Lisa Smith: The Struggle

“I’ve learned a thing or two since then. Anyway, I’m willing to believe anything if it’ll help find Stefan. If there’s any chance at all it will help.”

Bonnie was hunching up, as if trying to make her already tiny form as small as possible. “Elena, you don’t understand,” she said wretchedly. “I’m not trained; it’s not something I can control. And—and it’s not a game, not any more. The more you use those powers, the more they use you . Eventually they can end up using you all the time, whether you want it or not. It’s dangerous .”

Elena got up and walked to the cherry wood dresser, looking down at it without seeing it. At last she turned.

“You’re right; it’s not a game. And I believe you about how dangerous it can be. But it’s not a game for Stefan, either. Bonnie, I think he’s out there, somewhere, terribly hurt. And there’s nobody to help him; nobody’s even looking for him, except his enemies. He may be dying right now. He—he may even be…” Her throat closed. She bowed her head over the dresser and made herself take a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she looked up, she saw Meredith was looking at Bonnie.

Bonnie straightened her shoulders, sitting up as tall as she could. Her chin lifted and her mouth set. And in her normally soft brown eyes, a grim light shone as they met Elena’s.

“We need a candle,” was all she said.

The match rasped and threw sparks in the darkness, and then the candle flame burned strong and bright. It lent a golden glow to Bonnie’s pale face as she bent over it.

“I’m going to need both of you to help me focus,” she said. “Look into the flame, and think about Stefan. Picture him in your mind. No matter what happens, keep on looking at the flame. And whatever you do, don’t say anything.”

Elena nodded, and then the only sound in the room was soft breathing. The flame flickered and danced, throwing patterns of light over the three girls sitting cross-legged around it. Bonnie, eyes closed, was breathing deeply and slowly, like someone drifting into sleep.

Stefan, thought Elena, gazing into the flame, trying to pour all her will into the thought. She created him in her mind, using all her senses, conjuring him to her. The roughness of his woolen sweater under her cheek, the smell of his leather jacket, the strength of his arms around her. Oh, Stefan…

Bonnie’s lashes fluttered and her breathing quickened, like a sleeper having a bad dream. Elena resolutely kept her eyes on the flame, but when Bonnie broke the silence a chill went up her spine.

At first it was just a moan, the sound of someone in pain. Then, as Bonnie tossed her head, breath coming in short bursts, it became words.

“Alone…” she said, and stopped. Elena’s nails bit into her hand. “Alone… in the dark,” said Bonnie. Her voice was distant and tortured.

There was another silence, and then Bonnie began to speak quickly.

“It’s dark and cold. And I’m alone. There’s something behind me… jagged and hard. Rocks. They used to hurt—but not now. I’m numb now, from the cold. So cold…” Bonnie twisted, as if trying to get away from something, and then she laughed, a dreadful laugh almost like a sob. “That’s… funny. I never thought I’d want to see the sun so much. But it’s always dark here. And cold. Water up to my neck, like ice. That’s funny, too. Water everywhere—and me dying of thirst. So thirsty… hurts…”

Elena felt something tighten around her heart. Bonnie was inside Stefan’s thoughts, and who knew what she might discover there? Stefan, tell us where you are, she thought desperately. Look around; tell me what you see.

“Thirsty. I need… life?” Bonnie’s voice was doubtful, as if not sure how to translate some concept. “I’m weak. He said I’ll always be the weak one. He’s strong… a killer. But that’s what I am, too. I killed Katherine; maybe I deserve to die. Why not just let go?…”

“No!” said Elena before she could stop herself. In that instant, she forgot everything but Stefan’s pain. “Stefan—”

“Elena!” Meredith cried sharply at the same time. But Bonnie’s head fell forward, the flow of words cut off. Horrified, Elena realized what she had done.

“Bonnie, are you all right? Can you find him again? I didn’t mean to…”

Bonnie’s head lifted. Her eyes were open now, but they looked at neither the candle nor Elena. They stared straight ahead, expressionless. When she spoke, her voice was distorted, and Elena’s heart stopped. It wasn’t Bonnie’s voice, but it was a voice Elena recognized. She’d heard it coming from Bonnie’s lips once before, in the graveyard.

“Elena,” the voice said, “don’t go to the bridge. It’s Death, Elena. Your death is waiting there.” Then Bonnie slumped forward.

Elena grabbed her shoulders and shook. “Bonnie!” she almost screamed. “Bonnie!”

“What… oh, don’t. Let go.” Bonnie’s voice was weak and shaken, but it was her own. Still bent over, she put a hand to her forehead.

“Bonnie, are you all right?”

“I think so… yes. But it was so strange.” Her tone sharpened and she looked up, blinking. “What was that, Elena, about being a killer?”

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything. I can’t describe it; it was awful. But what did that mean?”

“Nothing,” said Elena. “He’s hallucinating, that’s all.”

Meredith broke in. “He? Then you really think she tuned in to Stefan?”

Elena nodded, her eyes sore and burning as she looked away. “Yes. I think that was Stefan. It had to be. And I think she even told us where he is. Under Wickery Bridge, in the water.”

Bonnie stared. “I don’t remember anything about the bridge. It didn’t feel like a bridge.”

“But you said it yourself, at the end. I thought you remembered…” Elena’s voice died away. “You don’t remember that part,” she said flatly. It was not a question.

“I remember being alone, somewhere cold and dark, and feeling weak… and thirsty. Or was it hungry? I don’t know, but I needed… something. And I almost wanted to die. And then you woke me up.”

Elena and Meredith exchanged a glance. “And after that,” Elena said to Bonnie, “you said one more thing, in a strange voice. You said not to go near the bridge.”

“She told you not to go near the bridge.”

Meredith corrected. “You in particular, Elena. She said Death was waiting.”

“I don’t care what’s waiting,” said Elena. “If that’s where Stefan is, that’s where I’m going.”

“Then that’s where we’re all going,” said Meredith.

Elena hesitated. “I can’t ask you to do that,” she said slowly. “There might be danger—of a kind you don’t know about. It might be best for me to go alone.”

“Are you kidding?” Bonnie said, sticking her chin out. “We love danger. I want to be young and beautiful in my grave, remember?”

“Don’t,” said Elena quickly. “You were the one who said it wasn’t a game.”

“And not for Stefan, either,” Meredith reminded them. “We’re not doing him much good standing around here.”

Elena was already shrugging out of her kimono, moving toward the closet. “We’d better all bundle up. Borrow anything you want to keep warm,” she said.

When they were more or less dressed for the weather, Elena turned to the door. Then she stopped.

“Robert,” she said. “There’s no way we can get past him to the front door, even if he’s asleep.”

Simultaneously, the three of them turned to look at the window.

“Oh, wonderful,” said Bonnie.

As they climbed out into the quince tree, Elena realized that it had stopped snowing. But the bite of the air on her cheek made her remember Damon’s words. Winter is an unforgiving season, she thought, and shivered.