Bring Me To Life
It's Our Paradise, It's Our Warzone, And It's Our Home:
"Coming together is a beginning.
Keeping together is progress.
Working together is success." – Henry Ford
Over the course of a millennia, Elijah had attended many funerals and memorials but there was something especially sombre in the atmosphere as he entered St Ann's Church for Father Kieran's funeral service. Imogen was walking beside him, looking particularly radiant in a classic black dress and she appeared to be unaffected by her surroundings but he could see the sadness in her blue eyes. He placed a comforting hand on the base of her spine as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to her temple and she closed her eyes for a moment as she leaned into his side.
Every sniffle that she tried to hide from him was a reminder that the events of Kieran's death was still affecting her, even if she didn't want to admit it to herself let alone anyone else. The guilt was evident in her voice when she offered him a detailed account of her day when he saw her the day after and even though she told him she was fine, it was obviously a boldface lie. It wasn't easy to live with yourself after taking someone's life; he knew that it wasn't the first time Imogen had to kill in order to protect someone or to defend herself, but Kieran was the first one that he been an innocent victim of another.
Imogen lifted her head to offer him a shaky smile as she blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes and he returned the sentiment as he allowed his hand glided down the length of her arm until he was able to thread his fingers through her own. She squeezed his hand gratefully as he started leading her down the aisle and his gaze flickered around the already crowded pews as a long line of community members awaited their turn to pay their respects at the coffin at the altar.
It was easy to locate Camille where she was sitting in the front pew, a stoic expression on her face and Marcel stationed protectively on the bench next to her as she gripped his hand so tightly that it would hurt if he were human. He also noticed Genevieve and Francesca representing their respective factions towards the back of the room and he felt his lips twitch downwards at the sight of them because he didn't want Imogen or Camille to have to deal with them when they were grieving.
The witch beside him squeezed his hand for a moment before she released her grip and hesitantly approached the open coffin with an apprehensive expression marring her pretty face. He stood at the bottom of the altar in concern as he placed his hands in his pants pockets while he waited and he had to forcibly stop himself from going to her side when he noticed her shoulders shaking subtly. After a moment she took a deep breath to compose herself and carefully made her way off of the altar as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Elijah reached out to squeeze her hand when she walked past him and she offered him a grateful smile before she continued down the steps of the altar. He watched sorrowfully as she approached Camille almost hesitantly, he knew that she was feeling guilty and concerned that her friend wouldn't understand or forgive her for the actions she'd taken during the incident. A small smile pulled at his lips as Camille immediately jumped up from the pew and catapulted herself into Imogen's arms when she caught sight of her friend approaching. Confident that she would be well taken care of with Camille and Marcel, he slowly made his way towards the coffin to say his goodbyes to a well-respected member of the community.
A frowned pulled at the corner of his mouth when he heard a soft cooing noise coming from the coffin of a supposedly dead man, his eyebrows furrowing as he glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone else was alarmed. No one seemed to be reacting to the strange noise and he hesitated a moment before continuing closer to the opened coffin, his muscle tense with unease as he narrowed his eyes. The noise only got louder as he approached, and there was something undeniably familiar about it but he couldn't put his finger on where he had heard it before.
Comprehension dawned on him the moment he laid eyes on the adorable creature nestled on the cushioned interior and a faint smile immediately spread across his lips at the sight in front of him. It had been years since he had had any interaction with a child but it was impossible to forget how delicate they were, how breakable and precious. It was startling to see the resemblance between the young infant and his younger brother when he was a newborn; the same rosy red cheeks and cute bow mouth. But it was the eyes that caused the breath to catch in his throat; the same sky blue eyes that held a twinkle of mischief within in them. Although, unlike his brother, there was no malice or treachery in their depths, no haunted pain from having witnessed or suffered through things no one should ever have to at the hands of someone so maliciously evil. They were the eyes of someone who had never experienced hurt. This child held nothing but innocence and hope for the future. A perfectly blank canvas just waiting for a myriad of colours.
"Hello, there." Elijah cooed softly as he reached out to graze the back of his index finger down the infant's cheek, marvelling at the velvet texture beneath his touch. A gentle smile played on his lips as he leaned over to slide his hand underneath the child's back and was about to lift them into his arms when a sharp pain erupted from his chest.
A startled gasp escaped his lips as he suddenly lurched forward, his fingers curled tightly around the edge of the open coffin to stop himself from injuring the child in front of him. A familiar metallic taste entered his mouth as the urge to cough caused him to lean back so that none of the blood would contaminate the baby. He glanced down in surprise with wide eyes as dark red blood seeped from his mouth and he felt a spike of panic when he saw the sharp end of the indestructible white oak stake protruding from his chest.
Confusion swelled inside of him because Niklaus was the only one who knew the location of that particular weapon and he simply couldn't believe that his younger brother would or could rid him from this earth. It was a well-known fact that Niklaus Mikaelson was volatile and predisposed to dagger his siblings when they didn't agree with him, but Elijah knew that somewhere deep down inside Niklaus' behaviour was a defensive mechanism because he was afraid that he wasn't good enough to be loved. It was a consequence that came from years of physical and emotional abuse at the hands of their father. Elijah couldn't imagination that Niklaus would permanently end one of his siblings, not after losing Finn and Kol only a few months apart within the last year.
Elijah choked slightly as more blood dripped down his chin and he slowly rotated around so that he could look into the eyes of the person who was attempting to end his existence.
"H– How?" he stuttered in confusion when his wide-eyed gaze landed on the last person he expected to find standing in front of him and Mikael grinned maliciously in response to the question, obviously enjoying the horror that bled into his son's expression.
"Where is that whelp you call a brother?" Mikael asked lowly in a growl as he tightly grasped his oldest living son's chin in his hand, squeezing tight enough so that the pressure caused his mandible to crack. Fury surged through his veins as he narrowed his oak brown eyes at his 'father', remaining stubbornly silent because he had previously vowed to himself that he would never again allow Mikael to lay a hand on a member of their family.
An enraged snarl escaped Mikael's lips as he roughly pulled to the white oak stake out of Elijah's chest and he gasped loudly in pain before he could stop himself as he coughed up more blood. Mikael gripped his shoulder tightly, hesitating a moment before stabbing the stake back into his chest without mercy. A choked cry made its way pass his lips as he collapsed onto the ground and unshed tears blurred his vision as he gaped silently, unable to form any coherent words or even thoughts. The agony in his chest burned around the area of his wound as he attempted to look down but was unable to do more than loll his head to the side helplessly.
"Elijah!" a familiar female voice called out somewhere in the distance and his lips quirked up in a small smile despite himself when he recognised the melodious sound, although it was tinged with a certain desperation.
Imogen appeared in his line of vision, panic written all over her beautiful features as she leaned over him and he weakly lifted his hands to brush away a strand of brunette hair that had escaped her elaborate bun. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep her visage from blurring in and out of focus as he cupped her cheek gently like she was most precious thing he had ever seen in all his years on Earth.
Unexplainable; that was the only word that could accurately describe Imogen Claire. To those who did not know her on a personal level, to someone looking in from the outside, they thought that she was simply a girl. It was impossible not to notice how physically attractive she was; her luminous bright blue eyes bordered with thick lashes, long brunette hair with a natural wave, her lithe body that was illustrated with meaningful inked on tattoos. But once you got to know her, once you had spoken more than a few sentences to her, you came to the realisation that she was everything. She was crazy, and funny, she was honest and wise beyond her years, she had a unique view of the world and wasn't afraid to share it to anyone who would listen, she was exceptional and you never knew what she was going to do next.
"Elijah! Come on, wake up! Elijah, wake up." she cried indistinctly as his eyes flickered closed despite his desire to continue looking at the sight in front of him, such a gorgeous sight indeed. Her voice was becoming more frantic as it started to fade further into the distance and he gasped out one last breath as darkness overtook him….
Elijah woke up with a start, gasping sharply for breath as he jerked upright in bed and he panted for breath as he looked around in a disorientated manner for a moment. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he realised that he was in Imogen's bedroom at her apartment and he closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to calm down. He felt someone shift beside him on the bed as they placed a hand on his bare back, in between his shoulder blades and he lifted his gaze to meet Imogen's concerned expression as she rubbed soothing circle on his back.
"I apologise. I didn't mean to wake you." he offered quietly as he brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek, noticing in amusement the crinkles on her cheek where she had been lying on the pillow for hours on end. Even with no makeup on, her brunette hair in a state of disarray and a slightly dazed expression underneath her worry, she was one of the most stunning creatures he had ever seen. He took a moment to bask in her presence, to appreciate the fact that she was there with him, safe and sound, and he couldn't belief how lucky he was to be on the receiving end of her concern.
"I really don't care at the moment. Are you okay?" she asked him with a frown as she stifled a yawn immediately after speaking and he chuckled under his breath at how adorable she was when she was half asleep.
"I'll tell you in the morning, darling. Go back to sleep." he urged softly as he leaned over to press his lips to her forehead before drawing her willingly into his arms and lying back down with a sigh escaping his lips. She hummed contently under her breath as she nestled into the crook of his neck, draping one of her legs in between his as she wrapped an arm around his waist. He pressed another lingering kiss to her forehead as he soothing ran his fingers up and down her arm absently with his eyes closed.
It was quiet moments, the little moments people thought were insignificant that turned out to be precious memories. It was holding the girl you adored in your arms, it was sharing a knowing smile with someone, it was sitting in comfortable silence with someone, it was millions of little things that when you added them together, created a memorable and fulfilling life.
It was a new experience for Imogen to wake up next to someone without the lingering traces of sex in the air or the awkward tension between her and whoever she was in bed with. For weeks she had been sharing a bed with Elijah, waking up either cuddled up against his chest with his arms wrapped around her protectively and their legs intertwined or with her back pressed against his chest as he embraced her from behind. A part of her was always waiting for him to press the matter but she knew that he was far too old-fashioned to do such a thing and a part of her was desperate to make a move but she was more interested in finding out how long he could hold out without sex. There was another part of her, a part she would never admit out loud, that was enjoying the intimacy that came with merely sleeping next to a man.
Never in her life had she felt for anyone or with anyone what she felt when she was with Elijah; safe, protected, cherished.
A faint knocking from the front door of the apartment interrupted their peaceful moment and Imogen groaned out loud as she buried deeper into his embrace with a pout on her lips. His chest vibrated underneath her as he chuckled at her complaints and she shook her head slowly as she mumbled tiredly against his bare skin, "No. Mm-hm. Sleepy time."
When the knocking persisted continuously, she rolled away from his chest as she used her legs to half-heartedly kick him towards the edge of the bed and she shifted to get comfortable on the pillow as she muttered, "Elijah, you're closer to the door."
"It's your apartment." he countered drowsily as he kept his eyes closed, a faint smile playing on his lips because he knew that he would end up giving in to her demands but it was amusing to see how far she would to get her way.
"You're a vampire. You're meant to be nocturnal. Now, get up and tell them to come back at a decent hour. And that I hate them. Whoever they are." she grumbled mostly to herself as she buried her face in her pillow and he chuckled lowly as he leaned over to kiss the nape of her neck before climbing out of the bed. He glanced around for his shirt from the night before but the knocking was becoming more insistent so he decided to leave it and strolled out of the bedroom, closing the door partially behind him.
It hadn't taken much persuasion for Imogen to convince him to keep a few amenities at her apartment given how much time he was spending there recently. It wasn't much, a few suits and other articles of clothing, including a pair of tracksuit pants to sleep in, and she had taken to keeping B- blood bags on hand for him because she was aware they were what he preferred, as well as stocking up on his favourite flavour of ice-cream.
Elijah grumbled to himself incoherently, cursing whoever was on the other side of the door for pulling him away from Imogen and her comfortable bed. The knocking got louder as he approached the front door to the apartment and he pulled it open rather forcefully with a frown as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand.
"Finally. You sleep like the dead, Elijah." Klaus quipped drily with a smirk as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth as he made a show of looking over his brother's shirtless form. Elijah ignored the mocking edge of his brothers words as he sighed in exasperation, entirely not in the mood to deal with whatever problems Niklaus had brought with him so early in the morning.
"Niklaus. What you doing here at six thirty in the morning?" he asked in an unamused tone as he kept a hand on the door so that he could slam it closed at a moment's notice.
"I'm waiting for the lovely Imogen to invite me inside."
"She was quite insistent that I inform whomever was at the door that she hates them and to come back a more reasonable hour."
Klaus rolled his eyes dramatically in response to the smug smirk playing on his brother's lips, although he could imagine the witch saying something exactly to that affect. He opened his mouth to respond with a witty comment but stopped himself when he heard a door slam somewhere deep within the apartment. He shot his brother a smug look before they both turned towards the entrance to the hallway and watched a dishevelled Imogen stumbled out into the open. Her brunette hair was up in a messy bun on top of her head, wearing a pair of red and black plaid shorts she wore did nothing to hide her shapely legs and an overly large novelty white t-shirt that read 'I'm not antisocial. I'm selectively social.' in black writing. There was a definite pout on her lips as she rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands and grumbled under her breath about it being too early in the morning when she didn't have classes.
"Good morning, sweetheart. You look glorious this morning." Klaus chirped happily with a smirk on his lips as he leaned his hands on either side of the door and she glared at him heatedly as she slowly made her way towards them.
"You have some nerve, Klaus Mikaelson. Showing up at – "she paused momentarily to glance at the analogue wall clock hanging on the wall in the living room and she gasped in horror as she spun back around to stare at him, "– at six thirty in the morning! And without bringing coffee or pastries!"
"I'm sorry, love, but I have something urgent to discuss with you both."
"Fine. Whatever. Come on in."
Elijah shot his younger brother a warning look as he held the front door open for him to cross over the threshold and Klaus raised both of his eyebrows smugly as he sauntered into the apartment like he owned it. Imogen rolled her eyes at the macho intimation act taking place as she made her way into the kitchen and she heard someone close the front door before two sets of footsteps were following behind her.
Klaus leaned his folded arms on the countertop as he frowned slightly to himself while watched the other two work around each other with familiar ease; Imogen collected three coffee mugs from a high cabinet as she switched on the coffeemaker and Elijah made his way towards the refrigerator, removing a carton of milk and a pitcher of what could only be blood. His brother leaned down to press a kiss to the witch's cheek as he handed her the carton of milk and she smiled contently at the gesture as the light on the coffeemaker flashed green, indicating that it was finished. Elijah poured blood into two of the mugs and them in the microwave, while Imogen poured coffee and milk into the other mug. A moment later, the microwave beeped and Elijah placed the now warm mugs of blood on the counter before heading towards another cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. Imogen poured coffee into the mugs of blood, stirring them slightly with a teaspoon and Elijah appeared beside her with a box of Pop-Tarts in his hand. The witch grinned when she caught sight of the box, watching ecstatically as he placed one of the treats in the toaster and he quirked an eyebrow at her with a smirk as she handed him one of the coffee mugs filled with the blood/coffee mixture. She moved around him to retrieve a plate from a cabinet just as the Pop-Tart sprang from the toaster and Elijah plucked it out with his fingertips, placing it on the plate in her hand as he sipped his drink at the same time. Imogen grabbed her own coffee mug as he picked up the one left over and the couple met each other eyes, standing in front of each other with both of their hands full as Imogen leant up on her tiptoes to press a lingering kiss to Elijah's lips.
For a moment it was like they were the only two people in the world and Klaus felt uncomfortable watching such an intimate moment, like he was intruding on the private moment. It was also startling to witness because he hadn't realised the depth of involvement between the two; he had given them both a passive aggressive version of a blessing and he had seen them together in a public setting but there was a domesticity to their relationship he hadn't seen before. Because that's what it was; domestic.
Klaus looked away from the pair, his mind clouded with a myriad of thoughts. He knew that in the past he would've had Imogen killed for her involvement with his brother, like he had done with every other harlot that Elijah had dallied with (the name Celeste on the tip of his tongue). But there was something different about Imogen Claire, something undeniable and it made him feel secure in the knowledge that she would never take his brother away from the family. She knew the importance of family; she respected the significance and value of familial bond, and she held the responsibility of family above all else.
Family above all. Always and forever.
It was, after all, the Mikaelson family motto.
Klaus lifted his gaze from the counter with a confused frown when a coffee mug was suddenly placed in front of him and he looked up to find his brother giving him a concerned look but he merely plastered a nonchalant smirk on his lips. He picked up the coffee mug gratefully as he followed Imogen and Elijah into the living room, taking note of the numerous boxes that were littered around the room.
"What, exactly, is the purpose of all of these boxes?" he asked curiously as he lifted his mug to his lips, kicking one of said boxes as he walked past and taking a generous sip of the blood/coffee mixture.
"Oh, 'Lijah was meant to put that furniture together. I'm redecorating the guest room for Davina. She's going to need a bedroom if she's ever released from the grasp of the evil witch queen." Imogen informed him brightly as she collapsed onto the couch with a small smile and his brother sat down next to her, immediately pulled her bare legs onto his lap so he could rest a hand on her knee. There was a bitter edge to her voice as she spoke, a tightness at the corner of her mouth that indicated her displeasure and Elijah rubbed soothing circles on her knee as she muttered under breath, "Stupid redhead."
"Can we help you with something, Niklaus?" Elijah interrupted pointedly before she could launch into a scathing rant about Genevieve, for which, he knew from experience could last for up to an hour if someone didn't stop her. The hybrid smirked a bit at the obvious pout on her lips as she glared at his brother and he sprawled down on the armchair across them the couch as he tilted his head to the side with narrowed eyes.
"Yes, in fact, I believe you can." Klaus replied in a hard tone of voice, a mask of indifference settling over his features and he quirked an eyebrow at them in an unamused fashion as he continued, "I'm looking for a book, about yea big, filled with our mother's most powerful spells," he described mockingly as he used his hands to gesture to length and width of the book in question before dropping the pretence, "It appears to have been misplaced."
"How very mysterious." Elijah tutted innocently as he took a sip of his coffee, raising an eyebrow over the rim of the mug and Imogen quietly munched on her Pop-Tart as she watched the conversation between the brothers like it was an interesting tennis match.
"Indeed. At first, I feared the witches had succeeded in their efforts to obtain it, but considering their last attempt ended with me relieving a rather large, tattooed gentleman of his hands, I began to wonder if the thief wasn't a bit closer to home. Don't make this harder than it needs to be, brother."
"Well, admittedly, I did have a theory that your sudden interest in mother's grimoire was in some way related to whatever foolishness you've been conducting with the Crescent wolves. Therefore, I took it upon myself to carefully place it where naughty little fingers could not pry."
"And here I thought you, of all people, would understand. I am simply trying to help those wolves! Play Samaritan to the abused. Champion to the underdog, so to speak." Klaus stated in an almost mocking tone as he waved a hand dismissively in the air with a roll of his eyes and Imogen snorted softly in amusement at the pun as she crossed one ankle over the over while sipping her coffee.
"How splendidly noble of you." his brother replied drily as he took the empty plate from the witch's lap and placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch before resting his hand back on her bare knee.
"Have you ever considered that, like you, I am trying to keep Hayley safe? Using our mother's magic to empower her people so they are capable of protecting her?" the hybrid asked in frustration as he leaned forward with his elbows resting on his thighs, a fierce glint their depths and it was obvious to Imogen that he genuine in his wanting to protect the mother of his child.
"Yes, unless, of course, they decide to seek retribution for decades held in exile, and Hayley will find herself in the middle of an uprising. One that will only provoke further violence. You see, you risk turning New Orleans into a war zone, brother. I won't let that happen."
"The drums of war were beating long before we returned. I suggest you use a little less of this—"he said mockingly as he made the universal gesture for talking with his hand, "– and a little more of these." he finished in the same tone as he pointed to his ears with a fake smile on his lips and Elijah rolled his eyes in exasperation as Imogen chuckled in amusement at his animated display. "First Marcel's massacre, now bombs in the Bayou. I'll assume you're ready to give up this doomed treaty."
The eldest Mikaelson sighed to himself as he distracted himself with rubbing soothing circles on Imogen's leg and he was acutely aware of two sets of eyes staring at him for very different reasons; Niklaus was determined to get his point of view across, to have everyone bow down at his feet over how ingenious his plan seemed to be and Imogen was patiently waiting for him to continue because he had already discussed his intentions to form an partnership with his brother.
Last night the couple had spent hours discussing the events of the day. Imogen sobbed in his arms as she recounted in detail what happened in the church, she confessed to torturing Kieran and admitted her worry that Camille wouldn't forgive her for ending her uncle's life. He held her tightly until she could cry any longer and proceeded to offer her his blood in order to heal the wounds that were inflicted upon her. Elijah had solemnly informed her of the bombings that had taken place out in the bayou, of the death toll that was rising by the second and she praised what a good man he was for caring about humanity after a millennia of witnessing massacres and war and other atrocities.
Elijah sighed to himself as he lifted Imogen's legs so that he could standing up from the couch and she immediately climbed to her knees with a confused frown as she watched him walk towards the bookcase that was up against the wall. Her eyebrows drew together as he removed some of her textbooks and other reading material off of the four shelf, and her mouth parted in surprise at what had been revealed behind the literature.
"When did I get a wall safe?!" she asked incredulously as she leaned over the back of the couch for a closer look, her blue eyes wide in disbelief and Klaus had to advert his eyes when the hem of her shorts rose to reveal the curve of her backside, but not before gaining a peek of the pale pink cotton of her panties.
"Last month." he answered nonchalantly, like it was everyday procedure to break in to your girlfriend's apartment and have a safe installed without telling her or even mentioning it in passing. She made an indignant noise in the back of her throat as she collapsed back onto the couch and he glanced at her over his shoulder before he turned back to retrieving something from the interior of the safe. He made his way back over to the seating area with a brown hard covered book a few inches in width, filled cover to cover with faded parchment.
The eldest Mikaelson turned his mother's grimoire over in his hands for a moment in deliberation before holding out towards his brother, a glint of determination in his oak brown eyes. "This alliance with the wolves, well... If it is to succeed, I believe you'll want this."
Klaus hesitated with his arm out stretched, searching his brother's features for any sign of deceit, before carefully taking the book in his grasp and running his fingertips over the intricate carving on the cover. A faint grin spread across his lips as he turned the delicate pages, conscious of the fact that it was over a thousand years old and could easily turn to dust if he was mishandled. Satisfaction ran through his veins, but it wasn't over the fact that he now held in his hands the means to secure his allegiance with the Crescent wolves, but also because of the fact that it meant that his brother was supporting his vision for the future of New Orleans.
Potential energy flared through Imogen as she stared at the grimoire, the lingering hint of magic was powerful and almost overwhelming. There was something magnetic that was urging her forward but she clenched her fingers around the couch cushion to stop herself from moving.
"The rifts in this city run far deeper than I even imagined, Niklaus. These tribes, these factions- they're families, families who choose to fight. Mayhem has descended upon our home, and if I'm to choose a side..." Elijah trailed off as he sat down on the edge of the couch next to Imogen's feet, picking up his half empty mug from the coffee table and he smiled slightly as he raised the mug in a toast, "To our victory, brother."