. His eyes went from my face to my hands, and when I looked down I realised that I must have reached out and grabbed my phone.
''I guess I have to call them, don't I?'' I asked in a whisper.
''It's not a bad idea.''
He tilted his head slightly and looked at me intently. I didn't know what he was searching for. His gaze made me wipe my face free of tears, and I avoided it, cuddling into the sleeve of my hoodie.
One deep breath. Two deep breaths. Then a third.
I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut when I pressed call and waited for her to answer.
''Ev...'' Elena's voice sounded over the line. ''I- I'm so sorry. How are you? Where are you?''
My heart skipped a beat when I heard her, and I shuddered with sudden chills. This was already hard, and I hadn't even tried to get any words out yet.
''I'm... fine,'' I said, the lie itching on my tongue. ''I'm still in Louisiana.''
''We can come get you-''
''No,'' I cut her off. ''No, I'm fine.''
''Ev...''
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. The headache was getting worse. ''I'm not alone. Elijah's here.''
''Oh.''
''Look, don't-'' I paused. ''Don't drive over here, okay? I'll manage.''
Elena was quiet for a moment.
''Are you gonna come home?''
Home. There was that word again. I felt a lump form in my throat, and I struggled to find something to say. Maybe she would think I didn't care about her and the others if I said no. Maybe she would anyway. I just didn't know how to put into words what Mystic Falls was to me now. It was... it was a graveyard. My house – a tomb. And I thought going there would cause even more hurt than I already had, if that was possible. Everything in me wanted to steer clear of Mystic Falls.
But none of that came out, and I settled with: ''Not right now.''
Days passed. Elijah came and went, and I stayed in bed most of the time. I got up every now and then, though. More for everyone else's sake than mine – because I would rather lie in bed for the rest of my life.
For every time he entered the room I was slowly filled with more and more guilt. Every tear that I ran out of morphed into something different: a heavy feeling of dread gnawing at my heart. There was very little logical sense in me right now, I knew that. There was not much I had the energy to do, or even wanted to do. But without him, I would have withered away into nothing by now.
That's why, one day, no matter how tired I was, or how much everything hurt; I got on my feet and stepped outside of the room for the first time.
It was dead quiet inside, but somewhere far off there was the hum of passing cars. The dark floors continued into a hallway, and at the end of that there was a small room with a couch and fireplace. There were no pictures or anything that would suggest who lived there. A blank slate, with nothing but the bare necessities.
Soon, it was pretty clear that I was in an apartment. The first window I looked out of proved that I was maybe three stories above ground, overlooking a normal looking neighbourhood. Mothers with strollers, people with briefcases, and people with cameras – tourists, probably.
''I've brought lunch,'' a voice sounded behind me without warning. My heart jumped in my chest, and I supposed I should consider it a good sign I reacted to scares, still.
I hadn't heard him this time, but there he stood, takeout bag in hand.
''I'm not going back there,'' I said, and by the look on his face I could tell he knew where there was. ''I can't go back there.''
Elijah looked me over with a furrowed brow. ''Then what do you plan on doing?''
I shrugged tiredly. ''I don't know- I'll get a job here. Where is here, by the way?''
He didn't say anything, but gave me a look that I had never seen on his face before. And if I ever thought that he was difficult to read, I must've been blind. He thought I wasn't thinking straight, and maybe I wasn't. All I knew was that even the thought of going back there... I would rather break any bone in my body.
I met his eyes and fought the tears threatening to escape. ''It'll never be the same,'' I said, clutching my hands.
''No,'' he said. ''It won't.''
He put the bag down and slipped his hands into his pockets, walking over to me by the window. I watched him watch the people below. I didn't have to touch him to feel the calm radiating off of him.
''To love is to lose,'' he said quietly. ''No matter how much it hurts, you come to terms with it eventually.''
I turned my gaze from him to a family crossing the street. A little boy swinging by the hands of both his parents. My heart clenched at the sight.
''I don't know how,'' I whispered.
''You don't have to,'' Elijah said. He placed his hand on the windowsill and turned his palm facing upwards.
I glanced at him, frowning. ''I can't-''
He kept his hand there. Tentatively, as if I were setting off to touch broken glass, I rested my hand in his. It was warm. And I felt calm.
Even more days passed. I only barely managed to keep check. Not once did I leave the apartment, but I was up and about a lot more often than before. Somehow, Elijah had gotten my baggage delivered, so I could change into a fresh set of clothes.
I hadn't touched my phone since the day I called Elena. Whenever I saw it on the nightstand, something tugged at my heart. I hadn't even checked anyone's messages.
I steeled myself and bit down on my bottom lip when I picked it up. Thirty-five missed calls. Twenty text messages.
Scrolling through the messages, most of them were from Elena. Damon had written a couple. I thought to answer them, but while I was thinking whether or not to do that, my phone buzzed.
I froze when I saw what it was.
Feeling cold and sick, I still couldn't let go of the phone, and I still couldn't stop staring at the message. I knew I couldn't keep away forever. Somewhere deep down it was clear that this was something I couldn't avoid – something I to go back for.
When I heard Elijah come in I dropped my arm only slightly, still clutching the phone.
''Did something happen?'' he asked, and when he came over to me I held it out for him to see.
He was quiet for a while.
''Evangeline,'' he said finally. ''You must go to her funeral.''
Sighing, I sank down onto the edge of the bed and stared at my hands. ''I... I know, but I-''
''Come,'' he said. When I looked at him he nodded his head in another direction.
''What?''
''I'm taking you home.''
Immediately my whole body tensed up. ''I can't go back there,'' I said, feeling my throat tighten.
Elijah looked at me seriously. ''You could never live with yourself if you didn't go.''
I knew he was right. Of course he was right – but... I was terrified. A funeral was the closing chapter. The end.
''Will you stay?'' I asked, and hated how defeated and desperate I must have sounded. I could, of course, call Elena and ask her or someone else to meet up and go back with me – because I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to get home on my own. I was already dragging my feet trying to decide. But for some reason, with Elijah, there wasn't always a need to talk. A need to explain things. He trusted I would speak when I wanted to, and I did the same with him.
''Yes,'' he said.
''I don't know how to deal with it,'' I confessed. ''With everyone. I don't even know how to deal with myself.''
''You are strong. And capable. You'll figure out how.''
He seemed to have so much faith in it. In me. And I couldn't for the life of me see why. I was a mess. But, he was right. No matter how much I didn't want to – it was something I had to do. Because maybe that was the only road I could take to avoid hurting anyone. No matter how much I wanted to just lie down and disappear, I had to go on. Somehow. For everyone else.
For her.
Check out James (Jamie Glover) in the TV series Agatha Raisin and tell me he's not a dead ringer for Daniel Gillies. Even his mannerisms in that show are quite Elijah-like!
