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open | super super super rusty brief surprise revival...

Quick and painless — that was a lie. There was nothing quick or painless about having your neck broken. Maybe it seemed quick and relatively painless to the inflicter and the observer, but to the one experiencing that 'quick and painless' death, the brief moments that seemed to go on for hours and sharp spikes of pain unlike anything you've ever felt before said otherwise.

It hurt. It hurt a lot, and the darkness that enveloped him while he waited out his return wasn't exactly what you'd call comforting. Unsettling was more like it. There was nothing. Nothing but a dark veil cast over you, like you were underwater and unable to surface.

But eventually that ice cracked and Matt surged past it, taking a great big gulp of air that went rushing into his lungs so powerfully it startled him. He bolted upright, bumping against the cool metal of the railing that gnashed against the line of his spine. Vision still blurry, a rush of sounds assaulted him: birds, footsteps, voices, and the distinct sound of waves slapping against the side of a boat.

He'd only been on a boat once, with Elena's family out at the lake before her parents passed away, but the sound of water rushing against the side of a boat stuck with him as one of the most soothing sounds he's ever heard.

It had him twisting around and grasping the railing to peer down over it, to try and get an idea of where the hell he was. Had Damon gone back on his word and done away with his body? Had Elena? Had their attempt to get her to turn it back on gone awry?

Matt couldn't say. All he knew was that he wasn't where he should be, this wasn't exactly a boat, and there was a strong possibility that the ring hadn't worked like Damon said he would and death was having a good laugh at his expense over daring to trust the word of a Salvatore.

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Matt's spine grinds painfully against the railing as he backs up in response to that voice, pressing himself back against it as far as it'll allow him to go without cutting him clean in two or letting him fall to the ocean below. He doesn't enjoy reacting to her like that, doesn't like that his body seizes up seemingly of its own accord in response to the very real threat Elena's proven she is while her emotions are off and she no longer cares about herself or anyone in this town.

Not even him, if what they did didn't work. Something had to be done, but Matt still felt bad about tricking her, even if it worked. (Especially if it worked.) The decision was made before he had time to think on it, because there was no reason to think, only do. He could die for this girl who died for him, this girl who he once loved with all his heart who now had to live out the rest of her days as a vampire, because she demanded Stefan save him and not her...

He wants to believe it worked, wants to believe that it wasn't all in vain. Things have to go right in their world sometimes, right?

But something's not right. Elena doesn't... No, she looks more like herself than she has in months, more like the girl who swore she was fine when she really wasn't, the girl who had the ability to discern between fine and not fine.

Christ, he really was dead.

Elena's footsteps come to an immediate stop only a few feet away from Matt when he backs away from her.

She doesn't think that's ever happened before. She'd say she can't imagine a scenario where it would happen, except that's not necessarily true anymore, is it? She's learned the truth in Teleios; things she still hasn't fully processed, and now she is back on this ship, standing in front of her best friend who looks at her like he might just be afraid of her. (He looks at her like all those things she ever feared about herself are true, and her vocal cords don't work at first.)

There is nothing else to do but take a step back in turn to give him the space he needs. She can't even take comfort in letting herself believe he is mistaking her for Katherine. She knows Matt like the back of her palm. Something has changed, and that something is her.

He isn't from Teleios. He's from home, a home she hasn't seen in years.

The space grows and so does the silence, before Elena finds her voice again. "Matt, it's me," she says. (Pleads?)

And just like she knows him, he knows her. It's what made her transformation so heartbreaking for him — not the vampire part, Matt would've still cared about her if she had grown two heads and sprouted horns and a tail — but willingly letting go of herself. He understood that Jeremy's death broke her, understood fully the need to be free of the torment that the loss of a sibling brought, to do and want things that weren't necessarily you, because you felt like you'd lost a part of yourself... But this wasn't the way to go about it.

He hated that she turned it off, hated that they coerced her into doing it. Elena would've survived the loss of her brother, if they'd just left her alone to grieve. She would've felt it powerfully, it would've left her raw for months to come, but she would've made it through. Because that's what Elena Gilbert does: She survives. She's a survivor.

Damon refused to let her survive — at least, that's how it seemed from Matt's point of view. Both brothers refused to let her be, to get through things her own way and with time. They refused to acknowledge that anyone was there for her beyond them... And he, Caroline, Bonnie — they would've all been there for Elena if she had been allowed to feel.

Oh, he wants to believe it. He wants to believe that the Elena standing before him is feeling what he's seeing in her, but he's still not convinced that this isn't wishful thinking. For all he knows, this is his eternal torment: Having the ghost of a girl who died for him dangled in front of him, a missing puzzle piece that he was unable to find.

"I wish," he says, and it's not harsh or clipped. If anything, the plea is almost broken, lost. "But it's not that simple. It's never that easy. And we were foolish for thinking it would be."

Easy way out. The Salvatore way. He was an idiot to go along with it.

A weighted pause follows Matt's answer.

Elena has an almost compulsive need to fix things, but she's come to learn there isn't always a band-aid for everything. It's not as easy as applying a solution and acquiring the results you want. Part of growing up means understanding there aren't always good reasons or good choices. Sometimes terrible things happen, and all you can do is learn to live with them. She is here, trying to learn to live with the things she has done and the things that have been done to her. She isn't always successful, but she can at least say she's left a lot of Mystic Falls behind her. She's had to. The alternative was drowning in the grief, so she let go.

Not Matt, though. Never Matt and the rest of her family. She carries them with her in the coffin of her heart and she never relinquishes the tight grip.

"Matt, I don't know what's happening back home, exactly - "

Not all of it. She doesn't know about Jeremy or she wouldn't be nearly as okay with compartmentalizing what Rebekah told her. She doesn't know much about what happened after the car accident or her transition. No one's spelled it out for her, but she can connect the dots when it comes to her complicated dynamic with Damon and Stefan. Everything else is fuzzy, and her and Matt in Teleios have been temporarily estranged.

"And I don't know because I haven't been home in a really long time. We're on this ship that pulls people here from different worlds and different times. It's not like the Other Side. We're not dead. We're just ... in between. I know it sounds crazy, but I promise you it's real."

Elena doesn't know if anyone's explained it to him already, but she can try, if he'll listen.

In an attempt to get his bearings and stand his ground, to not be as afraid of this Elena-shaped threat as he perhaps ought to be, Matt brings himself to his feet. And although he does just that, he can't quite bring himself to push away from the railing just yet. His hands grip it tight, the Jeremy's ring digging into his skin where it's pressed between his finger and the cold steel.

"Everything's crazy," he tells her, still believing her to be some sort of delusion or trick. "Half the people we know are dead, on the run, or sucking blood for a living. Crazy stopped being crazy a long time ago, Elena. Crazy is the new normal. It's the normal things that are crazy, like having hopes and dreams and not letting someone kill you in some stupid, crazy-normal attempt to save a friend from themselves."

The world tilts off its axis at Matt's last proclamation. She falls along with it once her gaze lands on that hand gripping the railing.

"Why are you..." her voice trails off, dread sinking into the pit of her stomach. Her words transform into flint. "That's Jeremy's ring." When she lifts her gaze back up, something much more vehement resides in it. It's no longer about trying to get Matt to believe her. It's about needing to know. Panic claws at her chest and she shakes her head. "That's Jeremy's ring, Matt."

He shouldn't be wearing it. He's not the person that let himself get killed. She is not the friend he did it for. That's not how this works.

"Jeremy's not exactly around to wear it anymore."

The words are laced with venom, a poison that's not necessarily directed at her so much as this entire situation. The cure, the Salvatores' need to fix Elena when she was never broken, Jeremy's death, Elena losing her sense of self... Jeremy's gone and there's virtually nothing left of his sister. Bad things keep happening with no end in sight, and Matt is tired of it.

"We thought it would work. Damon and I." He laughs a bitter laugh to accompany his poisoned words. "Damon and I. No wonder this whole stunt went wrong."

"No."

Elena sounds like he's driven a spear right into her heart because he has, in a way. She is shaking her head violently already, denying it with closed mind and closed heart even as her eyes fill. Jeremy is fine. He is safe with Sarah in Teleios. She reunited with him and he's already teasing her about going off on missions only to return with a cow. (And Rebekah.)

Her hands reach out to shove at him, but her strength is nothing like what he's used to. She likely barely makes a dent. This time she is the one taking a step back, away from him and his poison. This isn't Matt. He would never be this hurtful. "What is wrong with you?"

"I died, Elena!" Like a moth to the flame, Matt follows, pushing off the railing with the force of his admittance. "I died tonight. I let Damon snap my neck, hoping that it would help you flip that switch back into the on position. But what good did that do, huh? Nothing. I'm dead and you're—"

He gestures at her helplessly, like he's an artist and she's a painting he's been trying to restore, but can't. Those too blue eyes of his fill with unshed tears, the pain of the past few months finally starting to spill over. He's held too much in and she's unable to let anything out.

"You're not here. You're not. I'm just torturing myself, because deep down, I know this is my fault. I'm the one who should've died that night on the bridge. Not you. If Stefan had saved you instead of me, none of this would be happening."

They wouldn't have gone after the cure, Katherine wouldn't have killed Jeremy, and Elena would still be herself.

She would never ask Matt to do that for her. She can't conceive of a world where she changes so much that she would want him to die for her benefit. She wouldn't be Elena - and apparently she wasn't. She turned it off and things went wrong, and everything was about getting her back. Again. She never asked for this, for any of it, and she can't find it in herself to try and explain it. All she hears is Jeremy is gone, and her insides are screaming it while she outwardly remains silent and hopeless.

Elena steps forward suddenly, her hands gripping the sides of his face. The tears spill without warning, without shame. She shakes her head resolutely, stubbornly, for each and every count he holds against himself.

Of the two of them, does he really think he's the one to blame? She's had each and every blow coming.

"I know what death feels like. This is not death. You're hurt, and I'm here; if you need to lash out at me, then do it. But this will still be real when it's over." She can and will take it, because that's the least she deserves. She grabs his hand suddenly, placing it directly over her heart until it's thumping wildly against his palm. It's all too real, too brutal, for her to ignore. Can't he feel it, too? "Matt, look at me."

For Matt, getting Elena back had nothing to do with returning her to the Elena he loved and cherished, held high on that pedestal like the Salvatore Brothers did. No, it was about repaying that favor. She saved him. She drowned inside the cabin of his truck after Rebekah ran them off the road, willingly sacrificing her life for his, knowing that she was going to die — not knowing that she'd been administered vampire blood and was going to wake up in transition when death finally set in for her. She thought it was the end, and she approached it so that he wouldn't have to.

He wanted to give Elena that chance to keep living like she had him, wanting to open that door to her future back up for her, regardless of whether or not she wanted him in it. So many things in Elena's life have been out of her control. Too many people have been making decisions for her that she should've been left to make on her own. Maybe he was dipping his toes into those waters by agreeing to let Damon kill him, but he wanted to give her the chance to do something else with her life — to choose for herself where she wanted to go from there.

Being commanded by her sire bond to Damon to turn off her emotions in a time of immeasurable, inconsolable grief when she was at her most vulnerable, her most willing to listen to anything that would make the pain go away didn't count as a choice. Matt refused to believe that shutting off her emotions had been entirely her choice.

Sniffling in a vain attempt to push back the urge to cry in frustration with everything, to let that sadness and anger spill out of the jar he had it so carefully contained within, Matt turns to her. He looks at her, just as she asks, startled by the feel of her heart thumping in her chest. Matt knew that vampires could give the illusion of a pulse and something of a normal body temperature using caffeine and alcohol, but not... Not like this.

She's too warm, and her heart's beating too rapidly with the adrenaline his words have sent coursing through her to be nothing more than a vampire's illusion.

He swallows roughly, starting to take into consideration that maybe — just maybe — this is the real deal.

"Elena?"

Elena nods at the question, her face finally crumpling. ♪

Matt could easily push her away. Despite all of her desperate training, he would still be stronger than this version of her - but she is hoping he won't this time. She is hoping he lets her arms lock around his neck to pull him toward her, where he will feel her heart still pounding furiously against him the closer she brings him. He's wearing a ring and she isn't, because she's never had to, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't scared. She would be lying if she said a part of her wasn't waiting for it to happen, for death to claim her like it was supposed to.

Life is transient until all you're left with is eternity.

A sob unfurls in her throat as she shakes before him in a way she never really has before. Her grief and despair have always been released when no one else is looking, but this is Matt. This is the first boy she ever fell in love with. The boy who held her as both her parents were lowered unto the ground. The boy who loved Jeremy like his own little brother. The boy who's always deserved better than the monster she is and the monsters she has loved.

"I'm so sorry, Matt."

For everything she did to him. For everything anyone else did.

She says I'm sorry except it sounds like I love you and it sounds like Don't hate me and it sounds like Please don't leave me here alone.

Edited 2014-11-15 20:44 (UTC)

It's her. It's really her. Matt can't say for sure how he knows this, except that it's a truth he accepts readily once he sees it for what it is. This is Elena as she ought to be, as she's always deserved to be, the girl who showed him what love was when he never saw any evidence of it at home. Grateful doesn't seem to fully encompass what he's feeling right now, and Matt can't help but break down along with her, finally letting the top on that jar fall away and give way to the tide of emotions that he's spent months holding back.

He was used to being the strong one. He's always been the strong one, whether it was because his mother was unable to keep it together long enough to be that pillar of strength her kids needed her to be or because his sister was higher than a kite and lacked the ability to properly comprehend how far gone she was. The last time Matt had broken down like this, it was over Vicki. He'd refused to let Caroline touch him then, but Elena's embrace had been a welcomed one, like she was the only one allowed to see that mask of strength peeled away to reveal the vulnerable layers below.

Sometimes, it made him wonder if he'd ever be capable of getting that close to someone else again. But that wasn't something to be contemplated right now.

"Don't be," he says brokenly into the curtain of her hair, his fingers tangling in it. "Don't you dare be sorry. None of this was your fault."

Elena didn't ask to be a doppelgänger, didn't ask to be drawn to the Salvatores for reasons none of them yet understand. (Though, perhaps it's better if they never do...)

Elena knows Matt too well and is far too perceptive not to notice the shift.

The moment he accedes is the moment Elena brings him further into her arms, pressing her face to the crook of his neck. The embrace itself is protective in nature because she is protective of him. Tremors ghost across her skin the tighter she holds on to him, and she sounds like misery would feel.

But she doesn't argue. She doesn't say it is her fault, that everything is her fault, even if it has never felt truer than it does now. Matt was her rock in a world that continuously tried to steal the ground from underneath her feet; he has always been everyone's rock, taking care of them at the expense of himself, and Elena refuses to do that to him here. It's as much his grief as it is hers. It is as much his loss as her own. Her family is Matt's family, and they have lost what is left of it. They are orphans clinging to what's left, and that's each other. They can share the burden.

He doesn't have to carry it on his own and neither does she.

Her mind is already racing with possibilities. There has to be a way to get Jeremy back. If not with Bonnie and magic, then with Clark and this stupid ship. But outwardly, she doesn't say anything because that's not what this is about. Her hand cups the back of Matt's head tenderly and she allows herself to feel the agony, willing him to feel his own. "It's okay," is what she whispers thickly instead. It's okay to let it all go, Matt. You've been brave enough.

No, it wasn't okay. It was never going to be okay again, but Matt was capable of living with that reality as long as he person he's known longest and trusts the most in the world is still with him. Hell, he'll stay on this crazy ass ship if that means Elena's here, for there isn't much left for him in Mystic Falls. It's been a difficult realization, coming to terms with the fact that he didn't score high enough on placement tests to get into a good college, can't afford college, and any chance he had of getting scouted and recruited to a NCAA team with hopes of maybe going pro and playing for the NFL went down the drain when Isobel when he broke his arm and was forced to surrender his quarterback position to someone with a better throwing arm.

Football was the only thing he was really good at, and this life — this mess — made it impossible for him to ever be really good at it. Sure, Rebekah had offered to compel or buy his way into college, but Matt wasn't a disingenuous person like that. He wouldn't have been able to live with himself, knowing that the only reason he was going to a good school was because an Original had a crush on him.

He clings hard to Elena, only allowing himself to draw back when he's got his tears under control. His face is read and feels caked with the emotion that's sticking to his cheeks, but he hasn't felt this unwound in a long, long time. Like piece of wire that's been coiled tight and finally allowed to spring free of its binds.

"I don't get how this works," he says, "but you don't know how glad I am to see you."

The real you, goes unsaid, but he suspects that its implication is heard loud and clear in spite of that.

Elena only draws back from the embrace when Matt does. Even then, her hands lift to cradle his cheeks gently as she smiles at him through her tears. She manages to smile somehow, despite the fact she feels utterly destroyed inside - pained though the smile may be. She feels emptier and lighter for how hard she cried just now, having experienced a similar release. Her cheeks are wet, her eyes are bloodshot at the rims, and she's pretty sure her nose has never looked redder. But something inside of her feels quiet and still, almost peaceful in the hollowness, because Matt is with her. The laugh that escapes her lips chokes at her, but it's genuine in spite of everything else. (She will save Jeremy. There is no other option.)

"I can explain."

She isn't sure it will make any more sense once she is done explaining it, but she can try. She can tell him about the wormholes in the universe, the timeline discrepancies that are experienced because of this, and the fantastical worlds she has traveled to in the time she has been away. Mystic Falls has never felt farther away from her reach, and at the same time, she's holding it in her hands. Matt has always been home.

"Bonnie, Tyler, and Caroline are here, too. None of us necessarily remember the same things from home. Time works differently while we're here, but it's safe, Matt." As safe as it possibly can be, until they decide to rock the boat.

Maybe that's why an emotionless Elena had felt so foreign to him. Matt's never really had a solid home foundation, and it took losing Elena (to herself, to Damon's will and that damnable sire bond) to realize that he's always had a home, and it was in this girl who died for him, who gladly sentenced herself to a watery grave, because it meant he would live. But the realization had been more heartbreaking than it was heartwarming, for Elena was gone. Lost. And it didn't look like she was coming back.

Right now, with her hands framing his face and those brown eyes brimming with tears, he didn't care whether or not his death-by-Damon rouse had worked or not. For whatever reason, fate had brought him here and deposited him on this ship in the middle of who-knows-where so that he could be reunited with her. With home. Time itself could break and shatter around them in this moment, and Matt wouldn't care as long as she was still standing here with him.

He learns forward, pressing a chaste, affectionate kiss to her forehead.

"I forgotten what safe feels like, but if you say it's safe, then I trust that it is. As much as it can be for people like us, anyway."

Since when did he, the only human of his group of childhood friends left, become included in that? Long before he slipped on Jeremy's ring, and perhaps even longer before that — before he was aware of any of it, back when he was the innocent bystander who watched someone he didn't know was a vampire swoop in and steal a girl who was too broken up inside to be with him through the haze of her pain.

Elena's throat tightens, a familiar emotion gathering at her throat.

She doesn't say anything at first, for fear her voice would rupture if she tried. Her eyes close as his lips press to her forehead instead, leaning into it. Elena has always been a tactile person, and she craves affection like a starving man would water. She swallows past that traitorous lump, telling herself she'll talk to Caroline once she settles Matt in.

She'll talk to Caroline and Caroline will tell her everything that happened next. Caroline will tell her there was a way, because there always is. They just needed to find it. For now, Matt's here. He's here, held between her arms, and she doesn't want to waste a moment of it.

"It's safe," she confirms again, almost like she thinks if she says it enough, it'll feel more true. "... Which doesn't mean that it isn't sometimes weird. There's a room with endless supplies of ice cream."

This is not a drill, Matt. This is not a drill.

Matt craves attention to, for reasons Elena is one of the few people familiar with. But unlike her, he doesn't always take it when offered. He's withdrawn from what's offered and hesitant, as if that affection is a fire he fears will burn him. Likely because he's been burned by it many times before. His mother got his hope up how many times growing up? And Vicki, as much as he loved her, was like a ping pong ball that couldn't decide if she was in or out, if she would stay or go. She hadn't needed vampirism to make her a flaky, unreliable sister. She already was one.

So it's only natural that the guy has hang ups, but this is Elena. The girl he's loved longer than he thought it was possible to love anything. Even when he was mad at her and couldn't stand the fact that she knew things about vampires, about how his sister really died, that she had neglected to share with him, he'd loved her. She was his constant, and having her back as she ought to be felt like the world had finally stopped shaking beneath his feat.

He didn't want to leave. Selfishly, he decided, right then and there, that he didn't want to leave this ship. There was nothing for him in Mystic Falls; no future, no scholarship that could've been his before the broken arm — just a dead end job cleaning tables at a small town grill. Here, there was at least something worth living for. Maybe Bonnie and Caroline were right. The Elena back in his time or however the hell that worked was a lost cause.

This one wasn't.

"Well," he says with that quirky, goofy smile of his. "What are you waiting for?"

Ice cream is a necessity, Elena. Don't pull his leg.

If it's selfish of him to reach such a decision, then she's selfish, too.

It's taken some time to admit it to herself. The guilt wouldn't let her in the past. Elena felt too much of a responsibility to accept being away from Mystic Falls. Being the doppelgänger came with its own set of consequences, with its own set of reasons, and she couldn't just evade them. Except that's exactly what happened. Before she could become the lamb to the slaughter, before Klaus could get his hands on her, Elena was swept into a rift and never saw home again.

She tried hard to get back at first; she did. Even if there had been a small part of her that had thought everyone would be better off if she wasn't there. Bad things happened whenever she was. Then Jeremy fell through the rift, too. He was followed closely by Damon. Caroline, Bonnie, Tyler. Even Matt, for while. All those pieces of home she'd carried with her were soon returned, and she never looked back. She grew up. She got to have one lifetime of choices independent of the face she bears and the blood coursing through her veins. She's lived, in a way she never would've otherwise.

Something similar is happening on this boat. Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline showed up first, but Tyler and Matt and the others have joined them. She wants to figure this boat out, but she also doesn't want to leave it. Not when misery waits at the other end for those she loves most.

Elena links their arms together, dragging Matt off to the ice cream room with a sly smile. (If anyone deserves all the ice cream in the world, it's Matt Donovan.)

She wasn't kidding, for the record. It looks like a retro ice cream parlor, and once you step inside, it's somehow bigger than what it seemed from the outside. On the other side of the counter, there's endless rows upon rows of different ice cream flavors and essential toppings, ripe for the picking. "What's your poison?" she asks him with a small nudge.

And he's glad she got swept away. If there was anyone who deserved to escape the fate Mystic Falls held for them, it was Elena. It wasn't her fault she was the doppelgänger, and a lot of the things that happened to her and that town weren't her fault. If anything, a majority of them were lured to Mystic Falls due to thinks the Salvatore Brothers had done to bring them there, Katherine-related or not. But he never viewed any of it as Elena's fault.

Maybe doppelgängers were just unlucky, maybe that was part of their curse. Regardless, it wasn't anything to hold against her and nothing Matt ever would.

He follows her into the ice cream parlor, breathing out an amazed, "Whoa," when they step inside. It has everything. Literally everything. Matt's never seen so much ice cream and toppings in his life. Marble Slab just got put to shame.

"You expect me to choose? Is 'everything' a valid answer to that?"

Elena is already fetching them a super sized bowl, ftr.

It's likely not the first time they've shared a sundae, and Elena is going to make sure that it isn't their last. She grins over at Matt when he asks his question. "It is, actually," she says to him thoughtfully, tapping a spoon to her chin. "Our challenge can be trying to see how big we can make our sundae."

She lifts up a can of whipped cream enticingly. She may or may not be tempted to dab some on his nose.

"Interested?"

He's pretty sure neither of them can remember the first time they shared a sundae, as it was likely done with the two of them were still in diapers and sticking their hands in the bowl, getting the ice cream all over themselves and everything else.

Matt launches back, bumping into the counter. "Don't you even."

He means the whipped cream. As for the sundae...

"You're on."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

For all intents and purposes, it looks as though Elena doesn't. She innocently meanders over to him with the bowl in one hand and the whipped cream in the other. When he is least expecting it - this is Matt, however, no one knows Elena Gilbert like Matt Donovan does - she will attempt to dab a dime-sized portion of whipped cream right onto his nose.

Whoops. :)

She manages because he allows her to manage, allowing her to see the parts of him that are still childishly playful and still very much alive beneath all those hardened layers of a boy who was forced to grow up faster than most should. He played parent and guardian to his out of control older sister, worked and took care of the bills that his mother neglected to pay. Matt behaved like an adult, but he was still an eighteen-year-old not yet out of high school beneath it.

"You're a sneak, Elena Gilbert. A cheat and a sneak."

He grabs a handful of sprinkles and holds it threateningly over her head.

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resuming - 2015-01-18 21:00 (UTC) - Expand

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open | super super super rusty brief surprise revival...

this is probably terrible, i'm sorry

um no it's perf

;w; ♥

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