Fic: The Crumbling Difference Between Wrong and Right (1/2)
Title: The Crumbling Difference Between Wrong and Right (1/2)
Author: lit_chick08
Verse: Show
Warning: underage sex
Word Count: 12,293
Rating: MA for language and sexuality
Pairing: Elena/Alaric, Jenna/Alaric, Stefan/Elena, mentions Alaric/Isobel
Spoilers: everything thus far just to be safe
Disclaimer: These characters belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, and Julie Plec
Summary: Alaric never thought he was the type of man who would betray the ones he loved for a woman but maybe it was just because he hadn’t met Elena yet
He had noticed her his first day at Mystic Falls High, sitting a few rows back, buried beneath all of that impossibly long hair. She was beautiful in a different way than her classmates, who were hidden beneath makeup and painted into clothing that accentuated the curves that God and Victoria’s Secret had given them; she was almost unaware of just how beautiful she was, which Alaric would have found unbearably attractive if he was not 32-years-old and her history teacher.
She didn’t speak up in class; most of the time she was passing notes with Bonnie Bennett or subtly stealing glanced towards Stefan Salvatore, who was always smiling devotedly in return. The first time he ever called on her, she stumbled a bit, blushing brightly and stuttering through an apology for not having the answer; when he asked her to stay after class, she shifted uneasily, expecting chastisement.
“You’re too smart to only be pulling a C in this class,” he said, erasing the board as he spoke.
“I’m sorry,” she replied by rote.
“Don’t be sorry. Just be better.” He turned around, unable to stop from smiling at her obvious discomfort. “I’m sure that you have a thousand different things going on in your life right now and all of them are more interesting than US History. But I’ve read your papers, and you are incredibly insightful when you put in the work. So let’s make this the last conversation we ever have to have on your grades, okay?”
Elena smiled, the compliment obviously flattering her, and Alaric had a sudden, insane urge to brush her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll do better, Mr. Saltzman, I promise.”
The next day, she answered three questions about the Battle of Wounded Knee, complete with observations and analysis that could have only come from doing the reading, including the supplemental articles he had suggested. Alaric was barely able to keep himself from fawning over the accomplishment, swallowing back a grin even as he praised her.
Stefan Salvatore hadn’t been in class that day.
Alaric wondered if it made a difference.
* * *
It surprised him that Jeremy Gilbert was her brother.
Alaric liked Jeremy; how could he not like a kid who had been included in a file labeled “jackass?” But Jeremy was obviously young, a little too eager to have someone value what he said, a little too socially awkward to have a passel of friends the way his sister did; there was somberness in Jeremy Gilbert that didn’t seem to exist in Elena.
The night at the Grill when he met Jenna, she explained that she was Jeremy and Elena’s guardian, how their parents had been killed in a car accident when the family vehicle had hydroplaned and crashed into Willow Creek. She explained how Elena had barely survived and Jeremy had only recently started to act like himself again, having briefly sojourned into the world of alcohol and drug abuse.
The next time he saw Elena, he couldn’t shake the image Jenna had presented; he kept imagining what it must have been like for her to be trapped in the car her parents had died in, the water rushing in and threatening to take her too. It changed the way he looked at her, warped the image he had constructed based on observations and supposition.
Alaric understood better than anybody how losing someone you loved could change you from the person you had always thought you were into a person you never imagined being. After all, he never would have been a high school history teacher in Mystic Falls, Virginia, if Isobel hadn’t disappeared.
He told Isobel once his entire life had changed when he met her.
Some days he wished he never had.
* * *
When he earned his Bachelor’s and then his Master’s at Duke, he envisioned himself as a professor, speaking eloquently in front of lecture halls, pontificating about World War Two and Elizabethan England to his heart’s content. He imagined publishing papers and maybe even writing books on his views, being respected by his students and included in discussions with the professors that he admired as a student.
In none of his daydreams did he envision being a chaperone at a 1950’s inspired high school dance.
He was wrangled into chaperoning by the principal, who had heavily hinted that Mr. Tanner used to chaperone all the dances. Alaric wanted nothing to do with chaperoning but given how heavily his boss was playing the “did I mention the old history teacher died tragically and left us shorthanded” card, he felt there was little chance he could dodge it and not look like a total dick.
Asking Jenna to help him chaperone was an impulsive decision. One night, after running into her at the Grill again, he realized that he had not been on a date since Isobel’s disappearance. Back in Durham, friends tried to encourage him to restart his life but he had been so far into his grief he couldn’t fathom moving on when Isobel’s killer roamed free. But something changed after he staked Logan Fell; a perverse sense of peace started settling through his body, the first indications maybe he wasn’t dead inside after all.
Alaric was lonely. He had lost touch with his friends from school and the couples he and Isobel had socialized with; his family was convinced he’d lost his mind, refusing to return to Massachusetts after the disappearance, giving up his adjunct position at UNC to teach high school history in Virginia. The only people outside his students that he regularly interacted with was the bartender at the Grill, and it was more than a little depressing to realize that, if he were to perish in one of the Mystic Falls “animal attacks,” no one would even miss him.
Jenna was nothing like Isobel. Disregarding looks entirely, Jenna was overly verbal, quick to laugh and even quicker to blush; she threw back tequila with the expertise of someone who missed her carefree lifestyle and teased him about his preference for scotch. Jenna Sommers was the kind of woman who had never kept a secret in her life, had no desire to keep a secret, and probably wouldn’t have known how even if she tried. There was something utterly refreshing and carefree about her despite what had happened to her sister and brother-in-law.
His mother had frequently referred to Isobel as an “old soul.” His wife was notoriously aloof around strangers and always chose her words with striking particularity. She never offered more information than was necessary and refused to speak about her life before coming to Duke, twenty-two missing years Alaric learned would never be discussed. And even though she had a tendency to become utterly self-involved and almost dismissive of other people’s needs, at her core, Isobel had been a good person. She remembered details about people’s lives, helped others when she could, and never gave into the petty infighting within her department. People missed Isobel Saltzman when she went missing but many times could not expound on why they did.
In her poodle skirt and sweater set, Jenna could have passed for one of the students; she smiled prettily when he told her she looked nice and offered to get her punch. He was rusty at interacting with people who were not dependent upon the grades he gave them; he was especially rusty at speaking to women.
When he saw Elena enter the dance flanked by Stefan and the man who haunted his nightmares, immediately he wished he had his kit with him. There was something in the way she stood between them, her eyes flicking across the dance floor as if surveying the area that made him uneasy. But she did not appear to be scared of the dark-haired monster on her left; if anything, she seemed annoyed.
Learning the monster - Damon - was Stefan’s brother made him wonder if Stefan knew what his big brother was. Watching the way that Damon leered at Elena and gleefully danced with a variety of girls made Alaric shake with rage, hating how his wife’s murderer got to be untroubled while Alaric struggled to find a way to return to life.
That was the moment he decided he was going to kill Damon Salvatore.
* * *
In a terribly twisted way, it made perfect sense that Elena was Isobel’s daughter. If Alaric was the kind of man who believed in fate, he might’ve believed that finding out that his wife had given up a baby for adoption as a teenager and Alaric finding that daughter after her death was the universe’s way of giving him back a part of the woman he loved.
But Alaric did not believe in fate, and the simple sight of Elena now made him horribly resentful.
Before they even married, Isobel had been adamant that she didn’t want to have children. He thought she would eventually change her mind, so overcome with love for him that she’d eventually cave. But it was the one thing she never wavered on, the one thing she denied him unequivocally.
If he was a better man, he could’ve acknowledged that, whatever the circumstances of Elena’s birth were, they had damaged Isobel so badly she could not imagine living through it again. But he was not a better man and he was terribly bitter she had given birth to another man’s child.
From the stage, even as rage started to blind him, he could see Elena’s face fall at Damon’s callous taunting of him, see the horrified realization dawn before she darted out the door, Stefan on her heels. And for the first time since Jenna broke the news, Alaric considered just how damaging this was to Elena. She already lost one mother; now she knew there was no hope in finding another.
It was the memory of Elena’s beautiful face twisted in outrage which made him stalk Damon back to the boardinghouse in his attempt at poorly-planned revenge.
* * *
She stayed after class a few days later, determination written all over face. He didn’t notice until everyone else had left, good-naturedly complaining about the term paper that was due the following week, and she remained seated, sliding out of her desk with calculated calm.
“Do you have a question about the paper?”
Elena shook her head, a few strands of hair escaping from her messy ponytail. “No, I just…I wanted to thank you for what you did this weekend.”
Alaric shifted uneasily, folding his arms tightly across his body. He hadn’t wanted to help Stefan; he had no real problem with the younger Salvatore beyond his vampirism but that was reason enough for him to not want to save him. And he sure as hell hadn’t wanted to help Damon, so unrepentant about turning Isobel and killing him. If it wasn’t for the ring he wore, he would have drowned in his own blood on the Salvatore living room floor, and the idea of assisting Damon - even if it was to help Stefan - turned Alaric’s stomach.
But Elena had looked very young as she pled for his help, doing her best to mediate for Damon, imploring him with big, brown eyes that shone with tears. Alaric tried to refuse her but he also saw the way Damon interacted with her, how he softened under her attentions. Alaric did not believe Damon would ever be someone he could trust, but the idea of Elena going into the house with only Damon was enough to spur him into action.
“Elena - “
“No, please let me finish,” she interrupted, surprising him with the firmness in her voice. “I know how you feel about vampires. And I especially know how you feel about Damon. But you still helped us get Stefan back, and I can never thank you enough for that, Mr. Saltzman.”
“Ric,” he corrected softly.
“What?”
He sighed, rubbing at his face tiredly. “We fought a nest of vampires together, Elena. I think you can call me Ric.”
Elena smiled, shifting her weight in a way that made Alaric follow the line of her body without even being aware of what he was doing. “I heard you punched Damon in the face.”
“I did,” he confirmed.
Her smile blossomed into a full-blown grin. “Was it awesome?”
The laughter that burst forth surprised him. It had been so long since he laughed freely and even longer since someone genuinely surprised him. “It didn’t suck.”
Perching on the edge of a desk, Elena divulged, “I slapped him once but I’m pretty sure it hurt my hand a lot more than it hurt his face.”
“What did he do?”
“He turned Matt Donovan’s sister and then Stefan had to stake her because she tried to kill me.”
He wasn’t sure what was more upsetting: what Damon had done or how nonchalantly Elena revealed it. “Why do you even hang around him?”
She shrugged. “He’s Stefan’s brother, and he’s not going anywhere. I’ve seen Damon do horrible things and what he did to you…It’s wrong and I know it’s wrong. But sometimes, when you least expect it, he’ll do something and you can see the humanity that’s left in him.” She shrugged again. “I guess I have to believe there’s something good in everyone. Does that make me horribly naïve?”
“Yes,” he answered honestly, “but it also makes you a good person.”
Elena brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. “I don’t know how good I am anymore. Knowing what we do…I think it changes us, makes the bad stuff seem not so bad and makes the good stuff not even feel as good anymore.”
Alaric wished he didn’t feel the same way.
* * *
When he agreed to escort Jenna to the Miss Mystic Falls pageant, he hadn’t thought much about the actual pageant. For a town with such a small population - and dwindling with every new “animal attack” - he couldn’t believe how much time, effort, and money they put into parties and self-congratulatory celebrations. In the past few days, all he heard about in his class was what color dresses the contestants were wearing, how they were styling their hair, and how their interviews went.
Elena gave no indication she was on the court. While Caroline Forbes described her dress and Tina Fell discussed the shoes she purchased, Elena sat quietly, casting mournful glances at Bonnie and fidgeting more with every day Stefan was gone. He wanted to ask her what was wrong but he wasn’t sure it was his place.
He felt like a teenager when he saw Elena exit Founders’ Hall, the blue dress hugging her body perfectly, dark curls tumbling over her bare shoulders. It had been a very long time since he was this affected by the sight of a woman. He felt the telltale stirrings of desire, tension coiling in his stomach, and it took him a moment to realize Jenna was speaking, asking why she was with Damon.
Alaric was never a jealous man. Even when he was younger, he didn’t allow himself to become overcome with testosterone and threatened by another man. Prior to Isobel’s disappearance, he considered himself to be a reasonable, non-violent man.
But seeing Damon dancing with Elena did something to him. There was a tightness in his chest, an all-encompassing anger tightening around his heart, forcing him to imagine pulling her out of his arms and taking her far, far away. Alaric did not doubt Elena loved Stefan but even in his limited interactions with Damon, Alaric knew the vampire had a soft spot for her. He imagined Damon had been seducing women for over a hundred years; after all, he seduced Isobel.
Alaric wondered what it said about him that the idea of Damon with Elena upset him more than the knowledge of Damon’s relationship with his wife.
* * *
The night Isobel left town, Elena showed up on his doorstep.
He returned from the school feeling less conflicted but he still poured a drink.
And then another.
And then another.
By the time she knocked on his door, he was halfway through a bottle of whiskey, the room starting to shift around him. He debated ignoring it, drinking himself to unconsciousness, but it was the first time since moving to Mystic Falls that anyone had knocked on his door.
Carefully navigating around the boxes he never unpacked, he fumbled with the deadbolt and chain, wrenching open the door to reveal Elena. Judging by the fact she was wearing sweats, her body swallowed by the bulky material, her hair haphazardly gathered in a bun, he knew that this was not a planned visit. Though she seemed to lack the vanity of her classmates, he had never seen Elena so sloppy.
He wondered what she’d look like in his sweats.
“Hey, Elena,” he managed to get out, trying to clear the liquor from his throat.
She suddenly looked nervous, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go.”
“No,” he quickly said, keeping Elena in place with a hand on her upper arm. “No, come in. Come in.”
For the first time, Alaric realized just what his apartment must look like. Outside of the bedroom, boxes cluttered every square inch, the condo in North Carolina compacted into the one-bedroom hole in the wall he probably paid too much to rent. There were no pictures on the walls, no hint of anyone actually living here. The apartment was just a place to sleep, somewhere a vampire couldn’t enter.
“Jenna mentioned you live here,” Elena offered as he began to clear a spot for her to sit down on the couch. “I’m sorry for just showing up. Really, I can - “
“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, briefly shutting his eyes to keep the room from spinning. “What can I do for you?”
“I couldn’t sleep because I keep thinking about Isobel. And I realized if I can’t stop thinking about her, then it’s probably a hundred times worse for you. So I guess I just…I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
He raised his head, studying her for a moment, before rasping, “I’ll be okay. You don’t have to worry.”
“But I do,” was all she said in reply.
For several minutes they were silent, Elena looking around the apartment, Alaric trying not to stare at her. Finally, just as he was about to offer to get her something to drink, Elena offered, “I thought you’d have more books.”
“Huh?”
“I thought you’d have bookshelves everywhere,” she elaborated, her cheeks flushing pink. “Not that I think about your apartment a lot or anything but…I don’t know. You just seem like you’d have a lot of books.”
“They’re still packed.”
“I could help you unpack if you want. When Jenna moved in, she had ten thousands boxes even though her apartment in Richmond was a little studio; I pretty much did all her unpacking. She said it was just too overwhelming, doing it all herself.”
He hadn’t unpacked because everything reminded him of Isobel; he couldn’t tell her that. “Thank you but…I’ll get to it. I’ve just been busy.”
“Okay.” She took a breath and then blurted out, “You shouldn’t drink so much.”
There wasn’t censure in her voice but it stung like there was. He was suddenly horribly embarrassed; he was 32-years-old and drank himself to sleep at least four nights a week. The closest thing he had to a friend was the vampire who made his wife into a monster; he kept stopping himself from having a relationship with Jenna because he was too afraid. And now he was the guy who was being warned about the perils of drinking from a high school junior.
“Elena - “
“Jenna really likes you,” she cut in, staring at her hands, “and she needs someone solid. If you drink because of Isobel, because you can’t get over her, I understand that. But Jenna deserves a good guy who isn’t going to jerk her around.” Her voice softening, Elena finally met his gaze. “You’re a good guy, Ric. Don’t let Isobel do this to you.”
“It’s late, and you have school tomorrow.”
Elena nodded, getting to her feet and walking to the door. Alaric followed and, when she turned around, he was standing a little too close; the scent of her coconut shampoo filled his nose.
“I’m sorry if I intruded.”
“You’re always welcome here,” he blurted out without thinking, the sincerity of the words making her softly smile.
She rose up on her toes, wrapping her arms around him tentatively; Alaric froze for a moment before returning the embrace, resisting the urge to bury his nose in her hair. As they held each other, Alaric tried to remember the last time he had hugged someone.
After she left, he poured all of the alcohol in the apartment down the drain.
The entire apartment was unpacked by Saturday.
* * *
The night Damon killed Jeremy, Jenna called him to ask if he would mind staying at the house while she stayed with John and handled the ongoing fiasco that was the fire at Grayson Gilbert’s former office. He entered the house to find Stefan in the kitchen; the vampire explained what happened and Alaric’s first instinct was to make sure Elena was okay.
He was more than well aware it was not a natural reaction.
Jeremy was in his room, body still shaking from fear and shock at what had happened; given that Alaric was the only person in his life who knew what it was like to be killed by Damon and live to tell the tale, he sat in the giant, saucer chair as Jeremy discussed what happened. In another life, he imagined having late night conversations with his son, conversations about girls and college; he hadn’t pictured discussing death and resurrection with his girlfriend’s nephew.
When he left Jeremy’s room, he found himself walking towards Elena’s door unconsciously. He was about to knock when he heard her moan, a noise quickly followed by a masculine voice and then the distinctive sound of mouths meeting.
It took everything Alaric had not to scream.
* * *
When Elena asked him about getting access to Isobel’s research at Duke, Alaric had no problem in assisting her. But Damon wanted to go as well and, at the way Elena balked, he quickly used what little influence he had over Damon - and when exactly had he and Damon became friends? - to convince him it was better for just he and Elena to go.
He swore it was because he did not want Elena to feel uncomfortable.
He wished it was his only motivation.
Elena was quiet for the first hour, sleep still heavy in her eyes. They were almost to Durham when she turned down the radio and asked, “Why don’t you run away?”
“What?”
“You know what happened to Isobel now. That’s why you started vampire hunting, right? So now that you know what happened, why not just go back to being normal?”
“Why don’t you?” he countered. “You could’ve run when you found out about Stefan, but you didn’t. You stay because you care.” Alaric shrugged. “It’s the same for me.”
“You could still care and not fight vampires.”
“You trying to get rid of me?”
Elena chuckled, shaking her head and sending her in a wave across her face. “No, of course not, I love having you around. But it’s kind of dangerous to be someone I care about right now.”
Alaric forced himself not to preen like a teenage boy at the verbal confirmation she cared about him. “I’ve got my ring.”
“Which Katherine could chop off like she did John’s ring. Or she could make you a vampire like she did Caroline. Or - “
“Or a thousand other things I’m sure you’ve considered,” he acknowledged. “I know what the risks are, Elena. And the truth is I’m exactly where I want to be.”
Alaric saw pleased surprise flash in her eyes before she dropped them down again, studiously avoiding his gaze.
* * *
He wasn’t sure why he offered to show her around campus. After finishing with Vanessa and gathering the necessary papers, he noticed Elena looking at their surroundings and the offer fell from his lips before he realized he had made it. Part of him expected her to say no, thanking him for volunteering but wanting to get home to Stefan; instead, she beamed and said she’d love it.
Alaric loved the campus. The happiest years of his life had been spent within its boundaries, and he recognized he was more animated when discussing it. Halfway through his description of a class he had loved, Elena interrupted.
“You really miss it here, don’t you?”
Alaric paused, considering. “I miss the possibility of who I could have been.”
Elena smiled and shrugged. “I like who you ended up being.”
They were in one of the cafes for lunch when Alaric heard someone calling his name. Immediately Alaric recognized Ben Peters, one of the friends he had left behind after Isobel’s disappearance. He accepted his hug easily, trying to remember the last time he had seen him or his wife.
“You look great, man! How’re you doing?”
“I’m doing good. You? How’s Karen?”
“She’s great. We’re having a baby.”
“Congratulations.”
“What are you doing here? I heard you were teaching high school in Virginia or something.”
He hated the way people who used to know him referred to his current job, as if he was slinging crack to kids on a street corner. “Yeah, I teach US History. I’m just picking up a few things from Isobel’s office and showing a friend around campus.”
As if on cue, Elena appeared beside him, two bottles of tea in her hands. “They didn’t have lemon so I got us raspberry.” Noticing the strange man, she flushed prettily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s fine,” both men said simultaneously, Ben’s eyes appraising Elena far too closely for Alaric’s liking.
“Elena Gilbert, this is an old friend of mine, Ben Peters. Ben, this is Elena.”
They all exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before Ben glanced at his watch and explained he had a class in ten minutes. Smiling pleasantly at Elena, he shook Alaric’s hand and declared, “It’s good to see you back on the horse, man. Call me next time you’re in town.”
“He thought we were dating, didn’t he?” Elena asked when they were alone, using her fork to pick around the onions in her salad.
“Yes.”
She was quiet a moment before teasing, “You could do worse.”
* * *
“Thank you for today,” Elena said sleepily as they crossed the North Caroline state line back into Virginia.
“It was no problem. Having Isobel’s research - “
“No, not that part,” she interrupted, rolling her head to face him. “I mean, I appreciate that part too but I meant the tour of the campus. It felt nice, walking around and being normal for an afternoon. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in…everything else that I forget about things like college. Today was a really nice reminder.”
“What do you want to go to college for?”
Elena shrugged. “I used to think English because I wanted to be a writer. And then for awhile I thought about maybe being a teacher. Now I just…I don’t know what I want. I just want the chance to be…something, you know?”
Alaric nodded before chuckling a bit. “Are you sure you’re seventeen?”
Drawing her knees up to her chest, she echoed his laugh. “Stefan says I’m an old soul.”
“Well, he’d know.”
Elena’s laughter was high and clear, echoing in the enclosed space of the car. “It’s kind of weird, you know.”
“What is?”
“How you don’t like Stefan but are best buds with Damon.”
“What makes you think I don’t like Stefan?” As an afterthought, he added, “And Damon is not my best bud.”
Flipping through the CDs in the center console, Elena ticked off, “Because you always seem to be glaring at him, even in class. Because you’d rather listen to anything Damon says to you than have to admit Stefan ever has a point. Because whenever both of you are at the house for dinner, you always look like you want to stake him with the wooden spoon. Is it because of what happened with Amber?”
Alaric suddenly wished he had a poker face, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t dislike Stefan. I just don’t necessarily trust him.”
“But you trust Damon, who killed you, turned your wife, and killed my brother?”
“Damon is trustworthy in his untrustworthiness. I expect Damon to eventually fuck me over. What happened with Amber with Stefan, we couldn’t predict. I don’t like unpredictability.” When Elena was silent, afraid he offended her, Alaric quickly said, “That doesn’t mean - “
“No, you’re right,” she cut in, popping in the Beatles CD, John Lennon’s voice now providing a soundtrack to what was quickly becoming the most awkward conversation of Alaric’s life. “We couldn’t predict that, and he could do it again. I’m aware of that.”
“You are?”
Elena pushed her hair back from her face. “Contrary to what everyone seems to think, I’m a pretty realistic person. I know Stefan could lose it again and hurt people, hurt me but that could be true of anyone.”
“Not everyone could tear your throat out.”
“Is this your ‘don’t date a vampire’ speech?”
“No, this is my ‘please be careful because if he hurts you, I will kill your vampire boyfriend speech,’” he countered with a smile.
Rolling her eyes, Elena giggled, “My hero.”
When they reached the house, Alaric went inside, finally kissing Jenna, trying to purge of every inappropriate feeling he held towards her niece.
* * *
He genuinely liked Jenna. It wasn’t as if he was trying to use Jenna to get closer to Elena; Jenna was everything he should want in a relationship. And when they were together, Alaric felt like the man he used to be, the man who had been friends with Ben Peters, played pick-up basketball on Thursday afternoons, and considered a bag of Doritos an acceptable dinner.
Jenna made him laugh. She never commented on the fact the only things in his refrigerator were mustard and a pack of pepperoni slices. When she drank too much, she’d do this thing where she’d rest her head on his shoulder and rub her cheek against his shirt, her signal she wanted to go home. These were reasons he liked her, reasons he hoped would become the basis for loving her.
These were the things running through his mind as he and Elena knelt beside her on the kitchen floor, the knife embedded deep in Jenna’s stomach due to Katherine’s compulsion.
Alaric had gotten used to death; since learning the truth about the supernatural, he came to expect it. But he did not want to lose another woman he cared about to a vampire, and he especially did not want to see Elena and Jeremy lose the only person they had left.
When Jenna stabilized, squeezing his hand through the morphine fog, Alaric whispered for her to get some rest, pressing a kiss to her pale forehead, promising to stay with the kids until she was better.
It wasn’t until he said it out loud Alaric realized he was the closest thing to a father figure Jeremy and Elena had now, something that made the shame burn even stronger in his gut.
The entire house was dark except for the kitchen. Alaric set his keys on the counter, shrugging out of his coat, curious to see what was going on. And there, on her hands and knees, was Elena, scrubbing at the blood on the floor, crying so hard her entire body was shaking.
“Elena,” he ventured, keeping his voice so as not to startle her.
“This is all my fault,” she sobbed, her fists clutching the rag even tighter. “I didn’t listen. Katherine - Katherine - she warned me and I didn’t listen.”
“This is not your fault. What Katherine did - “
“She did because I didn’t listen when it came to Stefan, because I was selfish!” Shoving the rag into the soapy bucket beside her, she finally looked up at him, her entire face puffy from crying, eye makeup everywhere. “Jenna gave up everything to take care of us, and I couldn’t even break up with my boyfriend. And now she’s in the hospital and she could’ve died and - “
Alaric knelt down beside her, gently moving the bucket out of the way as he wrapped her up into a hug. “Jenna is going to be fine. The doctors said she’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.”
“She shouldn’t have to wait a few weeks,” Elena cried against his chest. “She shouldn’t have to heal at all!”
“Elena…”
“I broke up with Stefan tonight,” she whimpered, her wet fingers twisting into the cotton of his shirt. “I should’ve done it weeks ago and - “
Rubbing her back, Alaric gently shushed her, adjusting their bodies until he was leaning back against the refrigerator, Elena sobbing in his lap.
Elena cried herself to sleep on the floor where Jenna nearly died.
Alaric knew for certain he was in over his head.
* * *
The terror Alaric felt during the 18 hours Elena was missing was so acute, he was not sure how he managed to maintain a false front for Jenna. He hadn’t felt this kind of fear since the first days of Isobel’s disappearance, and it killed him to know Elena could be dead while he was trapped in Mystic Falls, faking interest in the movies Jenna wanted to watch on television. Alaric was fully prepared to lose his mind when he received the text message from Damon which succinctly read: We’ve got her. She’s fine.
He excused himself, pressing a kiss to the crown of Jenna’s head before locking himself in his bathroom; the moment the door closed, Alaric sat on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands, releasing a long, shaky breath of relief.
Elena was in the shower by the time Alaric brought Jenna home. As Jenna drifted off to sleep, the opiates working their way through her bloodstream, Jeremy explained what had happened earlier in the evening, complete with an Original named Elijah. Alaric could read the fear all over Jeremy’s face, the nervous anticipation of what was to come.
“They’re going to keep coming for her,” Jeremy stated, his shoulders sagging under the weight of what was to come.
“We’ll protect her,” Alaric assured him, absently gazing at the stairs.
“You really think we’re going to be able to?”
Alaric wasn’t sure, but he knew he would die trying.
KEEP READING
Author: lit_chick08
Verse: Show
Warning: underage sex
Word Count: 12,293
Rating: MA for language and sexuality
Pairing: Elena/Alaric, Jenna/Alaric, Stefan/Elena, mentions Alaric/Isobel
Spoilers: everything thus far just to be safe
Disclaimer: These characters belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, and Julie Plec
Summary: Alaric never thought he was the type of man who would betray the ones he loved for a woman but maybe it was just because he hadn’t met Elena yet
He had noticed her his first day at Mystic Falls High, sitting a few rows back, buried beneath all of that impossibly long hair. She was beautiful in a different way than her classmates, who were hidden beneath makeup and painted into clothing that accentuated the curves that God and Victoria’s Secret had given them; she was almost unaware of just how beautiful she was, which Alaric would have found unbearably attractive if he was not 32-years-old and her history teacher.
She didn’t speak up in class; most of the time she was passing notes with Bonnie Bennett or subtly stealing glanced towards Stefan Salvatore, who was always smiling devotedly in return. The first time he ever called on her, she stumbled a bit, blushing brightly and stuttering through an apology for not having the answer; when he asked her to stay after class, she shifted uneasily, expecting chastisement.
“You’re too smart to only be pulling a C in this class,” he said, erasing the board as he spoke.
“I’m sorry,” she replied by rote.
“Don’t be sorry. Just be better.” He turned around, unable to stop from smiling at her obvious discomfort. “I’m sure that you have a thousand different things going on in your life right now and all of them are more interesting than US History. But I’ve read your papers, and you are incredibly insightful when you put in the work. So let’s make this the last conversation we ever have to have on your grades, okay?”
Elena smiled, the compliment obviously flattering her, and Alaric had a sudden, insane urge to brush her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll do better, Mr. Saltzman, I promise.”
The next day, she answered three questions about the Battle of Wounded Knee, complete with observations and analysis that could have only come from doing the reading, including the supplemental articles he had suggested. Alaric was barely able to keep himself from fawning over the accomplishment, swallowing back a grin even as he praised her.
Stefan Salvatore hadn’t been in class that day.
Alaric wondered if it made a difference.
* * *
It surprised him that Jeremy Gilbert was her brother.
Alaric liked Jeremy; how could he not like a kid who had been included in a file labeled “jackass?” But Jeremy was obviously young, a little too eager to have someone value what he said, a little too socially awkward to have a passel of friends the way his sister did; there was somberness in Jeremy Gilbert that didn’t seem to exist in Elena.
The night at the Grill when he met Jenna, she explained that she was Jeremy and Elena’s guardian, how their parents had been killed in a car accident when the family vehicle had hydroplaned and crashed into Willow Creek. She explained how Elena had barely survived and Jeremy had only recently started to act like himself again, having briefly sojourned into the world of alcohol and drug abuse.
The next time he saw Elena, he couldn’t shake the image Jenna had presented; he kept imagining what it must have been like for her to be trapped in the car her parents had died in, the water rushing in and threatening to take her too. It changed the way he looked at her, warped the image he had constructed based on observations and supposition.
Alaric understood better than anybody how losing someone you loved could change you from the person you had always thought you were into a person you never imagined being. After all, he never would have been a high school history teacher in Mystic Falls, Virginia, if Isobel hadn’t disappeared.
He told Isobel once his entire life had changed when he met her.
Some days he wished he never had.
* * *
When he earned his Bachelor’s and then his Master’s at Duke, he envisioned himself as a professor, speaking eloquently in front of lecture halls, pontificating about World War Two and Elizabethan England to his heart’s content. He imagined publishing papers and maybe even writing books on his views, being respected by his students and included in discussions with the professors that he admired as a student.
In none of his daydreams did he envision being a chaperone at a 1950’s inspired high school dance.
He was wrangled into chaperoning by the principal, who had heavily hinted that Mr. Tanner used to chaperone all the dances. Alaric wanted nothing to do with chaperoning but given how heavily his boss was playing the “did I mention the old history teacher died tragically and left us shorthanded” card, he felt there was little chance he could dodge it and not look like a total dick.
Asking Jenna to help him chaperone was an impulsive decision. One night, after running into her at the Grill again, he realized that he had not been on a date since Isobel’s disappearance. Back in Durham, friends tried to encourage him to restart his life but he had been so far into his grief he couldn’t fathom moving on when Isobel’s killer roamed free. But something changed after he staked Logan Fell; a perverse sense of peace started settling through his body, the first indications maybe he wasn’t dead inside after all.
Alaric was lonely. He had lost touch with his friends from school and the couples he and Isobel had socialized with; his family was convinced he’d lost his mind, refusing to return to Massachusetts after the disappearance, giving up his adjunct position at UNC to teach high school history in Virginia. The only people outside his students that he regularly interacted with was the bartender at the Grill, and it was more than a little depressing to realize that, if he were to perish in one of the Mystic Falls “animal attacks,” no one would even miss him.
Jenna was nothing like Isobel. Disregarding looks entirely, Jenna was overly verbal, quick to laugh and even quicker to blush; she threw back tequila with the expertise of someone who missed her carefree lifestyle and teased him about his preference for scotch. Jenna Sommers was the kind of woman who had never kept a secret in her life, had no desire to keep a secret, and probably wouldn’t have known how even if she tried. There was something utterly refreshing and carefree about her despite what had happened to her sister and brother-in-law.
His mother had frequently referred to Isobel as an “old soul.” His wife was notoriously aloof around strangers and always chose her words with striking particularity. She never offered more information than was necessary and refused to speak about her life before coming to Duke, twenty-two missing years Alaric learned would never be discussed. And even though she had a tendency to become utterly self-involved and almost dismissive of other people’s needs, at her core, Isobel had been a good person. She remembered details about people’s lives, helped others when she could, and never gave into the petty infighting within her department. People missed Isobel Saltzman when she went missing but many times could not expound on why they did.
In her poodle skirt and sweater set, Jenna could have passed for one of the students; she smiled prettily when he told her she looked nice and offered to get her punch. He was rusty at interacting with people who were not dependent upon the grades he gave them; he was especially rusty at speaking to women.
When he saw Elena enter the dance flanked by Stefan and the man who haunted his nightmares, immediately he wished he had his kit with him. There was something in the way she stood between them, her eyes flicking across the dance floor as if surveying the area that made him uneasy. But she did not appear to be scared of the dark-haired monster on her left; if anything, she seemed annoyed.
Learning the monster - Damon - was Stefan’s brother made him wonder if Stefan knew what his big brother was. Watching the way that Damon leered at Elena and gleefully danced with a variety of girls made Alaric shake with rage, hating how his wife’s murderer got to be untroubled while Alaric struggled to find a way to return to life.
That was the moment he decided he was going to kill Damon Salvatore.
* * *
In a terribly twisted way, it made perfect sense that Elena was Isobel’s daughter. If Alaric was the kind of man who believed in fate, he might’ve believed that finding out that his wife had given up a baby for adoption as a teenager and Alaric finding that daughter after her death was the universe’s way of giving him back a part of the woman he loved.
But Alaric did not believe in fate, and the simple sight of Elena now made him horribly resentful.
Before they even married, Isobel had been adamant that she didn’t want to have children. He thought she would eventually change her mind, so overcome with love for him that she’d eventually cave. But it was the one thing she never wavered on, the one thing she denied him unequivocally.
If he was a better man, he could’ve acknowledged that, whatever the circumstances of Elena’s birth were, they had damaged Isobel so badly she could not imagine living through it again. But he was not a better man and he was terribly bitter she had given birth to another man’s child.
From the stage, even as rage started to blind him, he could see Elena’s face fall at Damon’s callous taunting of him, see the horrified realization dawn before she darted out the door, Stefan on her heels. And for the first time since Jenna broke the news, Alaric considered just how damaging this was to Elena. She already lost one mother; now she knew there was no hope in finding another.
It was the memory of Elena’s beautiful face twisted in outrage which made him stalk Damon back to the boardinghouse in his attempt at poorly-planned revenge.
* * *
She stayed after class a few days later, determination written all over face. He didn’t notice until everyone else had left, good-naturedly complaining about the term paper that was due the following week, and she remained seated, sliding out of her desk with calculated calm.
“Do you have a question about the paper?”
Elena shook her head, a few strands of hair escaping from her messy ponytail. “No, I just…I wanted to thank you for what you did this weekend.”
Alaric shifted uneasily, folding his arms tightly across his body. He hadn’t wanted to help Stefan; he had no real problem with the younger Salvatore beyond his vampirism but that was reason enough for him to not want to save him. And he sure as hell hadn’t wanted to help Damon, so unrepentant about turning Isobel and killing him. If it wasn’t for the ring he wore, he would have drowned in his own blood on the Salvatore living room floor, and the idea of assisting Damon - even if it was to help Stefan - turned Alaric’s stomach.
But Elena had looked very young as she pled for his help, doing her best to mediate for Damon, imploring him with big, brown eyes that shone with tears. Alaric tried to refuse her but he also saw the way Damon interacted with her, how he softened under her attentions. Alaric did not believe Damon would ever be someone he could trust, but the idea of Elena going into the house with only Damon was enough to spur him into action.
“Elena - “
“No, please let me finish,” she interrupted, surprising him with the firmness in her voice. “I know how you feel about vampires. And I especially know how you feel about Damon. But you still helped us get Stefan back, and I can never thank you enough for that, Mr. Saltzman.”
“Ric,” he corrected softly.
“What?”
He sighed, rubbing at his face tiredly. “We fought a nest of vampires together, Elena. I think you can call me Ric.”
Elena smiled, shifting her weight in a way that made Alaric follow the line of her body without even being aware of what he was doing. “I heard you punched Damon in the face.”
“I did,” he confirmed.
Her smile blossomed into a full-blown grin. “Was it awesome?”
The laughter that burst forth surprised him. It had been so long since he laughed freely and even longer since someone genuinely surprised him. “It didn’t suck.”
Perching on the edge of a desk, Elena divulged, “I slapped him once but I’m pretty sure it hurt my hand a lot more than it hurt his face.”
“What did he do?”
“He turned Matt Donovan’s sister and then Stefan had to stake her because she tried to kill me.”
He wasn’t sure what was more upsetting: what Damon had done or how nonchalantly Elena revealed it. “Why do you even hang around him?”
She shrugged. “He’s Stefan’s brother, and he’s not going anywhere. I’ve seen Damon do horrible things and what he did to you…It’s wrong and I know it’s wrong. But sometimes, when you least expect it, he’ll do something and you can see the humanity that’s left in him.” She shrugged again. “I guess I have to believe there’s something good in everyone. Does that make me horribly naïve?”
“Yes,” he answered honestly, “but it also makes you a good person.”
Elena brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. “I don’t know how good I am anymore. Knowing what we do…I think it changes us, makes the bad stuff seem not so bad and makes the good stuff not even feel as good anymore.”
Alaric wished he didn’t feel the same way.
* * *
When he agreed to escort Jenna to the Miss Mystic Falls pageant, he hadn’t thought much about the actual pageant. For a town with such a small population - and dwindling with every new “animal attack” - he couldn’t believe how much time, effort, and money they put into parties and self-congratulatory celebrations. In the past few days, all he heard about in his class was what color dresses the contestants were wearing, how they were styling their hair, and how their interviews went.
Elena gave no indication she was on the court. While Caroline Forbes described her dress and Tina Fell discussed the shoes she purchased, Elena sat quietly, casting mournful glances at Bonnie and fidgeting more with every day Stefan was gone. He wanted to ask her what was wrong but he wasn’t sure it was his place.
He felt like a teenager when he saw Elena exit Founders’ Hall, the blue dress hugging her body perfectly, dark curls tumbling over her bare shoulders. It had been a very long time since he was this affected by the sight of a woman. He felt the telltale stirrings of desire, tension coiling in his stomach, and it took him a moment to realize Jenna was speaking, asking why she was with Damon.
Alaric was never a jealous man. Even when he was younger, he didn’t allow himself to become overcome with testosterone and threatened by another man. Prior to Isobel’s disappearance, he considered himself to be a reasonable, non-violent man.
But seeing Damon dancing with Elena did something to him. There was a tightness in his chest, an all-encompassing anger tightening around his heart, forcing him to imagine pulling her out of his arms and taking her far, far away. Alaric did not doubt Elena loved Stefan but even in his limited interactions with Damon, Alaric knew the vampire had a soft spot for her. He imagined Damon had been seducing women for over a hundred years; after all, he seduced Isobel.
Alaric wondered what it said about him that the idea of Damon with Elena upset him more than the knowledge of Damon’s relationship with his wife.
* * *
The night Isobel left town, Elena showed up on his doorstep.
He returned from the school feeling less conflicted but he still poured a drink.
And then another.
And then another.
By the time she knocked on his door, he was halfway through a bottle of whiskey, the room starting to shift around him. He debated ignoring it, drinking himself to unconsciousness, but it was the first time since moving to Mystic Falls that anyone had knocked on his door.
Carefully navigating around the boxes he never unpacked, he fumbled with the deadbolt and chain, wrenching open the door to reveal Elena. Judging by the fact she was wearing sweats, her body swallowed by the bulky material, her hair haphazardly gathered in a bun, he knew that this was not a planned visit. Though she seemed to lack the vanity of her classmates, he had never seen Elena so sloppy.
He wondered what she’d look like in his sweats.
“Hey, Elena,” he managed to get out, trying to clear the liquor from his throat.
She suddenly looked nervous, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go.”
“No,” he quickly said, keeping Elena in place with a hand on her upper arm. “No, come in. Come in.”
For the first time, Alaric realized just what his apartment must look like. Outside of the bedroom, boxes cluttered every square inch, the condo in North Carolina compacted into the one-bedroom hole in the wall he probably paid too much to rent. There were no pictures on the walls, no hint of anyone actually living here. The apartment was just a place to sleep, somewhere a vampire couldn’t enter.
“Jenna mentioned you live here,” Elena offered as he began to clear a spot for her to sit down on the couch. “I’m sorry for just showing up. Really, I can - “
“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, briefly shutting his eyes to keep the room from spinning. “What can I do for you?”
“I couldn’t sleep because I keep thinking about Isobel. And I realized if I can’t stop thinking about her, then it’s probably a hundred times worse for you. So I guess I just…I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
He raised his head, studying her for a moment, before rasping, “I’ll be okay. You don’t have to worry.”
“But I do,” was all she said in reply.
For several minutes they were silent, Elena looking around the apartment, Alaric trying not to stare at her. Finally, just as he was about to offer to get her something to drink, Elena offered, “I thought you’d have more books.”
“Huh?”
“I thought you’d have bookshelves everywhere,” she elaborated, her cheeks flushing pink. “Not that I think about your apartment a lot or anything but…I don’t know. You just seem like you’d have a lot of books.”
“They’re still packed.”
“I could help you unpack if you want. When Jenna moved in, she had ten thousands boxes even though her apartment in Richmond was a little studio; I pretty much did all her unpacking. She said it was just too overwhelming, doing it all herself.”
He hadn’t unpacked because everything reminded him of Isobel; he couldn’t tell her that. “Thank you but…I’ll get to it. I’ve just been busy.”
“Okay.” She took a breath and then blurted out, “You shouldn’t drink so much.”
There wasn’t censure in her voice but it stung like there was. He was suddenly horribly embarrassed; he was 32-years-old and drank himself to sleep at least four nights a week. The closest thing he had to a friend was the vampire who made his wife into a monster; he kept stopping himself from having a relationship with Jenna because he was too afraid. And now he was the guy who was being warned about the perils of drinking from a high school junior.
“Elena - “
“Jenna really likes you,” she cut in, staring at her hands, “and she needs someone solid. If you drink because of Isobel, because you can’t get over her, I understand that. But Jenna deserves a good guy who isn’t going to jerk her around.” Her voice softening, Elena finally met his gaze. “You’re a good guy, Ric. Don’t let Isobel do this to you.”
“It’s late, and you have school tomorrow.”
Elena nodded, getting to her feet and walking to the door. Alaric followed and, when she turned around, he was standing a little too close; the scent of her coconut shampoo filled his nose.
“I’m sorry if I intruded.”
“You’re always welcome here,” he blurted out without thinking, the sincerity of the words making her softly smile.
She rose up on her toes, wrapping her arms around him tentatively; Alaric froze for a moment before returning the embrace, resisting the urge to bury his nose in her hair. As they held each other, Alaric tried to remember the last time he had hugged someone.
After she left, he poured all of the alcohol in the apartment down the drain.
The entire apartment was unpacked by Saturday.
* * *
The night Damon killed Jeremy, Jenna called him to ask if he would mind staying at the house while she stayed with John and handled the ongoing fiasco that was the fire at Grayson Gilbert’s former office. He entered the house to find Stefan in the kitchen; the vampire explained what happened and Alaric’s first instinct was to make sure Elena was okay.
He was more than well aware it was not a natural reaction.
Jeremy was in his room, body still shaking from fear and shock at what had happened; given that Alaric was the only person in his life who knew what it was like to be killed by Damon and live to tell the tale, he sat in the giant, saucer chair as Jeremy discussed what happened. In another life, he imagined having late night conversations with his son, conversations about girls and college; he hadn’t pictured discussing death and resurrection with his girlfriend’s nephew.
When he left Jeremy’s room, he found himself walking towards Elena’s door unconsciously. He was about to knock when he heard her moan, a noise quickly followed by a masculine voice and then the distinctive sound of mouths meeting.
It took everything Alaric had not to scream.
* * *
When Elena asked him about getting access to Isobel’s research at Duke, Alaric had no problem in assisting her. But Damon wanted to go as well and, at the way Elena balked, he quickly used what little influence he had over Damon - and when exactly had he and Damon became friends? - to convince him it was better for just he and Elena to go.
He swore it was because he did not want Elena to feel uncomfortable.
He wished it was his only motivation.
Elena was quiet for the first hour, sleep still heavy in her eyes. They were almost to Durham when she turned down the radio and asked, “Why don’t you run away?”
“What?”
“You know what happened to Isobel now. That’s why you started vampire hunting, right? So now that you know what happened, why not just go back to being normal?”
“Why don’t you?” he countered. “You could’ve run when you found out about Stefan, but you didn’t. You stay because you care.” Alaric shrugged. “It’s the same for me.”
“You could still care and not fight vampires.”
“You trying to get rid of me?”
Elena chuckled, shaking her head and sending her in a wave across her face. “No, of course not, I love having you around. But it’s kind of dangerous to be someone I care about right now.”
Alaric forced himself not to preen like a teenage boy at the verbal confirmation she cared about him. “I’ve got my ring.”
“Which Katherine could chop off like she did John’s ring. Or she could make you a vampire like she did Caroline. Or - “
“Or a thousand other things I’m sure you’ve considered,” he acknowledged. “I know what the risks are, Elena. And the truth is I’m exactly where I want to be.”
Alaric saw pleased surprise flash in her eyes before she dropped them down again, studiously avoiding his gaze.
* * *
He wasn’t sure why he offered to show her around campus. After finishing with Vanessa and gathering the necessary papers, he noticed Elena looking at their surroundings and the offer fell from his lips before he realized he had made it. Part of him expected her to say no, thanking him for volunteering but wanting to get home to Stefan; instead, she beamed and said she’d love it.
Alaric loved the campus. The happiest years of his life had been spent within its boundaries, and he recognized he was more animated when discussing it. Halfway through his description of a class he had loved, Elena interrupted.
“You really miss it here, don’t you?”
Alaric paused, considering. “I miss the possibility of who I could have been.”
Elena smiled and shrugged. “I like who you ended up being.”
They were in one of the cafes for lunch when Alaric heard someone calling his name. Immediately Alaric recognized Ben Peters, one of the friends he had left behind after Isobel’s disappearance. He accepted his hug easily, trying to remember the last time he had seen him or his wife.
“You look great, man! How’re you doing?”
“I’m doing good. You? How’s Karen?”
“She’s great. We’re having a baby.”
“Congratulations.”
“What are you doing here? I heard you were teaching high school in Virginia or something.”
He hated the way people who used to know him referred to his current job, as if he was slinging crack to kids on a street corner. “Yeah, I teach US History. I’m just picking up a few things from Isobel’s office and showing a friend around campus.”
As if on cue, Elena appeared beside him, two bottles of tea in her hands. “They didn’t have lemon so I got us raspberry.” Noticing the strange man, she flushed prettily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s fine,” both men said simultaneously, Ben’s eyes appraising Elena far too closely for Alaric’s liking.
“Elena Gilbert, this is an old friend of mine, Ben Peters. Ben, this is Elena.”
They all exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before Ben glanced at his watch and explained he had a class in ten minutes. Smiling pleasantly at Elena, he shook Alaric’s hand and declared, “It’s good to see you back on the horse, man. Call me next time you’re in town.”
“He thought we were dating, didn’t he?” Elena asked when they were alone, using her fork to pick around the onions in her salad.
“Yes.”
She was quiet a moment before teasing, “You could do worse.”
* * *
“Thank you for today,” Elena said sleepily as they crossed the North Caroline state line back into Virginia.
“It was no problem. Having Isobel’s research - “
“No, not that part,” she interrupted, rolling her head to face him. “I mean, I appreciate that part too but I meant the tour of the campus. It felt nice, walking around and being normal for an afternoon. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in…everything else that I forget about things like college. Today was a really nice reminder.”
“What do you want to go to college for?”
Elena shrugged. “I used to think English because I wanted to be a writer. And then for awhile I thought about maybe being a teacher. Now I just…I don’t know what I want. I just want the chance to be…something, you know?”
Alaric nodded before chuckling a bit. “Are you sure you’re seventeen?”
Drawing her knees up to her chest, she echoed his laugh. “Stefan says I’m an old soul.”
“Well, he’d know.”
Elena’s laughter was high and clear, echoing in the enclosed space of the car. “It’s kind of weird, you know.”
“What is?”
“How you don’t like Stefan but are best buds with Damon.”
“What makes you think I don’t like Stefan?” As an afterthought, he added, “And Damon is not my best bud.”
Flipping through the CDs in the center console, Elena ticked off, “Because you always seem to be glaring at him, even in class. Because you’d rather listen to anything Damon says to you than have to admit Stefan ever has a point. Because whenever both of you are at the house for dinner, you always look like you want to stake him with the wooden spoon. Is it because of what happened with Amber?”
Alaric suddenly wished he had a poker face, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t dislike Stefan. I just don’t necessarily trust him.”
“But you trust Damon, who killed you, turned your wife, and killed my brother?”
“Damon is trustworthy in his untrustworthiness. I expect Damon to eventually fuck me over. What happened with Amber with Stefan, we couldn’t predict. I don’t like unpredictability.” When Elena was silent, afraid he offended her, Alaric quickly said, “That doesn’t mean - “
“No, you’re right,” she cut in, popping in the Beatles CD, John Lennon’s voice now providing a soundtrack to what was quickly becoming the most awkward conversation of Alaric’s life. “We couldn’t predict that, and he could do it again. I’m aware of that.”
“You are?”
Elena pushed her hair back from her face. “Contrary to what everyone seems to think, I’m a pretty realistic person. I know Stefan could lose it again and hurt people, hurt me but that could be true of anyone.”
“Not everyone could tear your throat out.”
“Is this your ‘don’t date a vampire’ speech?”
“No, this is my ‘please be careful because if he hurts you, I will kill your vampire boyfriend speech,’” he countered with a smile.
Rolling her eyes, Elena giggled, “My hero.”
When they reached the house, Alaric went inside, finally kissing Jenna, trying to purge of every inappropriate feeling he held towards her niece.
* * *
He genuinely liked Jenna. It wasn’t as if he was trying to use Jenna to get closer to Elena; Jenna was everything he should want in a relationship. And when they were together, Alaric felt like the man he used to be, the man who had been friends with Ben Peters, played pick-up basketball on Thursday afternoons, and considered a bag of Doritos an acceptable dinner.
Jenna made him laugh. She never commented on the fact the only things in his refrigerator were mustard and a pack of pepperoni slices. When she drank too much, she’d do this thing where she’d rest her head on his shoulder and rub her cheek against his shirt, her signal she wanted to go home. These were reasons he liked her, reasons he hoped would become the basis for loving her.
These were the things running through his mind as he and Elena knelt beside her on the kitchen floor, the knife embedded deep in Jenna’s stomach due to Katherine’s compulsion.
Alaric had gotten used to death; since learning the truth about the supernatural, he came to expect it. But he did not want to lose another woman he cared about to a vampire, and he especially did not want to see Elena and Jeremy lose the only person they had left.
When Jenna stabilized, squeezing his hand through the morphine fog, Alaric whispered for her to get some rest, pressing a kiss to her pale forehead, promising to stay with the kids until she was better.
It wasn’t until he said it out loud Alaric realized he was the closest thing to a father figure Jeremy and Elena had now, something that made the shame burn even stronger in his gut.
The entire house was dark except for the kitchen. Alaric set his keys on the counter, shrugging out of his coat, curious to see what was going on. And there, on her hands and knees, was Elena, scrubbing at the blood on the floor, crying so hard her entire body was shaking.
“Elena,” he ventured, keeping his voice so as not to startle her.
“This is all my fault,” she sobbed, her fists clutching the rag even tighter. “I didn’t listen. Katherine - Katherine - she warned me and I didn’t listen.”
“This is not your fault. What Katherine did - “
“She did because I didn’t listen when it came to Stefan, because I was selfish!” Shoving the rag into the soapy bucket beside her, she finally looked up at him, her entire face puffy from crying, eye makeup everywhere. “Jenna gave up everything to take care of us, and I couldn’t even break up with my boyfriend. And now she’s in the hospital and she could’ve died and - “
Alaric knelt down beside her, gently moving the bucket out of the way as he wrapped her up into a hug. “Jenna is going to be fine. The doctors said she’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.”
“She shouldn’t have to wait a few weeks,” Elena cried against his chest. “She shouldn’t have to heal at all!”
“Elena…”
“I broke up with Stefan tonight,” she whimpered, her wet fingers twisting into the cotton of his shirt. “I should’ve done it weeks ago and - “
Rubbing her back, Alaric gently shushed her, adjusting their bodies until he was leaning back against the refrigerator, Elena sobbing in his lap.
Elena cried herself to sleep on the floor where Jenna nearly died.
Alaric knew for certain he was in over his head.
* * *
The terror Alaric felt during the 18 hours Elena was missing was so acute, he was not sure how he managed to maintain a false front for Jenna. He hadn’t felt this kind of fear since the first days of Isobel’s disappearance, and it killed him to know Elena could be dead while he was trapped in Mystic Falls, faking interest in the movies Jenna wanted to watch on television. Alaric was fully prepared to lose his mind when he received the text message from Damon which succinctly read: We’ve got her. She’s fine.
He excused himself, pressing a kiss to the crown of Jenna’s head before locking himself in his bathroom; the moment the door closed, Alaric sat on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands, releasing a long, shaky breath of relief.
Elena was in the shower by the time Alaric brought Jenna home. As Jenna drifted off to sleep, the opiates working their way through her bloodstream, Jeremy explained what had happened earlier in the evening, complete with an Original named Elijah. Alaric could read the fear all over Jeremy’s face, the nervous anticipation of what was to come.
“They’re going to keep coming for her,” Jeremy stated, his shoulders sagging under the weight of what was to come.
“We’ll protect her,” Alaric assured him, absently gazing at the stairs.
“You really think we’re going to be able to?”
Alaric wasn’t sure, but he knew he would die trying.
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