"Your compassion is a gift, Elena. Carry it with you." - Elijah Mikaelson

Ever since Elena Gilbert flipped that switch on her humanity, she has not felt an ounce of care or hate or anything for any reason whatsoever. Hell, even this whole 'find the cure' game isn't really bothering her, it's just getting in the way of her and blood. Nothing has fazed her since leaving her old home behind. Nothing. She has gone out and found a newer, better version of herself; she can look in the mirror and be pleased with what she sees. She has never experienced that before.

But there was just one thing. Nothing much, really. Just a wriggling sensation in the crypt of her heart. A small flash of something amongst the graves of feelings once felt; once alive. The weird part was that it didn't come from that look of concern in Stefan's eyes, nor did it come from the feel of Damon's body pressed against hers. It came from the most unexpected of sources.

Elijah Mikaelson.

She didn't know what to expect when she went out to meet 'em', but it wasn't Elijah. She didn't feel a damn thing when he stroked loose strands of her new reddish-brown hair from her face. But when he leaned forward, capturing her lips mid-sentence, that flashing, wriggling sensation occurred. It was as though something was trying to break free; like a prisoner trapped in a cell, fighting to bend or snap its bars. Like water building pressure, pushing relentlessly against its floodgates. And then he broke away, pressed a slow, chaste kiss to her bottom lip, and then her eyes met his again.

The wriggling stopped. She hasn't felt it since. No love, no hate, no compassion… But she still thinks back to it, sometimes. Questioning its purpose. Why then? Why Elijah? She doesn't know; but she does care. Care. She cares…

She can still feel the ghost of his lips against hers, and she cares.