My first vampire diaries fanfic and it's katherine/Elijah. Be gentle with me. I have loved this pairing since 2x19 but never thought that the writers would actually go there and now it's canon. Wrote this after reading "A Shadow's Tale" by Tara1189, "Thirteen Teethmarks" by flesh and bone telephone, and "if the silence takes you" by but seriously, all of whom wrote something far better than mine, and from whom I borrowed certain images that I liked. Go read them, they are amazing!

Series of quick one-shot scenes from elijah's point of view. Includes elijah/katerina(tatia/elena).

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He'd been dead inside for a long time before he'd heard her name again, dead and cold and hard, and he thought that he was long over it, that he felt nothing, that he would never feel anything again. But then Rose-Marie had sent him a message – Rose-Marie (whom the last time he had seen had been when she was still alive) – and she asked him to meet her so close to where she had died … and where he'd lost the other as well.

I have something that will greatly interest you, the message said, and Elijah could feel his heart pounding, his breath wanting to stop as his hands clenched around the paper, and in return I ask that you grant us pardon.

There was only one thing that would cause him to consider such a thing, but she was long out of his reach, burned by a mob of peasants in 1864, long out of his reach.

But Rose was there and she sounded so sure…and it would be just like Katherine Pierce to plan her death there.

But don't you see, brother, Klaus had said when he'd heard, it's all so symbolic. And he'd smiled. Katerina dies where the Original did. It's all so very…biblical. And he'd laughed then, and Elijah had smiled with him, but he'd felt sick inside, and so very tired.

But Katherine Pierce, the legend, the one woman who managed to outwit Klaus and his family and his army of witches and minions for centuries, would have thought it sounded so very biblical as well.

And Elijah smiled.

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The first time he'd reached out and touched her, gently, slowly, he'd seen it again in her eyes; that overwhelming wild fear and anger he had seen in the tomb, and which he knew had sometimes been the only thing keeping her alive all those long centuries, battling with something else, something he'd long given up as lost forever.

It was just a second, a split second in time, before it was gone and she was Katherine again, looking at him with sultry glances and calculation in her eyes. She'd stepped closer, leaning into his touch, gazing up at him with a seductress' confidence and grace.

He pulled away and he thought he saw a flash of hurt in her gaze.

My Lord. Katerina was appropriately covered, but it was midnight and they were alone and she was wearing a nightgown.

The patter of her heartbeat was distracting, but nowhere near as distracting as the rain of curls down her back or the swell of her breasts beneath the fabric of her clothing.

What are you doing down here?

I couldn't sleep and I just wanted to go out and see the stars.

He was standing too close to her, but he took a step closer still, watching as her breath caught and her hands clenched tightly in her skirt. Her eyes are wide and dark, her lashes like brushes, her lips caught between her teeth, her heart pounding, and he can see every inch of her despite the darkness, but he knows she only sees him as a shadow, that she cannot see the look on his face.

He steps back again. I will escort you. Bad things prowl these woods at night.

And he pretends he didn't see the hurt expression on her face as he turned away.

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He'd been daggered too many times to think of it as just dying anymore. It was restful in a way.

And she's bending over him, dark hair, olive skin with full lips and laughter in her eyes. "Katerina," he gasps trying to reach out to her, trying to finally touch long ringlets and smooth skin, and then the curls morph into long strands and the eyes gazing down at him change, watchful and wary, and the girl says "It's Elena," but her hands are cool and calming as his skin crawls with fire and his lungs burn.

And Katerina's smiling at him, her hand clasped in his, his lips grazing her skin. Her fingers tightening around him as her eyes grow wide at the look in his.

She's wearing a dead girl's face, and for a second he sees her again; mocking, impudent eyes, bare feet and hair blowing in the wind as she holds court among the young men of the village, her baby forgotten at home. And then she would lose interest and leave them, lost and longing without her, as she went to find amusement elsewhere.

And then it's Katerina's bright eyes as she whirls to face him. I want to go everywhere. I want to see everything! Do you think he'll let me? She asked him about the man she thought would soon be her husband, his own brother.

Elena's face swims into view, eyes gentle and concerned, and young, so very, very young and fragile, a reflection of a dead girl's face, a pale imitation of Katerina's.

"Oh my God," he whispers.

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"I wanted to tell you that you're right," she all but shouts at him, refusing to let him past, and he knows that this will probably hurt him, but he can't come up with any reasons why he shouldn't hear her out. Her voice is low and dark and scratchy, Katherine Pierce's voice, but her eyes are dark and desperate and alive and hopeful.

And they're Katerina's eyes as she reaches out and places the Cure in his hands and tells him that she's trying to trust him. And he sees Tatia who never trusted him and Elena who trusted him with calm calculation in his eyes, and he sees Katerina with fear and love and pain in her eyes, eyes that are still bright with hope even after five and a half centuries of darkness.

And his heart constricts with an emotion that he hasn't felt since he was human.

She squeezes his hands before walking away from him. He turns and watches her go, as he watched her leave him so many times before. But for the first time he felt hope as well.

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Elena Gilbert was serious and gentle and compassionate; soothing after Tatia's wildness and Katerina's vivacity. But there was fire in her too, hidden under loss and responsibility and grief perhaps, but as she followed him from the house into the sunshine, and fixed her calm gaze upon him, he felt like smiling, like almost laughing because she was here, she was alive.

And he hadn't felt like this since Katerina had been running though the grass, long skirts billowing behind her, nettles in her hair and peals of laughter echoing over the grounds.

You're supposed to catch me.

But if I catch you the game will be over.

And she'd smiled at him, alive and vibrant and hopeful, making him want to believe in something he'd thought he'd been disabused of long since.

Elena's questioning face is back before him and he's all but playful as he informs her that there never was a Curse and that the whole thing had been made up by him and Klaus. "What?" She's curious and patient, somehow so very different from Tatia who would have demanded answers and Katerina who would have taken them.

But then Elena is gentle spring, young and fresh and innocent, and Tatia always lazy summer, hot and passionate and ending all too soon. Katerina was the freshness and excitement of autumn. And now she was Katherine; all wine-red lips and dark, secretive eyes, the biting strength of winter.

And he knows in his bones that she's still alive, that Klaus hasn't killed her yet.

Just as he knows that he hadn't saved Tatia, or Katerina, but this one, right here, he will save.

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He feels like he's swimming under water, colors blurring, senses screaming, limbs moving too slow as fights to break free, and then he's running under cool, green trees, moss underfoot, his childhood home His hands grab for her waist and the they're tumbling down onto the grass, his lips trailing hot kisses down her body, fingers seeking out warm, olive skin. Impatiently she grabs him and pulls him where she wants him, body pliant under his, eyes lustful and needy.

"Elijah!"

She stills beneath him as his brother's voice pierce's the summer stillness, and she's laughing as she pulls her clothes up and then pushes him into the bushes with her. They hold their breath as they watch Klaus walk by.

Who loves me more, I wonder? She asks, coquettish and mocking after Klaus had left and Elijah couldn't touch her again mired in guilt as he was, twisting long, dark hair around a finger as she watched him.

How will I ever choose?

He remembers his brother's face, devoid of any emotion, as the last thing he'd seen before the darkness closed in. And right behind him had been olive skin, and long, dark curls, and full lips, and eyes which had flashed with something almost like regret as his brother killed him-

-and they were Tatia's wild eyes and bare feet, blending into Katerina's long lashes and red lips, blending into Elena's smooth hair and pink cheeks-

-and he's alive again, with Damon Salvatore's note in his pocket. And there is work to be done.

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Sometimes Katerina gazes at him like he's her savior, and sometimes she glares at him like he's a jailor, but her kisses always taste like fire and red wine and hunger.

And sometimes when she stays with him she'll drape herself all over him like she's claiming him forever and he'll wake up in the morning having no idea where he ends and she begins, with long, dark hair tickling his skin and sleepy dark eyes beneath lush lashes that are bright and clear before she remembers who and where she is and her gaze becomes cloaked again.

And she makes him feel alive again. She'd always been able to make him feel alive.

And sometimes he sees Tatia in her eyes, and sometimes Katerina and sometimes Elena. But often he only sees Katherine, and he's surprisingly alright with that because he knows that Katherine feels something for him too.