Stefan hitchhiked into Haven a few weeks earlier, alone.
He keeps to himself, charming the older woman who runs the bed and breakfast into letting him get away with not paying right away, before picking up a job at one of the local stores. This town is too small for him to get away with compelling too much. He needs to pretend like he's just another traveler, visiting this quiet little hamlet that occasionally isn't very quiet at all.
Really, it's weird, though it's nice to see everyone freaking out rift powers for once.
(He doesn't talk about Rebekah. When people ask him what he's doing on his own, he changes the subject, either politely or ... otherwise. At least the first time she was ripped away from him by something more powerful, he was also forced to forget her. This time, he just woke up and suddenly she was gone, and all that was left was the emptiness.)
He's on his way to work when he spots the person in the middle of the road, and he slowly starts to make his way over to see if they need any help. That's the kind of town Haven was, they helped people when they fell and took care of their neighbors, one way or another. He only has to take a few steps closer when he realizes that the face is familiar - not just Haven familiar, home familiar.
He doesn't even bother to see if anyone's watching before her zooms to her side, needing to get a better look at her to see who it was, but he knows almost instantly the moment he looks at her.
(He always knew.)
"Elena?" The question is almost too hopeful, too desperate, it'd almost be embarrassing if it hadn't been decades since he's seen her, and she looks like she's barely aged a day. "Elena, is that you?"
Elena almost sways to the side with the strength of her surprise, and not without disbelief.
She blinks, wide-eyed and startled, verging on the edge of panic for no sensible reason whatsoever. The difference in her surroundings is disorienting, and the only thing that keeps her from falling back on the ground with the dizzying sensation is the voice that pierces through the rest. There is no time to gather herself back together, to build herself into something bulletproof, to be okay whether she is or she isn't.
There's just his face, when she has lived with the certainty she would never seen it again. Her only comfort had been he would get what he wanted. She had asked Rebekah to take care of him, knowing she would, knowing the other girl loved him regardless of Elena's complicated feelings for Rebekah herself.
Her voice is brittle when she finally speaks. "Stefan?"
Pushing her hair back out of her face, she tugs in another ragged breath. "I thought -- I thought you were -- "
Dead. They were all dead. Because of her. Because of what she is. Because she never is able to stop it when it matters most, and being sorry never changes it.
Stefan knows the way the rifts work, the way they pick people up and take them away. There's a part of him that always hopes that the rift will return to Rebekah to him again, but this time there isn't a Chicago to come back to. There isn't a bowl at the bottom of the sieve to catch her. He doesn't know how long she's going to keep falling before she falls to him again, so in some ways it's easier not to think about.
It doesn't stop him from thinking about it, though.
(And for what it's worth, she did.)
His hand follows hers as he pushes the curtain of hair away, a look of dazed happiness on his face. Chicago seems like so long ago, and while he remembers that they weren't as close as they used to be, they've been apart for longer than that. They've been apart for so long, for him, that the rest of the worries and concerns have faded away and the panic in her eyes only makes him want to hold her more.
"I'm fine," he says softly, his hands cupping her faces as he holds her gaze. "Are you okay?" He doesn't smell blood, but he doesn't necessarily mean injured either.
Elena has retained that same sort of stubbornness. She'd known her place, a place with Jeremy, a place with Damon, a place alongside her family. There'd been that aching hole that saying goodbye to Ethan had left behind, but she had been ready, and she and Stefan -- they'd made their choices. They knew what they'd been doing to each other was only hurting themselves, hurting the both of them, and they'd needed to make their own lives.
They did, and it is unforgivable the rift snatched that away.
She almost jumps in place when his hands cup her face. The gesture is such an achingly familiar one, but it's been tucked away in the back of her mind, something lost to her. Her face almost crumples, mouth parting as she lifts up her own hands to cradle his own face. He is real. This is Stefan. Not the Stefan the island tormented her with. The Stefan she kills in her dreams, the Stefan she can't save, along with everyone else.
Every night, she never saves them.
Elena finally shakes her head. She's never been good at lying to him. "No," she answers softly, brokenly, but she leans further into him, arms sliding around his neck as she lets out a breath of disbelief. "But I will be."
His heart breaks with the way she jumps when he touches her. He can't tell if it's because she's scared of him or it's something else, but that need to protect her flares up as though it's was never gone, and he tucks his arms around her, pulling her close. He wants to ask so many questions, about Damon, about where she's been, but right now he's simply happy that she's here, so that he can hold her and try to reinforce that he's here for her, just as he's always been, one way or another.
But they are in the middle of the street, and before he can hold on to her for too long, a horn blares loudly from behind them, and an angry voice shouts.
"Hey, Salvatore! You mind getting out of the road."
He pauses, huffing slightly, before looking down at her. "Are you okay to walk?" If she's not okay to move, then the guy in the car can screw himself.
Elena's arms tighten around him, as though this is a dance and the steps are ones she knows very well. (She does.) Whatever has happened between them, whatever distance was created in Chicago, this is still Stefan, and he represents safety; she hasn't felt safe in what feels like a very long time. She allows herself this selfishness, the wetness of her lashes clinging to his neck as she presses close to him. (She is scared of herself.)
She jumps back at the horn, and it's only then the rest starts to filter in.
They're not alone.
Stefan has been here a while. Enough that people know him by name. She considers his question, and it's followed by a nod. Her limbs won't betray her as she starts to move to the sidewalk, all the while sticking close to him. "Where are we?" she asks, her voice still hoarse, as though it's a rusty instrument that has not been used often.
He still sticks close to her side as they move to the sidewalk, out of the way of the cars. She's steady though, and he won't help her any more than he has to. He remembers how strong she was, and he trusts her to tell him of she couldn't.
"Haven," he says softly. "It's this tiny little town in Maine. I've been here a few weeks now." Though as far as this universe is concerned, he's been here for ninety years, but he doesn't need to overload her with that quite yet. He glances around for a moment, briefly, if only to see if anyone is listening, before turning back to her again.
"I have a room not too far from here. It's more quiet, we can talk." She can take a shower, he'll order dinner - it'll be almost like a date, if your ex-girlfriend from almost a hundred years ago falls through a hole in time and space after being in a probable hell dimension could be considered the proper impetus for a date.
Elena has always appreciated that about him. He trusts her choices, and he trusts her strength, and that helps in reminding herself of it when it nearly slipped from her grasp. Talking. Talking and quiet. She likes the thought of that, and she echoes her agreement, before --
"Do you like it here?" she asks. It'll occur to her later that he's alone. That this is not how he is supposed to be, this is not the life that she hoped for for him. Something (someone) is missing. But for now the thoughts are still fragmented, and she wasn't allowed to think of the past. It's sort of flooded back in, and it comes in pieces.
"That's what I wanted," she says softly. She wets her lips and blinks past the burning in her eyes. "For you."
He knows that she did. Even if she didn't say it, nor did Rebekah, he knows. All Elena ever wants is for the people she loves to be happy, no matter how complicated things are between them, and for a while there, he truly was happy. He's not going to let her think he wasn't - and for now, he could pretend that it was the same.
"I do," he says softly, before sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in closer. She can lean on him if she needs it - if not, it's just nice to have her close to him again after so long. "So far, so good."
Elena leans in to him instinctively, tucking herself to his side.
It hasn't been as long for Elena, but in a way, she can't be sure. The days stretched longer than she'd ever known them to, and the weeks blurred together until it all just seemed long, enough that it aches. And his closeness makes it ache a little bit less. She lifts her head briefly from his shoulder to look up at him, a faint smile upturning her lips. "All I know about Maine is ... lobsters."
He chuckles a bit at that, giving her shoulders a bit of a squeeze. "Well, they do have those here. But this particular town in Maine has these things called 'Troubles'. They're kind of like riftpowers, but they're supposedly just in this town. They run in families."
It's really, really strange, but Stefan's rolled with worse.
"The 'Troubles'," Elena repeats after him softly. "...Is it weird that's oddly comforting?"
It's familiar enough that the transition from the last world into this one is almost like returning to place she has once been. She looks around as they walk toward Stefan's place, truly taking in her surroundings at last. The chill of the weather, the turkey-themed decorations hanging in the tiny shops.
It's Thanksgiving? The last she knew time-wise, it was June, shortly after her birthday. The confusion briefly settles into her expression.
He laughs a bit, before nodding. "It's not weird at all. Everywhere else in this world was so ... normal. No vampires, no werewolves, no rifts. It was as close to a perfect world as you could get."
There's a beat as he glances around at the rest of the town.
"And then I came here, and it started to feel like home."
Elena's gaze drops, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she listens to him, his voice as familiar as it ever was. She doesn't know what it says about them that this is what feels like home now. Feels like it could be home now. Not the normalcy of the rest of the world, but the one town that's torn apart by Troubles.
Literally.
"I get why you'd stay," is what Elena says quietly, and she doesn't stop walking until they reach the bed and breakfast. Her steps slow down until they come to an abrupt halt. She's still wearing those stupid, tattered Converse sneakers. How is it that that is the only thing she got to keep?
Elena's gaze moves from the bed and breakfast over to Stefan again, regarding him thoughtfully. In a way, it's like learning about him all over again. "Is this where you live?"
As a vampire, Stefan's learned to take small comforts from the familiar, collecting all the things that remind him of home and keeping them close to him. He never expected the familiar thing, the comfort to be in the form of Elena, but the fact that it is doesn't make it any less wonderful.
He nods, looking up at the old, worn building. "For now. I only got into town a few weeks ago, so I'm still getting my bearings. I'll probably move out to an apartment eventually."
A small silence falls in between them, but it isn't uncomfortable. It never really has been with Stefan. She can be quiet and she can be not okay and she can take her time. Her eyes take in the sight of the building searchingly, folding her arms across herself as the slight chill of the season starts to reach her. A rueful smile touches her lips. "They always used to say the rifts had a mind of their own, but I never really believed them," she says when Stefan tells her he only got into town a few weeks ago.
She'd never believed, but she has a hard time passing this off as a coincidence.
He's the first face she unexpectedly sees falling through is Stefan's, and it really doesn't make it any less wonderful for her, either.
He smiles a bit at that, before pulling open the door to the bed and breakfast and ushering them both inside. They'll get her some warmer clothes for the change of season later, but for right now, they can just catch up.
"I guess I always figured their purpose was to make our lives difficult."
"Or there's that," Elena agrees with a rueful smile. If the rifts did anything, it's make their lives difficult. Painful, for Elena, where a lot of things -- including Stefan -- were concerned. Painful and necessary. But then, it also gave them amazing possibilities they otherwise never would've dreamed of. To meet and re-meet people they never would've in the way they did, to see all the places that they did. They fought a war. They ran from dinosaurs. Meteors fractured their skies. They tasted a life free from Klaus, and her blood and their mistakes and their tragedies and their fates were their own.
Elena is human and her heart is still open.
She follows after Stefan, thankful they're inside where they are shielded from the chill of the evening. Her arms are still wrapped around herself, and she takes a few more steps forward until she comes to a stop; she looks to her surroundings, and her breath almost hitches in her throat. Finally, she turns to Stefan again.
The rifts gave him a chance to fix some mistakes, and at the same time make new ones. They cost him so many things, but at the same time, gave him and Rebekah something they never would have had at home, where Klaus clouds everything. He misses her every day, but at least before she did, he got to show her the world.
That at least is worth something.
He stops when she does, turning to face her and seeing the uncertainty on her face, that need for reassurance. Even if he grew closer to Rebekah in Chicago, that love for Elena never faded, didn't disappear into nothing. Elena is always going to be a part of him, and seeing that uncertainty on her face makes her wonder where she is, where she's been, what happened to her wherever the rift left her.
He takes a few steps back to her slowly, reaching for her. "Yes. This is real." He raises his hands, letting his fingers card through her hair as he pushes it back from her face and presses a kiss to her forehead. "I'm right here."
Even Elena thinks that happens to be a good thing. Rebekah was what Stefan needed, and Elena and Damon's timeline made things all the more complicated. More than that, it was something else Klaus had taken from him. From what little Elena was able to learn of their futures from their friends, the world they had to go back to was far more broken than how they left it. Chicago gave them an opportunity to build a different life, and Elena had that.
Much like Stefan, it cost her things, but it gave her a lot more. She would not be the person she is without the Hales in her life, without Martha and so many other people she never would've met otherwise. It was real. Elena knows Chicago was real.
Everything after that? It can get fuzzy. The island liked to play tricks on their minds, and there were times when she couldn't distinguish. So much was a product of the fog and the fear. But Stefan is solid as he stands before her, and her eyes burn at the feel of his lips on her forehead. "It feels real," she agrees softly, her own hands lifting to slide over his wrists. "In the island, you couldn't always tell."
Stefan knows the games the worlds that the rift can take you to can play. He's been bounced on his own adventures during his time in Chicago, falling through rabbit holes to places that he didn't understand, couldn't understand. He gets it enough to grasp that wherever Elena went after Chicago, it wasn't pretty.
"Tell me about it," he murmurs softly, keeping that contact between them. "What happened?"
Elena takes a deep, shaky breath at the recollection.
"It all happened so fast," is what she says, her voice quiet; barely audible, but Stefan will hear. "One minute the world was ending, and the next I was almost drowning." All over again. The harshness of it filling up her lungs, except there wasn't her father's hand to hold on to. There was nothing but the vastness of the sea and the solid realization she was alone. "I got to shore eventually, and I was greeted by a young boy with sunken eyes and -- " she inhales sharply again. "It was an island for orphans. I'm not sure what the purpose of it was, only that the island needed us there. It made you see things that weren't there. It fed on our feelings, on -- on our fears, and it would make them happen."
She likes to think she can make herself invincible, someone fearless, but it is never the case.
Stefan knows all too well Elena's fears, all the things she had to lose and the losses she had to build strength from. It hasn't been an easy road for her, and he admires that strength in her so much. He hates the fact that after everything she's been through, people still try to take more from her.
He watches her for a moment, before pulling her closer, sliding his arms around her shoulders. "You're safe now. The island can't get to you here."
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no subject
He keeps to himself, charming the older woman who runs the bed and breakfast into letting him get away with not paying right away, before picking up a job at one of the local stores. This town is too small for him to get away with compelling too much. He needs to pretend like he's just another traveler, visiting this quiet little hamlet that occasionally isn't very quiet at all.
Really, it's weird, though it's nice to see everyone freaking out rift powers for once.
(He doesn't talk about Rebekah. When people ask him what he's doing on his own, he changes the subject, either politely or ... otherwise. At least the first time she was ripped away from him by something more powerful, he was also forced to forget her. This time, he just woke up and suddenly she was gone, and all that was left was the emptiness.)
He's on his way to work when he spots the person in the middle of the road, and he slowly starts to make his way over to see if they need any help. That's the kind of town Haven was, they helped people when they fell and took care of their neighbors, one way or another. He only has to take a few steps closer when he realizes that the face is familiar - not just Haven familiar, home familiar.
He doesn't even bother to see if anyone's watching before her zooms to her side, needing to get a better look at her to see who it was, but he knows almost instantly the moment he looks at her.
(He always knew.)
"Elena?" The question is almost too hopeful, too desperate, it'd almost be embarrassing if it hadn't been decades since he's seen her, and she looks like she's barely aged a day. "Elena, is that you?"
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She blinks, wide-eyed and startled, verging on the edge of panic for no sensible reason whatsoever. The difference in her surroundings is disorienting, and the only thing that keeps her from falling back on the ground with the dizzying sensation is the voice that pierces through the rest. There is no time to gather herself back together, to build herself into something bulletproof, to be okay whether she is or she isn't.
There's just his face, when she has lived with the certainty she would never seen it again. Her only comfort had been he would get what he wanted. She had asked Rebekah to take care of him, knowing she would, knowing the other girl loved him regardless of Elena's complicated feelings for Rebekah herself.
Her voice is brittle when she finally speaks. "Stefan?"
Pushing her hair back out of her face, she tugs in another ragged breath. "I thought -- I thought you were -- "
Dead. They were all dead. Because of her. Because of what she is. Because she never is able to stop it when it matters most, and being sorry never changes it.
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It doesn't stop him from thinking about it, though.
(And for what it's worth, she did.)
His hand follows hers as he pushes the curtain of hair away, a look of dazed happiness on his face. Chicago seems like so long ago, and while he remembers that they weren't as close as they used to be, they've been apart for longer than that. They've been apart for so long, for him, that the rest of the worries and concerns have faded away and the panic in her eyes only makes him want to hold her more.
"I'm fine," he says softly, his hands cupping her faces as he holds her gaze. "Are you okay?" He doesn't smell blood, but he doesn't necessarily mean injured either.
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They did, and it is unforgivable the rift snatched that away.
She almost jumps in place when his hands cup her face. The gesture is such an achingly familiar one, but it's been tucked away in the back of her mind, something lost to her. Her face almost crumples, mouth parting as she lifts up her own hands to cradle his own face. He is real. This is Stefan. Not the Stefan the island tormented her with. The Stefan she kills in her dreams, the Stefan she can't save, along with everyone else.
Every night, she never saves them.
Elena finally shakes her head. She's never been good at lying to him. "No," she answers softly, brokenly, but she leans further into him, arms sliding around his neck as she lets out a breath of disbelief. "But I will be."
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But they are in the middle of the street, and before he can hold on to her for too long, a horn blares loudly from behind them, and an angry voice shouts.
"Hey, Salvatore! You mind getting out of the road."
He pauses, huffing slightly, before looking down at her. "Are you okay to walk?" If she's not okay to move, then the guy in the car can screw himself.
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She jumps back at the horn, and it's only then the rest starts to filter in.
They're not alone.
Stefan has been here a while. Enough that people know him by name. She considers his question, and it's followed by a nod. Her limbs won't betray her as she starts to move to the sidewalk, all the while sticking close to him. "Where are we?" she asks, her voice still hoarse, as though it's a rusty instrument that has not been used often.
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"Haven," he says softly. "It's this tiny little town in Maine. I've been here a few weeks now." Though as far as this universe is concerned, he's been here for ninety years, but he doesn't need to overload her with that quite yet. He glances around for a moment, briefly, if only to see if anyone is listening, before turning back to her again.
"I have a room not too far from here. It's more quiet, we can talk." She can take a shower, he'll order dinner - it'll be almost like a date, if your ex-girlfriend from almost a hundred years ago falls through a hole in time and space after being in a probable hell dimension could be considered the proper impetus for a date.
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"Do you like it here?" she asks. It'll occur to her later that he's alone. That this is not how he is supposed to be, this is not the life that she hoped for for him. Something (someone) is missing. But for now the thoughts are still fragmented, and she wasn't allowed to think of the past. It's sort of flooded back in, and it comes in pieces.
"That's what I wanted," she says softly. She wets her lips and blinks past the burning in her eyes. "For you."
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"I do," he says softly, before sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in closer. She can lean on him if she needs it - if not, it's just nice to have her close to him again after so long. "So far, so good."
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It hasn't been as long for Elena, but in a way, she can't be sure. The days stretched longer than she'd ever known them to, and the weeks blurred together until it all just seemed long, enough that it aches. And his closeness makes it ache a little bit less. She lifts her head briefly from his shoulder to look up at him, a faint smile upturning her lips. "All I know about Maine is ... lobsters."
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It's really, really strange, but Stefan's rolled with worse.
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It's familiar enough that the transition from the last world into this one is almost like returning to place she has once been. She looks around as they walk toward Stefan's place, truly taking in her surroundings at last. The chill of the weather, the turkey-themed decorations hanging in the tiny shops.
It's Thanksgiving? The last she knew time-wise, it was June, shortly after her birthday. The confusion briefly settles into her expression.
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There's a beat as he glances around at the rest of the town.
"And then I came here, and it started to feel like home."
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Literally.
"I get why you'd stay," is what Elena says quietly, and she doesn't stop walking until they reach the bed and breakfast. Her steps slow down until they come to an abrupt halt. She's still wearing those stupid, tattered Converse sneakers. How is it that that is the only thing she got to keep?
Elena's gaze moves from the bed and breakfast over to Stefan again, regarding him thoughtfully. In a way, it's like learning about him all over again. "Is this where you live?"
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He nods, looking up at the old, worn building. "For now. I only got into town a few weeks ago, so I'm still getting my bearings. I'll probably move out to an apartment eventually."
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She'd never believed, but she has a hard time passing this off as a coincidence.
He's the first face she unexpectedly sees falling through is Stefan's, and it really doesn't make it any less wonderful for her, either.
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"I guess I always figured their purpose was to make our lives difficult."
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Elena is human and her heart is still open.
She follows after Stefan, thankful they're inside where they are shielded from the chill of the evening. Her arms are still wrapped around herself, and she takes a few more steps forward until she comes to a stop; she looks to her surroundings, and her breath almost hitches in her throat. Finally, she turns to Stefan again.
"This is really happening. Isn't it?"
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That at least is worth something.
He stops when she does, turning to face her and seeing the uncertainty on her face, that need for reassurance. Even if he grew closer to Rebekah in Chicago, that love for Elena never faded, didn't disappear into nothing. Elena is always going to be a part of him, and seeing that uncertainty on her face makes her wonder where she is, where she's been, what happened to her wherever the rift left her.
He takes a few steps back to her slowly, reaching for her. "Yes. This is real." He raises his hands, letting his fingers card through her hair as he pushes it back from her face and presses a kiss to her forehead. "I'm right here."
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Much like Stefan, it cost her things, but it gave her a lot more. She would not be the person she is without the Hales in her life, without Martha and so many other people she never would've met otherwise. It was real. Elena knows Chicago was real.
Everything after that? It can get fuzzy. The island liked to play tricks on their minds, and there were times when she couldn't distinguish. So much was a product of the fog and the fear. But Stefan is solid as he stands before her, and her eyes burn at the feel of his lips on her forehead. "It feels real," she agrees softly, her own hands lifting to slide over his wrists. "In the island, you couldn't always tell."
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"Tell me about it," he murmurs softly, keeping that contact between them. "What happened?"
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"It all happened so fast," is what she says, her voice quiet; barely audible, but Stefan will hear. "One minute the world was ending, and the next I was almost drowning." All over again. The harshness of it filling up her lungs, except there wasn't her father's hand to hold on to. There was nothing but the vastness of the sea and the solid realization she was alone. "I got to shore eventually, and I was greeted by a young boy with sunken eyes and -- " she inhales sharply again. "It was an island for orphans. I'm not sure what the purpose of it was, only that the island needed us there. It made you see things that weren't there. It fed on our feelings, on -- on our fears, and it would make them happen."
She likes to think she can make herself invincible, someone fearless, but it is never the case.
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He watches her for a moment, before pulling her closer, sliding his arms around her shoulders. "You're safe now. The island can't get to you here."