I'm a man of my word - I make a deal, I keep a deal.

Rebekah's sobs had stopped as her too-human body fell into exhausted sleep, and the quiet stretched out through the plantation house in a parody of peace, though he supposed it was more the silent stillness of death. Appropriate, really. They'd all died a long time ago, after all, at least together. And Kol had died once more, alone. And then again tonight, and they'd been bound for a few moments, and Elijah could see again where Finn had made his misstep, had misjudged Niklaus.

Where he had, too, he supposed, though the day's schemes and losses wore down on him enough that his hand trembled as he poured himself a drink.

They'd preserved Kol's body to consecrate as Rebekah searched for the spell to save him, again. Another rebirth, leading eventually to another death.

Going back to the Abattoir had seemed wrong, and Elijah was grateful for it. The peace was a better counterpoint to his thoughts than the sound of...what was undoubtedly going on there. What he had allowed through his own foolishness, his inability to break through his own walls and hers until it was too late.

Everything was welling up in him: this new thing he was becoming as of yet without a name, the words that were stopped before they formed, the grief for a brother he'd failed to mourn properly before, the shards of the walls he'd let come down. It was a good thing he didn't need to breathe, because he couldn't right now. He hurled the glass in his hand at the mirror, shattering both instead like the fractured pieces of himself.

It felt...good, and for a moment all he wanted to was to tear down everything and leave it burning in his wake. Instead, he shuddered and sank to the sofa, head in his hands and tried to--what was the expression? Shut the stable door after the horse has bolted? Ridiculous saying, really, but he understood it well, right now.

Elijah sat inside his car staring at his phone blankly. Clearly none of the others in town had thought to run their plan by Ric who could, at least, have told them what they were doing, who they were searching for, after what Elijah had told him. He might not have known to tell them it was a bad idea, though--Elijah had only shared so much.

It wasn't visible, but he was trembling. What was visible was that he was shaken. He tried to push it back, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to settle before he got out and moved into Ric's building, heading up to his apartment.

They'd made plans to go into the city for the Central Virginia Celtic Festival which amused Elijah after many years spent in Scotland and Ireland, but for which the actual appeal was a whisky tasting that Elijah had heard was going to have some rare vintages which weren't being advertised.

All things considered, he could use the drink, though that really hadn't been his intention in suggesting it. Now he had to wonder if it wouldn't be a farewell. Not that he wanted it to be, but neither did he want to be here with any of his siblings when Mikael got to town.

Shaking his head, he moved up the stairs to Ric's apartment, knocking lightly and trying to not look as bothered--and scared--as he was.

[OOC: Continued from here.]

Elijah looked at her as she seemed to crumple in on herself. Worry flickered in his eyes, along with a kind of helplessness, but he couldn't just let her sit there and cry. Reaching out hesitantly, he slid an arm around her shoulders, firm enough to be felt, to let hr know she could curl in to him, but loose enough she could easily pull away if it wasn't welcome.

"Then that's what we'll do," His voice was just a murmur. "There may be something more I can do, but we need to get our bearings and I need to get Rebekah and Kol acclimated to this century. So, we'll go home, first thing tomorrow."

No one was up for it tonight, including him.

--

Somewhere deep down inside, somewhere she couldn't even acknowledge at the moment, she felt a little flutter when he slid his arm around her. Just a little trip to her heart rate as she shifted to lean against him, her head resting against his shoulder as he held her lightly.

Nodding a little at his reply, she wet her lips. "It might be the safest place for you. Stefan is determined to keep Klaus from going back there." Of course things had a tendency to go the other way from what they planned.

--

Elijah felt the trip in her heart rate, but didn't know what to put it down to. He almost pulled back, but then she was leaning against him, so he tightened his arm, just a bit.

"That is a good thing," he agreed. "Just until the others get acclimated. We have the daggers, so there is little he can do to hurt us, at least."

It was sweet of her to think of them, he thought. "We'll figure something out."

Hearing a rumor that Mikael was in town was, honestly, the last thing Elijah wanted to deal with. It was, however, the thing that finally dragged him across town to the Salvatore mansion. Honestly, he'd been putting it off for too long. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Rebekah. Gods, of course he wanted to see her. He'd missed her more than any other sibling Klaus had taken, and it was her death--thinking Klaus had just thrown her into the ocean--that had driven him over the edge.

But he wasn't certain how much she would want to see him. After Klaus had daggered her, surely she wasn't quite as loyal? But...he knew how deep those bonds ran, for both of them. Deeper than he wanted to think about, honestly. He just wasn't sure hers would run to him, as well. She hadn't come to find him, after all, any more than he had her--but maybe they hadn't told her?

Only one way to find out, and he'd be damned if he was going to let Mikael hurt her, so he found himself at the door to the boarding house, knocking lightly.

Damon answered, looking vaguely disgruntled when he saw who was on the other side.

"What do you want?"

Elijah sighed. "To see my sister."

"Are you going to take her away?"

Elijah arched an eyebrow. "That's up to her. I'd merely like to speak with her at the moment. Make sure she's all right."

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"Dagger. Back. At your dining room table. Dagger, heart, at Elena's cabin. Plan ruined, more than once. Do you want me to go on?"

"No one's put a dagger in your sister."

"Forgive me if I'd like to see proof of that for myself instead of taking your less-than-stellar word for anything."

Damon looked as if he were debating slamming the door, but it must have occurred to him, finally, that Elijah had been invited in multiple times and could just toss him aside and come in if he wished. He finally stepped aside. "She's in the library."

Elijah nodded his thanks, brushing past him much as he had that night at the party, and moved with no sign of his inward trepidation to see his little sister for the first time in far too long. Given the state of his temper upon Mikael's reemergence into their lives, it was probably a very good thing Damon hadn't pressed.

England 1492

The guests had left, human and vampire both. Trevor had taken the girl--Katerina--back to her lodgings, and Elijah hadn't stopped thinking about her, since. Klaus had taken her away for a bit, at his most charming, and Elijah had no doubt of the game they would find themselves playing over the next few weeks or months. Klaus had waited too long, they'd looked too hard...There was a flicker of excitement in his stomach at the idea of Klaus finally having what he wanted, and it mingled with a twist of some unidentifiable emotion at the thought of what the cost would be.

It was ridiculous to care, of course. He didn't. She was beautiful and he knew what she would give his brother, and that was all that mattered.

But he was remembering her smile as he leaned against the window, looking out over the dark gardens. He sipped at the wine in his hand--well laced with some guest's blood--and tried to think of the future, once Klaus had what he wanted, and not anything else that might distract him from their goal, because it was his as much as Klaus's--he wanted this for his brother, wanted him to be all he was meant to be. And that's what he kept telling himself as he drank his wine, then poured another glass and started on that one, as well.