Elena has never underestimated the importance of the element of surprise.
As a human, she was taught that was her greatest weapon against people that are inhumanly stronger and faster than her. It was impossible to be one step ahead of someone like Lucien, who was always several steps ahead, ten of them, if he could help it. It hadn't been that long since they realized who he was and that he might come to Chicago. Elena just wasn't going to stop living her life because of what she learned could happen.
It'd seemed miles away. She had no reason to believe Lucien was already in Chicago. None of them did. Nor did they have any way of knowing he'd found himself a body to possess, that it was possible. If Elena had known the gala would go to hell, it's hard to say whether they could've done anything differently to have changed the outcome. Already so much was known about them and their whereabouts and their routines that if it hadn't been the gala, it would've been somewhere else.
The gala only made it that much easier, putting them all together in the same room, celebrating the same occasion, unaware of what would come next. It wasn't even hours after it all began that the lights went out, everything was dark, and suddenly she was plucked from out of the ballroom. The worst of it wasn't being taken in a van with people who would no sooner snap her neck if they could. The worst of it was realizing it wasn't just her.
The worst of it was being forced down the stairs and toward a dining room where everyone she cared about most, her very own brother, was there along with her, sealed to the very same fate. The stronger her reactions, the worst she made it, but she couldn't clamp down said reactions. At least, not at first. It was so much more than just the ceremony to him. If it hadn't been, the ceremony would've started the moment they were taken.
Lucien wanted to play with his food first. He wanted to test out his toys to see they were really as useful as he needed them to be and if not, he could make them so. Everything from there on became a test. They barely had utensils laid out in front of them, while Lucien held a butcher-like knife as if reminding everyone that he held all the cards, and they were his prisoners, and they might as well start falling in line.
They are all wired to fight.
Whether it's life or they were built that way, they were wired to fight back.
They wouldn't step in line immediately. Killing Jeremy, it was the first and final straw for both Sarah and Elena. The Hales were tested out to zero in on potential strengths and weaknesses. The Gilberts were tested as to how motivating they could be, and to whom, and at what end. It was horrible. Everything about it was horrible, and she doesn't know when he learned that Ethan and Elena felt what they felt, to the point he'd even think to use her for such a terrible means.
No one is invincible, however.
The Rift operates on a same wavelength Elena's own world did, in its own way. Everything must have its balance, its other side of the coin. Demons exist because angels do. Werewolves were made because vampires were. No being, even that which is immortal, is supposed to be invincible. There is always something that could lead to their downfall, the same way their is something that could lead to their rising.
There were several objects that could lead to his ruin if the ceremony wasn't completed. Even if the ceremony had been completed, nothing is set in stone, as Virginia aptly proved. No one is invulnerable to falling from great heights. As powerful as they may be. The Rifts and the fabrics of the very universe have made it so. Lucien's own psychosis, his own contempt and desire for that powerful cocktail, it slowly paved the way for his own demise, and some would say there's great poetry and ironic meaning to that.
And that's the problem, really. There's no where to really turn to with the anger. It's important that they don't let it consume them, that they remind themselves they still have each other, as broken as they may be, and Connor needs to focus on that instead. He needs to focus on his brothers and his loved ones, and hope somehow that Lucien is dead and this is all over.
As over as it can be. Lucien dying and the ceremony coming to a head doesn't mean it's truly over, and he knows that. There are scars and there's the aftermath of having to deal with everything they went through. Not dealing with it could be that much more dangerous. But the immediate danger and horrors -- it could be over, and they all need for them to be over so they can move on somehow.
Connor doesn't know how, only that they have to.
It is very exhausting. They just know no other way of living. Elena was thrown back into a world that is constantly filled with danger, speeding through its war path. She knows to keep moving and keep fighting, even when she's been knocked down. She can never afford to stop. If she does, it slowly starts catching up with her, the everything of it, and she would not be able to handle the full weight. She would just shut down.
In many ways, they are the same, after all.
Maybe she's done her own brand of running.
Elena looks down at him when he looks up, her hands covering his when she sees how they shake. Her fingers wrap around his and she doesn't move from her spot, watching as it keeps sinking in, as he processes it. It would be terrifying to try and believe it, much as he may want it, on the cruel offchance it might not be true, but Elena knows that it is, so she'll fight for it that much harder.
"They only made you believe you did. It's unforgivable, but it wasn't true," she says. In all the ways that she can think of, she'll say it. She'll say the exact same thing or she'll say it differently, but she'll keep saying it. She knows how hard they've always fought so that something like this could never happen. How they lock themselves up every full moon without fail so they never hurt anyone. How they've lived outside of the city limits so that no one would have to bear it, either.
They're good people. They don't want to hurt anyone. Nothing will make Elena believe differently.
Elena smiles tearfully, shaking her head. "It's okay. My own timing wasn't very stellar," she says, and it is something he can find it in himself to joke along. However brokenly. She doubts there is anything they would be able to do not brokenly at the moment, but she'll hold on to whatever small scrap she can.
Connor gives Logan a small smile back in return and he finally releases a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. This time, it's Connor who places a hand on Logan's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, before they leave the room together, stepping back so that their brother can have this moment.
Her chest clenches painfully when he thanks her. The tears sting in her eyes again as the sincerity reaches her, and there was honestly nothing else that she could've done. Not when she loves him and not when she's ... well, Elena. "I will always fight for you," she says, with the same sincerity in her words. "I would've never given up on you, Ethan, okay? I still won't."
Elena goes over to the bed with him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck and she doesn't let go. Her strength will not compare to his but she holds on as tightly as she can, as long as he needs that solid reminder, the tangible reminder. Her hands cover his own when he kisses her eyelids. It's what really does it.
The tears find their way out, in spite of the fact her eyes are closed, and she finally lets it wash over her. It's over, he says, and she knows that it has to be.
It has to be.
And she wants to take care of him. Elena knows that she needs to take care of him, while also knowing it's okay to stop. It's okay to stop with him, so she does, burying her face against his neck as she cries quietly, as it catches up with her. The horror and the exhaustion and the relief. She can allow it of herself now.
Elena lifts herself up a fraction to kiss him back, deepening the kiss before she draws back, leaving small kisses along his cheek and neck, peppering them quietly against him. "I love you," she says again, for all the times she didn't, for all the times she thought she might never get to say it again. I love you. I love you. I love you.
She will always try and bring him back. There will never be a time when she won't, and she listens to his own words, lets the tightness in her chest slowly unfurl as she wills herself to believe them. That it's over.
It's finally over.
Elena only looks up at the sound of a knock on the door. Her eyes are bloodshot but they're fully open, and she half-sits once she sees Adrien's head poke its way in.
He looks as haggard and tired as they all do, thinner than he's ever been, but relieved.
Like the relief itself might bowl him over. "Adam's here," he tells them, a hand cupping his own neck as he breathes in and steels himself for the words. "We got confirmation," he says, and he looks from Elena and settles on Ethan, on his brother, the tightness in his throat returning at the sight of him. "He's dead."
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As a human, she was taught that was her greatest weapon against people that are inhumanly stronger and faster than her. It was impossible to be one step ahead of someone like Lucien, who was always several steps ahead, ten of them, if he could help it. It hadn't been that long since they realized who he was and that he might come to Chicago. Elena just wasn't going to stop living her life because of what she learned could happen.
It'd seemed miles away. She had no reason to believe Lucien was already in Chicago. None of them did. Nor did they have any way of knowing he'd found himself a body to possess, that it was possible. If Elena had known the gala would go to hell, it's hard to say whether they could've done anything differently to have changed the outcome. Already so much was known about them and their whereabouts and their routines that if it hadn't been the gala, it would've been somewhere else.
The gala only made it that much easier, putting them all together in the same room, celebrating the same occasion, unaware of what would come next. It wasn't even hours after it all began that the lights went out, everything was dark, and suddenly she was plucked from out of the ballroom. The worst of it wasn't being taken in a van with people who would no sooner snap her neck if they could. The worst of it was realizing it wasn't just her.
The worst of it was being forced down the stairs and toward a dining room where everyone she cared about most, her very own brother, was there along with her, sealed to the very same fate. The stronger her reactions, the worst she made it, but she couldn't clamp down said reactions. At least, not at first. It was so much more than just the ceremony to him. If it hadn't been, the ceremony would've started the moment they were taken.
Lucien wanted to play with his food first. He wanted to test out his toys to see they were really as useful as he needed them to be and if not, he could make them so. Everything from there on became a test. They barely had utensils laid out in front of them, while Lucien held a butcher-like knife as if reminding everyone that he held all the cards, and they were his prisoners, and they might as well start falling in line.
They are all wired to fight.
Whether it's life or they were built that way, they were wired to fight back.
They wouldn't step in line immediately. Killing Jeremy, it was the first and final straw for both Sarah and Elena. The Hales were tested out to zero in on potential strengths and weaknesses. The Gilberts were tested as to how motivating they could be, and to whom, and at what end. It was horrible. Everything about it was horrible, and she doesn't know when he learned that Ethan and Elena felt what they felt, to the point he'd even think to use her for such a terrible means.
No one is invincible, however.
The Rift operates on a same wavelength Elena's own world did, in its own way. Everything must have its balance, its other side of the coin. Demons exist because angels do. Werewolves were made because vampires were. No being, even that which is immortal, is supposed to be invincible. There is always something that could lead to their downfall, the same way their is something that could lead to their rising.
There were several objects that could lead to his ruin if the ceremony wasn't completed. Even if the ceremony had been completed, nothing is set in stone, as Virginia aptly proved. No one is invulnerable to falling from great heights. As powerful as they may be. The Rifts and the fabrics of the very universe have made it so. Lucien's own psychosis, his own contempt and desire for that powerful cocktail, it slowly paved the way for his own demise, and some would say there's great poetry and ironic meaning to that.
And that's the problem, really. There's no where to really turn to with the anger. It's important that they don't let it consume them, that they remind themselves they still have each other, as broken as they may be, and Connor needs to focus on that instead. He needs to focus on his brothers and his loved ones, and hope somehow that Lucien is dead and this is all over.
As over as it can be. Lucien dying and the ceremony coming to a head doesn't mean it's truly over, and he knows that. There are scars and there's the aftermath of having to deal with everything they went through. Not dealing with it could be that much more dangerous. But the immediate danger and horrors -- it could be over, and they all need for them to be over so they can move on somehow.
Connor doesn't know how, only that they have to.
It is very exhausting. They just know no other way of living. Elena was thrown back into a world that is constantly filled with danger, speeding through its war path. She knows to keep moving and keep fighting, even when she's been knocked down. She can never afford to stop. If she does, it slowly starts catching up with her, the everything of it, and she would not be able to handle the full weight. She would just shut down.
In many ways, they are the same, after all.
Maybe she's done her own brand of running.
Elena looks down at him when he looks up, her hands covering his when she sees how they shake. Her fingers wrap around his and she doesn't move from her spot, watching as it keeps sinking in, as he processes it. It would be terrifying to try and believe it, much as he may want it, on the cruel offchance it might not be true, but Elena knows that it is, so she'll fight for it that much harder.
"They only made you believe you did. It's unforgivable, but it wasn't true," she says. In all the ways that she can think of, she'll say it. She'll say the exact same thing or she'll say it differently, but she'll keep saying it. She knows how hard they've always fought so that something like this could never happen. How they lock themselves up every full moon without fail so they never hurt anyone. How they've lived outside of the city limits so that no one would have to bear it, either.
They're good people. They don't want to hurt anyone. Nothing will make Elena believe differently.
Elena smiles tearfully, shaking her head. "It's okay. My own timing wasn't very stellar," she says, and it is something he can find it in himself to joke along. However brokenly. She doubts there is anything they would be able to do not brokenly at the moment, but she'll hold on to whatever small scrap she can.
Connor gives Logan a small smile back in return and he finally releases a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. This time, it's Connor who places a hand on Logan's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, before they leave the room together, stepping back so that their brother can have this moment.
Her chest clenches painfully when he thanks her. The tears sting in her eyes again as the sincerity reaches her, and there was honestly nothing else that she could've done. Not when she loves him and not when she's ... well, Elena. "I will always fight for you," she says, with the same sincerity in her words. "I would've never given up on you, Ethan, okay? I still won't."
Elena goes over to the bed with him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck and she doesn't let go. Her strength will not compare to his but she holds on as tightly as she can, as long as he needs that solid reminder, the tangible reminder. Her hands cover his own when he kisses her eyelids. It's what really does it.
The tears find their way out, in spite of the fact her eyes are closed, and she finally lets it wash over her. It's over, he says, and she knows that it has to be.
It has to be.
And she wants to take care of him. Elena knows that she needs to take care of him, while also knowing it's okay to stop. It's okay to stop with him, so she does, burying her face against his neck as she cries quietly, as it catches up with her. The horror and the exhaustion and the relief. She can allow it of herself now.
Elena lifts herself up a fraction to kiss him back, deepening the kiss before she draws back, leaving small kisses along his cheek and neck, peppering them quietly against him. "I love you," she says again, for all the times she didn't, for all the times she thought she might never get to say it again. I love you. I love you. I love you.
She will always try and bring him back. There will never be a time when she won't, and she listens to his own words, lets the tightness in her chest slowly unfurl as she wills herself to believe them. That it's over.
It's finally over.
Elena only looks up at the sound of a knock on the door. Her eyes are bloodshot but they're fully open, and she half-sits once she sees Adrien's head poke its way in.
He looks as haggard and tired as they all do, thinner than he's ever been, but relieved.
Like the relief itself might bowl him over. "Adam's here," he tells them, a hand cupping his own neck as he breathes in and steels himself for the words. "We got confirmation," he says, and he looks from Elena and settles on Ethan, on his brother, the tightness in his throat returning at the sight of him. "He's dead."