There’s no control. There’s no sense of Ethan, because Ethan gets shoved back and his body is taken. There are times when he doesn’t know whose body it really is, his or the thing’s. Ethan is taken and shoved away every time that it happens, and it’s something that eventually you get used to, but it is still equally terrifying each and every time.
And Ethan couldn’t let himself live couldn’t not kill himself, knowing it would mean he would tear her apart. There wasn’t the option there though, and Elena would have fought him every step of the way and he is helpless to do anything but be affected by her face and her words when she is sad and desperate.
It would have broken him, did break him to think he had killed her, and he never would have lived past that night in the cell anyway.
But he understood then even past the panic that so many people have died when she thought she should have died, so many people have died in relation to her being a doppleganger.
Never before had it ever become more clear to him how willing Elena is to lay down her life for anyone over her own.
She proved he would be more than willing to do that for him that night even though it meant that he would die later anyway. His mind wouldn’t have been able to take it. His brothers wouldn’t have gotten him back, and he would die, because he’d ripped her apart and ate her- ate-
His brain had to shut down. There was no other option at that point, because Ethan’s- he would have fractured if he’d stayed, and he wouldn’t have been- Elena wouldn’t have been able to reach him either. Because how do you live with that? How do you go on? For that time that he was still there, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, imagining it, picturing it in his head, and it was far too easy to do, and he never would have stopped thinking about it, tasting her blood and… all of it in his mouth, on his skin, all over him.
Everywhere.
Logan sees it. He sees the heaviness in Connor’s eyes, and it hurts. There were a lot of times when… he didn’t think he would make it out of there. Adrien and Logan would have been the first to go, but he is relieved to be here with his brothers, relieved to be able to help guide the younger ones because he knows how lost they all are right now, how angry and hurting and lost they all are, because of their father.
The man that brought them into the world for this purpose.
It’s agonizing and stressful to wait, to wait and have that be all they can do but Logan hopes they’ll see it soon, and he rests his hand on his shoulder tightening his hold for a moment. They’re brothers and that doesn’t change, whatever Lucien was trying to do to all of them.
Ethan stares at her, through her almost. It’s like shifting between who he is and the nothingness, back and forth and back and forth. He stares at her in confusion as she speaks, because how is this possible? He knew. He knew that he had killed her. There wasn’t any doubt, the evidence was all around him, and what was the point of doing it- of pretending?
It was deer. He was throwing up deer blood, not Elena- Elena blood, Elena blood twisted up in his stomach, in his gut like fire because his- because he’s eaten- he closes his eyes again, swallowing back bile, shaking. He’s shaking as he shakes his head at her, face finally crumpling at what she says.
“It was-It was me. It wa- I spit out your blood, there was s- so much blood, and I did it. Me,” he says, the words streaming out of him as he lifts his head enough to look at her, confusion and apologies and- “Why aren’t you scared? I’m scared. You should be scared. Everyone-” He chokes on the bile rising up in his throat, cuts himself off, tears welling up in his eyes and his hands shake as he pulls them in toward himself, away from her, away-
The panic descends on him, and he shake his head.
He shakes his head until his- his head moves forward and rest against her shoulder there. He closes his eyes tightly, tears burning at his eyes when her hand move to rest against the back of his head. They slip down his face as he shakes with that fear all over, breathing unsteady, not trusting his hands, keeping his hands away. Ethan you’re not. Ethan lifts his head up enough to rest his lips there against her shoulder too with his eyes closed there.
It’s not until she pulls back and looks in her eyes that he sees it, not even his own mind could reach him the way Elena can, always has.
He opens his mouth to protest. If she is a hallucination, then trusting a hallucination isn’t exactly smart, but either way he doesn’t care. This is what he needs to be true, this is it, this. It’s this or being lost inside of himself, shut down, accepting what he did.
And he can’t.
And he nods, expression crumpling again painfully. “Ye- yeah, okay,” Ethan says in a choked voice as he nods, chest tightening painfully. “I do. I trust you.”
He swallows back the bile rising up in his throat.
"Elena. You're- you're alive. You're alive," he says and he backs enough away from her to look at her, to look at every part of her to make sure and to see every pat of her, still attached, still whole. He wants so badly to touch her and to know, to know she isn't-- isn't in pieces.
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There’s no control. There’s no sense of Ethan, because Ethan gets shoved back and his body is taken. There are times when he doesn’t know whose body it really is, his or the thing’s. Ethan is taken and shoved away every time that it happens, and it’s something that eventually you get used to, but it is still equally terrifying each and every time.
And Ethan couldn’t let himself live couldn’t not kill himself, knowing it would mean he would tear her apart. There wasn’t the option there though, and Elena would have fought him every step of the way and he is helpless to do anything but be affected by her face and her words when she is sad and desperate.
It would have broken him, did break him to think he had killed her, and he never would have lived past that night in the cell anyway.
But he understood then even past the panic that so many people have died when she thought she should have died, so many people have died in relation to her being a doppleganger.
Never before had it ever become more clear to him how willing Elena is to lay down her life for anyone over her own.
She proved he would be more than willing to do that for him that night even though it meant that he would die later anyway. His mind wouldn’t have been able to take it. His brothers wouldn’t have gotten him back, and he would die, because he’d ripped her apart and ate her- ate-
His brain had to shut down. There was no other option at that point, because Ethan’s- he would have fractured if he’d stayed, and he wouldn’t have been- Elena wouldn’t have been able to reach him either. Because how do you live with that? How do you go on? For that time that he was still there, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, imagining it, picturing it in his head, and it was far too easy to do, and he never would have stopped thinking about it, tasting her blood and… all of it in his mouth, on his skin, all over him.
Everywhere.
Logan sees it. He sees the heaviness in Connor’s eyes, and it hurts. There were a lot of times when… he didn’t think he would make it out of there. Adrien and Logan would have been the first to go, but he is relieved to be here with his brothers, relieved to be able to help guide the younger ones because he knows how lost they all are right now, how angry and hurting and lost they all are, because of their father.
The man that brought them into the world for this purpose.
It’s agonizing and stressful to wait, to wait and have that be all they can do but Logan hopes they’ll see it soon, and he rests his hand on his shoulder tightening his hold for a moment. They’re brothers and that doesn’t change, whatever Lucien was trying to do to all of them.
Ethan stares at her, through her almost. It’s like shifting between who he is and the nothingness, back and forth and back and forth. He stares at her in confusion as she speaks, because how is this possible? He knew. He knew that he had killed her. There wasn’t any doubt, the evidence was all around him, and what was the point of doing it- of pretending?
It was deer. He was throwing up deer blood, not Elena- Elena blood, Elena blood twisted up in his stomach, in his gut like fire because his- because he’s eaten- he closes his eyes again, swallowing back bile, shaking. He’s shaking as he shakes his head at her, face finally crumpling at what she says.
“It was-It was me. It wa- I spit out your blood, there was s- so much blood, and I did it. Me,” he says, the words streaming out of him as he lifts his head enough to look at her, confusion and apologies and- “Why aren’t you scared? I’m scared. You should be scared. Everyone-” He chokes on the bile rising up in his throat, cuts himself off, tears welling up in his eyes and his hands shake as he pulls them in toward himself, away from her, away-
The panic descends on him, and he shake his head.
He shakes his head until his- his head moves forward and rest against her shoulder there. He closes his eyes tightly, tears burning at his eyes when her hand move to rest against the back of his head. They slip down his face as he shakes with that fear all over, breathing unsteady, not trusting his hands, keeping his hands away. Ethan you’re not. Ethan lifts his head up enough to rest his lips there against her shoulder too with his eyes closed there.
It’s not until she pulls back and looks in her eyes that he sees it, not even his own mind could reach him the way Elena can, always has.
He opens his mouth to protest. If she is a hallucination, then trusting a hallucination isn’t exactly smart, but either way he doesn’t care. This is what he needs to be true, this is it, this. It’s this or being lost inside of himself, shut down, accepting what he did.
And he can’t.
And he nods, expression crumpling again painfully. “Ye- yeah, okay,” Ethan says in a choked voice as he nods, chest tightening painfully. “I do. I trust you.”
He swallows back the bile rising up in his throat.
"Elena. You're- you're alive. You're alive," he says and he backs enough away from her to look at her, to look at every part of her to make sure and to see every pat of her, still attached, still whole. He wants so badly to touch her and to know, to know she isn't-- isn't in pieces.