To Be Or Not To Be » Stefan Salvatore

Chapter 13 - A Gamble of Fate

"You're not serious, are you?"

Skye Mikaelson's voice dripped with disbelief, sharp and cutting.

The other end of the line was met with silence.

Tense, heavy, telling.

She sighed, dragging a hand down her face before pinching the bridge of her nose.

This conversation was giving her a headache.

"You cannot expect me to babysit Elena," she said, voice flat, patience threadbare. "Not after everything they did to our brother, Elijah."

And yet—

Here they were.

Her brother had called after she'd finally picked herself up off the ballroom floor, after she'd scrubbed the blood and grief from her skin in the shower.

Apparently, Elena needed protection from Alaric.

And, apparently, her friends were incapable of providing it—what with Stefan and Damon busy dragging Klaus' lifeless body to God knows where.

"You only have to be there until I arrive," Elijah said, ever the picture of patience.

Skye let out a sharp breath. "And how do you even know they'll agree to our terms?"

"Elena will do what's right."

She pursed her lips.

Elijah had this unshakable faith in Elena Gilbert, and Skye simply didn't get it.

She liked the girl—she had, before Klaus was desiccated.

But trusting her with everything?

That was something else entirely.

"When I show up at that house," she muttered, voice low, "they're going to think I'm there to kill them." She let the words settle, then added, "And trust me, that's a thought that's definitely crossed my mind."

Elijah sighed.

"You won't kill them," he said evenly. "That isn't who you are. If it was, you never would've let them take Niklaus in the first place."

The words cut deep.

Skye cringed, her grip on the phone tightening.

She knew she was a terrible sister. But hearing it from Elijah? That made it worse.

She hated herself for not doing more, for not fighting to keep Klaus' body safe.

But—

Her soul had been on the line.

And Nik wasn't dead—not really.

If they could get his body back, they could fix this.

That thought eased some of the guilt twisting in her chest.

"...You know me too well," she admitted, voice tight. Then, begrudgingly, "Fine. I'll keep Elena safe. But—" she warned, "don't expect me to be careful with my words."

"Thank you," Elijah said, relief evident in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah," Skye exhaled.

Silence stretched between them.

Then—

"Are you okay?"

A simple question.

A loaded one.

Was she okay?

She still had no idea why she blacked out that night at the school. Her mind was consumed with grief, with guilt, with rage.