When they arrived to the police station, they frowned at them for waiting so long to file a report, but took the matter seriously nevertheless. Still visible bruise on Elena's cheek was a good enough proof, especially since it fitted in the story perfectly. There was no need to examine her physically since it was attempted rape, but even if it were rape, the evidence would be long gone by now. After giving her statement she was appointed to the psychologist, and for some reason, she found it easier talking about it with a complete stranger. With the psychologist she didn't have to worry about what she's going to say since she knew this stranger has no emotional ties to her, so retelling what happened to her won't hurt the person, and she's probably used to hearing this kind of things. It's her job, after all.
She asked will she ever stop feeling like this, and the psychologist was almost positive she will get better in no time if she goes back to her usual routine and lets other people help her, especially those who are close to her. She also warned her not to expect this thing to go away. It happened, and it's always going to be an unpleasant memory, and a reminder not to trust everyone. These things stay with you no matter how hard you try to push them away. You never go back to being who you used to be because this experience, like any other, changes you. But that doesn't mean you have to be unhappy or weary for the rest of your life. It just means that your outlook on the world and people in it will change. Scars will heal, but their trace will always be present.
The psychologist also advised her not to keep this from people who are most important to her, especially her family, so when they went back home for Christmas, she told everyone what happened. The first person she told was aunt Jenna, since she thought she might understand her the best since she was a woman herself, and she was right. She helped her ease the story to her dad and Jeremy, who went through all kind of stages upon hearing it, from confusion to irrational anger. With time, she was able to convince them she's fine now, and her dad couldn't stop thanking Stefan.
She couldn't stop thanking Stefan.
He was there for her when they met up with their friends, holding her hand while she was telling them what happened. She felt guilty that she had to turn their first meeting after four months of not seeing each other into such a sad and depressing time, so she did her best to convince them they can move on with talking about something else, since she's moving on as well.
At least she's trying to.
Stefan and Alisson gave their statements right after Elena, and Alisson told few people who were there that Elena is pressing charges and they gave their statements as well, not even second questioning it. Mostly girls. Anna didn't do it, though, she felt more loyalty to her brother than the sense of doing what's right. Even Lucas's roommate, Ian, gave a statement, how Lucas told him about having interest in Elena and wanting to make a move tonight, but he never told him about Elena having a boyfriend and not being interested in him, or the true nature of his move. He was feeling pang guilty since he was the one who proposed Lucas to take Elena upstairs, just trying to help his friend out.
Even if Lucas doesn't get to serve jail time for attempted rape, there's no way he won't get convicted with so many eye witnesses. He will receive some sort of a punishment, and in that, Elena found satisfaction. She realized she doesn't have to bare the weight of someone else's crimes on her shoulders, she had enough to deal with on her own. Everyone are responsible for their own actions, and if someone inflicts pain upon someone else, they should be held responsible.
It's funny how she thought this thing will drive her and Stefan apart. How in the moment of insanity and despair she actually thought he would be able to leave her while she's bleeding out on the floor, instead of taking care of her wounds. She realized Stefan would never leave her. If he didn't leave now, he won't leave at all.
She didn't want him to leave.
He was her strength, in a way. Her source of power. When she was lacking her own he was willing to let her suck all the life force out of him just so he can see her smiling. In these times laugh was a luxury, so when she did laugh, he painted it in his mind, tattooing it in his memory, so her laugh can never escape him again. He was there for her even when she flinched at his every touch, or when she started kicking him in the middle of the night, begging him to get away from her because she can't handle his body being pressed next to hers. She kicked him out of his own bed, and he didn't say a thing. He would stay by the side of it, like her guardian angel.
Those were the times she wanted to jump out of her own skin, but he didn't let her.
She was aware that she wouldn't have been able to survive without him watching over her. And she didn't think it made her weak, just the opposite. She thought it made her strong. To depend on someone to that extent, when she knew nothing in life is certain. Everything is fickle. Something could rip him away from her any instant now and she would be left alone, but those were the things she didn't want to think about.
She wanted to be with him, forever, because she knew he's the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. The person she wants to share everything with, her life, her bed, her future, every single detail of her day.
She knew that one day they will marry, and that he will be the father of her children. She knew he's the one.
One what?
One everything.
Which is why, one night, about two months after the tragic occurrence, after they got back from the movies, she asked him is Seth in the room, to which he, innocently and without thinking, said that he's most likely not since it's a Saturday evening. She told him she's not ready to say goodnight yet, but that she doesn't want them to go to her new room since she's still getting to know her new roommate.
"Do you want tea?" he asks her after they enter the room.
"No," she asks silently, her voice sharp.
He frowns. She loves tea. She never says no to tea. Unless something's wrong.
He turns around and catches her sitting on the edge of his bed, her glimmering eyes locking with his, her lower lip pulled inwards under her front teeth.
"No, I don't want any tea," she curls her fingers under the hem of her shirt, pulling it up her body, over her head, leaving herself in nothing but black, lacy bra.
She gets up from the bed and walks over to him, to the spot in which he seems to be buried in, and plants a quick peck on his lips.
"I want something else," she pushes his jacket off of his shoulders, and it falls down his arms on the floor, "I want you," she pushes her eyelids down as her fingers fly to the hem of his shirt and he starts pulling it up. He helps her by lifting his arms up in the air. Her eyelids flutter open and her look falls on his face and she catches him looking at her and this time around his eyes are full of fear. She presses her palms against his chest, and her lips fall to the spot next to her hand, and she starts planting small kisses all over his torso. "I need you," she murmurs against his skin.
His hand finds its way to the back of her neck and his fingers fall through her hair. "Elena," he says her name through a whisper.
"I know," she keeps lifting her head up until she's able to look him in the eyes, "I don't have to do this. The thing is, I want to do this. More importantly, I have to do it," her fingers go in the direction of his zipper and she plays with it for few seconds until she finally pulls it down. "I miss you," those words escape her lips so silently she's not even sure she said them until she hears his exhale full of relief, "I miss being with you. I miss," she bites her lower lip once again, "I miss that feeling," she doesn't even have to say which feeling because he knows what she means.
Luckily for her since that feeling doesn't have a name nor are there words appropriate enough to describe it. That feeling has no form or smell, it doesn't take place at certain time, nor is it the most common feeling in the world. We're born with it, with the power to make someone feel that way, and with the same feeling instilled in us. That feeling is locked behind the iron door and there's only one key in entire world that opens that door.
Maybe that feeling is an equivalent to fire. It can either warm your heart or burn it down.
"I can't breathe without you," her hands start sliding up and down his arms.
His hands fly under her bottoms and he picks her up in his arms. She wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, lowering her head in the crook between his shoulder and neck.
That crook is like her own personal space on his body, made perfectly for her head to fit.
He lowers her on the bed before his unzipped pants fall down his legs and he pushes them away before placing himself on top of her and for the first time after a long time she sees exactly what she's supposed to see, or better yet, who.
"Stefan," she sings out his name like it's a melody, and he concludes his name sounds so sweetly on when it comes out of her mouth, "I'm pretty sure," she puts the tip of her fingers on his cheek and he turns his head slightly to kiss the open palm of her hand, "No, I'm almost positive," she struggles with words until the smile creeps on her face as a sign she finally found the right ones, "No, I'm absolutely positive that I belong with you," she locks her eyes on his.
He lowers his lips on her collar bone and as he kisses it, she shivers in delight. "Mhm," he says, something between a moan and confirmation.
"I love you so much," she says as he keeps planting kisses on her chest, removing the straps of her bra from her shoulders, "You're the love of my life," words just keep pouring out of her mouth, even the ones she shouldn't have said.
He stops with the kisses and she freezes, fearing she went too far or said too much. He raises his head and brings it closer to her until their eyes are in the same level, and he smiles with them. "And you're the love of mine."
He kisses her lips, oh so gently, that her whole body turn into a puddle which melted under the sun, and he takes away all the pain and unpleasant memories other mans mouth left on them, so violently, so undeserving.
He covers all the bruises and brings her lips to a state they used to be - gentle, soft, innocent.
She hums delighted as their lips separate.
His lips scrape against her cheek, tenderly, mending the piece of her body that another person so unrightfully bruised.
He brushes the tip of his nose against her cheek, and a satisfactory smile appears in the corners of her lips.
His lips go down her body, her neck, shoulders, stomach, and he keeps paying attention to even those places that do not need any extra attention, making her moan in the process, with those sweet, melodically delicious moans of hers.
He lingers around the little scar left from her bullet hole on her abdomen just because that's something he always does.
Then he unzips her jeans and pulls them down her legs, gently fondling her thighs, and it takes her some time to get rid of the nasty feeling in the pit in her stomach. But when his hands fall on her skin she doesn't get that cold feeling she got that night, nor does her mind screams how wrong this is. No, her heart jumps a little before relaxing and her mind is full of satisfaction before she becomes numb, so she lets go. To him.
His lips fall on the skin of her thighs, slowly, gently, softly. Her skin is hot, and so are his lips. They put each other on fire and burn. And in their own ashes they find the new meaning of life, and like a phoenix, they rise because in their own death they find salvation.
Minute by minute, kiss by kiss, touch by touch, inch by inch of her skin, he heals her.
You fall in love because it's something you need, you love because it's something the other person needs.
Afterwards, while she's still lying on top of him, his heart pounding wildly against his chest, and her heart pounding in the same rhythm, while she's breathing into his skin and her hair is sprawled across his chest, she asks him, "How did you know to come?"
He starts playing with her hair. "When you're lying on top of me, or next to me, I can feel you. When you're on the other side of the room, or in the room next door, or in the building next to mine, I can feel you," he kisses the top of her head, "Do you know when I can feel you the best, though?" he asks, but she knows he doesn't expect an answer, "When you're miles away from me," he replies to his own question, "I think it's because that's when I'm trying to feel you the most," she smiles against his skin, "I wanted to see you. Something was telling me I have to see you. After our fight I didn't want to leave things unresolved until tomorrow."
"Stefan Salvatore," her light laugh makes his skin vibrate, "My savior."
He wraps his arms around her and pulls her in for a kiss.
"Promise me you will never leave me," he whispers against her lips.
She answers, for the first time ever, with utmost certainty, "I promise."
AN: Thank you for your lovely reviews, they really do mean a lot to me.
Warning, there will be only two or three more updates to this story.