[Fic] I'm thinkin' that all that still matters is love ever after /After the life we've been through
"Mother made us vampires. She didn't make us monsters. We did that to ourselves."
The words still echoed around in his head, chasing at his heels all the way up the Eastern seaboard. He thought to drive as far as he could--West would have been a better choice, but he needed people clustered in crowds he could get lost in, and Los Angeles had never appealed to him.
New York was good for getting lost in, teeming with people who bustled along and never looked up, rife with miscreants no one missed when they were found with their throats slit and blood drained.
"For a thousand years, I’ve been forced to watch you. Felt the pain of every victim, suffered while you shed blood. Even you Elijah with your claim to nobility, you’re no better. All of you, you’re a curse on this Earth stretched out over generations."
He'd killed, maimed, tortured, terrified more than his share of people, when it suited his purposes, when it met his needs, when he felt it was necessary. He killed now with far less reason, no greater scheme. He chose his victims carefully, as he had for centuries, but he didn't deceive himself into thinking that made him any less a monster.
He was, as much as each of his siblings. His mother had been right. His reasons, his justifications, his claims toward taking the higher ground meant nothing. He'd used his sister as a weapon, set her to do his dirty work, put Elena in true mortal danger--far more than Klaus ever had.
His reasons didn't matter. His actions were what ought to be judged, and his actions were reprehensible. The only solace he had in any of it was that his family was alive. He regretted his actions; he saw them as monstrous; he questioned Rebekah's statement that they had more right to live than the humans, that they were better somehow. They weren't.
But they were alive.
And he had left them.
"Today I did things I abhor to protect the one thing I value most: my family."
There was no reason for his abandonment except shame, harsh and bitter running through him. It wasn't their fault. They were who and what they were. He had known that when he went looking for them, when he made it his mission to reunite them. Impetuous, dangerous, deadly--none of those were new qualities.
He'd always been the one who had to put limits, and he'd retained that power by only doing so when it was absolutely necessary. It worked better when they knew he was normally "reasonable" and didn't interfere in their fun.
But he wasn't there. He had done all of this because he valued them, loved them, more than his honor, more than his principles. Esther was a threat, not just to him, but to his siblings, his family. To Klaus. To Rebekah. To Kol. Finn had been a willing participant. The others weren't.
Klaus wasn't.
He'd wanted him dead, for killing their family. But he hadn't killed their family. He'd killed threats to their family. He'd kept their siblings alive. When he'd wakened them, the momentary vengeance had felt good. Watching Klaus's arrogance thrown in his face by siblings who refused to bow down and accept his rule had been...gratifying. But when the threat came...he didn't want to watch Klaus die, any more than he wanted Rebekah to.
So, why the fuck was he in New York, when the two most important people in his life were still in Virginia?
Last time we talked, the night that I walked
Burns like an iron in the back of my mind
I must've been high to say you and I
Weren't meant to be and just wasting my time
Oh, why did I ever doubt you?
You know I would die here without you
He had to compel more than a couple of cops who thought to pull him over on his drive down I-95. The fact that he didn't snap their necks for the bother was a sign, he thought, of regaining some control. But he'd be damned--more than he already was--if he was paying a speeding ticket.
Even so, when he reached the house on the outskirts of Mystic Falls, he killed the engine and sat out in the driveway for quite some time. He'd walked out. He'd seen the hurt in their eyes that he was repeating history.
It was possible they wouldn't care he was back.
Klaus had said it was their home--the home he made for them. When Elijah finally made it to the door, suitcase settled beside him, he paused again, fingers sliding to hesitate over the doorbell.
That was too much of a sign of weakness, as if he was begging to come back. He wouldn't beg...unless it proved necessary. Then he wasn't sure what he would do. History suggested that he'd do whatever it took to accomplish something he had deemed necessary.
The first step was opening the door. With a deep breath, he did so, saying quietly--knowing they'd hear him anywhere in the house, and probably had been aware of him since he pulled up, "I'm back."
The words still echoed around in his head, chasing at his heels all the way up the Eastern seaboard. He thought to drive as far as he could--West would have been a better choice, but he needed people clustered in crowds he could get lost in, and Los Angeles had never appealed to him.
New York was good for getting lost in, teeming with people who bustled along and never looked up, rife with miscreants no one missed when they were found with their throats slit and blood drained.
"For a thousand years, I’ve been forced to watch you. Felt the pain of every victim, suffered while you shed blood. Even you Elijah with your claim to nobility, you’re no better. All of you, you’re a curse on this Earth stretched out over generations."
He'd killed, maimed, tortured, terrified more than his share of people, when it suited his purposes, when it met his needs, when he felt it was necessary. He killed now with far less reason, no greater scheme. He chose his victims carefully, as he had for centuries, but he didn't deceive himself into thinking that made him any less a monster.
He was, as much as each of his siblings. His mother had been right. His reasons, his justifications, his claims toward taking the higher ground meant nothing. He'd used his sister as a weapon, set her to do his dirty work, put Elena in true mortal danger--far more than Klaus ever had.
His reasons didn't matter. His actions were what ought to be judged, and his actions were reprehensible. The only solace he had in any of it was that his family was alive. He regretted his actions; he saw them as monstrous; he questioned Rebekah's statement that they had more right to live than the humans, that they were better somehow. They weren't.
But they were alive.
And he had left them.
"Today I did things I abhor to protect the one thing I value most: my family."
There was no reason for his abandonment except shame, harsh and bitter running through him. It wasn't their fault. They were who and what they were. He had known that when he went looking for them, when he made it his mission to reunite them. Impetuous, dangerous, deadly--none of those were new qualities.
He'd always been the one who had to put limits, and he'd retained that power by only doing so when it was absolutely necessary. It worked better when they knew he was normally "reasonable" and didn't interfere in their fun.
But he wasn't there. He had done all of this because he valued them, loved them, more than his honor, more than his principles. Esther was a threat, not just to him, but to his siblings, his family. To Klaus. To Rebekah. To Kol. Finn had been a willing participant. The others weren't.
Klaus wasn't.
He'd wanted him dead, for killing their family. But he hadn't killed their family. He'd killed threats to their family. He'd kept their siblings alive. When he'd wakened them, the momentary vengeance had felt good. Watching Klaus's arrogance thrown in his face by siblings who refused to bow down and accept his rule had been...gratifying. But when the threat came...he didn't want to watch Klaus die, any more than he wanted Rebekah to.
So, why the fuck was he in New York, when the two most important people in his life were still in Virginia?
Last time we talked, the night that I walked
Burns like an iron in the back of my mind
I must've been high to say you and I
Weren't meant to be and just wasting my time
Oh, why did I ever doubt you?
You know I would die here without you
He had to compel more than a couple of cops who thought to pull him over on his drive down I-95. The fact that he didn't snap their necks for the bother was a sign, he thought, of regaining some control. But he'd be damned--more than he already was--if he was paying a speeding ticket.
Even so, when he reached the house on the outskirts of Mystic Falls, he killed the engine and sat out in the driveway for quite some time. He'd walked out. He'd seen the hurt in their eyes that he was repeating history.
It was possible they wouldn't care he was back.
Klaus had said it was their home--the home he made for them. When Elijah finally made it to the door, suitcase settled beside him, he paused again, fingers sliding to hesitate over the doorbell.
That was too much of a sign of weakness, as if he was begging to come back. He wouldn't beg...unless it proved necessary. Then he wasn't sure what he would do. History suggested that he'd do whatever it took to accomplish something he had deemed necessary.
The first step was opening the door. With a deep breath, he did so, saying quietly--knowing they'd hear him anywhere in the house, and probably had been aware of him since he pulled up, "I'm back."