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The Struggle

Her voice almost gave out at the end. "I’ve been so frightened since then," she whispered, her eyes still on the ribbon. "Scared that you’d be angry with me. Scared of what they’re going to do. Just scared. I tried to get the diary back, Stefan, I even went to Caroline’s house. But she has it too well hidden.

And I’ve thought and thought, but I can’t think of any way of stopping her from reading it." At last she looked up at him. "I’m sorry."

"You should be!" he said, startling her with his vehemence. She felt the blood drain from her face. But Stefan was going on. "You should be sorry for keeping something like that from me when I could have helped you. Elena, why didn’t you justtell me?"

"Because it’s all my fault. And I had a dream…" She tried to describe how he had looked in the dreams, the bitterness, the accusation in his eyes. "I think I would die if you really looked at me that way," she concluded miserably.

But Stefan’s expression as he looked at her now was a combination of relief and wonder. "So that’s it," he said, almost in a whisper himself. "That’s what’s been bothering you."

Elena opened her mouth, but he was still speaking. "I knew something was wrong, I knew you were holding something back. But I thought…" He shook "his head and a skewed smile tugged at his lips. "It doesn’t matter now. I didn’t want to invade your privacy. I didn’t even want to ask. And all the time you were worried about protectingme. "

Elena’s tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. The words seemed to be stuck, too. There’s more, she thought, but she couldn’t say it, not when Stefan’s eyes looked like that, not when his whole face was alight that way.

"When you said we needed to talk today, I thought you’d changed your mind about me," he said simply, without self-pity. "And I wouldn’t have blamed you. But instead…" He shook his head again. "Elena," he said.

It felt so good to be there, so right. She hadn’t even realized how wrong things had been between them until now, when the wrongness had disappeared.This was what she remembered, what she had felt that first glorious night when Stefan had held her. All the sweetness and tenderness in the world surging between them. She was home, where she belonged. Where she would always belong.

Everything else was forgotten.

As she had in the beginning, Elena felt as if she could almost read Stefan’s thoughts. They were connected, a part of each other. Their hearts beat to the same rhythm.

Only one thing was needed to make it complete. Elena knew that, and she tossed her hair back, reaching from behind to pull it away from the side of her neck. And this time Stefan did not protest or thwart her. Instead of refusal he was radiating a deep acceptance – and a deep need.

Feelings of love, of delight, of appreciation overwhelmed her and with incredulous joy she realized the feelings were his. For a moment, she sensed herself through his eyes, and sensed how much he cared for her. It might have been frightening if she had not had the same depth of feeling to give back to him.

She felt no pain as his teeth pierced her neck. And it didn’t even occur to her that she had unthinkingly offered him the unmarked side – even though the wounds Damon had left were healed already.

She clung to him when he tried to lift his head. He was adamant, though, and at last she had to let him do it. Still holding her, he groped over onto the dresser for the wicked ivory-handled blade and with one quick motion he let his own blood flow.

When Elena’s knees grew weak, he sat her on the bed. And then they just held each other, unaware of time or anything else. Elena felt that only she and Stefan existed.

"I love you," he said softly.

At first Elena, in her pleasant haze, simply accepted the words. Then, with a chill of sweetness, she realized what he’d said.

Heloved her. She’d known it all along, but he had never said it before.

"I love you, Stefan," she whispered back. She was surprised when he shifted and pulled away slightly, until she saw what he was doing. Reaching inside his sweater, he drew out the chain he had worn around his neck ever since she had known him. On the chain was a gold ring, exquisitely crafted, set with lapis lazuli.

Katherine’s ring. As Elena watched, he took the chain off and unclasped it, removing the delicate golden band.

"When Katherine died," he said, "I thought I could never love anyone else. Even though I knew she would have wanted me to, I was sure it could never happen. But I was wrong." He hesitated a moment and then went on.

"I kept the ring because it was a symbol of her. So I could keep her in my heart. But now I’d like it to be a symbol of something else." Again he hesitated, seeming almost afraid to meet her eyes. "Considering the

and then gave up, his eyes meeting hers mutely.

Elena couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even breathe. But Stefan misinterpreted her silence. The hope in his eyes died and he turned away.

"You’re right," he said. "It’s all impossible. There are just too many difficulties – because of me. Because of what I am. Nobody like you should be tied to someone like me. I shouldn’t even have suggested it – "

"Stefan!" said Elena. "Stefan, if you’ll be quiet a moment – "

" – so just forget I said anything – "

"Stefan!" she said. "Stefan,look at me. "

Slowly, he obeyed, turning back. He looked into her eyes, and the bitter self-condemnation faded from his face, to be replaced by a look that made her lose her breath again. Then, still slowly, he took the hand she was holding out. Deliberately, as they both watched, he slipped the ring onto her finger.

It fit as if it had been made for her. The gold glinted richly in the light, and the lapis shone a deep vibrant blue like a clear lake surrounded by untouched snow.

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