Chapter Text
"All I used to do was pray
Would've, could've, should've"
Chapter Ten
One night, her fight with Damon is so brutal that Damon leaves. Burning, aching, longing, Elena, stuck at the Boarding House without a car, does the bravest, weirdest thing she’d done in her vampire-knowing existence:
She calls a Mikaelson on her own volition. Elijah, even though she doesn’t have the same blind faith in him anymore, feels safer at the moment than his brother.
Her finger must hover over his name for at least five entire minutes before she presses it. A text would have been ideal, but what if he didn’t see it? What if he did see it and chose to ignore it– her? Her touch-deprived heart would have hung its hat and gave up if he did, especially given that Damon walked out no less than half an hour ago, telling her he needed to ‘cool off.’
Elijah answers on the second ring with a demand: “What’s wrong?”
“Damon and I had a fight. He left.” The words are unpremeditated. “Elijah, I’m–” Elena has to press her palm to the lower half of her face to compose herself, so he wouldn’t hear her choppy breathing. She forces back her emotions. “I know I’m going to end up at your house anyway. Can you pick me up?”
It’s bold. It’s the boldest thing she’d ever done. Bonnie’s judgmental glare would have burned. Caroline’s jaw would drop. Stefan wouldn’t have known what to say. Damon would’ve said she needed to be locked in the dungeon to detox– never mind that she doesn’t have anything to detox from.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Reality rushes back in, slightly distorted. A too hasty okay, bye is uttered before Elijah reciprocates, like a well-mannered gentleman, and hangs up. Elena has to brush her hair back, using a little more than necessary strength, to wake herself up, to scold herself for what did she just do?
It’s different. When the choice is taken out of her hands. It's easier.
Elena flinches hard, and right into Klaus. She feels the fabric of his jacket on her bare skin, her stomach, and it’s so– it’s so–
A hand touches her cheek.
A jury would swear up and down that Elena should bear no guilt for taking comfort in Klaus and Elijah so much that day. For collapsing in his arms the second he ripped off her restraints. For taking Elijah’s jacket, for allowing him, for the entire time it took Klaus to absolutely massacre a hall of powerful supernatural beings, to hold her.
She could even be forgiven for ending up in Klaus’ bed nearly every night. It’s not like she controls her subconscious.
Aware of the five minutes counting down, Elena barely has enough energy to race to put sweatpants and a hoodie over the nightgown she’d put on for Damon. There’s not enough time to do anything more than brush her already styled hair, gather her phone and its charger, and go downstairs just in time to see headlights pull up.
It’s 11 o’clock, so she’s not that surprised to see Elijah still in his suit, sans a jacket, though. One second, she’s blinded by the car’s lights; the next, Elijah is opening the passenger door up for her.
“I’m sorry,” is the only thing she can say. “I feel like– I feel–”
“I know how you feel,” Elijah says calmly, calmingly. “Damon and I will be having a word later.” Oh God.
Her eyes widen. “Oh God, no.” The worst, worst thing she could ever do is facilitate a confrontation between Damon and Elijah. “You know what? This was a mistake. Damon will probably be back in an hour and then we can sleep. I don’t have to–”
“So you’ll deliberately stay up late, waiting for whether or not he’ll return?” Elijah is an unmoving boulder, harsh and unyielding in the face of her hesitation. “Please get in the car, Elena. Niklaus is waiting for you.”
Butterflies gut-punch her. What did she just do ? What did she ask for?
“The Damon matter can wait until tomorrow,” Elijah concedes graciously. She sees the promise in his eyes and only then does she inhale, trying to gather the bravery particles from the air, his strength by osmosis or whatever, and then gets in the car.
Any vestige of sleep is erased from Elena during the car ride to the manor. It was tense, to say the least. Not tense in the sense that she felt unwelcome. Elijah was pleasant . As if he’s making up for his brother draining her blood in ritual sacrifice and how it’s coming back to haunt her instead. It’s Elena’s paranoid, never-still mind that’s the source of the tension.
In less than a few seconds, Elijah parks in front of the manor, opens the door for her, and guides her by the small of her back inside. Inhale, exhale.
Klaus is in the living room when they pass through the foyer, waiting as Elijah had told her. The hybrid looks her up and down, eyes lingering on the peek of the lace of her nightgown her hoodie accidentally reveals. His expression clears, and he clasps his hands behind his back. ““I think I liked Stefan better for you.”
The snort that escapes her is pure exhaustion. “It’s a rough patch we’re going through. Thanks to you,” she adds, with accusation. “I wake up with cuts and bruises because my subconscious is drawn to you because you decided to kill me in a shady ritual sacrifice.”
Klaus tilts his head. “Woe is me,” he says. Emotionlessly.
Elena startles when Elijah comes up next to her. She’s smug with it– that Elijah is on her side, her line, of the living room. The carpet, however, is ripped out from under her when he says, “Considering the fact that Elena didn’t show last night, Damon either succeeded in waking her up or she didn’t sleep entirely and didn’t contact us for help.”
Klaus tsks. “Where will that pride get you?”
“Out of trouble with my boyfriend.” Even she has to admit that seeing your ‘epic love’ leave in the middle of the night to sleep in a rival’s bed has got to be grating.
“Which is it?” Elijah questions anyway. A feather-light touch to her elbow has her dedicate her entire focus on him. “Let me get you some tea.”
A look over her shoulder reveals Klaus following them reluctantly. Elena braces herself, feeling her exhaustion multiple by ten. She wants to sleep. Is that too much to ask?
“I slept some,” Elena says. “Damon had to wake me up a couple of times.” She didn’t fall asleep a third time. “I’m–” Unfocused, tired, and weariness weighing her down, she’s half-staring off as she watches Elijah go through the soothing motions of making her a cup of tea. “I had a Miss Mystic Falls thing today. I have to prep tomorrow for another event the day after.”
“Ah, yes,” Klaus says, “The…it was a Renaissance something, right?”
“Everything is a Renaissance something.” How does Elijah exactly remember how she likes her tea?
“Those must be draining,” Elijah says.
“They are !” Yes! Validation. She’s on her feet all day.
He places a steaming cup in front of her. She gives him a practiced sweet smile, too tired, really, and is pleasantly surprised at his warm eyes. Her expression softens, aided by the warmth of the tea when she wraps her hands around it.
“Thank you.” Miranda and Grayson Gilbert raised a well-mannered daughter, too. “I know this is…fucked up. I was panicking when I called you. I should have just stayed home. We got these prescription sleeping pills from–” Nope, not a snitch. “-- the hospital. I think these can be our solution, but I have to pick them up tomorrow. I think they’ll really work, so no more late night visits.”
Klaus’ eyes flare. Elena’s the object of his anger for a few moments before his gaze falls down to her cup. She thinks he might just take and do something dramatic, like throwing it against a wall.
“See what your avoidance of each other has done?” Elijah says, snapping the tension in half and directing it towards him. Not affected whatsoever, he leans back against the counter behind him comfortably. “Niklaus? Tell her.”
“Tell me what?” she says when Klaus only continues to glower at them.
It’s with much reluctance that Klaus finally says, “Eric Murphy wasn’t entirely wrong.” She continues to stare inquisitively at him, the fight tired out of her. “The allure of the Petrova doppelganger,” Klaus says, voice lowering. “The curse. I feel it.”
Heat rushes to Elena’s cheeks. I feel it. I feel it. I feel it. It plays on a loop in her head.
“Save the cheerleader, save the world?”
Klaus’ intensity is off-set by an eye roll. “That reference was asinine. No one remembers Heroes.”
“Yeah, I only watched the first season and the sequel,” Elena says. Blasphemy to him, she thinks, because she thinks that Klaus is a genuine fan of pop culture. “Okay,” she says, exhaling. “Connection curse. How are we going to do this?”
“We do nothing,” Elijah answers. She raises an eyebrow at him, expecting a plan out of the oldest Mikaelson. “Until Bonnie gets here. There’s nothing to do. Unless you’re willing to bring Mr. Murphy back?”
“No, please.” It’s clear that her mind is already a mind of its own, for a lack of better words. But the thought of anyone, even Bonnie, in her head, is strangely appalling.
“All right, then,” Elijah says amicably, watching her reaction. “I was thinking we’ll put you in a guest bedroom? But I’m not sure…”
Klaus rolls his eyes. “She can use the bedroom next to mine. It’ll keep our distance to a minimum.”
None of them say it. The past while has proven that an asleep Elena will traverse forests and roads to find Klaus, only able to find comfort in Klaus’ physical hold. But Klaus and Elijah are tiptoeing around her, around her feeling of lack of safety around the general populace, and won’t outright say it.
She won’t either. “Show me the way.”
The plan was doomed to fail. Elena wakes up in Klaus’ bed less than two hours later. He’s awake, lost in thought. Immediately, he notices that she’s up.
“I’ll go,” Elena says right away. This is so so awkward. It must–
“You don’t have to,” Klaus murmurs. It goes against reason, but she could swear his voice is different right now. Under the shroud of darkness, in his room, on his bed, faintly illuminated by the moonlight streaming from a window on the other side of the room. “We both know you’ll end back here anyway.”
Elena’s hold on the covers– did she reach for them in her sleep?-- loosens. “Okay,” she says softly.
“Every night,” Klaus says, and she somewhat reads him perfectly and knows that he’s been mulling over this, “You come to me because your subconscious is trying to recreate the feeling you got that night.”
It’s what it is, pulled down into a sentence. A shiver runs down Elena’s spine. What would Damon think?
“And every night,” Klaus continues, “I wait for you.”
Later, she’ll be embarassed by how sharply she looked at him.
“I looked into connection curses, what little information I could find on them,” he says, “This is my end of it. When you don’t seek me out, I will. Katerina Petrova will be appalled.”
The disbelieving giggle escapes her, a burst that she never expected. “ Jesus .” Katherine spent centuries running from the Mikaelsons. Picturing a scenario where she’s the one finding them is hilarious, and it reminds Elena of how lucky she is to have accepted the sacrifice.
Silence falls over the room. Comfortable silence, too.
She’s staring at the ceiling, because, somehow, she finds it easier than looking at Klaus. Because it’s Klaus . Klaus Mikaelson. He should be the last person she feels safe with, the last person she should willingly lie in bed with, bare her soul to. But she’s so– she’s–
The more she thinks, the more she’s so hurt , hurt and tired, and what’s so wrong with taking the comfort he and Elijah are offering, why their home feels warmer than hers, why their touch is more calming than anyone else’s?
“I’m the luckiest girl alive,” Elena murmurs. “For the ‘alive’ part especially, which is a weird thing to say to you , considering how hard you tried to kill me, and how hard my friends and I tried to kill you back.”
A stolen glance at Klaus reveals the unapologetic I saw something I wanted and took it expression on his face. Incorrigible.
Elena inhales, exhales, for bravery and strength. Goes back to staring ahead because it’s easier. “And I used to think that I was so loved . My parents were gone, but I had Jeremy– and Jenna. Stefan came into my life, Damon crashed into it. And I’ve always been friends with Matt, Bonnie, and Caroline.” She omits Tyler’s name, knowing the bad blood between them. “Every time danger rose, we faced it. Everyone threw down their lives for me, even though I never asked them to. I was willing to die for them, too, but they didn’t let me.”
Klaus, from the past, waits for her in the Salvatore Boarding House’s driveway. She’d walked to him freely, of her own will.
“But I think things piled up. Escalated,” she continues. “When the dust cleared and the danger ran out, we stopped and really looked at each other, made some calculations. We lost ourselves since we got into the supernatural world. That’s when we realized we lost other things, loved ones, who we were. And the tally was adding up, and I think…it added up against me .” she whispers the last part.
Her confession weighs heavy, and it being transferred out loud from the deepest crevices in her head doesn’t alter its weight. Elena feels it in her lungs, finds shortness of breath and regret in it.
“I believe,” Klaus says, voice low and serious– she has to look at him. And he’s braver than her, because he doesn’t shy away from her direct stare. “I should be the last person to say this, but it truly wasn’t your fault, Elena. Everything you did was to protect your friends. I know that; they know that. The…calamity that ensued was thanks to the Salvatores’ course of action more. The only guilty part of you is your blood.”
“But it doesn’t feel like it.” Elena’s murmured whisper is rushed. “Where are they if it is? Bonnie’s off-the-grid deliberately so no one can reach her. Caroline is off God knows where with her mom. Matt can barely look at me. Stefan–” She calms down a little. It’s more resignation . It makes her bone-tired. “Stefan will never forgive me for choosing Damon. And Damon won’t either.”
“I am so glad you brought him up,” Klaus says. “The only reason he’s been allowed to live so long is because he’s been useful. Now that he’s the paradigm of uselessness…”
Another snort is shocked out of Elena. “Stop.”
A flash of a smile, the contrast of his teeth in the darkness of the room startling. “So that’s it, then?” Klaus asks, eventually, when her heart has returned to a normal rhythm. “That’s it for ‘epic love?’”
Elena hesitates.
“You said something that day,” Klaus, prompted by her silence, adds in that same quiet, disarming voice. “About how you appreciated transactional relationships. Because you know what you can expect from them. Have you given up on romance?”
“I love Damon.” It’s the truth. 100%. Through and through. Hook her up to a lie-detector. But…there’s more truth. “I just think…do you promise not to make fun of me if I say this? That it doesn’t leave this room?”
A hand touches her chin, turning her away from staring up. Klaus’ arctic blue eyes, a warm, midnight blue in this ambiance, meet hers. “I solemnly swear.”
The reference settles easily with her, reminding her that this Klaus, the one who minds his business, is wildly different from who she’d known him as.
“I think that ‘epic love’ isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” she murmurs, as if it’s a shameful secret. She gets lost in Klaus’ eyes, searching them. “I think there are crushes; there’s obsession, and there’s lust. And then when we fall in love, we fall in love with the idea of someone, not who they really are. The flawed person they got then doesn’t match up to the image in their head, and then they punish you for it.
“And all of these sleepless nights,” she says quietly. “All I’ve been doing is think. At first, I reached the conclusion that romantic love is just ideation. Then I found out that the only true love we’ll likely ever feel is familial love. My mother loved me more than anything; so did my father. I love Jeremy enough to send him away. I don’t measure love in sacrifice; I don’t keep score, but my biological father, John, died so that I could live. How could I ever be anything but loved surrounded by family?”
“Because I know I’ll love my kids, if I ever have them,” she adds. “There won’t be a doubt in my mind that I’ll do anything for them, and I won’t keep track either.”
She wants to tear her gaze away but can’t. “Does that resonate with you?” Or am I insane?
A heartbeat. Two, three pass. Elena counts her breaths, sees the turmoil in Klaus’ turbulent expression until it settles.
“Yesh,” he says, “it does.”