Lucien excels at zeroing in on a weakness. It's why Elena herself hasn't been physically hurt as much as she could've, after he and the rest saw it didn't matter what was done to her, she'd martyr herself till kingdom come if she had to. It was hurting anyone she loved about that was the real torture. It was remaining intact herself while everyone around her was made to suffer, with the silent understanding it was her reluctance and lack of compliance to blame.
The more they played on that, the less difficult she became, and her Achilles Heel was quickly spotted and she starts to play the game accordingly.
(Elena long ago learned the consequences of selfishness. They want her to think more of herself, to put herself first, and everyone forgets that when she did, her parents got killed and she held the proverbial blade.)
It's the same with everyone else, for no one has remained unscathed from this. If someone in particular could be used as a weakness for someone else, they would be without question. They'd put brothers in adjacent rooms, and the moment questions weren't answered or cooperation was refused, they'd make them sorry. The horrible part of it all is the physical torture is nothing in comparison to the mind games that have been played.
Oh, Ethan. Elena doesn't always face reality. Elena's constructed the reality she could live with and she's held on to her ideals and her beliefs as if they are the only ideals and beliefs that could be. There's a lot she's hid from, there's a lot she's refused to examine. She isn't any more brave than he is, and if there's anything that's kept her going it isn't courage. It's the sheer incapability she has of losing anyone else she cares about, the paralyzing fear that she'd be the only one left standing, and she'd have to keep going because it's all she does.
It's what she knows.
She survives and she holds on as if life depends on it. (So as long as that life is never hers.)
And that's the biggest irony of all, really. That's the stupidest thing she's ever heard and known. She was the most ordinary girl living the most ordinary life. Her importance in the scheme of the world was largely inconsequential. Then her parents died and the gates flew wide open, inviting the misery in. She learned the truth, because she'd wanted it, and Elena never believes she's just a girl anymore.
If that was true, none of this would happen, much less keep happening. People wouldn't keep dying. Her blood wouldn't be needed, and it's ironic, you know, she'd dreamt of adventure and maybe even a hint of danger. She blames the part of herself that wanted to be a novelist some day, inspired by great, fantastical worlds so she could escape from a mundane life she felt she was chained to.
Isn't that the most horrible joke of all?
People die around you, she'd said to Damon, hatefully, spitefully.
It wasn't only Damon she was accusing, and that's the most hateful thing of all.
And now they're here, now she's here, and it's a world away and it doesn't seem to make a difference. She doesn't need to be told that monsters exist. She's been well aware of that for years now. She'll never accept Ethan is a monster. She'll see the claws and she'll see the teeth and it won't be Ethan to her. It's what the werewolf will make him and she will not see it any other way, will not accept any other truth in her heart, and maybe that's what makes her so brave and stupid, Damon would say.
She'll always die for them and living is so much harder.
Living leads to these dark corners where it's pain and it's on the edge of loss and all those reminders of how easy it is to get hurt, how easy it is to lose more people and more people, until the whole of you just becomes pieces of ghosts you used to know.
Elena remembers that night he came to her. The way the rain soaked his jacket and the heavy cloaked look in his eye and the certainty that whatever he wanted to say to her would change their lives forever. She'd never admitted it to anyone else before. Irony pokes its head again since she admitted it to him because she thought the danger was a world away. She thought it wouldn't haunt her in this world, that such a curse didn't exist, because the Rift doesn't make hybrids, and she should've realized differently.
She's not meant for more than this.
And maybe she should've realized it, too. She should've realized it when he made her smile easily when no one else could quite manage it, and she should've realized it when saying the name Stefan in front of him was so hard, and she should've realized it when she'd look over at him sometimes, catch herself looking for longer than she was supposed to, when she felt attracted to him and it felt wrong, because it would always be stefan she said once upon a time and she didn't understand that that wasn't true.
She should've realized it but Elena doesn't always face the truth, see? She wanted to keep fulfilling the role she always had but the more she grew up and the more she understood, the farther away she was from that girl. The one that refused to believe compulsion was stronger, the one that said it would always be Stefan, the one that was supposed to die on the bridge with her parents and never did but still felt alone.
All those moments that could've served as a lightbulb have come and passed them.
The moment that's left is this one. The dark cell and the rustling of the chains and the look in his eyes as his hands follow her face. Elena loves him. It's something that's so simple and undeniable to her, and it's so terrible that it's realized until just now but it's evident and obvious to her, something as certain as the cold of the room and the soft of their breathing. Whatever happens, she knows her truth and his, and she doesn't have to think about the rest, at least not just yet.
Elena smiles back at him, the painful quality found in her own expression, and she brings him back to place one last kiss against his mouth. They both know now and it's better than never, always better than never. She doesn't care about the timing. She doesn't care how long it took. She cares about the smile on his face and the warmth of his hands and his forehead against hers, and how, brief as it may be, the night doesn't feel as hopeless.
"Of course it matters," she says to him, unwilling to believe anything else. He's not a monster and of course it matters. It always matters. Elena isn't going to let him believe the crap Lucien's been drilling into his head because it's not true. A monster doesn't hold her like he did. A monster doesn't feel like he did. It wouldn't be keeping a monster alive. It would be keeping Ethan alive and that will always matter.
If not to him, then to her.
"I know what he said," Elena says, the tears rushing to her eyes. She holds them there as she looks around again, frantically this time. She doesn't have to ask him to know how quickly it's approaching. She can gauge by his reactions at just how close they are and Elena can't -- she won't let herself belief it until it's finally happening. "I know what he said but he has to be wrong. He has to be. It doesn't end like this, do you hear me?"
He can't risk the doppelganger being dead and he can't -- maybe they tried their luck too many times by defying him but he wants his arm. Ethan with his mind broken past repair is not useful to him and Elena has to grasp on to what reason she's able to so that she can make herself believe that it's -- they aren't just going to leave her here until he's torn her apart.
Elena slips her hands over his when she sees them shake. Her thumb covers the surface of his hand lightly. She trusts him with it. She does. The moon isn't out and it's Ethan here with her and she trusts that. Ethan would never do anything to hurt her. It's the resounding thought in her head, along with the terrible reminder that it all ends in violence and death if she's involved, that it's all she seems to be created for.
All she knows is Ethan can't die.
No one else is dying to spare her life. No one.
"Yes, you can. You can, Ethan. I just need you to hold on a bit longer," Elena says, wincing at the sight of his arms, specifically the part of his arms that are working at the shackles. She shakes her head, ignoring the wetness in her cheeks, the violent pounding in her chest. She doesn't step back. "You won't. You won't kill me. Listen to me. Listen to me very carefully. Ethan, just fight it, okay? You fight it for as long as you can."
There's defeaning silence at his declaration.
I'll tear you apart.
Her chest clenches painfully at the words, and how they sound coming from him, and the shakiness travels all the way to her lungs, to her throat, taking hold of everything even as she stubbornly shakes her head. "You won't," she says, and -- he won't. It won't be Ethan. It's not Ethan. Her mouth parts open and she takes several steps back at the howling, moving back to the bars to kick and flail at them but they never budge.
She backs away as far as she possibly can, backing up agains the wall opposite where he transforms. Her lungs freeze, and she stares in horrified fascination, unable to tear her gaze away as the claws come out, as he slowly and painfully turns. She expels a panicked breath, backing up as far as she will go, her hands flattened against the stone wall.
"N-no," she says, moving back, always far back. "Ethan, don't --"
His screaming is soon met with her own when he lashes out. The claws successfully latch on to the skin at her arm, piercing into the flesh there. She kicks at him with her feet but he's too strong for her to fend off. The screaming shifts into howling, and she cries out against him, pushing away with every ounce of strength she has.
She hits the floor with a rough thud, the scent of blood spreading out the area. Pain shoots up her arm and she promptly ignores it, screaming at someone to open the gate.
Elena gasps in a breath and crawls as far away from him as she can and -- there is the certainty that she will die. This isn't a test and Ethan was right and the werewolf will tear her apart. It keeps pulling at the chains and she can see how they'll soon break off of the wall, as if he might just bring the whole wall down with him.
She backs away again, never quite able to avoid the claws when they reach for her.
And there it is. The sound as the metal snaps, mixing with the hungry growls of the beast.
The werewolf breaks free of the chains and lunges at her, all bare teeth and claws, monstrous in its design. Elena screams again and closes her eyes, bracing herself for the violent collision, and it never comes. A pair of arms snake around her waist and with inhuman speed lift her off the ground.
When she opens her eyes again, she's being hauled out of the cell.
The iron cell door close again before the werewolf can follow, and her eyes remain wide and terrified as it throws itself against the bars, as if trying to reach them. "Ethan," she whispers, her face twisting painfully at the sight of him, the sight of him she knows he never wanted her to see. Her heart is still pounding painfully fast in her chest, and she can barely feel the blood trickling down her arm.
It's staining the man's suit and it reminds her she's not alone. She'd fight him off but she doesn't have the strength to, at the moment, and he doesn't seem concerned with doing anything but keeping her distanced from the werewolf.
"What are you doing?" she asks the suited man in abject horror. He doesn't answer her so she asks again as he begins to carry her away. Elena's eyes remain on the cell, on the man that stays directly outside of it with a bag of blood, as if waiting. She draws in an unsteady breath and jerks against him again. "It was a test, wasn't it? You can't do this. You need to -- he needs to know I'm alive. Let me go -- "
The man ignores her, as if she hasn't spoken, moving up the stairs with his arm still securely fastened around her waist. She kicks a little but that only makes his grip tighten around her. She starts to scream again but a piece of white cloth is placed directly over her face.
The smell of chloroform fills her and it isn't long before her vision starts to blur.
Her head lolls to the side as the man continues on his way up, on step after another. She can barely lift her head to look back at the basement below before blackness swallows her whole.
no subject
Lucien excels at zeroing in on a weakness. It's why Elena herself hasn't been physically hurt as much as she could've, after he and the rest saw it didn't matter what was done to her, she'd martyr herself till kingdom come if she had to. It was hurting anyone she loved about that was the real torture. It was remaining intact herself while everyone around her was made to suffer, with the silent understanding it was her reluctance and lack of compliance to blame.
The more they played on that, the less difficult she became, and her Achilles Heel was quickly spotted and she starts to play the game accordingly.
(Elena long ago learned the consequences of selfishness. They want her to think more of herself, to put herself first, and everyone forgets that when she did, her parents got killed and she held the proverbial blade.)
It's the same with everyone else, for no one has remained unscathed from this. If someone in particular could be used as a weakness for someone else, they would be without question. They'd put brothers in adjacent rooms, and the moment questions weren't answered or cooperation was refused, they'd make them sorry. The horrible part of it all is the physical torture is nothing in comparison to the mind games that have been played.
Oh, Ethan. Elena doesn't always face reality. Elena's constructed the reality she could live with and she's held on to her ideals and her beliefs as if they are the only ideals and beliefs that could be. There's a lot she's hid from, there's a lot she's refused to examine. She isn't any more brave than he is, and if there's anything that's kept her going it isn't courage. It's the sheer incapability she has of losing anyone else she cares about, the paralyzing fear that she'd be the only one left standing, and she'd have to keep going because it's all she does.
It's what she knows.
She survives and she holds on as if life depends on it. (So as long as that life is never hers.)
And that's the biggest irony of all, really. That's the stupidest thing she's ever heard and known. She was the most ordinary girl living the most ordinary life. Her importance in the scheme of the world was largely inconsequential. Then her parents died and the gates flew wide open, inviting the misery in. She learned the truth, because she'd wanted it, and Elena never believes she's just a girl anymore.
If that was true, none of this would happen, much less keep happening. People wouldn't keep dying. Her blood wouldn't be needed, and it's ironic, you know, she'd dreamt of adventure and maybe even a hint of danger. She blames the part of herself that wanted to be a novelist some day, inspired by great, fantastical worlds so she could escape from a mundane life she felt she was chained to.
Isn't that the most horrible joke of all?
People die around you, she'd said to Damon, hatefully, spitefully.
It wasn't only Damon she was accusing, and that's the most hateful thing of all.
And now they're here, now she's here, and it's a world away and it doesn't seem to make a difference. She doesn't need to be told that monsters exist. She's been well aware of that for years now. She'll never accept Ethan is a monster. She'll see the claws and she'll see the teeth and it won't be Ethan to her. It's what the werewolf will make him and she will not see it any other way, will not accept any other truth in her heart, and maybe that's what makes her so brave and stupid, Damon would say.
She'll always die for them and living is so much harder.
Living leads to these dark corners where it's pain and it's on the edge of loss and all those reminders of how easy it is to get hurt, how easy it is to lose more people and more people, until the whole of you just becomes pieces of ghosts you used to know.
Elena remembers that night he came to her. The way the rain soaked his jacket and the heavy cloaked look in his eye and the certainty that whatever he wanted to say to her would change their lives forever. She'd never admitted it to anyone else before. Irony pokes its head again since she admitted it to him because she thought the danger was a world away. She thought it wouldn't haunt her in this world, that such a curse didn't exist, because the Rift doesn't make hybrids, and she should've realized differently.
She's not meant for more than this.
And maybe she should've realized it, too. She should've realized it when he made her smile easily when no one else could quite manage it, and she should've realized it when saying the name Stefan in front of him was so hard, and she should've realized it when she'd look over at him sometimes, catch herself looking for longer than she was supposed to, when she felt attracted to him and it felt wrong, because it would always be stefan she said once upon a time and she didn't understand that that wasn't true.
She should've realized it but Elena doesn't always face the truth, see? She wanted to keep fulfilling the role she always had but the more she grew up and the more she understood, the farther away she was from that girl. The one that refused to believe compulsion was stronger, the one that said it would always be Stefan, the one that was supposed to die on the bridge with her parents and never did but still felt alone.
All those moments that could've served as a lightbulb have come and passed them.
The moment that's left is this one. The dark cell and the rustling of the chains and the look in his eyes as his hands follow her face. Elena loves him. It's something that's so simple and undeniable to her, and it's so terrible that it's realized until just now but it's evident and obvious to her, something as certain as the cold of the room and the soft of their breathing. Whatever happens, she knows her truth and his, and she doesn't have to think about the rest, at least not just yet.
Elena smiles back at him, the painful quality found in her own expression, and she brings him back to place one last kiss against his mouth. They both know now and it's better than never, always better than never. She doesn't care about the timing. She doesn't care how long it took. She cares about the smile on his face and the warmth of his hands and his forehead against hers, and how, brief as it may be, the night doesn't feel as hopeless.
"Of course it matters," she says to him, unwilling to believe anything else. He's not a monster and of course it matters. It always matters. Elena isn't going to let him believe the crap Lucien's been drilling into his head because it's not true. A monster doesn't hold her like he did. A monster doesn't feel like he did. It wouldn't be keeping a monster alive. It would be keeping Ethan alive and that will always matter.
If not to him, then to her.
"I know what he said," Elena says, the tears rushing to her eyes. She holds them there as she looks around again, frantically this time. She doesn't have to ask him to know how quickly it's approaching. She can gauge by his reactions at just how close they are and Elena can't -- she won't let herself belief it until it's finally happening. "I know what he said but he has to be wrong. He has to be. It doesn't end like this, do you hear me?"
He can't risk the doppelganger being dead and he can't -- maybe they tried their luck too many times by defying him but he wants his arm. Ethan with his mind broken past repair is not useful to him and Elena has to grasp on to what reason she's able to so that she can make herself believe that it's -- they aren't just going to leave her here until he's torn her apart.
Elena slips her hands over his when she sees them shake. Her thumb covers the surface of his hand lightly. She trusts him with it. She does. The moon isn't out and it's Ethan here with her and she trusts that. Ethan would never do anything to hurt her. It's the resounding thought in her head, along with the terrible reminder that it all ends in violence and death if she's involved, that it's all she seems to be created for.
All she knows is Ethan can't die.
No one else is dying to spare her life. No one.
"Yes, you can. You can, Ethan. I just need you to hold on a bit longer," Elena says, wincing at the sight of his arms, specifically the part of his arms that are working at the shackles. She shakes her head, ignoring the wetness in her cheeks, the violent pounding in her chest. She doesn't step back. "You won't. You won't kill me. Listen to me. Listen to me very carefully. Ethan, just fight it, okay? You fight it for as long as you can."
There's defeaning silence at his declaration.
I'll tear you apart.
Her chest clenches painfully at the words, and how they sound coming from him, and the shakiness travels all the way to her lungs, to her throat, taking hold of everything even as she stubbornly shakes her head. "You won't," she says, and -- he won't. It won't be Ethan. It's not Ethan. Her mouth parts open and she takes several steps back at the howling, moving back to the bars to kick and flail at them but they never budge.
She backs away as far as she possibly can, backing up agains the wall opposite where he transforms. Her lungs freeze, and she stares in horrified fascination, unable to tear her gaze away as the claws come out, as he slowly and painfully turns. She expels a panicked breath, backing up as far as she will go, her hands flattened against the stone wall.
"N-no," she says, moving back, always far back. "Ethan, don't --"
His screaming is soon met with her own when he lashes out. The claws successfully latch on to the skin at her arm, piercing into the flesh there. She kicks at him with her feet but he's too strong for her to fend off. The screaming shifts into howling, and she cries out against him, pushing away with every ounce of strength she has.
She hits the floor with a rough thud, the scent of blood spreading out the area. Pain shoots up her arm and she promptly ignores it, screaming at someone to open the gate.
Elena gasps in a breath and crawls as far away from him as she can and -- there is the certainty that she will die. This isn't a test and Ethan was right and the werewolf will tear her apart. It keeps pulling at the chains and she can see how they'll soon break off of the wall, as if he might just bring the whole wall down with him.
She backs away again, never quite able to avoid the claws when they reach for her.
And there it is. The sound as the metal snaps, mixing with the hungry growls of the beast.
The werewolf breaks free of the chains and lunges at her, all bare teeth and claws, monstrous in its design. Elena screams again and closes her eyes, bracing herself for the violent collision, and it never comes. A pair of arms snake around her waist and with inhuman speed lift her off the ground.
When she opens her eyes again, she's being hauled out of the cell.
The iron cell door close again before the werewolf can follow, and her eyes remain wide and terrified as it throws itself against the bars, as if trying to reach them. "Ethan," she whispers, her face twisting painfully at the sight of him, the sight of him she knows he never wanted her to see. Her heart is still pounding painfully fast in her chest, and she can barely feel the blood trickling down her arm.
It's staining the man's suit and it reminds her she's not alone. She'd fight him off but she doesn't have the strength to, at the moment, and he doesn't seem concerned with doing anything but keeping her distanced from the werewolf.
"What are you doing?" she asks the suited man in abject horror. He doesn't answer her so she asks again as he begins to carry her away. Elena's eyes remain on the cell, on the man that stays directly outside of it with a bag of blood, as if waiting. She draws in an unsteady breath and jerks against him again. "It was a test, wasn't it? You can't do this. You need to -- he needs to know I'm alive. Let me go -- "
The man ignores her, as if she hasn't spoken, moving up the stairs with his arm still securely fastened around her waist. She kicks a little but that only makes his grip tighten around her. She starts to scream again but a piece of white cloth is placed directly over her face.
The smell of chloroform fills her and it isn't long before her vision starts to blur.
Her head lolls to the side as the man continues on his way up, on step after another. She can barely lift her head to look back at the basement below before blackness swallows her whole.
And there's nothing.