A carriage took her across town hours after what, at that moment, felt like the greatest loss of her life. She'd just received the keys to the small two-bedroom apartment, dragged her trunk up the rickety stairs, and collapsed atop it, sweating, when Caroline arrived. What had first started as an if-only situation quickly became a reality by way of a few lies to Damon and Marcus. Caroline had only batted her eyelashes and begged to stay in the city for the summer months, volunteering Jeremy's apartment as her new residence. Of course, Elena had been in on the ruse, as she often was. They were beyond thrilled to live together for the following months. Elena, because having a friend around made her feel less like she was losing her mind, and Caroline, because living at the country house was quite a bore, as she'd made clear many times.
"Home, sweet, home," Caroline said as she stepped through the front door, taking in the half-furnished apartment they'd have to spruce up themselves.
Despite Caroline's cheerful smile and sing-songy words, Elena did not smile. They'd finalized the apartment only a few days prior, and both of them were overjoyed to find themselves in a new living situation. But the brunette's solemn expression definitely did not reflect that joy now.
Caroline's brows immediately furrowed. She left her trunk out on the front porch to sit next to Elena, arm around her shoulders. "What is it?" she asked.
The problem, however, was not that one specific thing nagged her. It was everything. So many things had occurred since her arrival at Harmon College, and she'd always swept them away under the rug in order to focus on her studies. Winning was her only focus But now that the competition had ended, the clue in Damon's hands, everything else came to the surface.
The mutilated body of Gregory Lithander and his threats to have her expelled. Damon Salvatore and the way he made her feel so small, so unworthy of knowledge. Her kiss with Stefan, and the odd conversation she'd overheard the next morning. The way she missed her brother. Even her father's death crept back up, and it all left her feeling a sense of loneliness, a sadness that begged to be recognized.
Before Harmon College, her life had been dictated by her father. She'd learned what he instructed and shared that knowledge with his friends as a type of party trick. Moving to Harmon, attending classes, the restraints should have dropped away. But again, she'd fallen into a routine of letting men decide the knowledge she could absorb. And perhaps, at least at first, the competition had been a means to an end. She'd wanted to win because she wanted to prove herself, and she wanted to learn. But toward the end, she'd really wanted to be a part of something. Despite loving Harmon College, she still sought a place where she could truly fit in. As she'd learned, it unfortunately wasn't amongst the Ancient Greek scholars she'd occasionally called friends.
Her love for Greek, Latin, and Literature, however, had only grown more fervent in recent months, and something inside her ached with a need for more knowledge. With a need to read as much as she could get her hands on. To translate and translate back, to find new stories, to analyze patterns. But more than anything, she longed for people, for true friends, for those she could bounce ideas off of, those she could engage in scholarly conversations with. Those who would not withhold information for fear of her not being able to handle it.
So, more than anything, losing to Damon Salvatore felt like a loss of those dreams. Of all of the things she'd grown to long for, of the society she would no longer be able to be a part of. Finally, after letting out a sigh and dropping her head into her hands, she looked at Caroline.
"It's nothing," she said. A lie, and they both knew it. But sometimes ignoring the pain right in front of her made things so much easier. Shoving those feelings back down deep, pretending that the loss didn't slight her, that she didn't still see Mr. Lithander's cold, dead gaze when she closed her eyes at night.
The way Caroline looked at her, it was obvious just how much she didn't believe Elena. But the decision to let it rest, to leave it alone for the time being was mutual.
As it turned out, the one trunk Caroline had hauled in herself was only the first of many. So many that she'd enlisted the help of her driver. By the time her driver left the apartment, a row of pristine leather trunks embellished with shining silver fixtures sat in the living room, alongside Elena's old scuffed and scratched solitary one.
Unpacking, for the brunette, would only take a few hours. It was as simple as hanging up the few clothes she owned and finding someplace to store her growing collection of books. The apartment had two bedrooms, one small bathroom, and a fine kitchen and living space. It was a modest home, not too cramped but not roomy either. Despite Caroline's offers to find them a more luxurious place to stay, they'd settled on the small, quaint apartment located downtown.
Once Elena finished putting away her clothes, books, and supplies, she returned to the living room, plopping down on the old couch with two leather-bound notebooks. One of which she'd purchased at Harmon's supply store, and the other, she'd stolen from the library several months back. If she were to figure out her own way into Harmon's Great Minds, the journal of one Arthur Harmon, founder of the society and college, had to be the best place to start.
Just as she got comfortable, Caroline stepped out of her bedroom, closing the door with a click. Sitting down on the couch next to Elena, she peered over at the journals clutched in pale hands. "One day into break, and you've already found something new to read?" she asked, a playful roll of her eyes. "There are so many wonderful things to explore in this town. Please don't make me do it alone."
With a soft sigh, she set the journals down on the table before her. So it seemed living with Caroline would be very much like living with her brother. Always someone around to talk to, but never any personal space, either.
"Of course, I won't," Elena said, turning to face her friend and roommate. "This isn't going to be like living at the country house, I promise. We're going to have fun." After all, this partnership depended on Jeremy's agreement to look out for the girl, to allow her some time away from the country and its few entertainment options.
"Good, because the twins invited us over for dinner tonight," Caroline said, standing up from the couch with a hand outstretched. When Elena didn't take it, the blonde narrowed her eyes.
"You know what I'm going to ask," Elena said.
Caroline shifted back and forth on her feet. "I mean, of course, Damon is going to be there, but that doesn't mean you can't come with me."
"Yes it does," Elena said succinctly, reaching for her journals once more.
"Elena," she whined. "You cannot avoid him forever."
"I can try. At least for the summer."
"When I said that we're meant to explore Harmon together this summer, you couldn't have possibly thought I meant alone?"
"Of course, I thought you meant alone. Why on earth would I assume that you meant with the one person who gets under my skin more than anyone else?" Elena said.
Caroline sat back down on the couch, a softness in her expression as she placed a hand on Elena's shoulder. "I love you, but you really should get over this feud already. He's really not so bad once you get to know him."
"You're serious?" Elena asked, one brow raised in confusion, alarm, and downright stress at the idea of having to see him over the summer. She'd already enjoyed the feeling of relief, already celebrated at the thought of getting to go an entire summer, three whole months, without seeing his idiotic face. And now, Caroline expected her to go back on those feelings? To reintroduce the stress of Damon Salvatore back into her life? Unlikely
"Deadly," Elena said. "It's not just that I don't like him, Caroline. It's that he thinks he's so much better than I am. At everything. He has secrets that he thinks I'm incapable of handling. He may as well have called me unintelligent directly to my face."
"It's not like that," Caroline said.
"It is. He doesn't trust me, and for whatever reason, he's been trying to sabotage me since day one. I'm sorry, but I have no interest in being his friend or seeing him in any capacity."
Caroline licked her lips, raised both eyebrows. "So are we just going to forget the way you looked at him at The Hall?"
"I was intoxicated."
"I was intoxicated, and I didn't look like I wanted him to have his way with me."
"Caroline!"
"What? It's true."
"It's beside the point," Elena said. "He thinks I don't belong in Harmon's Great Minds and I'm going to prove him wrong." She would continue to fight for the knowledge that she deserved, and no one, no man, would hold it out of her reach. She would find a way into the secret society, no matter the cost.
Caroline grabbed her hands, looking at her with brows drawn together and big, sympathetic eyes. "I know this is important to you," she said. "But he's just trying to look out for you. He means well."
Dropping her hands, Elena looked at the blonde who offered kind words, attempted to empathize with what she'd been going through. But still, she shook her head. "You don't get it. I am sick of my life being controlled by those around me. I am sick of being thought incapable, of being told what to study, what to learn, told what is safe for me and what is not. Whether Damon Salvatore," she said his name with venom coating her tongue, "thinks he knows what is best for me. He doesn't. I know what's best for me. Only me. And just because—"
She could have gone on, could have talked for hours on end about how she was sick of feeling suffocated, sick of being rendered incapable by those who didn't know her, didn't understand her. Because Elena Gilbert was more than capable. She had a fight in her that Damon couldn't even begin to understand. She was a storm, unrelenting and fierce, and the rain would come whether he liked it or not.
But Caroline took her hands again, squeezed them tight. "I'm sorry," she said, meeting Elena's brown doe eyes. "I just… I have known him my entire life. And while he is an incredible pain to be around, he does mean well. If he's keeping secrets, consider that they might be just as important as yours."
Something shriveled inside her chest at those words. Because despite everything, she had felt like her secret was more important. But still, the feeling of knowing that he withheld from her, knowledge, information, something, it kept her up at night. And it would always bother her that she didn't know what he felt compelled to keep from her.
Noting the change in Elena's expression, and how she no longer looked red in the face with anger, Caroline offered her a lazy one-armed hug before standing up once more. Before taking her leave, she made one last comment. "You don't have to like him. But you don't have to hate him either. It's just something to think about."
Elena nodded. Perhaps it would be better if she could just not think about him at all. If only she could completely erase him from her brain. Then it wouldn't bother her so much to think about their past interactions, to think about all the things he'd said, all the threats he'd made. Because even then, she couldn't help but let her mind drift back to their encounters. Why couldn't he explain why he'd made such threats, why he'd been so hot and cold? Why couldn't he explain why the society was dangerous, but only for her? And she was afraid because she knew that she'd continue to have those thoughts, continue to marinate on them until she found out the truth.
So, instead of doing what Caroline suggested and moving on, she turned to the first page of the journal she'd found tucked away in the Harmon library and began to read. The best way to piece all of this together was to join the society regardless of what Damon thought about it. Sure, he had the first clue. But he underestimated her. And she had a key to the puzzle, written in the hand of the founding Harmon. Certainly, there had to be a clue or two in the hundred-year-old words. And she would find it. Not to prove Damon wrong, no. This was for one person and one person only. Herself.
September 2nd, 1754. Today's measures were, unfortunately, not met with success. Despite our best efforts, we cannot find a way to reverse what has happened to us. To me. And though we continue to try, I fear that all may be lost. Past research has revealed no new information, and while Celeste promises that we will make a breakthrough soon, I'm not so certain. My condition, and as such, the condition of my compatriots, has not deteriorated. However, we cannot live this way forever. We will continue to work tirelessly to find a cure for the disease inflicted upon us.
Elena's eyes grew tired as they scanned the nearly illegible handwriting. Setting down the journal, she took a few of her own notes in a similar leather-bound book.
Arthur Harmon, founder of Harmon's Great Minds and founding member of Harmon College. Celeste (last name?) and Arthur were working together on a cure for an illness they both, and presumably others, had. The illness caused an initial decline in their quality of life, then stabilized. Curing this unknown condition was at a standstill in the 1750s.
After hours of reading, there'd barely been mention of the society outside of their efforts to cure the illness Harmon himself suffered from. Was that why the society had been formed? Because Harmon and his friends had been sick? Perhaps a last effort to save their lives? Elena was uncertain. She read on.
September 23rd, 1754. I will never forgive myself for what I have done. At the cost of friendship, love, I have made monsters of us all. And for nothing, no furthering of research, no new milestones in the search for the elixir. Instead, I've only made us doomed and hungry, with no cure in sight. We will die like this, I am afraid. And I will have nothing to show for my legacy.
While everything that Arthur Harmon wrote was, of course, incredibly interesting, nothing, so far, pointed her in the direction of the society. She needed a clue, something that would lead her toward their meeting place, would start her on the search that Damon Salvatore had likely already finished.
October 4th, 1754. Celeste's research has been helpful if still unyielding. She thinks there may be something of interest in her father's personal library. His studies regarding the subject of immortality were rudimentary at best, but they may contain information that could help us in our search for this great knowledge.
Elena scratched the word immortality into her own journal, as well as Harmon Library and Who is Celeste? If Arthur Harmon searched for immortality, perhaps more of his research could be found in the town's public library. Perhaps this alone, this one word, was the clue that she needed to unlock the rest of the mystery and figure out where to find the group's meeting place. Unfortunately, the sun had long since set, and her lids grew heavier by the second. The library and any further clues would have to wait.