Hope's What We Crave

Chapter 1

Leah

She clenches the wheel until her hands turn white. She stares fixedly at the dark road ahead illuminated only by her headlights. The hunger claws through her constantly, and confined in the car for three weeks, it has only gotten worse. She swallows hard and glances in the rearview mirror at the blond head of her daughter, four years old and fast asleep in her car seat. When she looks at her, she must always see and hear and smell Grace, not a heartbeat pumping blood. She has to control herself. She has to.

"Mom?"

She nods jerkily to her son in the passenger seat, not turning to see his worried face. "I'm fine, Malachi," she whispers, but presses the gas a little harder.

The headlights catch a sign that reads "Welcome to Mystic Falls." She sighs with relief before coughing and clenching her jaw. She changes lanes, takes the exit, and prays.

Elijah

Elijah Mikaelson is not incredibly interested in the type of family bonding that Kol and Klaus have in mind –namely, getting as drunk as a vampire can. Having his family back together is wonderful, but this is not how he prefers to celebrate. Still, he is here at the Grill because someone has to keep them from sampling more than the alcohol, though he had wanted to decline like Finn.

He lets his gaze wander over the customers seated at tables, quietly consuming a late night bite of food before exiting into the cool fall air. The bell over the door dings, and he idly turns his head just in time to catch a blur disappearing down the hall to the bathrooms. He frowns, staring at a blond boy, perhaps eleven or twelve, holding the hand of a small girl in the doorway. The boy looks down the hallway to the restrooms anxiously, and then leads his yawning, toddling sister to a booth.

"Elijah! You're not drinking anything!" Kol says, clapping a hand on his shoulder and smirking at him with an amused expression.

"Well, that's because my glass is empty," Elijah says lightly, brushing the odd circumstance away from his mind.

"Then we shall get you something." Kol motions to the bartender, who fills up the glass. Elijah smiles at his younger brother, forever trapped in youthful and playful –sometimes-vengeful –spirit. He swallows the whiskey and focuses on the burning sensation traveling down his throat.

A half hour passes, during which time Klaus has wandered away to alternately stare reverently and make idle conversation with the pretty blond vampire near the end of the bar. Caroline wisely makes him work for every scrap of attention she pays him. Elijah smiles into his drink. Caroline Forbes is the best thing that ever happened to Klaus.

Without a constant drinking buddy, Kol drifts towards the pool tables. Elijah hopes no one will be foolhardy enough to bet a large amount of money against him.

He has almost decided to return home when a slight tug on his coat makes him turn.

The blond boy stands beside him, looking up at him worriedly. His quiet words carry an undercurrent of urgency. "Sir, can you help my mom?"

Leah clings to the edge of the sink and tries not to cry as her craving fights to claw its way out of her throat. Fumbling with her purse, she finds the cheap plastic water bottle she had bought at a convenience store the week before. She unscrews the cap and turns on the tap, filling the bottle before gulping it down. Her stomach growls as the water fills it but does not satisfy her needs. Pressing her hands to her mouth, Leah leans against the wall and tries to breathe deeply and evenly, even though she feels clammy and wired.

The door swings open and a woman with olive skin and kind eyes comes in the bathroom. She takes in Leah's state and the recently dried tears on her face and stops. "Are you okay?"

Leah nods, turning away and pushing her dirty blond hair off of her shoulder. "Fine," she grinds out. She turns on the sink water, opening up the hot tap and thrusting her hands under the near-blistering heat. She scrubs at her skin while she waits for the woman to finish and leave. She can hear the thumping of her heart and smell the life coming off of her skin, and she wants to pull her hair out for focusing on it.

The woman washes her hands and says, "Are you sure you're –"

"Yes," she hisses, pinching her lips together tightly.

Eyeing her oddly, the woman leaves.

Outside that door there is a restaurant full of people, including her son and daughter. She has to keep it together. She needs to keep control. She can't –

She takes another deep breath and turns off the tap. It would hurt, but it had worked a time or two before. Leah stares at her wrist and brings it up to her mouth, biting into it. She lets her own blood drip down her throat. Hurriedly, she sips and swallows as fast as she can before awful, debilitating cramps wrack her body.

She doubles over, clutching her stomach as the blood she just swallowed threatens to come back up.

"What seems to be the problem?" Elijah asks, watching this boy curiously.

"She –she's sick. Can you help her?" the boy says again. He clenches his fists, but his sky blue eyes are plaintive and scared.

Elijah looks past the boy towards the tables in the Grill and finally finds the little girl he arrived with. She lies on the cracking leather of the booth and breathes evenly, wrapped in the peaceful shroud of sleep. Ten thirty is too late for a little one to be awake.

Odd. The boy passed half a dozen tables with people in order to reach him.

"Is there some reason you're asking me, specifically?" Elijah asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No one else can help," the boy whispers. "Please, can you?"

"Where is she?" he asks, though he thinks he knows.

"The bathroom."

"Show me." He pushes away from the bar. The boy's face takes on such a look of relief that some of Elijah's nagging thoughts of duplicity are silenced. But not all.

The boy leads him back to the restroom door that is stamped "Women." He pushes it open a crack. "Mom?"

Someone gags inside, and a woman's hoarse voice says, "Go sit down, Malachi; I'm all right."

Elijah takes hold of the door and pushes it open fully. It takes a half-second for him to understand.

He turns to the boy –Malachi. "Do as she says," he says quietly. "I'll take care of her."

The boy nods, holding his gaze with eyes that have only a desperate hope left. Then he pads back down the hallway.

Elijah steps into the restroom and lets the door close, taking in the shell of a woman before him. Her skin is waxy and has an ashen pallor, and she is far too thin for a woman nearly his height. Dark circles ring green-glass eyes fixed by fear at the sight of him –and not just for the usual reasons a woman would be wary to find herself in the same washroom as a man. She is a vampire –a very sick, very hungry vampire.

"Hello," he says, tilting his head slightly to the side.

If she had still had a normal pulse, it would be racing. How had she come to be like this? He lets his eyes wander from her long, tangled blond hair to her ragged tennis shoes. She couldn't have been turned too long ago, but she looks like she has been starving for years. Her eyes have the sheen of a deer caught in a car's headlights –anticipating an oncoming collision.

"Who are you?" Leah forces out, staring at this man in a black suit. What had Ky gone and done?

"My name is Elijah," the man says, inspecting her with dark eyes. "Your son –Malachi, is it? –asked me to help you."

"I don't need help," she says, but the pain wracks her stomach and makes her gasp, contradicting her words.

"Clearly, you do," he says, taking a step forward as his eyes narrow.

"Don't –don't –" Leah warns, throwing up a hand to ward him off. Doesn't he know she could hurt him? She attempts to catch his eye. "You have to leave –"

He sighs lightly and takes another step forward, but the bathroom door opens behind him. He turns to face the intruder –an older woman with dark skin and gray hair.

"Oh, is this the wrong –" the older woman breaks off at the sight of her agitated state. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter," he says gently, catching her eye. "Go about your business and forget you saw us."

The woman freezes for a second, and then she smiles happily. "I only came in to wash my hands," she says conversationally, going to the sink.

Leah gulps and scoots away from her, but the only way to move is closer to the man, who has turned back around. A rock and a hard place, Leah thinks in despair.

"It's my son's birthday dinner," the woman continues, smiling matronly.

"Congratulations," the man says politely, but his eyes remain on Leah.

"Thank you," the woman beams. "You have a nice evening."

"You as well," he replies absently as she exits the restroom.

"What did you do?" Leah asks, staring in confusion as the door swings closed.

"I compelled her."

Her head snaps up. "You –"

"Yes."

Leah reevaluates his frame, trying to decide if he is a threat. He stands casually, hands in his pockets, but a quiet strength hides in his shoulders and his arms. In her surprise and fear, she had missed it.

He continues, "Like you, I'm a vampire, although I don't know how your son could have known when he asked me to help you."

"Ky has a sense about people," she whispers, feeling the adrenaline quickly leave her and making her bones watery. He makes no move towards her, so she lets herself relax a bit. She leans against the tile wall, taking in the coolness.

"You look hungry. When did you last feed?"

"I –I don't –I can't drink blood," she stammers, feeling coherence leave her words.

"You must," he says simply. "You'll die without it."

"I can't!" she says. "I can't want to hurt my children, I can't!" She moans as another spike of pain radiated through her abdomen.

"What have you done to yourself?" he asks quietly.

"I…" Tears threaten at the corners of her eyes. Leah offers up her barely-healed wrist as an answer.

His firm, cool hand takes hold of hers as he inspects the damage. "You tried to drink your own blood?" he says incredulously. "No wonder you're in pain, foolish woman; your body knows that's not any good for it."
"I can do it, I've done it before –" she winces, and the first tear trails down her face.

"Vampires cannot live without blood," Elijah says firmly. "It is a fact. Do you want to die and leave your children alone?" he asks, attempting to reason with her.

"No, but I can't hurt them; I don't want to hurt them and I'm scared that I will!" She shudders and begins to cry.

He knows that berating this woman about her regrettable lack of knowledge of anything vampire will have to wait. She needs to be pulled back from the brink of starvation before anything else happens. He lets go of her hand and shrugs off his suit jacket, placing it on the counter. He rolls up one of his sleeves and offers her his wrist. "Drink," he says simply.

She stares up at him through a sheen of tears, uncomprehending.

"Drink," he repeats, reaching with his other hand to cradle the back of her head.

Understanding dawns in her eyes, but still she shakes her head and attempts to push the wrist he offers away. She feels as fragile as a bird, feather-light with hollow bones.

"Don't you think," Elijah says softly, "you would be able to help your children more if you weren't starving? Don't you think they want you to be whole?"

The fear still shines bright in her eyes, but her resolve crumbles away. He bites into his wrist and presses it gently against her lips.

Leah drinks, sucking away the blood that wells into her mouth from the wound on his wrist. As the liquid runs down her throat, her stomach relaxes and a feeling of peace flows over her. Soon, though, his skin begins to heal and the wound seals up. He moves his wrist from her mouth back to his and bites it again.

"No, I –I'm better now –" she starts to say, even though her hunger hasn't abated completely, but he cuts her off.

"Go on." He presses the wound to her lips.

Leah keeps her eyes on him as she drinks, searching for some signal, some change in expression that would indicate he was through, that he would not continue to feed her. But his face never changes enough for her to know what he is thinking. Thoughts pass too quickly behind his eyes for her to catch.

They go back and forth several times; each time he opens up his wrist for her. Somehow he knows that she will only take what he offers and no more. She won't tear into his wrist freely.

Soon, Leah's stomach aches pleasantly like she has just had a large dinner, and her eyes flutter. She feels heavy and sleepy. And then her skin begins to tingle. She can smell the bodies outside the door, but the hunger doesn't stir. It sleeps, sated. She becomes aware of the feel of his skin under her lips, cool and taut and strong.

Elijah watches, satisfied, as her skin becomes warm and healthy as the pallor of death vanishes, along with the dark circles under her eyes. His blood puts meat on her bones, and she stops resembling a desiccated skeleton. The corner of his lip turns up in a smile.

"Feeling better?" he asks as his wrist heals for the last time. He lets go of her and rolls his sleeve back down.

She stares at him in bewilderment before wiping away the small trickles of blood at the corner of her mouth. "Yes," she says wonderingly. "I don't think I've ever felt like this."

That's because you've never had the blood of an Original, Elijah thinks, but doesn't say it. Then a thought occurs to him. "Have you never had blood?"

She shakes her head silently, becoming wary for reasons he doesn't understand.

His attention sharpens. "How did you survive transition?" For that matter, how has she survived this long without it?

"What?" she asks blankly.

"The in-between step of becoming a vampire," he says. "You have to drink human blood to complete the process."

"I –I had an IV bag…" she says, shame crossing her face.

"And nothing since? Not even animal blood?"

"No." Her face is more perplexed than anything, but her eyes remain guarded.

He can't believe his ears. It's nothing short of a miracle that she wasn't a walking skeleton. This woman obviously doesn't know anything about being a vampire. And he hates when ignorance continues. "I am surprised you made it this long," he says bluntly. He picks up his jacket and puts it back on. "What is your name?"

"Leah." No last name.

"A pleasure to meet you, Leah," Elijah says, smiling a little.

"Why did you help me?" she asks quietly, fear still hovering in her eyes.

"I could not ignore a mother who loves her children as much as you do," Elijah says. "And you have a very persuasive son who loves you, as well." He crosses to the bathroom door and holds it open to her. "Should we not assure him that you are better?"

Leah hesitates, but then nods, grabbing her purse and exiting the bathroom. As he follows her slowly, it occurs to him that her eyes did not turn red, and the telltale black veins did not appear on her face –not once.

AN: hello! This has been the most intense labor of love (4 months WOW) and it's finished! I'm planning on updating every couple of days. I hope you enjoy!