She doesn't know why she expects him to be there in the morning, his arms still around her and his lips in her hair. Maybe because last night felt like a break-through of sorts, maybe because he was in her dreams, whispering to her and slipping his hand between her legs while she moaned. A lazy afternoon at his house instead of writing history notes or chasing Originals. An afternoon of sheets and skin. So vivid she can feel his hands on her, his tongue dancing with hers.
When Elena wakes up she's blushing, her heart pounding because every detail about the dream had felt so real, less dream and memory than reality. It hits her every morning how much she misses him, she misses him a little bit more every single day. This morning though, it hurts more than ever because of last night. Or had she only imagined that?
It's still early, too early to actually qualify as morning, and after she checks on Meredith Elena flops on her bed, too restless to sleep although she needs it. Instead she pulls out her phone, even though she knows she'll probably just wind up disappointed again.
She ending up leaving about a dozen messages and doesn't get a single answer, not even a brusque text to let her know he's okay. It shouldn't bother her as much as it does, but it makes Elena angry, irritated the way Stefan keeps changing on her. Caring and open one minute, the next acting like he doesn't care about her at all. She wants to shake him and demand that he be honest with her again, finally tell her whether he cares or not, which is the facade and which is real instead of him constantly hiding from her.
She's sick of him hiding from her.
"Hey," Meredith greets her when Elena wanders into the kitchen. She already misses Alaric, just the comfort of having someone else in the house, knowing someone was there and the house wasn't completely empty and abandoned.
"Hi," Elena tries to smile. "How are you felling?"
Meredith winces slightly. "I'm okay, but I have this awful headache."
"That's the reaction to vampire blood," Elena tells her. "It should go away soon."
"Well, that's a relief. Just because I treat people with it doesn't mean I know anything about actually taking it," Meredith set her empty glass in the sink. "How's Alaric?" she asks, her voice careful and tight. She crosses her arm and Elena notices how she presses her fingers into her skin, hard enough to leave marks.
"He's..." Elena doesn't know what to say. Alaric isn't okay, he's sick and in danger, and she can't think about it because she'll fall apart and she can't do that now. "I don't know," she answers softly.
"Where is he?" Meredith asks and her voice, soft and gentle, nearly makes Elena cry.
"At his apartment," Elena says. "Damon though it'd be better if he stayed there for awhile." She doesn't add, so Alaric's evil twin won't kill me in the middle of the night. She doesn't have to.
"Hey," Meredith touches her arm. "Elena, I'm going to look for a solution for this, I'm going to try to fix this. It might not be today, but Alaric's gonna be fine, okay?"
But Elena doesn't believe her.
"How long does it take for the ring to affect someone?" she whispers.
"I'm not sure, but the number of times someone dies-"
"Jeremy died twice," Elena glances towards teh stairs. "Damon snapped his neck once."
She can't look at Meredith, but she can feel the woman's cool gaze, can practically hear the question-how the hell can she trust the man who once killed her brother, the one who tried to save her life by shoving blood down her throat without asking what she wanted. The truth is that despite everything Damon's done for her, how helpful he's been the past months, she can't trust him. She's not sure she'll ever be able to really trust him.
She walks Meredith to the door and just before she leaves Meredith says, "Oh, Elena? Tell Stefan thank you, you know, for saving my life."
The house is too quiet without Alaric and no matter how loud the music is it doesn't make up for the lack of people. Elena moves restlessly from room to room, cleaning because it gives her a task, a sense of purpose that makes her focus her nervous energy a little. It distracts her from the silent phone and the empty rooms. For a little while, anyways. She can't face seeing either Alaric or Stefan today; she's horrible, she knows, selfish and frightened and foolish, but she can't picture leaving her house that day, forcing herself to face situations that she only wants to ignore. The fact that Alaric might be dying. The fact that as much as she loves Stefan, they might never be together again. That this might never be over, the Originals will never leave her alone.
She gives herself this one day of hiding away from people. One day is all she needs to recharge, and in the morning (well, before that really, around dinnertime she's more than ready) she's ready to fight again.
It's early, too early for anything to be open and Elena shivers, staring at the closed sign on the coffee-shop door and thinking how lost she is, how she can't even remember the days of the week anymore. Normal life seems so foreign now; it seems so strange that people can just go about their daily lives, not thinking about blood or hybrids or rings that saved people's lives and made them crazy too. Normal. Her life used to be normal and almost painfully ordinary, now it's not even next to normal. Not even close.
She's walking through the cemetery, thinking she'll kill some time there before getting bagels and coffee for Alaric, and it's actually kind of nice. There's a light mist and the air's crisp and cool, dewdrops coating the flowers left by gravestones and it should be eerie, but it's not. Clearly she's warped beyond repair, that an early morning walk through a misty graveyard makes her feel calm and peaceful, the best she's felt in weeks. Although, maybe it's not so weird; this used to be her favorite time to go there, to find a stone to sit by and write in her journal, spending hours there and feeling like she was the only one in the world awake.
Someone's walking towards her and she's not frightened at all because she knows that walk, the slight duck of his head and the way his hands are shoved into his pockets. She hasn't seem him walk like that in a while, lately his walk's been different, just like the rest of him.
"Hi," Elena says softly when he's close.
"Hi," Stefan says, his voice quiet and a little sad. "How... how are you?"
"I'm..." Elena shrugs. "Sometimes I feel like I'm gonna fall apart."
The words surprise her; she meant to say a quick "I'm fine", not ready to reveal anything about how she's feeling, but she can't do that. Hiding from him has never been easy.
"Me too," Stefan whispers. He blinks quickly like he's trying to keep tears from falling. "How's Meredith?" he asks quickly, his voice trying to mask what he's feeling.
"She's okay," Elena tells him. "She says thank you, you know for the blood, for...what you did. You saved her life."
Stefan shrugs awkwardly and looks at the ground. He's never been one to be comfortable with thanks and now it's even worse, now he feels like he doesn't deserve anything at all because he's caused so much pain.
"I called you," Elena says carefully and Stefan bites his lip. He played her messages repeatedly yesterday, listening as her voice became more strained and hating himself for not calling her back.
"I know," he mutters. "I'm sorry. I... I was helping Damon."
"Oh."
He hates how she sounds, resigned and sad and a little lonely. "I felt like I couldn't call you, that I almost lost control with you that night and I had to stay away."
At first he doesn't realize he's spoken, thinking that he wishes he could tell her why he's ignored her and insulted her, continued hurting her despite loving her more than anything when she says, "How did you almost lose control with me?"
When he doesn't answer Elena steps closer until she's almost touching him. "Stefan, please. Just talk to me."
If only it could be that simple.
"Do you mean with the blood-no," Elena says slowly. "Stefan, why did you go to my room?"
Emotions flash across his face and his eyes darken, he can hardly bare to look at her as he confesses, "Because I feel safe there."
Elena exhales softly and he has to look away because it's too painful to look at her and not fall to pieces and beg her to take him back, cling to her and plead for love and forgiveness.
"You could have stayed, you know," Elena tells him in a shaky voice. "You could have stayed with me."
"No," Stefan whispers. "No, I couldn't have."
"Why not?" Elena's voice becomes harsh with the tears she's trying to hold back. She holds his face and forces him to look at her. "Stefan, I forgive you, I lo-"
"Because it's too dangerous,"Stefan breaks in. "Because Klaus is still alive."
He doesn't mean to say it like that. He means that he didn't protect her enough, that he hasn't protected her and loved her enough, that if it wasn't for him Elena probably wouldn't be in any danger. when they were dealing with the upcoming sacrifice Stefan hadn't done nearly enough to protect her, had always known that Damon would be there, loving her and protecting her in ways Stefan never could.
"Do you love me more than you hate Klaus?" Elena asks quietly.
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. He's never loved anyone as hard as he does Elena, but he can't tell her that, not yet.
So Stefan takes the coward's way out yet again and walks away.
Elena seriously wishes she could give Stefan a truth serum or compel him or something because she's more than irritated by the half-truths and lies he's telling himself.
She walks to her parents' graves (John and Jenna were there too) and stops, frowning to herself. There were fresh flowers in front of each of the graves, flowers she couldn't identify in gorgeous shades of blue and red, deep color that remind her of the lapis lazuli stone that protect her friends from sunlight and the red stone in her necklace. They're obviously fresh, obviously just left there.
She hasn't been to their graves in weeks, she hasn't had time and there's no one else she can think of who would have bothered. Except the man who just walked away from her.
It doesn't take long for Elena to get to Alaric's place. Stefan had warned them, figuring that was why she was wandering around town so early and it was like Elena to worry and mother her friends. He's kind of surprised she hadn't shown up yesterday armed with soup and other things to try to cheer up Alaric.
Both Stefan and Alaric look at Damon when the knock comes and Damon rolls his eyes and calls them wimps, but there's a small smile on his face too. It's downright painful to listen to the ease with which Damon talks to Elena, to picture the spark in his brother's eyes as eh tosses out the word love. Stefan grips a stake so hard that Alaric snatches it away, afraid he'll break it and then they'd have one less weapon against Klaus, one less chance to finally, finally end this nightmare.
"She misses you, Ric," Damon tosses the bag of bagels onto the table and sets the coffee down. Two cups. Elena must have been planning on staying. "Apparently you were a decent roommate."
"Well, I did do the dishes sometimes," Alaric mutters. He's watching as Stefan snaps the pen in half and then realizes what he's done, looking guilty about it. "She's lonely."
"Yeah, well, if this works than Jeremy can come home and you can all go back to family dinners and movie marathons," Damon picks up a stake a looks at it thoughtfully.
"Oh that'd be great, the three of us eating turkey and for desert I try to kill them with a carving knife," Alaric mumbles.
"So you killed a couple of people. Get over it," Damon tells him. "I for one am not wasting time crying over Bill Forbes."
"You do realize I tried to kill Elena?" Alaric asks icily. "And you might be used to killing people-actually, scratch that, you enjoy killing people. I don't. Now can we get on with this already?"
It hadn't exactly been pleasant before, making stakes and awkward small talk, but the atmosphere cooled considerably after Elena's attempted visit. Even long after she left it's like she's still there, her shadow standing between Damon and Stefan as they exchange clipped words and Stefan hates that, the past coming back to haunt them. The if-onlys play on a continuous loop in his mind, if only he hadn't left, if only Damon had never followed him, but he forces himself to focus on the gleaming white stakes and slowly he relaxes as he counts them, double and triple-checking the numbers.
This has to work.
His hand is so close. It's right by hers, barely an inch apart and it's all Elena can think about. It would be so simple to grab onto it, interlace her fingers with his and bring his hand to her lips. Such a small gesture, such a simple gesture. If only he wasn't acting this way, like he doesn't want to hear her opinions at all.
She wonders what would happen if Damon died. How long would it take for Stefan to break completely, shatter into tiny fragments that would never be able to be put back together again no matter what. Especially if his brother died and Stefan had had a chance to save him. Stefan would never be able to forgive himself and he probably would either go on some crazy rampage or give up completely.
She lets him think he has the final word, lets him walk away, and then strides after him and grabs his arm, makes him turn around and look at her.
"What," he asks flatly, his eyes hard and cold.
For a moment Elena doesn't say anything, staring at the tension in his jaw. The way he's hunching a little bit and biting his lip, his fist clenched so his nails dig into his skin and tiny drops of blood appear like stains. She knows him so well, even after everything can read him better than she can read herself. For all his bravado and uncaring facade, the thought of his brother being tortured clearly frightens the hell out of Stefan even if he can't tell her. Even if he can't admit it to himself.
"You never stop trying to save people," Elena murmurs quietly. She kneads the fabric of his jacket and whispers, "Even if you tried to stop I don't think you'd be able to."
Stefan barely moves, she can see him biting his lip again and wonders if it hurts. If he'll ever stop hurting.
Finally he lifts his head, his eyes still focusing beyond her as he mutters, "We need to get ready if we're gonna pull this off, if we're gonna have enough time..."
It's not much. It's barely anything, but it's enough for now.
After Klaus turned off Stefan's emotions Elena avoided his room. Walking by and seeing her favorite room only made everything worse, shattered her heart yet again with the memories of waking up entwined in Stefan's arms.
A soft smile comes across her face as she stands in the doorway. Watching him in his room again fills her with warmth.
"You scared me today," she tells him, taking a step into the room.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs and looks at her. "You know what I realized today? How I've let myself get wrapped up in this, how I've let it control me. I let Klaus take everything away from me, everything I care about."
Elena stands perfectly still, dead certain he can hear how fast her heart is beating and how she can barely breathe.
"I lost everything," he murmurs. "I love you and I-"
"I love you too," the words tumble out, she's practically stumbling over them. "I never stopped."
"I never stopped either. Even..." Stefan trails off and they're thinking of those nights, in the gym and on the bridge. Those nights that both want to erase.
Somehow they're standing close together and then he's touching her, actually cupping her cheek and Elena closes her eyes, almost purring with delight at his fingers on her skin.
Then he's talking about Damon and her eyes pop open.
"Tell me you don't feel something for Damon," he whispers, his eyes filled with pain.
She can't breathe again for all the wrong reasons. Slowly she admits, "Stefan...I don't know what I feel about him."
His face falls ad he looks as though he's been stabbed with a vervain-soaked dagger, but what comes after that is even worse, the look of resignation like he's known all along. And maybe he has, maybe he knew long before she did. He breaks away from her and turns away, hand shaking as he runs it along the spine of books.
"I don't know what I feel about him," Elena murmurs, almost to herself. "He killed my brother right in front of me, he's killed Alaric probably more times than either of them will admit to me. He snaps if I say something that comes out wrong of hurts him. And he helped me this summer, he helped all of us. He listened while I babbled on about you and he... he was here."
She hesitates before walking over to Stefan, placing her hands gently on his shoulders. Breathing deeply, trying to inhale him she whispers, "I love him, but I'm not in love with him. I'm in love with you."
Stefan's shaking now and she can hear the tears he's trying so hard to hold back as he says, "You should be with him."
"I don't want to be with him," Elena says, her voice louder.
"He's better for you, he can protect you-"
"Stefan," Elena wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "I love you, I want you."
"No," he whispers.
"Stefan," she whispers. "Come back."
Elena forces him to turn around and the look in his eyes, wild and desperate and lost, makes her cry. Letting her breath out in shuddery gasps she traces his face, lingering on his lips before cupping his cheeks while she leans up and kisses him softly. Instantly an electric charge flies through her body and she's pressing against him, her body flooded with a million memories of doing just this, kissing him, being with him, loving him.
He slowly kisses her back, his lips gradually responding to hers and then they're both crying, tears coating their lips. It's coming home, it's becoming complete again, it's them, Elena and Stefan.
It's too much and not enough all at once; Stefan slides down her body, collapsing at her feet and hugging her legs, sobbing against her and it's all Elena can do to let him cry, let his tears stain her jeans and cry with him, mourning the time they've lost, mourning the shambles their lives have become.
Eventually Elena manages to pull Stefan to the bed and makes him sit down while she pulls his shoes off and kicks her own off. When she curls around him her arms instantly wrap tightly around him, slipping her hands beneath his shirt and kneading his skin. He's holding her so tightly that soon it might be difficult to breathe, but for now she needs this, they both need this. Already his fingers are grasping her hair and she wriggles even closer.
"It's late," Stefan murmurs, his voice low and think and it makes her shiver.
"You gonna kick me out?" Elena kisses his forehead. "Because that is so not gonna happen."
"Good," Stefan peeks up at her. "Because I want you to be here when I wake up."
"I'll be here," Elena kisses his forehead again and she can't help it, she finds his lips and kisses him again.
They fall asleep together, holding each other so tightly that even if they other wanted to move (which neither one does) they wouldn't be able to and both of them are more than okay with that.
For a while, Elena had always managed to wake up before Stefan, just because she liked to watch him sleep. Not that she would actually admit that to anyone; she knew how stalkerish and freaky it sounded, how obsessed she was. Granted, Stefan had figured it out pretty quickly and teased her about it, making her blush and hide her face in his chest while she groaned and he laughed. She liked watching him sleep, how he let his guard down the way he only did when he was with her.
She watches him now. He looks different, older and thinner, as if the past few months haven't just shaken him but aged him as well, and she knows it'll take time before he's ready to forgive himself and maybe it'll be ages before she sees a real smile from him. Even in his sleep he still appears guarded and she leans in and plants a small kiss on his cheek, tilts her forehead against his.
"I love you," she whispers, closing her eyes briefly.
When she opens them Stefan's awake and watching her, and a light smile spreads across her face. "Good morning," she murmurs and traces his jaw.
Stefan looks at her, almost like he's afraid that this is a dream and she's not real, she's just a figment of his imagination that will vanish the moment he says anything. His arms tighten around her and Elena shifts them so he's half-lying on her, relishing the weight of his body on hers. Their eyes lock and it's hard for her to breathe, hard for her to think of anything coherent at all except how he's looking at her. Slowly, he tilts his face towards her and kisses her, gently and slowly at first before building, becoming rougher and heated and Elena rolls them over, looping her legs around his waist. She digs her fingers into his hair and barely stops kissing him long enough to catch her breathe before starting again, they're kissing like they'll never stop, they have so much to make up for.
Then he's breaking away from her, gasping like he's in pain and she doesn't have to see his face to know what's happened. He's kneeling at the foot of the bed, his shoulders shaking and Elena crawls to him, draping herself around him even as he tries to tell her to leave.
"I'm here, Stefan," she whispers. "I'm not going anywhere."
She holds on to him and rubs his neck, murmuring quietly to him, trying to soothe him and bring him back to her. It's agonizing waiting for him to turn to her (although it's not long at all, maybe fifteen seconds at most) and he only looks at her after the vampire face is hidden again.
"I'm sorry," Stefan whispers. "I'm so sorry."
"I love you," she whispers again because it's the only thing she can think of saying.
She shifts so he's sitting against her, his body in between her legs and his face against her chest, she cradles him and kisses him and he grips her shirt, still breathing shakily.
"I love you," he whispers. "I love you so much."
"I know," she tells him.
Then Damon comes into the room. His eyes sweep over them, taking in how Elena's holding Stefan and how his little brother suddenly seems so much younger. Elena's arms around Stefan, her hands lightly rubbing back and her head tilted down towards Stefan, how tight her arms are around him.
"We need to talk," he says roughly. "We've got a stake to look for."
Elena barely glances up at him. "Okay," she murmurs. "Give us a minute."
"Stefan?" Damon asks.
Slowly, Stefan glances at his brother. "A minute," he repeats so softly Elena can't hear him.
When Damon's gone they look at each other, and Stefan nearly breaks when he sees the compassion in Elena's eyes, the softness and love there; he wonders how in the world he held out so long against her. Still, he's half-convinced that this is a mistake, that he'll only end up hurting her worse than ever, but Elena gives him a look that tells him she knows exactly what he's thinking and she takes his hand, refusing to let go as they leave the room and walk down the stairs.
They stop on the landing to kiss softly, and then Elena leans into him and presses him against the wall, slipping her hands beneath his shirt and moaning quietly when he pulls her hips into his. A sound that's a cross between a groan and laughter escapes his throat and the look she gives him is worth a thousand kisses.
They look at each other and it's never been clearer that this, arms around each other and foreheads tilted together and breath ragged and filled with desire, is where they're meant to be.
