Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries. Obviously.
Author's Note: I never thought I'd write a Damon/Katherine fic, but this scene came to me and wouldn't leave me alone. It's kind of sad when it's easier to imagine Katherine coming to terms with her feelings for Damon in the face of his death than it is to imagine Elena doing the same, but that's where I'm at right now.
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Alaric hurried through the Salvatore house in response to a loud knock at the door. He was the only one in the house apart from a dying, werewolf-bitten vampire, and he had no idea who could be at the (unlocked) front door. Anyone they knew would just walk right in.
He swung the door open cautiously to find Elena standing there, wearing jeans, Converse sneakers and a leather jacket to shield against the cold night. She swept her long, straight hair out of her face as a gust of wind caught it.
"How is he?" she asked, the hint of nervousness in her voice giving away why she hadn't entered the house she legally owned.
"He's deep in the dementia stage," Alaric told her. "Stefan put him in the basement before he left, though, so it's safe for you to come in."
"Thanks," she said gratefully, stepping over the threshold.
She headed for the door that led down to the basement, and Alaric dashed after her, alarmed. "You shouldn't go down there by yourself," he told her, grabbing her arm to stop her.
She threw him halfway across the room and he landed with a dull thud, pain slamming through him as he struggled to right himself. The smile she gave him sent chills down to his bones. "Thanks, Ric, but I think I can handle it," Katherine drawled, amused.
"How the hell did you get out?" he asked his unwanted, hopefully now former, houseguest, as he got to his feet and followed her down to the basement.
Her lips curved in a devilish smile. "There are always loopholes with compulsion, so I've been told," she said. "Klaus told me that I couldn't go out the door of your apartment until he told me to. He never said anything about me smashing the window and jumping out."
Alaric winced. The damage to that place was already insane. "Great," he muttered. "Just add it to the growing pile of reasons my landlord is going to kill me."
"You might need a new chair too. I kinda broke it while smashing the window in," she added, smirking. She stepped past him and went to the door of the cell, staring through the barred window to get her first glimpse of Damon since he'd left on his insane mission to try to stop Klaus killing Jenna.
He was lying on the dirt floor, his eyes closed, apparently either asleep or unconscious. His leather jacket covered his wound, but his pale, sweaty face gave away his illness.
"Where's Stefan?" she asked. She wanted to ask about Elena too, but she wasn't going to acknowledge her doppelganger's place in the lives of the Salvatore brothers if she didn't have to. Katherine hated competition.
"He's looking for a cure. But he and Elena got caught up in all the chaos in town. Sheriff Forbes knows everything now and she's making her move," he told her, frustrated at the Sheriff's terrible timing.
Katherine brushed off his answer, not caring in the slightest. "We need to get him upstairs," she announced.
Alaric looked at her like he was going to protest, but quickly realised that arguing with a 500-year-old vampire who is partially immune to vervain is a really stupid idea.
He unlocked the door and Katherine stepped inside, going to Damon's side to pick him up.
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With Damon now settled in his large bed, Katherine tucked the covers in around him, wanting to keep him warm after the cold, damp basement. Alaric hung around awkwardly, not wanting to leave her alone with him, but battling every base instinct that was screaming at him to get the hell out of there.
Katherine disappeared to the bathroom and came back a moment later with a damp washcloth, which she used to gently wipe the sweat from Damon's face. Alaric watched, deeply confused by all of this.
"Why are you here?" he asked her, shaking his head slightly.
"Because I want to be," was her tart reply.
"You're free, and you've proven over and over again that you don't give a damn about him, and yet here you are, playing nursemaid?" he said, lifting an eyebrow.
She turned to him with a cold look on her face. "I would shut up right now if I were you," she hissed, and Alaric obeyed, getting that queasy feeling that he was way out of his depth here.
Katherine turned back to Damon and Alaric settled into a chair, fingering the stake in his pocket for reassurance.
######
It wasn't long before Damon began thrashing around and mumbling in his sleep. Katherine was at his side instantly, holding him and murmuring soothing words.
His long dark eyelashes fluttered open, revealing a hint of blue as he weakly muttered, "Elena?"
Alaric saw Katherine stiffen for a moment before she accepted her new role. "Yes, I'm here. Go back to sleep," she told him. But his face contorted in pain and he groaned and panted harshly as she rubbed gentle circles on his back, helping him ride it out.
The pain attack lasted for several brutal minutes before he finally lost consciousness again.
She stayed with him, holding him as he slept in her arms, his chest rising and falling gently in an even rhythm.
Alaric stared.
"You don't love him," he stated boldly. "You never did."
She glared at him; her eyes shining with what Alaric would have said were tears if he didn't know her better.
"When you're on the run from someone like Klaus, you can't afford to love," she snapped.
"And Damon is the worst possible person I could have fallen in love with," she continued angrily. "He's stupid and impulsive and has no sense of self-preservation. Always playing the hero. I can just imagine what he would have done if he'd known about Klaus," she raged.
She closed her eyes and breathed out in frustration before glaring at him again. "So you see," her voice came unsteadily, "I couldn't love him."
She turned back to Damon and stroked his hair gently. "I couldn't," she whispered.
She kept her focus on Damon and avoided Alaric's eyes. He, on the other hand, found himself completely dumbstruck.
######
Damon got steadily worse as the hours passed. He drifted in and out of consciousness, and when he was conscious it was obvious that his mind was rapidly deteriorating. He sometimes knew who they were, but more often he didn't. He mixed up Katherine and Elena and swung wildly between 1864 and 2011. Alaric knew the end was close, and he'd given up hope of Stefan finding something in time. He'd left a voicemail for the younger Salvatore urging him to just come home and be with his brother before he died.
Because there was no question that Damon was very, very close to death now. He was so weak that he barely moved even during the worst fits of pain. He was unable to swallow even the smallest offering of blood from Katherine, and his features had taken on a sunken, skeletal appearance to match his grey complexion.
"Elena," he muttered, looking up at Katherine. "Elena, I'm so sorry," he murmured weakly. Katherine stroked his hair and whispered that he had nothing to be sorry for. "Yes, I do," Damon insisted. "I need to tell you," he pressed.
"Shhh..." she murmured softly.
"Don't…. want you….. to hate me," he continued, struggling for every word, but determined to get his message across.
"I don't hate you, Damon," she insisted, figuring he must be lost in the dementia. She didn't know of any reason Damon would think that Elena hated him.
"The blood….I was wrong," he choked out, a tear leaking from one eye and rolling down his cheek.
"Shhh…" she told him again. "Save your strength," she urged.
"Can't die….with you….hating me," he whimpered miserably. Katherine was at a loss as she stared into his blue eyes, which were more alert than they'd been for hours.
"Forgive him," whispered Alaric softly, hoping Damon was too far gone to hear him, but knowing that Katherine would.
"I forgive you," she told him, gazing into his eyes, hoping that he would believe her. He let out a shuddering breath.
"You do?" he asked, a last little bit of hope shining on his face.
"Yes. I know you were just trying to protect me. Like you always do," she told him, choking on the words and hoping like hell she was getting this right. Every stupid thing Damon ever did was for that reason, so she stood a good chance of being correct.
"I'm going to miss you," she added painfully, tears running freely down her face now, not bothering to try to hide them from Alaric.
"I love you," he got out, his voice rough as sandpaper as his eyes closed and his breathing stilled.
Katherine sobbed as she heard his heart stop and the prominent veins appeared all over his exposed skin.
######
Stefan and Elena burst through the doorway a few minutes later.
"You're too late," Katherine informed them, still cradling Damon's body in her arms. She gave him to a devastated Stefan, and turned to watch her doppelganger with unfriendly eyes, wanting to rip the girl's throat out right now. She was stopped only by the thought of the man who was now lying in his brother's arms. She stood in Elena's way, blocking her route to the bed.
"Why are you dressed like me?" the human girl asked her, eyes narrowed.
"Because I've been pretending to be you," Katherine told her casually, belying her real anger.
"You had no right," Elena snapped, getting angry herself now.
Katherine tilted her head defiantly. "All he wanted was for you to forgive him," she told the girl who wore her face. "So I held him and lied to him and made him believe you gave a damn so that when he passed he was at peace," she finished.
"I do care about him!" Elena exploded. "He would have wanted those last moments to be real, not a bunch of lies."
"He was half out of his mind and dying a slow, painful death. He didn't need the truth. He didn't need to spend his last moments begging for forgiveness for trying to save your pathetic little life," Katherine said, becoming aware that she was yelling now.
She tossed her straightened hair over her shoulder. "You should thank me," Katherine told her coldly, regaining her cool composure. "He died at peace and you didn't even have to get down from your moral high horse."
With that, she sauntered out, not looking back. It was a habit of 500 years, and it had gotten her through the worst moments in her life.
You can never look back, Katarina, she had told herself after finding her entire family slaughtered by Klaus. You just have to keep moving on.
And she did.