TVD fic: This Kind of Crisis
Notes: Written for razycrandomgirl's prompt at the TVD Free-For-All Ficathon
Word Count: 465 words
This Kind of Crisis, Jeremy, Elena, (Alaric) - I'm faking I love yous. You're forcing me to.
He watches her from the side of his eyes. She is talking on the phone, pushing her hair out of her face with her right hand and sighing a weary sigh. She is being normal Elena. Which of course means she’s being in crisis mode Elena, since being stuck in a crisis is all they are these days. Klaus, the Originals, the Salvatores. The regularly scheduled big life-or-death crises; the external crises that have them all working together, more or less. But what about other kinds of crises, the ones between them, the “how could you do this to me (again)”, the “have you so little faith in me”, the “where do we stand now” kind of crisis? The kind of crisis that is taking place right here in the living-room? He wonders whether this is a crisis in her eyes or a problem solved.
He recalls stepping into that gloomy mausoleum a few days ago in order to say good-bye to his history teacher and, he supposes, guardian of some sort. He recalls having been unsure of what do and what to say, since death shouldn’t be like this. Death means your loved ones being suddenly ripped away from you, death doesn’t mean prolonged good-byes and uncomfortable silences. And he recalls Ric’s voice breaking that silence. “We wanted the best for you. We wanted to keep you safe. She wanted to keep you safe”, he says, finishing his confession, his voice husky and his eyes averted from Jeremy’s.
You can go to hell, Elena! These words-half-spoken, half-shouted almost one year ago in red hot anger-are ringing in his ears. He hated her then. He also loved her because she is his sister. And he hated her because she is his sister and she could still do this to him. Turns out, she could do it again, this time fully aware of how he would feel about it, how it would make him feel. All in the name of keeping him safe. So where does this leave them now? Is this a crisis for her or a problem solved? He wonders whether he even wants to find out.
Apparently finished with her phone call, she turns to him. “You should go to bed, get some sleep.” Hesitates briefly and adds, “I’ll turn in soon, too.” “Alright”, he says, almost mechanically, gets up and heads for the door. As he is about to turn the handle, her voice stops him. “Jer?” He turns his head and finds her looking at him intently. “I love you, I’m glad that you’re back.” Her voice is husky. “I love you too,” he answers. Then he opens the door and leaves.