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$ for what did we lose everything

Title: Dress in Your Sunday Best
Theme/Prompt: 05. Apology
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries (tv)
Rating: pg13
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Elena Gilbert, Elijah
Summary: One-shot. Elena pulls the dagger out (again). I'm not sure how well this fits as an AU - it went a bit off the rails from my original intentions - but hopefully it will suffice.
Warnings: None.

“You owe me an apology.”

She didn’t look at him, didn’t check to see whether he was moving, whether he was looking at her, what his expression was. She didn’t have the energy.

There was a rustle of cloth, and then a sudden, explosive clatter of wood. Elena jumped – she couldn’t help it – and when she looked, he was standing up, adjusting his jacket, and gazing down at her.

“I do.”

Elena looked out the window, tasting the bitter chalky twist of defeat in her throat. “How could you trust him?” she asked. “He already murdered your family. How could you be stupid enough to think he wouldn’t cap off the collection?”

For a second the silence behind her caused her to have a vague thought that maybe she should be frightened of the effect of those words. But she couldn’t muster up the will power to care; she was too tired, too heartsick.

After a moment, voice exquisitely controlled, he said, “it seems to be a mistake I am destined to repeat.”

Elena rolled her head around to look at him.

“I trusted you,” he pointed out, and a dry, hitching laugh tore out of her.

“That was kind of mean,” she said.

He paused, studying her. She didn’t know what he saw in her face, though she admitted it probably wasn’t pleasant. Last she’d checked she was filthy, exhausted, her eyes darkly ringed and her mouth bruised. “My apologies,” he said, finishing smoothing the line of his jacket. She wondered if he meant it. The funny thing was, he probably did.

She waved a hand, dismissive.

He gripped her chin between his fingers, gently, and turned her face up. Somewhere in her she had the awareness to jolt at his sudden proximity. Freaking vampire speed, she thought wearily.

He released her. “When was the last time you slept, Elena?”

She shrugged, palms up.

“You’re only human. You need rest.”

Elena thumped the back of her head against the wall, hard enough for a jolt of pain to go through her. “I need a new life,” she said, and her voice cracked miserably.

“Sleep,” he said quietly, looking down at her, “will have to do for now.”

He extended a hand. Elena stared at it for a second, then slowly lifted her hand and placed her fingers in his. It was almost like déjà vu, but more exhausting.

“Come with me,” he said quietly.

She lifted her eyes to his face. “I have nowhere else to go,” she said, just as quiet and exhausted.

He picked her up like she weighed nothing. Elena flailed for a second, reflexively, then gripped his clothes – funeral clothes, expensive and stained – and let her fingers curl into fists within them.

“Elijah – “

“Sleep,” he instructed. “We’ll talk on safer ground.”

The ironic thing, she thought, resting her cheek on the shoulder of a man whom she’d stabbed in the heart, thrown a bomb at, betrayed, bargained with, gotten killed at least twice and yet utterly depended on more times than that, is that this is the safest I’ve felt in months.

With that thought, she fell asleep.


Aug. 15th, 2011 12:35 pm (UTC)
Oooh, I loved this! <3 I can perfectly imagine this in my mind. (I really do hope we get a scene like this when the show returns. Elena's burgeoning friendship with Elijah was the most interesting thing about the end of season 2.)

I love how you've written Elena as bone-weary. And Elijah is just *spot-on*. I hope you write more!
Dec. 17th, 2012 07:12 am (UTC)
Thank you so much!