Author's note: Guys, thank you so much for the feedback! You have no idea how much it means to me :) It's such a huge inspiration! You're the best!
Ahem, anyway, my boss is on vacation, so I've spent a couple of days working on my fic instead of… well, working [insert guilty face here]. Hope it was worth it. Also, I feel horrible about what KW said at SDCC and now I am sort of more tham eager to prove how terribly wrong he is :S
Chapter 4
Alaric hit his knees hard and scraped gentle skin of his palms on the asphalt when he landed. Not that it mattered when he had other things to worry about. Like, say, what the hell? Arm wrapped instinctively around his midsection, he winced, and for a very long moment everything about him was focused solely on trying to take a proper breath somehow. His lungs didn't seem to want to cooperate with the plan though, what with them seeming to have shrunk to a size of peanuts, and he ended up gasping without much result as the stars danced before his eyes.
If anything, it was embarrassing, and boy, it hurt! In fact, the "who" and the "why" stopped being a big deal for a while. Speak of the surprise factor.
Slowly, the reality started getting back to him, however, and even though Alaric knew the moment of suffocation had barely lasted for a few seconds, it felt much longer than that. But then a huge fist suddenly opened, releasing his insides from its deadly grip, and he sucked in a hungry breath, ignoring another wave of pain that it caused. God, what did they hit him with? A baseball bat? A battering ram?
His gaze focused gradually, and the first thing that he saw was a pair of black worn boots with somewhat scarred and scratched fronts and thick heavy soles. The boots did look like their primary purpose was to give good kicks and break bones, Ric thought without fondness, if only because they definitely made an impression of having a lot of action in this area.
His eyes moved to dark-grey jeans and then up the legs that appeared to belong to a bulky man in black sweater and leather jacket, his balding hair cut short and the gaze of his dark eyes heavy and piercing. And no, nothing about him explained what the hell it was all about. Even if he ever met his attacker before, Alaric couldn't recall the occasion. Thus, for all he knew, the whole punching thing seemed to be rather uncalled for.
For a long moment he just stared at the man hovering above him, lips pursed and gaze promising a trip to hell and back. Maybe it was about his wallet or watch? In that case, however, saying something would help perhaps, Alaric figured. He squinted, fighting to see more in the dim light of a remote streetlamp that was barely reaching them.
"What the hell?" He croaked at last, his voice hoarse, and the sound of it echoed painfully in his gut, making him grimace.
It didn't stop him from noticing that the man's fists flexed, which was hardly a good sign in any situation per se. No physical violence followed though, much to his surprise, even though he was almost expecting these boots to want to become friends with his stomach. Instead, the man gave Alaric a scornful once-over and asked through gritted teeth, "Where is she?"
Alaric blinked. Rolled the words in his head again. He straightened up slowly, using his car for support and trying to ignore the fact that his insides detested any idea of movement, plus he could probably do without internal bleeding. But he chose to worry about it later.
"Who?"
"You wife!" The man spat.
"My… what?" Oh, for heaven's sake! Couldn't he just take his stuff and leave already? Suddenly, the idea of being robbed seemed to be rather appealing, compared to… options.
"You wife," the man repeated slowly, as if talking to someone mentally retarded. "Isobel." He paused. "Rings a bell?"
Alaric let out a short bark of a laugh and shook his head. The situation was as ridiculous as it could possibly get. "Sorry to disappoint you, man, but you're out of date." Yeah, trust Isobel to keep messing with his life even now. "My wife had gone missing two years ago. Go talk to the police."
The man grabbed him by the collar of the jacket and shoved him hard against the passenger's door, probably leaving a visible dent. He was rather strong for his height, and it started to slowly down on Ric why. "Well, I know she was visiting this hole of a godforsaken place not so long time ago." He added for emphasis.
"Well, and I know that Isobel and I have nothing to do with each other for a very long time already." Alaric retorted, giving himself points for not collapsing from the impact again, and hoping that his spinal cold was not damaged in any nonrestorable way.
He didn't know if he was more curious or outraged at the moment, these two feelings mixing up and pulling him apart. He was not going back to it, he was not going to let Isobel into his life one way or the other. She had already made it clear she didn't want him around either, and it took him quite a while to get used to the idea, both in terms of time and emotional pain when he thought he'd rather die if only because it hurt just too much to bear it with dignity. First – when she'd vanished from their apartment before he could so much as blink. And then – when he found out that it was the general idea from the start.
When it occurred to him that the woman he loved, the woman he thought he knew, deliberately put him through hell that he didn't think he'd be able to ever get out of – until he finally got to the point when he realized that he had no wish to ever deal with her again. And now her minions or whoever were sneaking around and beating him up? Seriously?
"She took something that didn't belong to her," the man ignored him completely and went on, focused on task at hand and obviously not giving a damn about Alaric's thoughts. "And she'd better give it back." And then he grinned, that cool venomous smile that was basically aimed at demonstrating two unnaturally long fangs. Alaric stiffened when his guess was confirmed and his own smirk died on his lips. Aw, come on! "You have a week."
"I have a—" he began but the man suddenly turned on his heels and disappeared in the dark, letting Alaric sag against the side on his car. "Oh, damn it." He muttered in a whoosh of a breath. "A little head start would be nice," called into the blackness of a parking lot but his only response was silence. He looked up and peered at the pitch black sky. Speak of the days that you don't think can get any worse, and then they do just that. "Classy, Isobel," he murmured. "Real classy. Thank you."
And it was then that he noticed something in his hand. Something he knew he didn't have when he'd left the bar a few minutes ago. Curious and confused, he stared blankly at the rather crumpled piece of plain white paper for a few moments before unfolding and smoothing it with his fingers. His brows drew together. Obviously, it was the man that shoved it into his palm before taking off, there was no other explanation of that that came ho time. It did not, however, make it clear what this little rendez vouz was about. Neither did it explain what the symbol drawn in simple black marker meant. Alaric looked up and around again. But everything was still.
On the way back to Mystic Falls from Duke, Alaric doesn't care about breaking traffic rules or the speed of his car that is at least twice higher than permitted as he drives down the narrow winding interstate. Damon and Elena are silent in their seats, too lost in their own thoughts, neither of them up for a small talk, which Alaric is grateful for.
His own mind is reeling as panic settles sickeningly in the pit of his stomach. What if he is too late? What if he had screwed up too bad to fix it?
He had to go, he reminds himself. He had to go back to a place that had been a great part of his life for a very long time and see how much he was still holding on to it. Things had to be settled first. If he didn't, he tells himself (or more like desperately tries to persuade himself), he couldn't move forward. Any thing with Jenna would be wrong if he still carried that baggage of his past. He has no right to do that to her.
But then at some point everything just clicks together, all the pieces fall in their places, and even though he misses the precise moment entirely, he suddenly knows what is the right thing to do, and he prays like crazy that she is up for second chances and that he gets one.
By the Gilbert house, he hops out of the car first, leaving Damon and Elena behind to deal with their issues without him and strolls towards the front door. Jenna is in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway for a moment, his knees somewhat weak and unsteady by the second and his resolve fading as his heart plummets down. He hadn't done it in a very long time and he fears that he might do something wrong now and screw it up even more.
She hears his footsteps and turns around, her face confused and a little cautious. As if expecting for bad news or something similarly unpleasant, he thinks absently. Now or never, Alaric tells himself as he crosses the distance between them before she has a chance to ask anything, or before he chickens out. He pulls her close, his lips crash hers, and it feels like a gulp of cold water in a desert.
"I should have done it this morning," he says when they pull apart to get some air.
And a moment later Jenna smiles. And something loosens inside of him, and Alaric can't help drawing her close again, eager to marvel in the feeling.
"I'm glad you're here now," Jenna murmurs against his lips.
She is still smiling, he can feel it with his mouth as she kisses him back. And she tastes so good – of strawberries and wine, which makes his head spin. And Alaric kicks and curses himself mentally for holding back and waiting for so long, and relief fills him, like Thank God, like finally.
They take their time as if trying to catch up with all these months of dancing around each other. He rakes his hands through her hair, relishing the silkiness between his fingers, frames her face, his insides flutter. Jenna's hands slide down his chest and she encircles his waist with her arms, and Alaric can't remember being happier.
"Hey, Jenna, do you think we still have—"
The voice is like a bucket of cold water, and they jump away from each other, although not fast enough.
Jeremy cuts off and stops in his tracks looking from one to the other, and their slightly guilty and flushed faces tell him everything. He blinks once, twice, before is lips start stretching into a grin which he attempts to cover with a cough.
"Never mind," he mutters and retreats hurriedly.
They listen to him stomp up the stairs and wait for the door on the second floor to slam soundly before Jenna turns to bury her face into Alaric's chest, squinting her eyes.
"Oh god," she breathes out and her shoulders tremble with suppressed nervous giggles that perfectly reflect his own feelings. Busted indeed!
Alaric puts his arms around her and whispers, "Well, I guess we successfully skipped the official announcement."
She looks up for a moment, and then bursts out laughing, and it can't be more perfect.
There was a moment in Alaric's life when he promised himself he would never fall that hard for anyone again, that he would never get attached to another human being the way he was attached to Isobel. Ever since he'd met her first, he strongly believed that they were like one soul in two bodies that were meant to end up together from the start because that was how such things worked. He didn't think about it for a second. He simply knew.
And then the truth downed on him a few months after she had gone missing. And it was the moment when he finally realized that despite his search for the truth, despite everything, she was not coming back. Ever.
It hit him hard. Hell, it pretty much felt like he had lost her all over again. All that pain, and grief, and memories he somehow managed to keep at bay when his mind was focused on something else came rushing back in, knocking him off of his feet and swallowing him completely. It nearly made him burn all his research papers and everything he'd managed to collect over the months because he wanted it out of his life. Everything, every single bit of the knowledge he'd gained, if only because on some primitive level it seemed that getting rid of it physically would somehow make him forget about this whole nightmare altogether. Because… what was the point, anyway? He could spend a year, or two, or his entire life digging like crazy, but it would never change anything, and the feeling left him empty, helpless and useless.
He cooled down eventually though, and even continued his research, almost successfully pretending that it was nothing but another project to keep his mind occupied. What was the harm in that? Not that he'd ever imagined doing a scientific work on the vampires of course, but hell, weirder things happened, no?
Besides, he was getting rather good at pretending. It was easier to shut everything off and just… go on somehow, breath after breath, step after step. It wasn't like he had much of a choice anyway. Although there was one thing that he'd learned from this situation – apparently, despite common notion, having and losing was not really worth it after all. Not having at all was dull and rather sad, too. But it sure as hell didn't hurt as much as having his heart ripped out and stomped over, and he didn't want to go for it again. He was not going to have whatever what was left of his heart grinded into dust. And somehow, it was not a bad plan to go on with, something to focus on not to lose his mind.
And, well, he did manage to keep his promise to himself – and rather successfully, too! He didn't fall that hard for anyone ever since. Not a big deal, right? Problem was, he fell for Jenna harder than that. Much harder than he could have imagined possible. And even though he wasn't breaking his promise, technically, he was still in a very big trouble. Had been ever since that night he'd met her months ago on his first day as a teacher in Mystic Falls High. It was still a mystery why he even came up to say hi to Jeremy Gilbert back then, like an impulse he could neither explain, nor resist.
The glint in her blue eyes and a soft curve of her lips were compelling, that was undeniable, but it wasn't the point. There was something else about Jenna, something that wasn't physical, something he couldn't quite put his finger on that drew him in and held him tight. Something that made a shell around his heart crack and the ice covering him on the inside melt before he even knew. Something that terrified him so much more than any vampire ever did.
So, here's to being an idiot!
And now he was sitting at the same bar months later, sipping at the bourbon that didn't really have any taste at this point and wishing there really was a way to burn someone to ashes with the power of his mind. Or whatever there was that could work on a centuries-old vampire. All the while deliberately looking the other way like he didn't care. Not that he did, of course—
Yeah, who was he fooling, again?
Alaric scolded himself and wondered with self-annoyance why wouldn't he just leave instead of fuming and glaring angry daggers at the third booth by the wall every now and then while this black cloud over his head grew, promising to turn into a full-blown storm that, with any luck, would flood Mystic Grill and give him some evil satisfaction. Flood the Grill and wash away that stupid, arrogant, self-centered—
"She'll come around, you know," Damon told him, sliding onto the tall stool next to Ric and waved at the barman What he has, getting a curt nod in return.
Okay, whatever! He came here first, didn't he?
"What?" Alaric called back distractedly, turning to look at the vampire.
"Jenna." Damon's drink arrived and he took a small sip before studying the ice-cubes in the glass as though they had answers to all his questions. "She'll come around eventually." He beamed then and flashed a crooked smile which Alaric took as expression of sympathy although he chose not to put much into it. Whatever Damon was saying, it was always wearing a thin coat of mockery. And he wasn't in the mood.
"Yeah, right," he sneered darkly and let a huge gulp of bourbon burn its way down his throat. "I hate him," he added through clenched teeth, his eyes fixed on the spot right before him, which at this point was a dusty bottle of green absinth.
Brows cocked, Damon turned and scanned the bar until his gaze stopped on the booth that was now experiencing the influence of the worst vibes ever perhaps, mainly because it happened to be occupied by Jenna and Elijah.
Glasses of iced tea on the Mystic Grill coasters before them, they were involved into an animated conversation that somehow required a lot of smiling, at least on Jenna's part. From his spot Damon could only see the back of Elijah's head, his hair perfect as ever, but in any case it was rather impossible to imagine that he was scowling or wearing a stone face, which could answer his question about Alaric's "bright" mood better than any words in the world.
He turned to Ric. "She's doing it on purpose, you know? To make you jealous." Which sounded like it was coming from an expert in the area.
Alaric gave him a quick look out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, well, I don't think she cares enough to bother."
Damon considered his words for a moment, and then nodded with confidence. "You're probably right, Ric. It's been what, three days? Five? She must be long over you by now. Hell, I'd bet my last dollar she doesn't even remember your name at this point. Sorry, buddy," he patted Alaric on the back, which was mockery this time, "but Mr. Smith and his hairdo are not something you can compete with."
Alaric chose to ignore his words, seeing as to how they were hitting too close to home. Instead, he huffed and shook his head. "What could they possibly be talking about?" He asked under his breath, not addressing anyone in particular.
"Oh, you know, the weather. The books. Maybe hairstyles. Or maybe she's telling him what a dick you are." Damon looked over his shoulder again. "If I am right, though, she's doing it with the wrong face. Unless they discuss killing you in your sleep."
Curious beyond himself, Alaric looked back as well, which did little good to his doom and gloom.
Jenna was leaning forward now, propped on her forearms, smiling and laughing occasionally as she talked, and god help him, but he could catch the sweet sound of it even across the bar. He never considered himself a jealous type, Alaric thought. Territorial – yes, and wasn't it, like, natural? But never the white-hot-rage-stay-away-from-her-or-I-will-rip-your-heart-out-and-stick-it-in-your-throat kind that wasn't really easy to keep under control at the moment. Not that he ever had a reason to feel like that before.
Seeing Jenna now, however, being so carefree and radiant around someone else felt like being stabbed in the heart, and then the knife started to turn. Also, it was making him want to go and strangle that someone else, slowly and painfully, and preferably in some torturous way. Although he wasn't entirely sure what exactly he was jealous of the most – the fact that Elijah could try and charm her somehow or of him being able to be with her when he, Alaric, was doomed to sulk darkly in the corner instead. A little bit of both, he decided in the end.
"I really hate him," he muttered, returning his gaze to his glass again. "And his hair."
"Why don't you just, I don't know, go there and talk to her?" Damon rolled his eyes.
"Because she made it pretty clear she doesn't want me around."
And to grant her wish he even made avoiding Jenna at any cost a mission of his life, doing his best not to cross paths with her as best he could. Which hardly lasted long enough. Boy, he was pathetic.
"And since when do you do what you're told?" Damon wondered and shook his head.
Which, okay, hit the nail right on the head. Ric wasn't the type to be bossed around. Normally. In 99% of cases. Right now, however, he simply didn't want to make it worse. The look in Jenna's eyes the last time they'd talked, the way her voice sounded – it all haunted him, like a curse that was meant to torture him for what he did. Not that it was uncalled for, of course. And he had no right to push. She wanted him out? Fine, he could do that. If it meant she would feel better– he was all up for it. He had already hurt her enough, and the last thing Alaric needed was to do something else and screw it up even more, in case even more was a possibility.
And of course there was that another problem he was supposed to deal with somehow. That midnight incident that left his insides aching until he stuffed himself with half a bottle of Aspirin. He meant to talk to Damon about it, ask if the vampire had any idea who it was or what they were so interested in, seeing as to how Damon could know things he, apparently, didn't. God only knew what Isobel shared with him one time or the other.
He'd given it some thinking, too. Quite a lot of thinking to be honest since it was basically the only thing capable of keeping his mind off of Jenna. He wasn't as anxious as he was curious at this point. And pissed off, too. If anything, it cost him a vampire punch in the gut and a major headache of a problem with a deadline. Isobel, wherever she was, was just too generous to keep the fun to herself. It totally looked like she had to pull him in just for the hell of it as well, in that charming manner of hers.
So, he'd meant to talk to Damon about it and about the symbol…
Instead, he asked, "You think that dagger could actually work?" And there was some evil hope in his voice.
Damon grinned. "So, now you want to check it out, huh? For someone as peaceful as you normally are, you sure can be bloodthirsty sometimes, Ric."
"Just an idea." Alaric shrugged. And he was actually up for giving it a try, personally. To have some twisted satisfaction, maybe. No sucker punch in his life hurt as much as seeing Jenna with other man did, whatever the context was, and his first and dominating instinct was to wipe said man off of the face of the Earth, end of story.
"Just don't start swinging here," Damon drawled. "They'll make you pay for the broken furniture."
"I don't trust him, okay? I don't want him around Jenna until we know what his game is." I don't want him around Jenna, period. But he didn't say that.
"Well, she doesn't seem to share the sentiment." Damon straightened up then. "Oh, look, that's my girlfriend." And when Alaric looked back, he also saw Andie maneuver her way between the tables towards the booths area. "Guess I should go and say hi." The vampire rose, finished his drink in one gulp and patted Ric on the back with such enthusiasm that the latter nearly fell off of his stool. "It would be rude if I don't."
Jenna knew he was there. Of course she did, how could she not? She practically sensed him the moment they stepped into Mystic Grill as if he was a radio-wave she was attuned to. It didn't take her more than half a second to spot him at the bar, and her heart stopped for a moment as a jolt of panic shot through her body. She averted her gaze when he turned as if sensing her too, and kept it pointedly away ever since, fighting a wish to storm out and… away, anywhere.
Which would be ridiculous perhaps, but at least she'd most likely stop suffocating. Instead, she let Elijah lead her to the booths and named lemon iced tea as her drink of choice when he asked what she would like to have. The self-kicking (because she should have known better than coming to the Grill, of all places) would come later. Now, she had an agenda to follow.
She felt his gaze though, almost as real as a touch brushing along her every now and then, and it was making her skin tingle and itch. She kept the conversation light and going, and gave herself ten points for not stumbling once even though she had no idea what they were talking about most of the time. Well, it must have been making sense after all, or so she supposed since Elijah's face didn't show anything but genuine interest. But then again, he might have very well been too polite to express puzzlement openly.
So, Jenna carried on with it, her mask intact and perfect. She'd been doing it too much lately to make it almost automatic, all the while trying to ignore the coiling of her insides that was getting almost routine. Yes, Elena, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be? Jer, you want pizza for dinner or something Chinese? Sorry, guys, been stuck at the library today but I promise you a proper homemade meal this weekend, three courses. As if nothing happened. There was no way for her to make it through, to cope with it otherwise. It was hard, and it was tough, but she couldn't let anyone else see it. The moment she faced sympathy and concern, and all the soothing words she knew they were more than willing to offer, she would lose it. And she couldn't. She just couldn't.
Night was her time though. Time to fall apart and let the tears flood. Time to cry herself to sleep when she didn't have to be strong for anyone or pretend that nothing changed. Time to be truly scared – of the things lurking in the dark, of not being strong enough to handle them, of failing. Just to close the door, bury her face in a pillow to muffle the sound and let it go until there was nothing left, until she was drained enough physically and emotionally to fall into the dark abyss of dreamless sleep only to be yanked out of it a few short hours later, broken and exhausted as if she hadn't slept at all. And then everything was starting again.
Alaric stayed back these days. She hadn't heard from him, or of him for that matter, ever since that late night text on the day when everything came out, and a part of her was glad he respected her wish for him to back off. Whatever they were going to do next and wherever they were going to end up eventually, she needed time and space and some proper thinking before even considering going anywhere. She needed the information to settle.
It was another part that bothered Jenna though. A much bigger part that wanted to slap him for listening to her. A part that was endlessly annoyed with him complying so easily and just staying in the corner, or, say, sitting at the bar instead of… yep, here was the problem. What exactly was she expecting him to do? She knew she'd be even more irritated if he'd just walk up to them right now, if he'd try to see her or talk to her these past few days. She'd take it as a violation of her privacy and personal space or whatever. Problem was, the fact that he didn't attempt to approach her in any way hurt her even more for some reason. Did he really care so little after all? Jenna hated thinking about it, hated the feeling of complete and utter dread that flooded her whenever her mind wandered in that direction. Sadly, she couldn't help it. Was it an intention to give her room, or an excuse to stay away because it was what he really wanted?
Oh, okay, she was officially a mess. And thinking about all of that was a result of lack of proper sleep and excessive consumption of caffeine, and nothing else. And feeling all that it didn't at all mean she was even considering forgiving him for what he'd done, she reminded herself. God, she wasn't even sure she could, ever. How do you even get over something like that? How do you get over such kind of betrayal? If anything, Jenna wasn't quite sure there was a chance for her to merely start trusting him again. Wasn't sure she'd take the risk even if she could somehow. Hell, two days ago she'd sworn blind she wasn't going to even talk to him ever again, leave alone contemplate anything else.
Yet, here she was, glad and relieved despite everything to actually see him regardless of how wrong it was, and she truly despised herself for it. For that feeling of… of not being alone somehow. A few days ago he had basically destroyed her, but she was still missing him. And it was simply beyond her control.
Jenna didn't see Damon joining Ric. She did, however, look up when Andie showed up and stopped at their table, and for the barest of moments her gaze flickered towards the bar, a reflex more than anything. And it was exactly when Alaric turned, too, and their eyes met. And just like that, her resolve started to dissolve. It lasted for half a second at most before she promptly looked away but this briefest of eye contacts in the history of eye contacts made everything inside of Jenna ache. And all the hurt, all the darkness she'd been living in and fighting with was coming back in, alongside with this desperate wish to hit him hard and hug him at the same time. And let him make the things better somehow simply because she knew he was the only one to make it all go away.
She sighed subtly. Maybe she wasn't as solid as she thought she was after all.
It hurt even more now, Jenna had to admit. This whole situation. Now that she'd given it some thinking, her pain transformed from piercing and intense to dull, constant and probably similarly intense, and it was always there, no matter how much she fought to stay distracted and detached.
She tried to keep herself busy, every moment when she was awake – and that was a lot. Working on her thesis (or at the very least making an impression of it), or helping Carol Lockwood, or merely thinking about how to keep everyone she loved alive. It was driving her insane at times, making her head spin. But it was better that way. Anything was better than replaying her last conversation with Alaric over and over in her head. All the words that had been said, or should have been but weren't. His face. His voice. The way he was looking at her. She couldn't help it. The moment she let the guards down, the moment she set her mind free – it was all there, bright and clear. And it wasn't what she could handle…
"Jenna?"
Andie's voice startled her and she snapped her head up to find three pairs of eyes watching her expectedly. Wait a moment, when did Damon arrive, again? She blinked and wondered how long she had been out, too preoccupied with her own little drama to pay attention to anything else. Long enough for them to notice, obviously.
"I'm sorry," she offered them a small guilty smile. "What was the question?"
"The reception," Andie repeated patiently. "You're coming, aren't you?"
No way in hell, was her first reaction, and god only knew how much it took not to blurt it out, then add a bunch of half-ass lame excuses and run away before someone roped her into it, literary. Crap, she totally forgot about it. Or more like – about the fact that it was today, a snooze-fest of a Founder's party. Again. Wasn't it supposed to be on Friday?... Um, right, it WAS Friday.
Jenna felt a mother of all headaches forming behind her eyes. She promised to be there, she recalled. She promised to help, didn't she? Well, technically she was all but forced into volunteering but it wasn't like Carol cornered her and threatened her with the scissors although she might have as well because when it actually happened Jenna's only choice was to either drop dead right there and then or to offer her assistance, all polite and smiling, with the words that would probably result in Mrs. Lockwood's heart attack had she said them out loud rolling in her head.
It mattered to her sister though, Jenna reminded herself, and it was the only thing that was making this whole community involvement thing bearable. It was important for Miranda, really important. Not that Jenna herself didn't care, of course. She did, kind of. Just not with passion. For her sister it was about believing in building a perfect society where people cared for and were looking after each other and stuff. As for Jenna, she respected those who were truly devoted and she knew it was the right thing to do, and now that Miranda and Grayson were gone she simply didn't have the heart to send the whole Council right to hell where it probably belonged for being so infinitely boring and to drive happily into the sunset, meaning – in the direction of a couch with a box of pizza in her hands.
Besides, she was still officially helping Elijah with his "research", and the fact that he probably knew more about the town of Mystic Fall than a few generations of Founding families together didn't change anything – it wasn't like she could drop the bomb on all of them, which meant she had to go on with playing her part.
Well, he wasn't the worst of the company, Jenna had to admit. He was nice and charming and courteous, a proper gentleman coated with a thick layer of chocolate and with the cherry on top, the kind of man Jenna thought were long extinct. Then again, maybe they were. He was smart and interesting to talk to, and even though it was a little unnerving to look at him now and know that he might very well be older than the civilization itself, she somehow didn't quite mind playing along. Minus the part that involved social appearances. Keeping the façade and wearing the mask was getting rather tiring lately, especially in the crowds.
It hit her than that Alaric was supposed to go with her, and her stomach twisted.
…They were camped out at his place on a dark rainy afternoon a few weeks earlier, sitting cross-legged on the floor near the couch with a bowl of popcorn on a coffee table before them and two cups of hot chocolate on coasters. The room was almost dark because of the low heavy clouds outside, and the rain intensified beating hard on the roofs and pavements. The lights were dimmed and the TV was buzzing quietly as they talked in low voices, barely paying attention to the movie that was running more for a background sound than anything else.
Alaric grimaced when she mentioned the party first, in exactly same way she flinched inwardly when she'd found out about it herself. "Do you have to go?" He asked with sympathy.
"Well, at this point I'm not so sure even a tornado could be an excuse not to," she admitted, still contemplating the possibilities. "Mayor Lockwood would simply move it to some bunker."
He laughed, making Jenna note that she really, really liked the sound of it. "Can I do something to ease your pain?"
"Well, I have a few massacre scenarios replying in my head," she started hopefully after considering the question and took a small sip of her hot chocolate.
Ric let out a half-chuckle, half-snort. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his finger brushing lightly against Jenna's cheek, then caught her gaze when she looked up. "Would you like me to go with you?" He offered.
"You hate this kind of social gatherings," she reminded him.
"Yeah, but… Won't it be fun to be replaying these massacre scenarios together?"
Her smile softened, eased, widened. She put her mug back to the coffee table, then leaned forward and grazed her lips against his. "That could do the trick, I think," she murmured, and somehow whole idea stopped looking so torturous…
And now it wasn't an option anymore. Yet, it didn't look like she could come up with something and wiggle out of the whole business altogether, unless "I broke up with my boyfriend, let me drown in my misery" became a legit reason to spend the rest of her life eating ice-cream in her room dressed in favorite pajama.
"Sure," Jenna said easily and nodded with enthusiasm that she knew was too fake for anyone to buy it. For a moment, she thought that one of Elijah's brows cocked curiously but in the end she decided she was most likely putting too much into nothing. He was, after all, probably just as much interested in this event as she was. Still, it felt like the right thing to add, "Can't wait."
Alaric saw her instantly, the moment Jenna stepped into the brightly lit room with Elena by her side and Jeremy hovering behind them and looking just as uncomfortable and annoyed as Alaric felt. In a short long-sleeved black cocktail dress with high neck and open back and with her hair falling down her shoulders in thick waves, she looked dashing to say the least, and he swallowed hard when his throat had suddenly gone dry and sandy. He took a gulp of his scotch or whatever he had in his glass and swallowed it without feeling the taste of it or the way it burned his mouth.
"You look pathetic," Damon said, coming up to stand beside him.
"I feel pathetic," Ric assured him, taking another sip of his drink. "And miserable."
And I have no words to say how much I want to turn around and get the hell out of here, he added in his mind, automatically scanning the room for possible escape routes and yet knowing it was hardly anything but wishful thinking. He wouldn't do it, wouldn't leave, no matter how hard he'd want to strangle the next person that would approach him with the small talk.
It was a bad idea to come. He shouldn't have been there… Yet, it was Carol Lockwood who called him after all when she'd run into him at the Salvatore mansion a few days ago. Because he was "involved" with the town's activities lately, she said, making him all but choke on the snicker when he thought about how much "involved" he was, exactly.
And now he was using this invitation that for some reason sounded more like an order when coming from Mayor Lockwood to see Jenna, which probably meant he might have as well opened the dictionary and found his photo near the definition of desperate. But then again, having no idea when he was going to see her again was driving him insane.
So, that was the reason why he was feeling out of place in his own body that was packed in a neat suit and dark-blue shirt, although there hardly was anything in the world that could have forced him to wear a tie. That was the reason he stood in the room full of other people in suits, chatting, and laughing, and drinking champagne as he fought the wish to hide behind the nearest ginormous flower pot with some bushy palm thingy in it instead of sipping a drink at the Grill to the sounds of soft music coming from the juke box and a familiar buzz of voices around. He would probably feel just as miserable there, Alaric thought. Maybe even more miserable than now because Jenna surely wouldn't be there, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about his face actually cracking if he flashed another smile.
Geez, he wasn't even sure she would show up. They hadn't talked about this event after she'd mentioned it once, and he would never blame her if she decided to bail in the end. After all, it was her wish from the start. And the thought was almost weirdly comforting, he realized all of a sudden. If she did skip it after all, it meant that at least one of them was having a decent night. Not to mention that they whole stalking thing wasn't exactly working with the "give her space and time" plan. So, maybe it would actually be good if she didn't come. As for him, he'd have a couple of drinks and scram to hide in the safe confines of his apartment where no would be questioning his dark mood…
Hell, nothing was holding him there, he thought with frustration… which happened half a second before he spotted her, and it was only then that he realized how much he was actually waiting, wanting to see her – even if it was like that, forty feet across the room and praying that she wouldn't see him back.
He watched her talk to someone he didn't know, soft smile on her lips, and his heart was thudding dully against his ribs.
Okay, now it was time to scram, Alaric decided endlessly regretting his stupid decision. Before she spotted him too, or something. He wanted to see her? Well, he saw her! There was need to push the luck. He had already hurt her enough, might as well stay away from her now, seeing as to how it was all her could do, period. There was a way not to cross paths with her even in such a small town as Mystic Falls if he tried real hard, right? Why did he even come here, again?
Truth be told, there was a moment when Alaric contemplated leaving. Just pack his stuff – not that there was much to pack, quit the job and drive away without so much as a look back, and maybe at the very least try to get this endless nightmare of the past few years out of his mind.
No, he was not delusional and knew it was not possible to actually forget about something like that for good. But maybe if he tried hard enough, if he pretended long enough, the details would blur at the edges, like an old fading photo, and eventually he'd start to question the reality of all of that. His business was done in Mystic Falls after all. There was nothing to hold him here, technically. The reason he moved there in the first place was to find out what happened to Isobel. That mission was accomplished, archived and stored away. And hell if he wanted to spend the rest of his life running with the stakes and vervain darts. In fact, he'd give a lot to never see a stake in his life ever again.
But he couldn't do it. The moment the thought crossed his mind, he knew he wouldn't leave. He would never go away, knowing that Jenna wasn't entirely safe, and there wasn't such thing in this town per se. And, pathetic as it was, he wouldn't stop hoping either, he just couldn't accept the fact that it was the end of them. Probably never would, Alaric mused. How on earth could he? Besides, there was also that moment when he promised to make sure Jenna would get the best, whatever it was. Only he didn't realize back then that he was promising it to himself more than to Logan Fell. And he was more than determined to keep it. Even if the best wasn't him, he would at the very least make sure no one would ever hurt her again.
It still sucked to wear a suit though.
Alaric sighed, and then his lips pursed into a thin line when he spotted John Gilbert standing by the couch and talking to someone Alaric had been introduced to as well but whose name he didn't bother to memorize, what with it being so "important". Yeah, he should have probably figured John would show up as well. He huffed. Saying that this whole gathering was a pure torture was a huge understatement.
His gaze shifted back to Jenna chatting with someone a good hundred feet away from him, and deep uncontrolled longing filled him at the sight. She was laughing, but he knew she was probably enjoying the whole thing just as much as he. And maybe, just maybe, it was one of the reasons he hadn't left yet, too. Maybe they were sort of uniting in their solitary suffering, all the while wanting to be somewhere else. Except that his somewhere else would be with her, regardless of the details.
"Alaric!"
The voice made him all but jump out of his skin, and he whirled around to find beaming – literary, what with all the jewelry – Carol Lockwood standing next to him, all proper hostess that would most likely manage to find him even under the sofa. That would probably get him from under the earth if he didn't come, he guessed. Panicking slightly, he chanced a quick sidelong glance and realized that Damon escaped by then. Traitor.
"Mayor Lockwood," he called back, hoping his smile was more of a smile and less of a scowl. Too much effort started to backfire.
"Oh, Carol, please. I'm glad you made it here." She swept the reception hall with a satisfied glance, and Alaric wondered if she was also feeling that this mask of pleasantry had frozen to her face as well. But then again, it could have been there for too long for Mrs. Lockwood to know the difference.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he responded rather sincerely as he spotted Elijah entering the room through the door across from them.
He needed a drink. Badly. And a new hiding place. And as soon as Mrs. Lockwood – Carol, please – was gone, Alaric looked around the room in search for… something. Okay, so there was the bar, in the next parlor. All he needed to do was to circle this one sticking close to the walls to avoid further interrogations, or any other contact for that matter. Eyes on the glass doors, he started to move towards the make-shift bar counter placed near the exit to the terrace for the night. Right now, a couple of people were standing there waiting for two barmen to arrange their drinks. Just across the room….
He stepped over the threshold… and all but ran into Jenna.
"You sure you want to do it?" Elena asked when they were making their way up the wide marble steps and towards the front door leading to the Founder's Hall, not able to help hoping that they'd just turn around and leave and go to grab some pizza instead. And before they actually entered the building, it was still a possibility. She even almost supported Jeremy when he offered to wait the whole thing out sitting in the car. The idea of spending a few following hours being someone else wasn't quite appealing at the moment.
"No, but it almost like asking to be unborn," Jenna called back with the enthusiasm that equaled Elena's. "You can't fight or undo it." Sadly.
"In and out," Jeremy reminded them from behind. For the fifth time. With the panic in his voice this time, and it sounded like he was a step away from bolting away.
"Exactly," Elena nodded as they finally stepped inside.
"Oh, look, the party is already getting better." Jenna snickered, reaching to pick up a flute of champagne from the tray when a waiter coursed right before them heading into the depths of the place. "This is gonna be fun," she muttered, observing her surroundings.
And it was. In a give-me-something-to-poke-myself-in-the-eye way.
It was just a little too much of an act than she could muster right now. Too much light. Too much sparkling. Too much smiling and I'm good, thank you's. It was too fake to be comfortable at the moment. Too shallow to enjoy it. Too meaningless to pay proper attention. Too overwhelming to keep her mind straight and focused. And too lonely to bear it on her own.
Getting utterly wasted wasn't a part of the plan, but boy, was it tempting! Especially with the time dragging slower than the snail. Much to her dismay, it wasn't much of an option. The only option she did have, however, was…
Jenna didn't get to finish the thought though because one moment she was heading towards the bathroom to hide there for a little while and finally take a proper breath, and maybe also check if her facial muscles were still intact because she wasn't feeling them anymore, and then all of a sudden Alaric was right before her, literary, and her mind had gone blank.
They stopped and gawked at each other, confused and awkward. And maybe her jaw did drop in a very undignified way, too. She didn't care, if only because for a very short moment the sounds all around them faded and the house disappeared, and there were only the two of them in the whole world.
She knew he had come, saw him lurking in the back of the room trying to look invisible or maybe blend with the wall paper as best he could. And god help her, but it made her night. Jenna hated herself for the very idea but it was comforting to know he was there as well, the only person who wasn't old and filthy rich and who probably felt about the whole event the very same way she did. Not that she was going to tell him that, of course, but… but it was good to have him close. It was good to know she wasn't all alone in that misery even if she wasn't with him exactly, either. Even if she had no right to feel this way in his regards anymore.
"Jenna," Alaric said for lack of better ideas. He cleared his throat and swallowed uneasily. There was another door. Why didn't he use it? Why was she even here? She was… last time he checked she was… somewhere else, for heaven's sake!
God, she looked good, he noted. So much better standing right there before him than it seemed from afar. In a I'm gonna turn off and render your speechless for a while, sincerely, your brain kind of way.
"Ric," she echoed, also out of bright ideas in that department.
And then someone cleared their throat right next to them, making both of them turn.
Speak of the devil… Alaric's eyes landed on Elijah who couldn't choose worse timing, and narrowed of the will of their own as he went completely tense by the second, as if expecting having to jump into a fight any moment. And it wasn't just jealousy. Not entirely. Only 99% of it was. And he totally wasn't picturing multiple ways to murder him in brutal and torturous ways in his mind for even looking at Jenna. Well, if he was, it was strictly because this high-class mannered dude was older than the Bible, even if it wasn't quite making any sense. Nothing was making much sense lately.
"Oh, there you are," Jenna's voice changed instantly when she spotted Elijah as well, and pure excitement and relief in it made Alaric's scowl deepen. "I've been looking for you."
I've been looking for you, Ric mimicked in his mind. Irritated beyond himself, he mustered the "serial killer" friendly face and took his chance to study the vampire closely now that he had a good excuse to do it. His teeth remained clenched tight though and he hoped so, so much that mind-reading wasn't one of Elijah's amazing abilities. But then again, maybe it could have kept him miles away from Jenna, which Alaric was perfectly fine with. And – Smith? Really? Jeez!
"I am sorry, I got ambushed," Elijah said meanwhile, his eyes on Jenna only, and gave her a pointed look.
"Mrs. Carlyle?" Jenna winced sympathetically. "Yeah, she's got… claws."
And they both laughed as if it was an inside joke or something, and one of Alaric's hands balled into a fist involuntarily. Seriously, what the hell?
"Um, Elijah…" Jenna started, turning to Ric at last. "This is Alaric Saltzman. I don't think you've met before. He's my—" She stumbled and her eyes locked on Alaric's face for a long moment as he waited patiently for her to continue. He was her what? "He's a teacher in Mystic Falls High, and also a historian. You have it in common, I guess."
Aw, so that was what they were now! Interesting!
"Alaric Saltzman?" One of Elijah's brows cocked as he gave him a somewhat apprehensive look. "I've heard a lot about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"No kidding?" Ric muttered, choosing to ignore Jenna's obvious glare. He cleared his throat again and mustered a crooked smile. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine," he responded while the phrase Just because I smile doesn't mean I like you – maybe I simply imagine you being hit by the truck popped up in his mind.
"You must be really enjoying this event then," Elijah supposed.
And Alaric decided to at the very least try and make his actual feelings a little less obvious so that everyone would stop rubbing them in his face.
"Immensely," he nodded in the end, getting really sick of pointless formalities. Neither of them needed this crap, yet it wasn't particularly smart to start giving punches in the middle of the mostly unaware crowd. "How could I not?"
"Indeed," Elijah agreed, "This society is so exquisite!" And maybe Alaric was getting really paranoid about the whole thing but he could have sworn that for the barest of moments his gaze flickered towards Jenna.
"Oh, finally you're free!"
Neither of them noticed Andie's arrival. What excuses the others had, Ric didn't know. Personally, he was trying to turn the vampire into ashes with his glare, and only turned to acknowledge her presence when started pulling Elijah away.
"Oh, hey, Ric," Andie gave him a small wave before looking at Jenna. "I hope you don't mind if I steal him for a little while."
"Just as long as he doesn't mind."
"Oh, I shamelessly succumb," Elijah called back courteously, a moment before they were both gone, and a thick silence fell.
Well, it wasn't silence, exactly. The orchestra was playing, the people were talking, and even the trees were rustling softly outside in the light breeze. Yet, the tension and uneasiness between them was so tangible that the saying about an elephant in the room wasn't that much of a figure of speech anymore.
A waiter tried to squeeze past them through the door, not that there was much room left. Thank God, Jenna thought as she grabbed yet another flute of champagne from his tray and downed half of it in one gulp, either to steady herself or at the very least to stop caring about not being steady – she wasn't sure.
If anything, she needed something to occupy herself with after being stupid enough to let Andie and Elijah leave. Should have found a way to keep them here, or to sneak away with them, she realized belatedly instead of ending up here one on one with Ric. They hadn't talked ever since… then. And being okay with him hanging around here – because she was a damned fool, for lack of better explanation – didn't mean she was ready to actually face him. Physically. Like that. At least sober. What should they say? What should they do? Were they supposed to just rewind these few months back and have a small meaningless talk about the weather? Were they supposed to simply ignore each other, turn around and walk in different directions simply because there was nothing left to say and the rest wouldn't be anything but pretence again?
In any case, figuring out required some thinking, and the party hosted by the founding families wasn't the place to do it. He saw her, he knew she was there, and she knew it, too. And yet once again he preferred to pointedly stay away, and Jenna had no intentions to interfere with the plan. For one thing, she had no idea how to behave around him anymore. She was hurt, the wound was too fresh to touch it before it even started to heal. And since he didn't want to be anywhere near her, which he proved already – fine, she didn't want him anywhere near her either then.
This stupid party was taking too much out of her as is to add Alaric Saltzman into the mix. She was too exhausted for any of this by this point. All these hours were taking their toll on her, perhaps. She was smiling when necessary, laughing when it was appropriate, nodding politely while listening and doing a bunch of other meaningless things when the only thing she really wanted to do was to join Ric somewhere away from the crowds, bury her face into his chest and pretend that the rest of the world didn't exist. And the thought was frightening, she realized. If only because she wasn't sure she wouldn't weaver if it actually was an option.
Alaric raked his brain helplessly, fighting to find something to say. Anything. Just to break the silence before they walked past each other and disappeared in the crowd or something. The stupid How are you? that flashed in his mind died on his tongue. It would sound like a mockery perhaps, and he would probably get nothing but a laugh in his face in return.
Jenna saved him the trouble though.
"Enjoying the party?" She asked in a flat and perfectly polite voice she most likely used with everyone this night. Carol Lockwood copycat, no less. Except for the smile – Alaric didn't get even a trace of it.
"You can say that," he muttered. "You?" God, he needed a drink to handle this.
"You can say that," she shrugged.
"Well, I imagine Elijah is a wonderful company," he supposed, spotting a familiar hairdo outside on the terrace.
Bad move.
Bad, bad, bad move.
But he only realized it when it was too late to swallow the words and maybe choke on them for good measure. Jenna's eyes narrowed a little, her gaze sharpened, and wherever they were going, if anywhere, it was all gone.
She tipped her chin, her gaze flaring with challenge. "Yes, he is. And by the way, you have lost your right to be a jealous boyfriend here, Ric."
Had he? Alaric's heart sank. "It's not that!" He hissed defensively, stepping a little closer to her, which basically left only half a foot between them. He looked around the room again. "I don't trust him, and I don't want him around you. Especially now that… now that you know."
Jenna froze for a moment, overwhelmed by his proximity more than anything. "Well, you don't have a say about that either," she retorted. "And unless you go and tell Carol Lockwood what you told me, I have to go with the game. Then again, maybe you should do it. Maybe she would appreciate some honesty as well."
For a moment, they just glared at each other, almost making the sparkles fly.
In the end, Jenna turned on her heels to leave but Alaric caught her by the arm and spun her around until they were standing face to face, barely a few inches apart.
"Well, he wasn't exactly open with you either," he said in a low voice.
Jenna's breath caught in her throat, and for a long while her eyes just roamed around his face and all she could think about was his lips and what it felt like to have them of hers.
"I wasn't sleeping with him, Ric," she said at last, hoping her voice would stay more or less steady. Yeah, rrrrright! "I wasn't with him. And I sure as hell didn't—" love him. She cut herself off. "It is not exactly comparable, don't you think?"
"I just want you to be careful, Jenna, is all."
"I can take care of myself, thank you."
I know you can. Doesn't mean you have to. He let go of her arm though and nodded curtly as he took a step back before he kissed her or something, now that she was too close not to do it. Paused and said, "Yes—yes, you can. But I—I don't want you to get hurt."
To that, she all but laughed. At least on the inside. "Don't worry about that. I think you have already done the job. Not sure anyone could ever beat that."
Oh, okay, maybe it was a little too much, Jenna admitted making her way through the crowd in vain attempt to put just as much distance between herself and Alaric as it was possible, not sure if she was more annoyed with the fact that he had no right to be jealous after everything that had happened between them or with herself and that fear that he actually wasn't. That it was only about Elijah being a vampire, not about her personally.
She felt torn, leaving him like that. And angry at both of them and the whole situation, and especially at herself for feeling so damn good at the sound of possessive notes in his voice when he had mentioned Elijah. Not that he had any reason to feel that way, for heaven's sake! And no right, for that matter, to begin with. But… but thinking that the whole thing between them was nothing but a scheme, that maybe it was all about his vampire crusade and he never really cared hurt so much more than all the secrets combined.
Yet, there hardly was a way to fake what she had seen in his eyes. Pain, helpless fury, desperate struggle to find a way out of this situation that reflected her own inner turmoil, and for a moment, just for one short moment, on some selfish level it felt nice to know that they were together in this mess of emotions.
Jenna finished her champagne and stared blankly at the flute. The only remaining problem was that loving him and trusting him not to hurt her again were two entirely different things.
It was a long shot, and a huge risk too, but the damned reception that dragged forever was the best cover Jenna could think of. It was now or never. Or more like – now or later but most likely with complications.
When the crowd started to thin at last and Mrs. Lockwood seemed to have Elijah all for her own, Jenna tiptoed out of the house through the patio doors and onto the wide terrace, looking around cautiously to avoid running into someone again. There were mainly only the waiters and the cleaning crew left that already started working on the deserted areas while the guests were saying goodbyes in the hall and standing on the front steps.
The night air was chilly and she shivered a little, cursing herself for mindlessly leaving the jacket in the car. The garden was lit by a few antique-looking streetlamps scattered haphazardly around but to Jenna's endless relief the light was barely reaching the building. Despite the cold, however, cicadas were chirring in the trees and the sound was oddly comforting.
On a final look over the shoulder, Jenna took off her high heeled pumps and padded towards and around the corner sticking close to the walls where the shadows were deeper as she listened carefully. The marble floor was ice-cold beneath her nylon-clad feet and she bit her lip to focus on something else.
She stopped before yet another tall glassed door, placed her hand on the handle, took a deep breath like before diving into the cold water and pushed, praying for it to be open. And then, when the door gave in – for the hinges not to creak. To her endless relief, they didn't, and a moment later Jenna slipped inside and into the study that smelled of wood, leather and books, and closed it just as soundlessly behind her back. It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the dark and start making out the silhouettes of the furniture. She could hear muffled voices behind the other door – the one that led into the inside corridor, but they were too low for her to understand a word or even guess who was speaking.
Well, at least it was relatively warm here.
She looked around, considering. Hopefully, everyone would leave within an hour or two, and she'd… well, she'd try to do something useful for once.
The sound of approaching footsteps sent a jolt of panic through Jenna's body and she crossed the room in a matter of seconds, her own footsteps completely soundless on thick carpet, and buried herself into massive thick curtains that hung open by the patio doors she'd entered through. With her back pressed against the paneled wall, she went completely still and even stopped breathing altogether. Being caught wasn't on the plan, not to mention that she didn't have a remotely decent explanation of what exactly she was doing there when everyone else was leaving.
For a moment, she thought she heard the door crack open – which one, she didn't know, but no other sounds followed no matter how hard she fought to catch anything, and in the end she decided it was just panic and her mind playing tricks on her, or maybe she could blame it on the beating of her heart somewhere in her throat that was both deafening and suffocating.
Jenna waited for a while, and then for a little while more, and then heaved a subtle sigh of relief and let go of the drape when she realized she was holding it in a dead white-knuckled grip. She closed her eyes, counting in her head to stabilize her breathing … and then snapped them open, horrified, when a hand closed firmly around her mouth.
To be continued…
A/N: well, as always comments, reviews, etc. are highly appreciated :) Sorry for making it so long again, I kinda didn't find a way to slit it somewhere in the middle :P