Chapter 2
New Orleans
Alana slept in Elijah's car on her way from New York to New Orleans. Elijah glanced a look over at her as he drove. She was smiling in her sleep, the way she had done since she was small. It was a sleep filled smile he had seen many times before- the one where her full lips were relaxed and looked as if they had a kiss waiting upon them for a recipient. A hidden kiss she had called it once. A hidden kiss he knew belonged to him, for she had said so many times before.
He could not believe that the astonishingly talented and beautiful woman curled up on the seat beside him, head against the cold window, fast asleep, was the same young woman he had met at the French court of Louis XVI. Her father had been the English ambassador to Louis and had been billeted with them, he and his siblings, for a while.
Elijah had saved her. Saved her from the advances of his younger bother Kol who had intended to use her a mistress. It was only then that Elijah had realised his affection for young Alana, that she had captivated him with her talent, her conversation, her beauty and her kindness. It was not long after that, that they had taken to walking out together as a courtship during the day and by night had lain together in each others arms, seeking their shared pleasure located deep within each others hearts. Elijah felt sure he would have married her, had klaus not daggered him not long after the revolution. When he had awoken, Alana was nowhere to be found. He had later discovered she had made her way home to England after the death of her father at the guillotine. He had been angry with himself for not being there for her, to comfort her after she had lost her only parent- or at least the only parent she had ever known.
Elijah was brought back to the present as Alana made a small crying noise in her sleep. A whimper. Elijah looked at her and saw tears streaming down her cheeks. Elijah pulled over into a gas station and motel and parked the car before turning to run his fingers down Alana's cheek.
"Alana. Wake up." He repeated over and over until she stirred. Bleary blue eyes stared up at him before Alana had thrown her pale arms around his neck and was crying into his shoulder. Elijah hugged her and rubbed her back tenderly. He knew that of something was wrong she would not tell him now, not when she was in the midst of being upset by it. She would tell him when they reached New Orleans, or at least in a day or two when she was calm and less emotional.
Once she was calm, back to her normal self and asleep once more, Elijah continued on to New Orleans. A place he hoped Alana might feel at home in, a city of art and music which he knew she enjoyed.
"New Orleans," Alana said sleepily a s she saw the sign for the city. "French?"
"We're going to the French quarter, yes Alana. Welcome to New Orleans." Elijah smiled and took her hand across the gear box and she squeezed it tightly between her two tiny hands.
"Home?"
"Home." Elijah agreed. His heart lifting with joy a having her by his side once more.