talk about it now, but I think tomorrow maybe we should go see him. To tell him..." Elena lifted her other hand helplessly. She didn't know what she wanted to tell Matt; she only knew that she needed to do something.
Elena looked at him hard. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"But-will you be all right? I should stay with you-"
"I'll be fine, Elena," Stefan said gently, "Go on."
Elena hesitated, then nodded. "I won't be long," she promised him.
Unseen, Elena slipped around the side of the frame house with the peeling paint and the crooked mailbox labeled Honeycutt. Matt's window was unlocked. Careless boy, she thought reprovingly. Don't you know some-thing might come creeping in? She eased it open, but of course that was as far as she could go. An invisible barrier that felt like a soft wall of thickened air blocked her way.
"Matt," she whispered. The room was dark, but she could see a vague shape on the bed. A digital clock with pale green numbers showed that it was 12:15. "Matt," she whispered again.
The figure stirred. "Uh?"
"Matt, I don't want to frighten you." She made her voice soothing, trying to wake him gently rather than startle him out of his wits. "But it's me, Elena, and I wanted to talk. Only you've got to ask me in first. Can you ask me in?"
"Uh. C'mon in."
Elena was amazed at the lack of surprise in his voice. It was only after she'd gotten over the sill that she realized he was still asleep.
"Matt. Matt," she whispered, afraid to go too close. The room was stifling and overheated, the radiator going full blast. She could see a bare foot sticking out of the mound of blankets on the bed and blond hair at the top.
"Matt?" Tentatively, she leaned over and touched him.
That got a response. With an explosive grunt, Matt sat bolt upright, whipping around. When his eyes met hers, they were wide and staring.
Elena found herself trying to look small and harmless, nonthreatening. She backed away against the wall. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I know it's a shock. But will you talk to me?"
He simply went on staring at her. His yellow hair was sweaty and ruffled up like wet chicken feathers. She could see his pulse pounding in his bare neck. She was afraid he was going to get up and dash out of the room.
Then his shoulders relaxed, slumping, and he slowly shut his eyes. He was afraid he was going to get up and dash out of the room.
"Yes," she whispered.
"You're dead."
"No. I'm here."
"Dead people don't come back. My dad didn't come back."
"I didn't really die. I just changed." Matt's eyes were still shut in repudiation, and
Elena felt a cold wave of hopelessness wash over her. "But you wish I had died, don't you? I'll leave now," she whispered.
Matt's face cracked and he started to cry.
"No. Oh, no. Oh, don't, Matt, please." She found herself cradling him, fighting not to cry herself. "Matt, I'm sorry; I shouldn't even have come here."
"Don't leave," he sobbed. "Don't go away."
"I won't." Elena lost the fight, and tears fell onto Matt's damp hair. "I didn't mean to hurt you, ever," she said. "Not ever, Matt. All those times, all those things I did- I never wanted to hurt you. Truly..." Then she stopped talking and just held him.
After a while his breathing quieted and he sat back, swiping his face with a fistful of sheet. His eyes avoided hers. There was a look on his face, not just of embarrassment, but of distrust, as if he were bracing himself for something he dreaded.
"Okay, so you're here. You're alive," he said roughly. "So what do you want?"