Title: sand’s a time of its own.
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries.
Characters: Elijah/Elena.
Prompt: Tape.
Rating: M.
Length: 1466.
Content notes: Includes details of blood, violence and references to past assault.
Author notes: AU on post 2x21, an AU on what S3 was and "what if Elijah was never daggered and protected Elena from a vengeful Klaus?" Also written for trope_bingo’s "bite mark/bruise." Title from Spandau Ballet’s "True".
Summary: Elijah tends to Elena’s wound after a brawl with Klaus’ vampires. They talk about what it means to be human.


Elena remains where she is, panting hard and wincing at the pain shooting up her leg. She lifts her head to watch as Elijah tears two vampires apart limb from limb without so much as flinching. They lie in parts on the ground, the earth coated a deep and almost too familiar shade of red.

The woods have become a ground for mini-wars between Klaus’ vampire followers and Elijah.

Sprawled out on the ground, her hands feel rough and scraped by the dirt and wood chips embedded in the earth. She knows her hair’s disheveled and her jeans are a mess. Her legs feel like jelly and her heart beats frantically in fright.

In a few long, powerful strides, Elijah’s crossed the distance between them and rests a knee on the ground. He leaves his other bent and rests his arm against his thigh. The way he kneels before her is protective and encroaching—she can’t see beyond him to spy the broken bodies laying dormant on the ground.

"You’re bleeding."

Looking down at her lower leg, her jeans have been torn and are saturated with a deep, thick red. Elena inhales sharply as she looks down at it. Though she can feel the sting in her leg, there’s nothing compared to the dizziness she’s hit with as she sees her injury confirmed.

"I’m fine," she says quietly, looking up at him. His gaze is on her leg, expression somewhat perturbed. His face is still human. "It’s just a scratch."

His lips quirk up and he releases an amused puff of breath. "Just a scratch," he repeats almost incredulously. Then, he shakes his head and peers up at her, licking his lips as he does. "You can’t walk."

"I can if I use my legs."

"Elena," he says, lips curved upward. It’s a warning, one that she’s come to appreciate a lot coming from him. She inhales deeply and lets it out, letting herself relax despite the pain in her leg. "Now’s not the time to be smart."

She nods. "It’s not."

He lets out a sigh. "I can heal you."

She shakes her head. "No," she says, pressing her lips together to try and rid herself of the acidic taste of blood. The last time she’d been fed blood, it hadn’t been of her own free will. Ever since, she’s refused. "I’ll heal. I promise."

He looks at her like he doesn’t believe her, and maybe he shouldn’t. Elena hasn’t healed in three years, whos's to say she ever will?

"I can’t leave you like this," he says. He settles on both knees and shrugs off his blazer.

Elena frowns as she watches him pull it neatly off his arms without so much as creasing it. "Elijah, what are you—" Effortlessly, he rips one of the arms off clean. "Elijah! You can’t do that."

Smirking at her, he says, "I just did." Folding the rest of his blazer neatly, he places it delicately on the ground as if it isn’t already ruined. With the torn arm, he drapes it over his knees. "I’m going to take your leg," he says. His hands are gentle as he lets his fingers hover over her ankle.

Licking her lips, she nods. "Okay," she says. He doesn’t take her leg. She nods again, inhaling sharply to steel herself. Her leg feels sore, but it feels like an ignorable kind of sore if she keeps it still. Moving on her hands, she braces them against the ground and stretches her good leg out. "Okay," she says again, more firmly this time.

Elijah’s fingers are light as they wrap around her ankle, featherlight in a manner that he isn’t. He lifts her leg gently from the ground and she winces, groaning loudly. He rests her foot on his thigh, dirtying his pants with her blood and the dirt on the heel of her sneaker.

"You really didn’t have to ruin your jacket for me," she says breathlessly, trying her best not to hiss at the sharp, hot pain shooting up her leg. "It was a nice jacket."

"I know," he says, and she doesn’t know what he knows. She watches his face as he remains calm and collected, concentrating as he delicately rips her jeans, splitting it right up to the knee. It’s a perfect line, an impeccable tear for such a composed man.

His hand hovers over her bloodied leg. When she peers down to glance at it, she can see the wound’s deep.

"How is this not affecting you?" she says, brows furrowing as she looks at him. He peers up at her, brow arched inquisitively. "You’re a vampire, I have a gaping wound and a lot of blood, and you’re… not even reacting."

He lets out a controlled breath. "I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have." He pulls the torn arm out from underneath her leg and pulls it taut, and begins to wrap it around her lower leg.

She watches him for a quiet moment, biting her bottom lip as she feels her dizziness ebb. "You haven’t hurt me." He makes a noise in his throat that implies his rebuttal. "Elijah, you haven’t," she says more firmly. "You’ve kept me safe when no one else could. I’m still alive—"

"Not because of me," he says tightly, keeping his gaze down as he wraps the jacket arm tightly around her leg. He’s trying to remain in control, that much she knows she’s read correctly of him. "You won’t let me heal you because you’re afraid of transitioning, aren’t you?"

Elena runs her tongue along her teeth. "I don’t want to be a vampire," she says quietly. "I never have and I never will want to be, and I’m sorry. But I want to be human. I want to have bruises and scars and reasons to have bandaids in my drawers. I want those stories."

He glances up at her, brows furrowing in confusion. "That’s not something you should be sorry about."

She shrugs, digging her nails into the hard dirt beneath her. She looks away from his prying gaze. "Sometimes I feel like I need to be. Everyone’s always trying to save me. You could have your family right now if it wasn’t for me."

Elijah chuckles low in his throat, running his tongue along his teeth. It makes him look sharper, a display of anger that he often keeps tightly and neatly controlled. He shakes his head. "I wouldn’t have," he says, keeping his gaze on her leg. "Niklaus would have ensured as much." Tying the makeshift tourniquet, he looks up at her. "I’d be in a box if it wasn’t for you."

"And I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you," she says quietly. She lets her gaze drop from his as she looks down at her leg. Lips quirking, she jokes softly, "I look impeccable."

"You’re an impeccable human," he says, letting his hand drift down to her ankle. It’s now he touches her blood willingly, letting it coat his hands. Even now, even as it kisses his skin, his eyes remain brown.

"Do you miss it?" When he looks up at her, she nods towards her leg. "Being human."

"I can’t remember being human, Elena," he says, withdrawing his hand. He picks up his jacket and hands it to her, and she takes it willingly. "It was a long time ago."

She looks up at him as he stands, his black slacks dusty and stained with blood and his button-up white shirt stained and torn. Even in disarray and tatters, Elijah still looks so strong and impenetrable.

He lowers himself to scoop her up into his arms and she ensures to clutch at his jacket he’s entrusted her with so it doesn’t fall. "I don’t want you to forget how it feels to be human," he says. She wraps her arms around his neck, drawing herself closer to him. Her leg stings and she winces slightly, but it’s far better to be carried than being asked to walk when she can’t. Her strength is finally depleted.

"I won’t," she says quietly determined. "I promise."

Secured in his arms, Elena finally lets out the breath she’d been holding. The pain surges through her body, bruises begin to form on her skin, and the fright of what had transpired in the woods slowly begins to overtake her, but she remains calm and a mirror of his impenetrable expression.

She watches him for a moment and lets out a long, deep breath, feeling her heart skip a few beats and her gut somersault. "My leg hurts," she murmurs quietly.

He studies her face quietly and softly smiles down at her before he begins to move carefully away from their spot in the woods.