She believed him when he said he didn't believe in love. Or, at least, she believed he believed it. She was not foolish enough to ignore the obvious longing in his eyes when he spoke about Katherine, and she was not stupid enough to think Klaus couldn't see it all those years ago. What surprised her was that five hundred years later, Elijah was still willing to deny it.

She didn't speak of those parts of their conversation to Stefan or Damon or Caroline or anyone else. They were private, as far as she was concerned, and that belief was reconfirmed when even Elijah refused to acknowledge what he had said.

In any case, out of respect for him and as a sign of her trustworthiness, she left the whole thing alone.

She didn't say a word when he refused to speak to Katherine. She didn't even so much as glance conspiratorially at Katherine when she noticed her vampire doppelganger's strange glances.

If Elijah was going to deny himself happiness, who was she to judge?

Instead, she found herself getting much closer to the Original than either Salvatore brother is comfortable with—and they had both made that perfectly clear. When they approached her, she had just told them that he was the only one he trusted and he refused to work with anyone else—a true statement, but not the true reason. From what Elijah told her later, when they approached him, he had told them to mind their own business.

She had suppressed a smile when he told her the tale, and had changed the subject to things more mundane.

After the sacrifice had happened and Elijah's plan had worked, leaving everyone alive, Elena had decided she could not keep quiet any longer.

"You saved Katherine," she began slowly, hedging her way into the subject. "When Klaus was ready to kill her, you distracted him so she could get away."

Elijah sighed and she saw the slight hint of frustration in his features. She had learned to read him quite well during the time prior to the sacrifice. "Call it a long suppressed moment of sentimentality and human weakness," he offered in explanation.

Elena nodded. "You loved her."

"At one time I cared for her," he conceded, "more than anything."

"And now?" she asked, hoping for a confession.

He gave her a look, and she knew then that he knew what she was fishing for. "It was five hundred years ago, Elena. Whatever I may have felt then, I do not feel now."

For all that she had just gone through, Elena Gilbert was still a teenager at heart, and those words sounded too much like a challenge for her to pass up. She raised her eyebrows and her hands went to her sides. "Prove it," she demanded.

He looked over at her, confusion written clearly on his face. It wasn't often that she surprised him. "Prove what?" he asked. "That I do not love Katerina?"

Elena nodded, so sure that there wasn't a single way he could manage that. Unfortunately for her, in the next second, even before she could blink, he proved her wrong by bringing his lips to her own.

Elena found that nothing else needed to be spoken.