(( To my patient readers-BLESS YOU for waiting so long. Not only did I run into time constraints, but I also was unsure really how I wanted to set this next installment up. I know alot of you have enjoyed reading this saga from Elijah's perspective, but I felt that since some of the situations get more complex as the story continues, we need to see it from more perspectives. This is also going to be AU-at least until Season 4 starts up and then we'll see where it goes from there-and it's going to have an appearance from just about every main character in TVD. There will still be Elena/Elijah heavy moments in this story as they are still my central characters with things just happening around them. Enjoy))
"This is the last call for the 9:45- leaving Suffolk for Richmond, Virginia," a woman with a sickeningly sweet southern accent announced over the loud speaker, "All passengers please have your boarding passes ready to be scanned when boarding. Thank you for traveling Greyhound Bus Lines."
This was it.
No going back.
No one was coming—not Elijah, not Kol, not Misha and definitely not Nik.
She was completely on her own and for the first time in her life, free—though she had bought that freedom with a terrible price.
Rebekah bit her lip to keep herself from shedding more tears as she wiped her face quickly with her hands and pushing herself off the trunk of the large oak tree she had been leaning on in the front lawn of the bus terminal, reached down and picked up the duffle bag at her feet, slinging it over her shoulder with one last glance.
When she still saw nothing and no one to stop her, she closed her eyes and exhaled a breath to steel herself.
Then she pulled her ticket from her jacket pocket and walked toward the waiting bus.
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After the previous night's events, his fight with Rebekah and the phone call from Stefan about Elena, Elijah suddenly found himself both physically and emotionally drained.
After he hung up with Stefan, he went back into the house and sauntered quietly up the stairs, leaving Misha to tend to Kol.
When he made it to his bedroom, he closed the door behind him, lowered the shades and turned out all of the lights.
He shed his clothes and took a shower in the dark in the adjoining bathroom.
When he emerged, he threw on a white v-neck t-shirt and jeans from the pile of "normal clothes" that Misha had left for him on a nearby cedar chest and collapsed on the bed, pulling one side of the comforter over himself.
He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, his mind was still racing.
But it was nice to be alone in the darkness and the quiet stillness it provided.
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Damon rubbed his tired eyes as he walked a dazed path to the liquor cart in the den of the Salvatore boarding house.
He pulled a glass from the shelf below and poured himself a whiskey sour.
Just as he took a drink, he heard the door to one of the upstairs rooms slam hard.
He closed his eyes and flinched at the sound as he lowered himself onto the leather couch, twirling the tumbler on his knee as Stefan sulked down the stairs and into the den.
"Well, that sounded like progress." Damon smirked, "At least she's opening the door now."
"To bark orders at me, then tell me that she doesn't want to eat or sleep and that she wants me go away." Stefan said with a raised eyebrow as he took a seat on the couch next to Damon and let his head fall back on the cushions.
"At least she didn't slap you like she did me—now that's what I call progress." Damon said as he offered Stefan his drink.
Stefan scoffed as he sat up, "That's because you flat out told her that you wanted her to turn."
Damon's face fell as his eyebrows furrowed, "What can I say? I freaked out, alright? I know I shouldn't have said what I did, it was rash and stupid of me— I just—" Damon lowered his voice as he looked down, "I just can't bear the alternative…can you?"
Stefan's face contorted in confusion and pain as he fell back on the sofa, exasperated, bringing his hands over his face.
"I don't know" he replied honestly through his fingers, "All I know is that I don't want to lose her."
"Me neither," Damon said in a soft voice as he threw back a shot, "Even if she did choose you."
There was a silence that hung in the air for a moment before Stefan sat up and placed a reassuring hand on Damon's shoulder before taking the drink out of his brother's hand and throwing back the last of the whiskey in the tumbler.
"She's just in shock right now," Stefan said as he swallowed, resting the empty glass on the arm of the sofa, "She's confused, sad and angry all at once. We've been there, remember? We just have to give it some time. She'll come around."
Damon just let out a small sigh as he stood from couch.
"Or she'll be the martyr like she always is and let herself die." He whispered as he left the room.
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Elijah had just felt himself finally start to drift off into some sort of sleep when he heard his bedroom door open and sensed the lights flick on as something or someone big jumped onto the bed next to him.
"Elijah..." Misha's voice chimed in a mimick on the other side of the comforter, "This is your conscience speaking… come out and face your problems like a man instead of burrowing yourself in Egyptian cotton..."
Elijah let out a sigh and threw the comforter off of himself.
"Well, hello, there!" Misha smiled, sitting cross legged next to his friend, "Are we feeling better after our little tirade? Did the shower help? You know, I love the showerhead in that bathroom, it's very relaxing."
Elijah furrowed his brow, "Don't mock me, Misha."
"Mock you?" Misha scoffed, "You're the one who shattered my front door and a set of French doors that were actually from France."
"I'm sorry about that," Elijah lamented as he sat up
"The doors and the lamps? Please! I'm more worried that you're sorry about what you did to your brother and your sister, Attila the Hun. That entrance was legendary by the way. I forgot that you even still used that little party trick with the rocks-"
"I don't want to talk about it," Elijah murmured as he moved to the edge of the bed
"Well, you don't have to talk about anything," Misha said as he grabbed Elijah's shoulder, "You just have to listen to what I have to say on the subject."
Elijah rolled his eyes, "I don't need a lecture, Misha—"
"Oh, it won't be a lecture," Misha said as he slid to Elijah's side and patted his knee, "It's going to be better than a lecture. You see, I'm going to tell you exactly what to do to fix your problems and you are going to listen while we fix my doors. It will be the perfect metaphor for your situation—we are going to fix something you broke, together."
Elijah raised an eyebrow as Misha turned to face him.
"So, how are you with a hammer?" he smirked at the original
"I can still hold my own." Elijah smiled, "How about you?"
"My hammer is pink and has been in the attic since I got it last Christmas."
"Okay... how about I do all the hammering and you just talk?" Elijah suggested with a chuckle
Misha nodded as he put an arm around his friend's shoulder, "Good plan."