The smell of blood was intoxicating, but he was in a hospital. He could hear blood being taken. He could hear the beep…beep..beep..of the machines that detected the patient's heartbeat pattern. It was all very consuming, and if it wasn't for her, he would have been very much overwhelmed by the scents and sounds of vulnerable prey.
But it was her. It was Elena. He needed to find her. He needed to protect her, to take her in his arms. Each and every room he searched came up short without the brunette beauty until finally, he saw her. His pace quickened as he entered the room, approaching the bed and looking down on her. She looked as if she was sleeping peacefully. Her face was at ease, her breathing soft and steady. Beautiful. But now something else caught his sight: tubes. Needles. Connected to her body. With a rough shove he began disconnecting them from her, determined to let nothing harm her any more. It seems as though he pushes a little too hard, for she stirs and tilts her head toward him.
She was drifting away in the bed, barely between the real world and the dream world when she felt someone brush against her wrist. Slowly, she turned toward this person, her eyelids fluttering open. He was studying the tube that was stealing her precious blood away from her. She had remembered it from only moments ago with the nurse. This person was someone she knew. This person was someone she trusted. This person was rescuing her.
She swallows thickly, watching him. And then, at last, she whispers, "Damon." It is not a question, and if it is, it isn't meant to be. It was intended to get his attention. To get him to look at her. To take her away from here. Away from the needles and blood and nurses.
Damon meets her eyes and his expression turns genuine. "Hey." he whispers softly to her. He throws the thin, hospital blanket off of her and begins to scoop her into his arms. She reaches for him, knowing that he is where home is. He is home. Wrapping an arm around his neck, she lets him bring her limp body into his arms and carry her. She is cradled against his chest; a warm place that smells heavenly. She is awfully tired..
He can not think of anything except the brunette angel in his arms. The way she curls against him now quite startles him at first, but he thinks nothing of it other than she just can't wait to get the hell out of there. He has carried her numerous times before, and she feels the same as she did those times, too. She still looks the same, despite being bruised and drained of blood. Still looks beautiful. He is protective of her, feeling as though if anybody came too close he would snap their neck. Nobody does come close to them, in fact he takes her all the way back to the boarding house in his arms. The whole way there she was battling sleep, determined to keep herself awake. She is enclosed in strong chest and arms that feel invincible. Maybe there are. Maybe Damon is invincible. The air on her face feels cool and refreshing. Her wrists ache.
She is aware, eventually, that she is being set down in a leather chair yet she is unaware that it kills him to release her.
Reality of her night comes back to her slowly, and suddenly it is not just sleep trying to overpower her but tears as well. Her chest is about to explode with sobs, but she needs to remain strong. She looks at Damon as she wraps a blanket around her and then stares forward as he moves to pour himself a drink.
"Here's some bourbon," he says at last. The most they've said to each other besides 'Damon' and 'Hey'. Oh, so the drink was for her? She takes it despite never being one for bourbon and not remembering what it even tastes like. He sits across from her, handing her the glass. "It'll help you forget." Forget? Can she really forget what had happened? To Stefan? To what he has become? Could bourbon really do that? Part of her mind wonders if that is why Damon drinks it so much. Does it help him forget?
It spills down her throat; burning. She reacts to it silently. His face is twisted in confusion and pain. "Yeah…it's…strong." She tucks a lock behind her eye, unsure of what to do or say. "You know I could help you forget too." He suggests lightly. Her eyes flicker up at him, stunned. His brow folds. "At least the memories you don't want to keep."
"No." The answer is quick. "No compulsion." It's almost a beg, a plead, and she has to remind herself that Damon would never use it on her without her permission like that. There is no need to beg.
His face doesn't change. He was expecting that answer.
"I need to remember….all of it." she insists. Yes, she must remember. She can't lie to herself. She can't deny what is right in front of her. He looks away from her now, at something in his hands. She doesn't get to glimpse at it before it is already dangling in front of her face. Now she stares at it, the very image of it a blow straight to her heart. Her necklace.
"Stole it back for ya." He says, eyeing the object up himself. Her eyes meet his face.
And then she breaks.
"He's really gone this time." His face twitches, his eyes not meeting hers. "I watched it happen. After everything that we went through to get..to help him. Now he's just.." She almost smiles, a bleak smile that is not out of happiness but disbelief. "Gone." Her voice cracks. Damon sees it in her eyes. Hears it in her voice. Her heart is breaking right in front of him, loud and clear. He looks down at the necklace and then back to her face. She wasn't going to take it, that was obvious. Catching her eye again, he shows her that he's placing it on the table next to them. He takes a deep breath, folding his hands in his lap and watching her. He's unsure what to tell her. What to say.
She looks down, face twisted in pain. And then, she releases. Tears swell in her eyes and she cries, "Where were you, Damon?" It is pitiful to hear those words flow off of her tongue.
He realizes what he's done. He's left her. He's left her with Klaus. With his douchebag brother Stefan. He left her all alone to face them. He feels as if he's crying himself, but he knows he's not. The only thing on his face is shame. And guilt. He holds her gaze. "I shouldn't of left."
Her face is disapproving and now she looks at her hands to stop from looking at him. He was right - he shouldn't of left. Why did he even leave?
He reaches forward and puts a hand on her thigh. He feels the tension between them, but breaks it with that simple touch. He feels her warmth and assures her, "I promise you. I will never leave you again." His words come out slow and dragging but it is enough to get the picture across.
She stares into his eyes, seeing honesty and emotion there. When did Damon become so…so…vulnerable? Her lip quivers and she nods, achknowledging his promise. He stares into her eyes and nods, knowing that she trusts him. This is trust between them. This is friendship.
She places a hand down over his, holding it there. The expression on her face is wonder and love, for the man in front of her has put everything on hold simply to protect her. He watches her face and says softly, "I'm sorry, Elena."
That apology is enough for her. She grasps his hand and pulls him, bringing him near her to sit. He obligues, scooting against her. He is unsure what she is trying to do, but then understands at once. She shifts her body sideways and wraps an arm around the front of his neck. She leans her head onto his shoulder and cries. The tears flow out of her, she is unable to stop them from staining his shirt. He rests his head on hers and lets her cry, because there is nothing else that needs to be said or done for now.
She whispers hoarsely, "Thank you." Before he could say 'You're welcome.', she continues. "Thank you for taking me home. For getting me out of the hospital. They were taking my blood."
"Klaus was taking your blood," he corrected her lightly. "You're welcome."
She fiddles with the collar on his shirt, just twirling it in her hand absentmindedly. They sit in silence, the sound of the fireplace crackling being the only sound in the room other then Damon's soft breathing and Elena's ragged breath from crying.
"You can cry if you have to. Don't try to be ..strong, for me. I can take it." he whispers.
She shakes her head, still leaning her cheek onto his warm shoulder. "Crying is….useless." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
"Are you tired? " he asks.
"Yes." He begins to move but she stops him by clutching him tightly. "Don't."
He doesn't say anything, only sits back into place and lets her rest on his shoulder.