waltzmatildah: (tvd: damon and elena black and white)
[personal profile] waltzmatildah
Title: Here For The Echoes
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries (television series)
Characters/Pairings: General cast. Damon/Elena. Stefan/Elena.
Word Count: 1100 (total word count: 8700)
Rating: M
Prompt: From [livejournal.com profile] miss_blanche. Damon is in danger of some description and Stefan and Elena are standing aside helpless. Elena is distraught and certain feelings are revealed when Stefan questions her.
Summary: He tugs at her hand. Pulls her closer, over the back of the couch, into his lap. Settles her head against his chest and wonders what letting go again will feel like.
Author's Note: Title and cut text from “In The Veins Of Death Valley”, Birds of Tokyo. So, this is the culmination of TVD fic number one! I'm fairly certain it in no way even comes close to answering [livejournal.com profile] miss_blanche's prompt. Oops. I blame Stefan.

Part 1: You tell me that everything is fine here, and you can handle it...
Part 2: Struggle to fight the feud within, to face what you've become...
Part 3: Straight to the heart, good luck, you're finished for sure...
Part 4: You're on the edge, I think you're breaking...


The sleep that he so desperately craves eludes him once more and when the tentative knock of knuckle against heavy wood splits the still night into shards, it is a more than welcome distraction.

He pulls the door towards him without bothering to check the identity of his late night visitor. Realises his mistake almost immediately and stills to motionless.

“Damon?”

The sound of his name is carried through the gap on the back of a cool wind that has developed sometime in the preceding hours. He gives himself a moment. A deep breath. A fleeting tap of forehead against wall to steel his resolve.

“Elena.” He swings the door open expansively. Plasters a wide grin on his face that only slips twice before righting itself as he walks back into the dimly lit room. “Let me guess, just passing through the neighbourhood?”

The small talk is like splintered glass under his nails. It's been less than forty eight hours. Just enough time for all the building blocks to slot neatly into place.

They tell a compelling story.

“Stefan's hunting if you're-”

“I know.”

He grins. Shakes his head. “Of course you do.”

“Damon, don't.”

He slides into position on the couch, crystal cut tumbler filled to shallow with scotch in one hand. Tilts his glass in the direction of where she's still standing.

“Cheers.”

Bites back a grin at the full circle they've travelled.

“Damon.” The sigh in the syllables is barely hidden, “Can we talk?”

“What could we possibly have to talk about, Elena? Oh, I know... Actually,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “I'll start.”

He twists where he's seated so he's facing her. Narrows his eyes into a shape that feels disconcertingly uncomfortable but gratifyingly familiar nonetheless.

“First we can cover how you let me kiss you. How you kissed me back. And slept in my bed. And made me...” The words fall away then. The false bravado. She made him lots of things, she still does. None of which he'll ever have the strength to verbalise. “Then you concocted this elaborate plan to have me basically lose my mind over you. And then you lied to me about it.

“Maybe we can talk about that.”

She blinks back at him brightly. She's crying and his insides twist. He leans his head forward 'til it's pillowed on the back of the couch and sighs. The sound is like the weight of a thousand avalanches tearing at his skin. “I didn't mean... crap. Don't cry. Elena, I'm sorry. I didn't-”

“You think I wanted to go along with their plan?” Her voice is sharp and sure all of a sudden. Resolute. “You think I've enjoyed these past few days?”

“No. Elena, that's not what I-” And he can't for the life of him figure out how he has suddenly become the bad guy in all of this.

Figures though, that it's probably for the best.

Doesn't bother to remind her about the blood and the agony and the fact that it wasn't exactly a piece of cake for him either.





- - -





He tugs at her hand. Pulls her closer, over the back of the couch, into his lap. Settles her head against his chest and wonders what letting go again will feel like.

“So, the spell had some sort of 'get out of jail free' clause built into it, but it wasn't really a 'get out of jail free' clause because, to make it viable, you had to basically... well, let's just say there was no collecting two hundred dollars on the way past...” She uses the back of her hand to swipe at tears that haven't quite come to a stop, “... and it had to be about someone else, you couldn't just be doing it for yourself, to make it stop, that was the hardest part, you know...”

He does know. All too well. Nods minutely and tilts his head back to drain his scotch.

“How did you know it would work?”

“Honestly? We didn't. But it was all we had and, well... the alternative wasn't really an option was it?” She tilts her head up at him, her hair casts a shadow he thinks he could hide behind for centuries.

“You mean twenty four hour suicide watch wasn't as much fun for you as it was for me? I'm shattered.”

“Would you-”

“Don't. Seriously, Elena. Don't even go there...”

She nods, focuses her attention on the back of his hand. Traces the veins that thread a pattern across the smooth skin.

“But you took your ring off.”

“I know. I was there, remember?”

“Why?”

“Why? Why? You really don't know the answer to that question by now?”

She shrugs around a sigh and the movement ingrains itself somewhere in the deepest parts of him.

“I guess I do. I guess I just want to hear you say it.”

He threads his fingers through her hair, pulls the side back and tucks it behind her ear. “But what would it change? If I said it? What would it change?”

“Everything. Nothing. I don't know.” She shrugs again and the strands fall back into place across her face.

“Yes, you do. You love him. Hell, even I kinda tolerate him enough to not want to do this to him. Which, also, your fault by the way...”

She grins at him, a sly mix of sadness and regret. And he thinks he can probably live with that for now.

“You should go before he gets back. Or at least go into his room.”

“He's not stupid, Damon. You said yourself that you heard the arguments...”

“I know he's not stupid. Not most of the time anyway. But you love him and the least we can do is not rub in his face the fact that you love me, too...”

“Oh!”

She stands then. Hands on her hips for a fleeting second before snatching at a cushion and hefting it playfully at his head.

“Oh, really? I do, do I?”

“Well, maybe not yet... but you will eventually. It's inevitable really...”





- - -





She turns toward the stairs, makes her way up the first two before swinging back in his direction suddenly. “Damon?”

“Mmmm?”

“I want you to know, I really am- I really am sorry. And I really was terrified something bad was going to happen to you, or that you were going to hurt yours-”

“Elena, It's fine.”

“No. No, it's not. I was selfish. And I let them use your feelings for me against you and-”

“Elena, seriously. It's fine. It wasn't fine. At the time it was so, incredibly far from fine... but it's over now and I understand why you did it and seriously, it's fine.”

He figures if he says the words often enough they might just start to resonate within him as something somewhere near to the truth.
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