Bridging the Gap
Damon Salvatore's hands gripped the steering wheel with brutal force as he roared down the road toward his destination. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. His eyes were steely, his lips pressed into a thin line. The expression on his face was grim, forbidding. A little scary... or it would be, to a girl who had already been thoroughly traumatized tonight.
Get it together, he told himself. Calm down.
It took some effort to get his expression under control. His nerves were shot, and his mind was still trying to wrap itself around what his brother had done. The emotions swirling through him were muddled, confused, conflicting... a jumble of fury and fear and relief and dread. He knew that he wouldn't be able to completely calm down until he'd seen Elena with his own eyes, until he touched her, until he had incontrovertible proof that she was all right.
Damon had been breaking every traffic law on the books trying to get to her, but forced himself to slow down to cruising speed as he neared the Wickery Bridge. He didn't want the roaring engine to frighten Elena anymore than she'd already been frightened. The road was thick with fog, and Damon was already so on edge that he almost drove right past her. But he caught a glimpse of her, wreathed in mist, standing wraithlike on the roadside, and brought the car and his racing thoughts to a screeching halt.
He slammed on the brakes and left the car running, the headlights casting an eerie glow on the foggy stretch of lonesome road ahead. Elena stood there, tall and straight and very still. Her shoulders were tense beneath her jacket, her eyes blank with shock, her lips still faintly smeared with Stefan's blood. Damon was at her side in an instant, abandoning his own feelings in the car. All that mattered was her.
"Hi, Damon," Elena said in an oddly high-pitched voice. Her eyes seemed unfocused, taking a while to rest on him. She gave him a faint, uncertain smile that looked terrible beneath the blood on her lips. When he didn't smile back, her mouth collapsed back into a trembling line, and he realized that she was shivering.
"Elena," Damon said, his voice firm and level. He took her by the shoulders, pulled her a little closer. The strength in his tone and his touch wasn't for him. It was for her. "Are you all right?"
"Um..." she drew in a long, shaking breath. Her eyes fluttered around the deserted road. "I... I think so..." She finally looked at him again. Her warm brown eyes were haunted, brimming with tears and dark with despair. Every line of her body spoke of defeat and utter betrayal. Damon had thought she'd looked sad these past few months without Stefan, but that was only the ghost of what he was seeing in her now. She was not all right, and she would not be all right for a long, long time.
Gently, Damon touched Elena's cheek, turning her face, checking her as if for injuries. The night air is cool, but Elena's skin is flushed and feverishly hot. Damon took the sleeve of his jacket and wiped his brother's blood from Elena's lips.
The haunted expression had not left her eyes. He couldn't bear the sight of her shivering and trying to stand on her own, trying to be strong, to hide the depth of her hurt from him. Damon drew Elena gently into his arms, bridging the gap between them He wrapped his arms protectively, comfortingly, around her. She didn't hesitate. She hugged him back, leaned all her weight against him, buried her face in his jacket. Once she could not see his face, Damon finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief against her soft hair.
"It's okay, Elena," he said softly, stroking her back. "You're going to be okay."
But when?
He pushed that thought aside as they walked, hand in hand, to the car. It might take awhile, but as long as Damon Salvatore had anything to say about it, Elena Gilbert would be more than okay.