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A thousand years later and Elijah still rolled around the memories of his human days on his tongue. A thousand years later and he still sat in a darkened corner of his mind touching an old wound so it wouldn’t heal. A thousand years later and he still let the scent of the burning wood and the crushed berries to be engulfed by the smell of blood and waft over him till he tasted the metallic red on his tongue and watched his helpless anger flash before his eyes.
At first, the days he saw nothing of Niklaus in the man standing before him were the hardest. Sending him into regretful, nostalgic insomnia, where he re-watched the nights they spent huddled by the fire in their cottage like a worn out movie, trying to remember every detail of Niklaus’s face and every flicker of emotions across his innocent eyes until he could no longer tell where his memories ended and his imagination began. But slowly, the days where cruelty was all he’d see in Niklaus’s stance, the days where every word he spoke was a dagger to his heart, became more and more common. Until seeing the spiteful, murderous man disguised as his brother became nothing but a part of his routine. And, as hope wavered, Elijah shut down moments of remembrance before they had the chance to bloom.
But then there were those rare moments. Misty eyes when he thought no one was looking. A soft smile that he couldn’t help but let slip through. A gentle brushing of his hand against Elijah’s shoulder as he passed him by. A glimpse of open fondness in his look when Elijah berated him for his actions. And Elijah’s will would crack and floodgates of days he’d carefully locked away would come rushing back into his imagination, spilling the turquoise Niklaus created a thousand years ago across his mind and seeping through the cracks of his hands to remind him of his failures.
He’d feel Niklaus’s hand gently shaking his shoulder. He’d hear the barely contained excitement of his voice as he whispered his name. He’d see the bright spark in Niklaus’s eyes as he held out his proudest achievement before him.
Look, ‘Lijah. Niklaus said. I found a new shade of blue.
And Elijah, in his half sleep, pushing his hair back, focusing his eyes, looked on with something akin to pride swelling in his chest. A feeling he held on to, afraid of letting it slip away, afraid of forgetting what it would be like to love his brother so. Niklaus grabbed his hand that night and dragged him closer to the fire he kept going in spite of Mikael’s warnings.
See? He said, a smile stretching across his face.
And before Elijah knew it, he felt a smile cracking through the haziness of sleep in his mind, and he was moving closer to take a better look at the color.
It’s beautiful. Elijah could still hear his voice thick with awe. He could still see the beaming smile across Niklaus’s face, alighting his eyes with something lively and tender and so painfully young.
And Elijah would always pause there. For a moment or two he’d torture himself with this perfect snapshot of Niklaus at his most vibrant. Would run it again and again and again, shutting his eyes and watching it freeze against his eyelids. He’d linger there, wishing he could have stopped time right at that moment, wishing that he’d done more to keep those small, rare moments of Niklaus, wishing that he’d made them a reality.
And before he could control it, Mikael’s sharp face would come to focus. And he’d be back by the fire, tentatively stepping in front of a slightly shaking Niklaus. Mikael’s words and his shove ablur. All that remained of the moment was the sight of Mikael taking Niklaus’s paintbrush and striking him across his left cheek with it, leaving a trail of blood behind and unshed tears in his brother’s eyes.
Elijah would startle, and try to awake from the memory, tears of anger once again gathering at the corner of his eyes. But no matter what he tried, he’d find himself sucked back into his mind. This time, he’d find himself pressing a wet cloth to Niklaus’s face. The silence between them heavy, stretching on until Elijah though it would break them not to speak. Yet, he was no longer sure who spoke first. And all he could hear were Niklaus’s word ringing in his ear.
We have to leave, Elijah. The thought had come from nowhere, startling Elijah into a pause. The resolved look on Niklaus’s face causing something within him to tremble.
Leave? Elijah did not remember a time where his voice sounded less sure.
I cannot do this anymore. We must go.
And Elijah’s silence stretched on and on as he stared at Niklaus. The gash on his cheek still leaking blood and beginning to swell. The snuffed out light in his pleading eyes. The pressed lips. The half spilled color laying by their feet.
Please, brother. I’m begging you.
Elijah then would pause to remember the exact place where Niklaus’s voice cracked. Would agonize over its details. Was it when he said between the e and a in please, or between the e and r in brother? Somewhere along the way he’d forgotten where it was. And it bothered him even though he could not quite understand its importance. But then he would remember how close he was to agreeing right away. It was difficult not to want to protect Niklaus in that moment in whatever way he could. And how could he refuse him when he was looking up at him with desperate eyes and clinging fingers. Just as he was about to agree, Rebekah’s image flashed before him and his stomach dropped, followed by Kol’s laughing face. Too young to be taken with them. Too young to be left with Mikael. And as he his eyes met Niklaus’s eyes once again, he knew he was about to break his heart, he knew he was going to disappoint him.
I can’t. He said. And Elijah could hear something in Niklaus break. Rebekah and Kol. We cannot…. But he trailed off because Niklaus dropped his eyes to the floor, and Elijah could no longer look at him either.
Yes, Rebekah… Niklaus said after a while, sounding older than he did a moment before.
There Elijah would find himself slipping down memories of moments that never happened. He would see himself and Niklaus away from Mikael’s grip. Somewhere quiet and lonesome, where Niklaus fashioned paintbrushes out of branches without having them struck across his face by a cruel hand, where he crushed flowers and mixed paint without fear. Where the sight of Niklaus’s fond smile did not send a pang of pain in his chest. Where Rebekah could have joined them and braided Niklaus’s hair and put flowers in it once again. He’d slip and slip and slip into small details until a fall would startle him out of his hazy dream.
Musing once again, brother. Niklaus’s voice falls like a bucket of ice over Elijah’s head.
Niklaus. Is all Elijah would say, pretending to focus back on the book before him. Sometimes, Elijah thought Niklaus knew exactly what ran through his mind.
Sometimes, Niklaus would update him on the situation with the latest enemy. Sometimes, he’d merely smirk and saunter away. Sometimes, he’d hover and nag Elijah with questions about what he’s reading. And every time, when he left, Elijah saw the ghost of his alight face by the fire trailing behind this new version of his brother.