So! This was the brainchild of a rather intense conversation with Becca about the respective sorry lots in life both Elijah and Matt seem to suffer. What if they talked more than we saw on screen? What if they kept in contact? What if they found that they were kindred spirits after all?

And then this kind of ... happened. Enjoy!

(Fic title and chapter titles inspired by "Die Easy" by Rag'n'Bone Man.)

CHAPTER ONE

When it comes

When asked how it happened, years later, Matt would have no answer to give. He'd never been good with words, never been good at articulating his emotions. He was good at having emotions, sure, but talking wasn't his strong point. He was more of a listener.

It was rare that Matt wanted to speak. It was rare that someone prompted him to do so, that someone pulled words from him until he had nothing left to say, until he had no answers left to provide.

If there was one thing Elijah Mikaelson was, it was rare.

Elijah, for his part, could provide no answer either. There were things he could explain, old mysteries he could answer—Loch Ness, JFK, The Bermuda Triangle, and more—but, every now and then, something happened that he couldn't wrap his head around.

It was rare, but it happened.

And, if you asked Elijah, Matthew Donovan was rare.

Matt slung his suit jacket over the back of the bar stool, slipping onto the wood. He knew how easy they were to fall off of—had watched many a drunk patron do it while working there, and seen his mother do it long before that—so he braced his feet on the sides of it to keep himself safely on. He proceeded to unbutton the cuffs of his ill-fitting suit in an attempt to relax.

After the night he'd had, he deserved it.

Phil, the bartender for that night, eyed Matt. "You look like hell," he said, Brooklyn drawl out in full force. Matt didn't know why anyone born in the city would choose Mystic Falls of all places to settle, but Phil was a contrary kind of guy.

"I feel like it, too," said Matt. "Coffee?"

Phil slapped the counter. "Coming right up."

Matt sighed, settling back into his stool. His hand throbbed where Kol had grabbed it, wrenching it around.

Original vampire douche: 1. Matt: 0.

As freaking always.

Phil set the coffee cup down in front of Matt silently, moving on to serve other customers. Matt took a long sip from it, wondering how Phil managed to make a cup of joe so strong he could literally feel hair growing on his chest every time he took a sip.

"Hi," said a small, familiar voice.

Matt set the cup down, turning to see Rebekah standing beside him. She was still clad in her emerald green ball gown, but her hair was a little mussed, and she seemed nervous. She set her purse down on the counter and leaned closer to him. "What are you doing?"

"Well, let's see," began Matt. "I went to a dance and got my hand crushed. Found out that I don't have health insurance, so … I just needed a minute to myself."

Rebekah winced. "Well, I thought maybe I'd buy you an apology drink."

Because apology drinks fixed broken hands. Well, maybe if she put some blood in it, it would, but Matt could do without the vamp blood in his system. "Maybe you could just leave me alone," he suggested, voice tight.

Rebekah blinked. "Look, I-I'm really sorry about Kol, he's a lunatic—"

"Look, Rebekah …" He pivoted on his stool to look her in the eye. "You're really fun and pretty and all, but I really need you to leave me alone."

He pulled his suit jacket from the back of the stool and jumped down, walking away and leaving his cup of coffee behind.

It wasn't easy, unlocking a door with only one hand, and not your dominant hand, either. Driving had been painful enough, but standing there trying to fit the key into the lock for five minutes was agonising in more ways than just the physical. How many times had his mother had this exact same problem? Minus the broken hand and plus a few dozen tequila shots, this was a scene this door must have seen a thousand times over.

"Might I be of some assistance?"

Matt turned, finding Elijah standing there. He scoffed, palming his key and trying his best to look unruffled. "Thanks, but your family's done enough for me for one night."

A tic leapt in Elijah's jaw. "Yes, I'm aware of Kol's … indiscretion. I came to provide my most sincere apologies."

"You can apologise by leaving town and taking your whole family with you."

Something like a shadow of a smirk flitted over Elijah's face. "Yes, I imagine that would be an apt apology. Unfortunately, my family seems inexplicably linked to this place. We were born here, after all."

"And you died here. Maybe it's time to let it go before you get anyone else killed."

"Fair point, well made. And I will … put the suggestion to Mother, see what she has to say on the matter. Niklaus did go to all that trouble, building the mansion for us, but even he can be swayed with the right motivation. Perhaps a chateau of some sort will suit his fancy."

Matt snorted. "Buy a village of chateaus for all I care. Just get him out of here before more people get dead." He turned back to the door, hesitant to try unlocking it in front of Elijah yet again. He didn't need an Original vampire witnessing his failure to conquer a freaking lock.

"You do care for you town, don't you," said Elijah. There was no question in his tone.

"It's all I've got going for me, so yeah."

Elijah's gaze flicked to the front window and back to him. "You have no family."

"None that give enough of a damn to stick around. Why do you care?"

"I simply know what it is like to feel abandoned. My parents were hardly models of good parentage, and my siblings—"

"I know enough about your siblings. Been there, done that, got the broken hand."

Elijah eyed the makeshift splint Matt had set around his fingers. "Is that what passes for medical treatment in these times? I had thought humankind were more civilised."

"It's what passes for medical treatment when you've got no insurance."

Eyes widening in understanding, Elijah pulled up his suit sleeve and unbuttoned the cuff beneath, beginning to wind it up his forearm. "Here, have some blood—"

"Thanks, but no thanks. Look, just—leave me alone, okay? Don't you have something better to do?"

"Better to do than cleaning up after my family? Never. It's a full-time occupation, I think you'll find."

"I'll take your word for it." Matt winced as he accidentally brushed his hand against his leg, pain shooting through his fingers.

"I do wish you would let me help you with that."

"I'd rather not become like you, thanks."

"It only takes 24 hours for the blood to leave your system, Mr. Donovan."

"It only takes one second for you or one of your freaky siblings to snap my neck." Feeling a little woozy with the pain, Matt braced his uninjured hand against the door and slid to the floor, the hard wood cold through the fabric of his pants. "Would you mind leaving me to wallow in peace? I'm sure there's some other mess of your family's for you to clean up."

Elijah chuckled. "By now, it's likely. But for tonight it seems that things are quiet. Almost too quiet, in fact."

"Well, I don't need to be caught up in more of your family's drama, thank you."

"On the contrary, you seem rather adept at handling the supernatural world. I've never seen anything like it."

Matt drew his knees up to his chest, bracing his injured hand on them in a bid to elevate it enough that the blood would stop pounding painfully through his fingers. "When you live in a town like this, you get used to the crazy pretty quickly. It's that or get used to being dead."

Elijah wandered over to the porch railing, leaning against it with one hand tucked into his pocket. "It must be infuriating to be left so vulnerable all the time. And yet you are appalled at the thought of becoming a vampire."

"Being a vampire doesn't always lengthen your life expectancy in this town. Quite the opposite, actually."

"How so? The Salvatores seem to being doing just fine, having long overstayed their welcome on this earth. The same could be said for my siblings and I a hundred times over."

Maybe it was the pain, the exhaustion, the sheer ridiculousness of the night in general, but Matt found himself saying, "It didn't work like that for my sister."

Elijah was silent for a moment. "What happened?"

Matt didn't look up at him as he continued on. "Damon got bored one day and turned her. She couldn't cope with the bloodlust, so Stefan staked her through the heart after she tried to drain Jeremy." And then I saw her as a ghost for a while, but that's neither here nor there.

"I am sorry for your loss, Matthew."

"It's just Matt."

"The longer form suits you. More biblical."

Matt snorted. "Not a whole lot biblical about my life."

"And yet you stand tall in the face of evil, walk a lonely path of righteousness, and speak with devils on your doorstep."

"You're not a devil," said Matt. "You're just a man that's been alive for longer than he should've been."

"Quite right."

Matt dropped his head back against the hardwood door. "Does it …" He cleared his throat. "Does it get any easier? Losing someone you loved, I mean. I, uh, I know about your brother. Henrik."

Elijah's eyes creased with something that was almost sympathy. "It becomes more bearable, yes. But the pain does not leave altogether." He paused. "I am sorry if you would have preferred a different answer."

"I'd prefer to never have to ask. But if I do have to, I'd prefer the truth."

"A kindred spirit," said Elijah. "I find myself pursuing truth even when I fear it. Perhaps that's why I can never be happy in the present, always looking for the lie in my life."

"Is that what tonight was about? Finding the truth?"

"Mmm. Though I'm not entirely certain I have all of it, my mother did take steps to convince me of her sincerity."

Matt couldn't stop his laugh. "Yeah, because moms never lie." He rubbed at the nape of his neck. "My mom gave me this bear when I was born, one of those ones with a message tied into the stomach. My mommy loves me. Now I know that, looking back, she's been out of my life more than she's been in it. Who does that to someone they love? The first message she ever gave me was a lie." He shook his head. "But yeah, I'm sure yours mom is being honest. I mean, look at the paragons of virtue she gave birth to."

An almost dangerous quiet settled over them, prompting Matt to look up at Elijah. He found the other man tense but stoic, dark eyes hooded.

Maybe pissing off an Original wasn't the best idea.

Drawing in a deep breath, Matt said, "Look, I'm sorry if I—"

Elijah stepped forward, hand outstretched. It took Matt a moment to realise that he didn't intend to strike him, but to help him to his feet. He took the offered hand begrudgingly, seeing the man—who was, by all accounts, smaller than him—not budge an inch. Elijah also managed to extricate the key from his hand in that maneuver and had the door unlocked and swinging open before Matt could protest.

"No need to worry," said Elijah. "I cannot enter without invitation."

"Thank you," he said, taking the key back and stepping inside the relative safety of his home.

When he turned around, Elijah was gone.

Matt woke in agony the next morning.

It was a Sunday, supposedly the day of rest, but an aching hand did little to help that. He'd considered asking if Elena had any pain meds leftover from after her parents' accident, but he didn't want to bring her into this. He wasn't sure if she even knew his hand was broken. Had Stefan and Damon told her? Had they even cared to start with?

He set about making himself some toast, trying to find his failed attempts at buttering it comical instead of sad. He had the TV turned on, as always, warding off the silence that settled over the house like a pall to remind him that he was all alone in the world.

Toast buttered, Matt chowed it down with some ibuprofen he'd found in his mom's closet, presumably her hangover stash. When his hand stopped hurting enough to make him want to hurl, he flushed the weed he'd found in his mom's closet too.

He was just towelling off after a shower when his phone rang, the tinny speakers blaring out a Taylor Swift ringtone Caroline had chosen for him while they were still dating. He picked up, sure enough noting the woman's name on the caller ID as he did so.

"Hey, Care," he said. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," she confirmed, sounding chipper but a little tense. It was practically just how she spoke now. "Bon and Elena just wanted me to let you know that maybe you should stay in today, you know, out of the way."

Matt felt his heart jump in his chest. "Is something happening today?"

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Look, just, please, we don't want you vulnerable to being used by them while this is all going down. If they wanted a bargaining chip, they'd go for you, and—"

"Me? I'm pretty sure you mean Elena."

"Well, Elena's always with one of us, for protection, so." Caroline sighed. "I'm sorry to leave you all alone with this, but—"

"What's actually going on here?"

The line buzzed to fill the quiet. "I can't really talk about it right now. Just, please … stay inside today."

He wanted to argue, but he knew it would be as useless as his hand was today. "Okay, I will. I promise."

"Thank you," she breathed, her voice warm with gratitude. "I'll call you to let you know how it all goes."

She hung up with a click, leaving Matt with nothing but the TV to keep him company. Again.

That wasn't true for long.

He heard a car pull up out front at about noon, and a peek out the window told him it was someone with more money than god and good taste in European vehicles.

Elijah stepped out of the driver's seat, locking the car remotely as he strolled toward the house with one hand in his suit pocket. Matt was surprised the guy didn't have a driver to escort him around.

Matt opened the front door but stayed firmly in the house, watching Elijah climb the front stairs and sidle closer.

"Matthew," Elijah greeted. "How are you today?"

"Fine," said Matt. Did this visit have something to do with whatever had caused Caroline's tense tone over the phone? Probably. "What are you doing here?"

Elijah stayed quiet for a moment, teeth running over his lip. "I wanted to continue our discussion of my mother's intentions. The one we began last night."

"I told you, I don't know anything—"

"My apologies, Matthew. I did not mean to intend that you had lied to me. I have faith in your sincerity. I merely meant that you provided some insight to me yesterday, and I wondered if you might listen to some more of my concerns."

"Don't you have, like, seven siblings?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Five living, actually. And I have made some attempts at voicing my concerns to them, but they are all rather convinced that my mother's intentions are in no fashion untoward."

"Then why aren't you?"

"Because," he began, fishing around in his pocket to retrieve what looked like a cluster of herbs held together with ribbon, "I found this in the room my mother used to hold her meeting with your friend yesterday."

"What is that?" said Matt, looking a little closer. The herbs were singed and brittle.

"Sage. A common ingredient in privacy spells. I believe my mother spelled the room so that she could converse with Elena without being overheard, and I cannot conceive of a reason for this that is pure. I wondered what you thought."

Matt was genuinely floored for a moment. A thousand-year-old Original vampire was on his doorstep, asking him for his opinion. "Uh, I don't know your mom enough to really judge, I guess. But it does seem weird." He shifted on his feet. "Look, if Elena told you that nothing was going on last night, I'm sure she was telling the truth. If you don't trust Esther, trust Elena. She's a good person, and she keeps her word." He eyed Elijah. "Something you haven't always done yourself."

Elijah smirked wryly. "Point taken, and I have apologised profusely for that … situation." He braced an arm against the door frame for a moment, his gaze lingering on Matt. "You are likely correct," he concluded. "Elena isn't one for subterfuge. Her honour has been a constant in my dealings with her, something that cannot be said for mine. It would be foolish of me to presume to doubt her intentions when I myself have given more cause for that. Perhaps, in a way, I see betrayal everywhere because I am a betrayer myself."

Matt felt profoundly uncomfortable, like he was privy to someone's most private thoughts. But Elijah was here himself, giving these musings to him. And for what?

"Why did you need to talk to me about this? For real."

"Because your perspective is valuable, something you've proven twice over now. Because my family has personally sought to end your life and yet you stand here without a stake at hand, and I'd guess you have plenty of them in your home."

"A few." Dozen.

Elijah smiled knowingly. "Thank you for your time, Matthew. As always, it has been a pleasure."

And with that, he left, strolling back down the front steps and unlocking his car. Matt watched him drive away filled with something like sheer disbelief, shaking himself as though shrugging off a dream.

Matt heard nothing from anyone for the rest of the day. He called Caroline, Bonnie, Stefan, and Elena a dozen times each, receiving no reply. He was even desperate enough to consider calling Damon, but figured if he had to hear bad news from Damon he'd rather not hear it at all.

Finally, on the fourteenth try, Elena picked up. "Matt?" Her voice sounded rough, like she'd been crying.

"Elena? Is everything okay? What's going on?"

"Uh, it—um, it's not great. I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls, I've been kind of … occupied."

"With what?"

"Rebekah kidnapping me and trapping me in the tunnels."

Matt sat bolt upright on the sofa. "What?"

"Well, technically Elijah kidnapped me, but Rebekah took over for him. They were using me as blackmail material to stop Esther from using a spell to kill them all—"

"Woah, woah, woah," said Matt. "Esther wanted them dead all along? I thought you said she was legit."

Elena's breathing echoed down the line for a second. "Yeah, well," she began, voice thick, "I lied."

Matt ran a hand over his hair. "Did the—did the spell succeed?" He didn't know how he was supposed to sound when he asked that, like he hadn't spent more time in the last twenty-four hours with Elijah than he had with any of his friends.

"No. Stefan and Damon stopped it. But they … they had to turn Abby into a vampire to do it."

"What? Why? Is she—"

"She hasn't woken up yet, and it's complicated. I went over to see them, but Bon didn't really want to see me, so."

"Why?"

"It's my fault, Matt. It's my fault Damon did that to her, because he did it for me—"

"I'm sure Bon doesn't resent you for that."

"Well, she still told Care to send me away."

"I'm really sorry, Elena. That sounds super shitty. Do you want me to come over?" Driving wasn't easy with his injured hand, but he'd manage it if she needed.

"I think I'm gonna curl up on the couch and cry for a bit. Probably best that I don't have an audience for that. Ric'll be home at some point, though, so don't worry about me."

"After the day you've had, I kinda can't help it."

"Well, try to. I'll be okay. And I'm sorry we didn't keep in touch with you all day, it's just—"

"Hey, I get it. When you're all scrambling for your lives, keeping me updated isn't a priority. Don't worry about that. You just take care of yourself, okay?"

"You too, Matty. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll come over early with some of those bagels you like." He was pretty sure he had some money for it somewhere. Maybe if he dug in his mom's closet …

"You're a lifesaver, Matt."

"Yeah, okay. Get some sleep."

"You too." Click.

Matt threw his phone down on the sofa beside him, burying his face in his hands. That hurt his injured hand, of course, causing him to curse and throw it away from him, hanging it in the air while being completely unable to do anything but ride out the throbbing pain.

And then he heard the knock at the door.

Somehow he knew who it was before he even got up to answer it.

Sure enough, Elijah stood at the threshold, smelling like woodsmoke and looking about as exhausted as he probably felt. "Good evening, Matthew."

"What makes you think I want to see you right now?"

He winced. "I am … sorry about Elena. My family was at risk, and I did what I had to do."

"And what you had to do was kidnap my best friend and leave her with your psycho sister?"

"My sister is in as fit a mental state as could be expected of her—not that one's mental state is an indicator of the danger they pose. Some of the greatest killers I've ever known were rational, cool-headed men."

"And this helps me look past what you did today how?"

Elijah shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, it was … I came here because I knew that by now you would have heard what happened. I left a letter for Elena, explaining myself and providing my apology, but I felt that I owed you a visit to articulate how sorry I am for what has occurred."

"Why do I warrant a visit when the girl you actually hurt gets a note?"

"Because the girl I actually hurt was not privy to my innermost ponderings on the topic of my mother's intentions, as you were. The way we left things, the matter seemed settled. My determination to pursue Elena's wrongdoing was against your advice, however much it proved to be the right thing to do."

"The right thing to do. Yeah, that's what you did."

"I am sorry, Matthew," he said, tone imploring. "But I cannot believe that the rest of you would not have done the same, had the tables been turned."

That was probably true, he conceded. "That doesn't change that fact that the table was set the way it was set, and you made your own choices."

"I am aware of where I went wrong, Matthew, and I am sorry for it. But my family lives on, and I cannot say I am displeased by that fact."

As angry as he was, Matt wasn't exactly upset by it either. "So did you just come here to apologise, or—"

"I also came to say goodbye."

"You're leaving? I thought your family was making your home in this town."

"That was before certain revelations."

"So, because your mom tried to kill you, you're giving up on the home you tried to build with your family."

Elijah raise an eyebrow. "An odd argument coming from someone who only yesterday evening was begging for me to pack my things and take my family with me."

"I'm not trying to convince you to stay. I'm just confused."

Elijah's jaw tightened. "It was not my mother's true nature that was revealed tonight. It was my own. When a threat knocked at my door, I answered it with such ... violence. And for what? Another thousand years for my family to plague this earth, only to end up back here again, in another town, with other people wanting to see us dead. Perhaps Mother will reincarnate herself in some other form eventually, haunting us for all our eternity as Father sought to."

"You survived your father. What makes her different?"

"In Father, there was only ever anger. But when I looked into my mother's eyes as she stood amidst a spell intended to kill me I saw no anger there, only … regret. Pain. Clarity. And then I, too, felt it."

"So you'll leave."

"To spare you all more of my family's ways, yes. Mother and Finn have absconded, Kol has left to go who knows where, and I will follow suit. I have attempted to encourage Rebekah to do the same, but I doubt she will heed my call for her exodus. I know better than to attempt to corral Niklaus anywhere other than precisely where he wishes, so I leave alone."

"But not without saying goodbye to someone you've only really known for two days."

"Perhaps because I knew you were the only one who would receive my farewell without stopping me or otherwise trying to kill me. And I do so tire of my siblings' incessant desire to rally against me."

"So I'm the closest thing you have to an ally."

"In this, yes."

"That's embarrassing. You know that, right?"

Elijah's smile was sad. "Perhaps. But today, it is not my greatest shame." He seemed to consider something for a moment. "Would I be correct in assuming that you are in possession of a mobile phone?" At Matt's nod, he continued, "Would you fetch it for me?"

"Why?"

"I would like to provide you with my number, in case you need advice on how to deal with my siblings. I may have no intention of remaining to deal with them, but that doesn't mean I want to leave you and your friends to the wolves, so to speak."

Matt nodded again, wandering back into the house to grab his phone. As he returned, Elijah held out his hand. "May I?"

Matt eyed the offered hand a little skeptically.

Elijah sighed. "You may set it on the ground and slide it across the barrier, if you wish."

Matt shook his head. "No, uh, here." He stuck his hand out past the barrier, letting Elijah take his phone directly from his hand. He tried not to make it look like he pulled his hand away quickly out of fear, but he did really prefer it when all arms and legs were inside the house.

Elijah made quick work of entering his details, offering the phone back to Matt. "You may contact me anytime," he said. "I always answer."

Well, that was more than could be said for his friends, apparently. "Uh, thanks."

"Before I leave, I suppose it cannot hurt to ask one more time. Are you certain you don't want me to heal your hand?"

Yes, I'm sure. Matt paused. He'd spent the entire day wishing for anything in the way of pills. He had no health insurance, nothing to help him. His fingers were broken badly enough that it would affect his ability to work and therefore earn money with which to pay for medical treatment. He was kind of trapped.

"So, what? You just feed me your blood?"

"If you have some sort of cup for it, I can bleed into it for you. A few drops will suffice, and you may consume them with any sort of beverage to conceal the taste."

Matt knew he should say no. Primarily because if he showed up in front of his friends with a healed hand they'd want to know how it had happened, and this was not a situation he could explain very easily. On the other hand, he was desperate, and actually asking a vampire for blood was worse than accepting blood from one that was already offering.

"Okay," he said, and Elijah's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "I'll just go get a mug or something."

He found an old, chipped mug that had once been red but had faded to a cherry pink. He handed it to Elijah over the threshold, careful not to let his hand linger past the barrier.

Elijah turned away to bite his thumb open, not showing Matt so much as a glimpse of his fangs. When he turned back and returned the mug to Matt it had a half-inch of blood in the bottom of it.

Matt cupped his hands around it, careful not to hurt his broken fingers. "Thank you."

"It is no hassle to repair that which my family has broken. Unfortunately, that may be the last time I can do that for you in some time, so don't go getting broken again. I cannot fix you over the phone."

Matt snorted. "Yeah, I'll try not to get into any more arm wrestling matches with thousand-year-old vampires."

"A good rule." Elijah smiled at him, sadness still lingering behind his eyes. "In all sincerity, I do hope you take care of yourself, Matthew. You're a rarity in this world of vicious supernaturals. It would be a shame to see you crushed by it."

"Something we can both agree on."

Elijah nodded one last time, turning on his heel to leave. He hadn't driven, so Matt just assumed he'd disappear into the night, vamp-speed style.

"Uh, hey, Elijah?" he called after him. The other man didn't turn, just slowed to a halt and cocked his head to the side. "You take care of yourself too."

Elijah raised one hand in farewell, then disappeared into the dark.

Saturday mornings were for sleeping.

It was a sacred law in the Donovan Household (of which Matt was the only member). Matt—who got up at 5am every morning of the week to set up the tables and chairs at a cafe on the main street before he walked the rest of the way to school—had little patience for anything (or anyone) that woke him on the weekend.

He was starting to find that patience was all he was allowed to have.

Groggy and with the beginning of a headache, Matt struggled upright and grappled for his phone where he'd thrown it on the other side of the sofa the night before. BONNIE CALLING flashed at him mockingly, the shrill sound of his ringtone drilling into his skull.

Answering the call, Matt rested the phone against his ear and fell back against the sofa. "Hey, Bon."

"Actually, it's Care. I stayed over at Bon's and didn't bring my phone charger. Did I wake you?"

"Nope, I'm good." He rubbed a hand over his face as though it would clear the cobwebs from his mind. "Everything okay?"

"Um, it's okay. Bonnie … Bonnie says that Abby's gonna complete the transition."

"Wow. That's heavy. Is she okay?"

"She will be. I'm here to help out, so things should be okay. Just as long as I can teach Abby control, that is."

Matt bit back the bitter taste that always flooded his mouth at the mention of newborn vampires and control. Something told him that Abby wouldn't be staked for being out of control. Not like Vicki was. "How can I help? Do you want me to come up there with blood bags or something?" He wasn't thrilled at the thought of raiding the Salvatores' stash, but that was a step up above stealing it from the blood bank directly.

"No, we're all good here. Would you mind talking to Elena? Knowing her, she's probably already up and ready to get up here. It might help if she knows what's going on, how we need space, that kind of thing. But we're all good for support, thanks."

Translation: Deliver the message to Elena, but don't get involved. "I can do that," he said.

"Thanks!" chirped Caroline. "Look, I've gotta go, but take care. Call me and let me know how it goes with Elena!"

"Will do," he managed to get out before she hung up.

Sighing, Matt got up to go and wash his face, hoping vainly that it would wake him up. So much for sacred Saturday morning sleep-ins.

As he returned to the living room to collect his things and call Elena to let her know he was on his way over, he found a text message waiting for him from Elena herself.

Come jogging with me? Could use a chance to work through some stuff.

Well, that was that, then.

Matt walked to Elena's, just a couple blocks. She was already out on her front lawn doing stretches by the time he arrived.

"You good to go?" he asked, nearing her.

"Desperate to, actually," was her reply, and she took off.

Biting back a groan, Matt resigned himself to chasing after her. Like that wasn't a metaphor for their entire relationship.

She also hadn't noticed his healed hand, but that wasn't unexpected.

"What are we running—a marathon?" Matt panted.

Elena didn't seem the least bit puffed as she rounded the corner at a sprint. "If you can't keep up …"

"Elena, you can't outrun your problems … though it looks like you're gonna try." Matt gave up, slowing down. "I talked to Bonnie!" he called after her, watching her slow to a halt too.

Elena whirled to face him. "What did she say?"

"They're at her mom's house." Well, he hadn't exactly talked to Bonnie, but he didn't want Elena to know that apparently Bon still wasn't up to even picking up the phone. He guessed she was already feeling guilty enough. "Abby's gonna complete the transition."

"She decided to become a vampire?"

"Yeah. Caroline's gonna help her through it. Teach her control and stuff."

Elena nodded, absorbing. "Did Bonnie say …" She shifted on her feet, wrapping her arms around herself. "Is there anything I can do?"

"She knows it's not your fault, Elena." At least, I think she does. "She's just … upset."

"Damon turned her mom into a vampire to save my life. It's absolutely my fault."

And there it was. Once Elena boarded The Self-Blame Train, there was no getting off—only holding on for dear life until it eventually ran out of puff. "You're gonna make me run more, aren't you?" Matt asked, trying not to let his exhaustion show.

There must have been a god after all, because that was the moment Elena's phone rang. "Who is it?" she asked curtly. "Sheriff Forbes? Is everything okay?" Her brows furrowed, changing her entire expression from one of grief and guilt to one of anger. "He what?" She listened for a moment longer, nodding even though the Sheriff couldn't see her. "I'm on my way."

"What's going on?" Matt asked as she hung up. "Is everything okay?"

"Ric's been arrested," Elena said breathlessly, shoving her phone back into her pocket and turning back the way they came, towards the police station.

"What? What for?"

"She didn't say, just said I should get down there."

Matt struggled to keep up. "I'll come with you—"

"No, Matt," said Elena. "I've got this. I'll talk to you later."

She jogged away, leaving him behind without even a farewell.

Matt had barely gotten out of the shower when he got another text from Elena.

Need to talk. Come over?

Texting his agreement back with one hand, Matt went off in search of a clean T-shirt.

Elena's front door was unlocked when he got there. He thought about telling her that was a bad idea, but on the list of dangerous things she did, it was pretty low.

"Hey," he greeted, finding her pacing in the living room. "What's going on?"

"Meredith thinks the killer is Alaric," she said. "So does Sheriff Forbes."

"Okay, well, that's … crazy. Ric wouldn't do that."

"I know!" said Elena, irritated. "But I went to Meredith to talk to her and she told me all this stuff about Ric—"

"What kind of stuff?"

"Stuff like a history of violence and a restraining order from his ex-wife."

"No way that's true." Matt the biggest fan of male authority figures, but Ric was a decent dude. "She's gotta be lying or something, right?"

"I don't know," Elena fretted, burying her hands in her hair. "I mean, he is a vampire hunter. He had the drive to do that, to be that—"

"That was after he thought Isabelle died, though. It's not him. It's not who he is."

"I know, I know. I just don't know what to do about it."

Matt was sick and tired of being benched, of being the second to know, of being the last to be called. Feeling emboldened, he said, "Then let's find out more."

"How?"

"You know where her apartment is?"

"Yeah."

Matt snagged her car keys from the coffee table. "Then I'll drive."

Unlike Elena, Meredith didn't leave her front door unlocked. This was an issue that only lasted 30 seconds before Matt found a bobby pin in Elena's purse.

"How long have you known how to pick locks?"

Matt had always known how to pick locks, ever since his father taught him as a kid. It was one of the only memories he had of the guy. "A while," he replied cryptically, feeling the tumblers click into place. Trying the doorknob, he found no resistance, and the door swung open.

"Wow," said Elena. "Nice job."

Matt kept the bitterness out of his tone. "I'll add breaking and entering to the list of life favours you owe me."

There was nothing particularly special about Thurmont, Maryland. It was more of a place on the way to other places than a place of its own. Elijah was certain he'd driven through it once or twice, recognising the stout, brick houses and kitschy shopfronts he beheld as he rolled into town in a Mercedes new and sleek enough to feel obnoxious.

It wasn't spectacular, but it was as good a place as any, he supposed. After all, it wasn't like he had anywhere better to be.

Elijah found the nicest motel available, glad to find it clean and with good service. He might have ordinarily opted for a fancier establishment, but there was something casual but homey about the motel, something to do with the older couple running it, with how the man had escorted him to his room and told him about the air conditioner's quirks and not to "worry about the pipes banging, lad. They're dramatic, is all."

Elijah thanked him for his help before he left; alone, he dropped down onto his bed. The cover was garish, as was the abstract art that hung on the walls, but the place smelled like the pouches of lavender that hung in the wardrobe and the Thai food the people in the room beside him were eating for dinner, so it wasn't all bad. Listening in, he heard the sound of squealing children and a tired father begging them to come over and eat their dinner, for the love of god—

All sounds of a family travelling, but not sounds that Elijah could ever relate to.

Sighing, he tugged off his tie and grabbed a light wool coat, his wallet and phone, and a flask of good bourbon he kept in case of emergencies. The squeals reached a fever pitch, turning into complaints as the children's father corralled them to dinner at last. Elijah tuned the sound out, leaving his room behind to go in search of food.

Being yelled at by Sheriff Forbes wasn't a pleasant experience. The last time it had happened, Matt had been 7, Liz had been a Deputy, and it had been over a stolen lollipop. It had also been Matt taking the fall for Tyler, though he'd never told her that.

Now, it was for breaking and entering.

"I'm disappointed, Matt," she said, giving him the same look she had all those years ago. "I really expected better from you."

You don't even know about the theft yet. Not knowing what else to say, Matt clenched his jaw and went after Elena, hoping to catch up with her before she disappeared down the street.

"Hey, Elena," he called. "Wait up."

Elena slowed but didn't stop. "You don't need to walk me home, Matt. I'll be okay."

She wouldn't be so desperate to leave him behind once she found out what he'd stolen, he wagered. "Hey, there's something—"

That was the moment they rounded the corner and saw it.

A woman with a bloody neck lying on the ground, a clean-mouthed Damon hunched over her and feeding her his blood while Stefan stood to the side.

"What are you doing?" asked Elena.

Stefan turned around, wide-eyed and with his chin streaked with blood.

"Stefan?" Elena breathed, horrified.

"Elena …"

"What are you two doing?"

"Relax, Elena," said Damon, straightening up. "It's just an experiment. There's no need to make this more dramatic than it needs to be."

With every word Damon spoke, Matt wanted to punch him in the face that little bit more. But they had to leave before this escalated, because Matt couldn't be sure how far gone Stefan really was. "Elena, let's just go," he said. When she resisted, making as though to start towards Stefan, he tightened his grip. "Elena," he said again, this time more forcefully.

Giving in, she let him propel her away, walking her home.

Elijah ate a quick meal of passable kung pao chicken, tipped exorbitantly, then ducked back out onto the street, turning his collar up against the wind.

He wasn't ready to resign himself to a night alone just yet, but he had nowhere pressing to be. He was rather at a loose end without his siblings, he'd found. There was no mess to clean up, no body to have dumped, no traumatised onlookers to compel. No bribes to make, no kneecaps to threaten with shattering.

His family really was like the mob, he reflected.

Elijah presently found himself entering a bar. It was the nicest one on the main street, with gleaming windows and a relatively clean bartop, and the crowd was more subdued than at the others.

Sidling up to the bar, Elijah slipped onto a stool, not bothering to shuck off his coat. The bartender was a nice, mild-looking woman with just enough steel in the set of her jaw to stave off most unwelcome attention, Elijah would imagine. That said, he'd long since learned not to doubt the depravity of drunken men. For many, a steeled jaw was less a deterrent and more a challenge.

"Whiskey, neat," he said. "Please."

She nodded, not speaking as she fetched one of the better bottles from the shelf and poured him a finger. "Let me know when you want more."

Not if. When. He must have had quite a look about him.

Maybe he should've worn a tie after all.

It was as Elijah sat there, eyeing a game of pool turning sour in the corner, that he noticed two smaller, faster heartbeats than there should've been in the establishment. They were coming from beneath the counter, vibrations running up to his elbows occasionally as the owners of the heartbeats shifted.

A sniff of crayon-scented air was all it took to confirm the theory formulating in Elijah's mind: There were two children hidden under the bar. He assumed their mother was the bartender, and from the look of her she wasn't exactly swimming in cash. It was unlikely that she could afford babysitting, so the little ones were busy at her feet.

The whiskey was terrible enough that he didn't ask for a second, but the way the bartender kept glancing nervously down towards her children had Elijah leaving an exorbitant tip.

"Sit down," said Matt, making sure to lock the door after Elena. "I'll make you some tea."

He knew where everything in the Gilbert kitchen was, of course. He'd spent a while memorising it as a kid, envious that they always had clean dishes in the cupboards and didn't have to find their mugs reeking of vodka and god knows what in their mom's bedroom.

He wasn't jealous anymore, obviously. Not when he saw Miranda and Grayson's favourite mugs side-by-side, untouched since their death.

Tea served, Matt joined Elena at the table, setting her mug in front of her. He was trying to bite his tongue about the night's events—about the year's events—but apparently some of his struggle showed on his face, because Elena said, "Just say it.'

He shrugged. "I just don't get it. Your thing with them."

"I know it doesn't make sense. But at the beginning … After my parents died, there was something about being with Stefan that just felt safe."

"Safe?" Matt scoffed. "Elena, he's a vampire."

"I know, believe me, just saying it out loud sounds crazy, but … it's like I knew that he would never stop loving me. Like he would never …" She trailed off, uncertain.

"What?"

"Die," she finished. "Like he would never die."

Understanding dawned. "Like your parents did." He supposed it was obvious. " And Damon?"

"Damon just sort of snuck up on me. He got under my skin and no matter what I do, I just can't shake him."

Matt couldn't help but smile, as though she hadn't just described how he fell in love with her. "Once you fall in love with someone, I don't know if … I don't know if you can ever shake them."

Elena absorbed the sincerity of his words, wincing. "I'm sorry is this—is this weird? Talking about them with you?"

"No. Not really." He was surprised to find that it was true. Things were easier with Elena, now that they'd both moved on in their own ways. "I got you something." He reached into his bag, pulling it out and handing it to her.

"The journal?" she asked, incredulous as she turned it over in her hands.

Matt shrugged. "It's your family's; you should have it. Meredith and that idiot deputy were too busy questioning you to give a damn about me." At her questioning look, he continued, "Sometimes it pays to be the only normal one in a town of vampires." He knew it sounded self-pitying, but part of him wanted to hear her contradict him. "I'm practically invisible."

She smiled kindly, making no move to argue. She might've done, eventually, but then the front door opened to reveal Alaric, freshly released from his cell.

Elena shot up from her seat. "Are you okay?" she asked him, enfolding him in a hug.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm all right," Ric replied, hugging her right back.

Matt shouldered his bag, knowing that his role was done. He patted Ric on the shoulder on the way out, not expecting a farewell from either of them.

Elijah returned home just as the mother of the children nextdoor was singing them to sleep. He wasn't sure why he was being taunted by families on this journey, but as he was after a break from his own, he couldn't find it in himself to care.

Showering and dressing in a pair of pajama pants (he didn't sleep in a suit, contrary to his brothers' teasing), Elijah slid between the sheets in the motel bed, finding the low thread count like sandpaper against his skin.

He'd once slept on sacks at night. He wondered when he'd become this caricature of snobbery, wondered how he could unwind the clock back to the humbler man he'd once been.

As an afterthought, Elijah picked up his phone to check for messages. There would almost always have been something from Klaus by now, something telling him there was a problem, an emergency, some reason for him to return posthaste.

There was nothing. Elijah told himself he wasn't disappointed.

Matt fell backwards onto the sofa. He'd taken to sleeping on it at nights instead of his bed—it was much more comfortable. His mom's and Vicki's beds were the best, but he didn't want to use them. Wasn't interested in even opening their bedroom doors most days.

Settling in, Matt switched on the TV. He didn't watch it, just used it to lull himself to sleep with the illusion of company.

Despite his exhaustion, Matt felt restless. He tried in vain to sleep, changing positions and channels until there was nothing but infomercials and pillowy softness and absolutely no excuses left to him.

Irritated with himself, Matt picked up his phone. Maybe it was because he was anxious, because he thought someone was going to call him.

No messages. Matt told himself he wasn't disappointed.

More to come. Let me know what you thought!