What's propelled her off the bed was him holding her when she woke up, because she forgot, because she hadn't remembered she wasn't alone and where she'd just sit up and hate her life, there was more than that and she'd freaked out. She freaked out, and she's sitting on his floor, and she forces herself to tip her head back, to take deep breaths. "I know," she says, and it's strained and strangled. "I know, I'm okay." She's not okay, she's not okay at all and her head hurts so much and she sort of wants to throw up but it's not the hangover.

It's never ended like that before, it's usually the sameish, she usually died before and it's different and he didn't come and she knows it's a dream.

She forces herself up, and she waves at his hand because she's moving to his bathroom, and she closes and locks the door, turning on the water as she stares at herself in the mirror, and she's forcing herself to breathe, to wash her face even though her head is killing her, to not freak out and cry because it's a dream. It's not real. Elena's fine, she's fine. She can handle herself, and it's a dream.

And god, she's hungry. It's about five or ten minutes until she comes out, until she exhales slowly and then opens the door, going directly to the replicator and asking it quietly for blood - and what she gets is gross, but she drinks it, and asks for another glass - and she turns back to him, clearing her throat to speak clearly. "I'm sorry, it just... happens. Sometimes."