Forbidden Fruit; ᴇʟιᴊᴀʜ. ᴍ

Nyla and Elijah Hospital

(This scene would have followed Klaus biting Elijah and also started Nyla's storyline where she would have encountered an ageless wolf who was cursed with insanity and immortality. He would have attacked her in the forest and she ended up hurt.)

"We are not strangers." He stood at the end of her bed, looming over her, casting a dark shadow over the once still atmosphere and attracting her souls attention.

Viktor's subtle snoring remained heavy in her ear, even with a distraction. "We are not friends, you barely know my name." The subtly thudding of her back conjured her heart beat away from her ears. A distraction of pain meant relief.

"I know your name perfectly well Nyla Marie Beckett." Her name rolled off his tongue organically, like he'd said it a million times and never got tired.

She was silent, her vision obscured as she watched him slowly circle her. Was he preying on her down fall, was this the chance to destroy her. Unable to fight back properly. How horrifically un honourable.

But his dress shoes remained walking on linoleum, until he found himself sat in the uncomfortable hospital Chair, letting it creak beneath him from all its stiffness. He wasn't nearly as frightening this way, no where near as intimidating. He was carrying his wounds without protection in this moment, nothing to protect himself as he deflated in front of her. Sagging- poshly, against the back of the chair as he crossed his legs.

"Strangers have names." Was all she could give, what could he expect, Witty banter from the hospital patient?

His smile was soft, small and unnoticeable if you weren't looking at him carefully like she was. "Strangers do not know each other's names." He shook his head absently, his eyes catching something outside the window as he gazed longingly outside.

'I'm not supposed to be here', it replayed in his head over and over everytime he felt the rush of his brother bite fuel through his arm and send a discourse of warning flares to his nervous system. He could say it, perhaps he should. He should have never come in the first place. But he couldn't leave. Not after seeing her.

"I know facts about you to detective. Do strangers know facts, Without uncertainty?" He looked at her, the annoying white lighting reflecting in the pools of whiskey in his eyes. They were damns, ceiling rushing water behind protective gates. They could pool and flow with ease, they never moved or wavered.

She slouched her shoulders slightly, dismissive of the idea that he knew anything about her. "What do you know?"

Playfulness, the lighting gave her a chance to observe the shift from curiosity to enjoyment. The world fading away from him as he spoke to her quietly, not to disturb a sleeping Viktor. "You cannot handle your liquor." She winced, believing him to make a jab at her ability to not flirt with stranger after a few pours. "You can't handle its bitterness, you cover it up with fruits and juices to lessen the burn as it goes down. You are proud of your position of power, it is a badge of honour, of validation. To have people call you detective, it is to call you honourable."

She stared blatantly at that, her chapped lips parting as she tried to figure out coherent thoughts. He clouded over her pain, he blocked it out with thought and distraction. Leaving her a gapping fish, as she knew nothing of him beyond his impressive suit collection, and his ability to make a girl feel powerless.

"Tell me how I can be a stranger, if I know so much with limited time?" He thought his questions aloud, asking for answers from her or a unknown source.

"Do you have a middle name?" Her voice was calm, contrary to the way she regarded him in their last interaction.

He shook his head dismissively. "I was before that time."

"Tell me another fact. One to make you no longer a stranger to me Elijah Mikaelson." He liked the use of his name on her soft Louisiana accent, the way her lips curled around the syllables. His wants intertwined in her curiosity, eager to know the Woman's secrets.

His thoughts are careful, considering what could and couldn't be said of the things he lived and did. The way he survived and endured for his family, what he fought for. There was so many things, so much to say.

So he chose to settle. "I am versed in three instruments."

"You've played, or play?"

"Play."

"What three?" She snuggled closer to her pillow, relinquishing her pain to a dull ache as she adjusted.

His smile widened as he watched the woman's composure. "The Piano, the violin, and the Organ."

"I always thought the piano and the Organ were the same?" She tiredly mumbled against the fabric of her pillow. Her eyes were hooded over, however her attention remained alert, waiting a response.

He stood slowly, walking towards the edge of her uncomfortable bed to gaze down at her tired figure in compassion. "A very common misconception, however the sounds of both are extremely different. A piano is a percussion instrument, an Organ is a woodwind instrument." He reached out, touching one of her braids to move it out of the way of her vision.

A soft gesture, of admiration. One that was intercepted by a harsh grasp clinging onto his wrist. Nyla's fingers undid Elijah's cufflink, letting it fall and disappear into the sea of fabric frayed around her. Not caring for his discomfort, she moved his sleeve up in one swift and bunched movement. Exposing his secrets.

The red pussing artery, with two large ligatures that punctured deeply into the skin and left pockets of blood that appeared black. Large veins protruded, and appeared discoloured at her angle. Elijah was taken aback by the woman's sudden and unexpected interest. Unreadable to his eye.

She looked up at him in concern, perching a slightly bushy brow. "Who did this to you? Werewolves are not allowed in the quarter."

He remained quiet, un answering to her questions just like she had been. Simply staring, retracing her jaw with his eyes, the curve of her hairline and nose.

"Your brother." The realization was hers and hers alone, her eyes stared back up at him now, blindly lazy with bright iridescent glow. "Do Originals respond differently to Bites like these?" His nod was significant enough for her to roll down his sleeve for him.

"And your Injury Dear Detective, where do your battle wounds come from?" He hummed his question to her, like the repayment for stolen goods. Their brief normality stolen from Elijah by the very girl he tried to conquer it with. Her lust for danger over worked any privacy.

She eyed him, wondering what she would give him. Would it be her Achilles heel to tell him why she was down? Would he use it against her, or would he simply leave at the answer. Neither idea settled in her chest very well. "My own big bad wolf, we were at a crime scene, it attacked without any prompting." 

'Bullet notes are safer' Nyla thought.

'Bullet notes don't show you the soul' Elijah thought.

"I see." His absence was felt even before his body was gone, Nyla felt it in her bones. Like carvings no one had ever seen, able to detect that the loneliness of this world would attach itself and not let go.

There was many things said about being a human in a supernatural world of relationships, one that's not mentioned so commonly is how lonely it feels.