Holy Crap. I actually wrote something! I guess all it takes is a little angst to get my creative gears cranking again. The little cliff-hanger at the end of 6x01 has left me excited... for so many reasons, but I'll spare you my ramblings and instead keep this short and sweet. This picks up right where Elena and Ric's conversation left off and in my excitement, I'm too eager to hold off posting. So please excuse any errors since I've only read through this once.

Hope you like it!


"I want you to compel me to forget that I ever loved him."

The request passes her lips, sharp cracks of words that can potentially change everything.

Alaric says nothing in return, just narrows his eyes. He's waiting for her to shake her head and take it back, suddenly realizing the absurdity of what she's just asked him. And yes, maybe it's impulsive, but she just can't feel like this anymore.

"I mean it," she assures him.

He sighs this time, something long and dramatic. There's contemplation in his eyes that have her holding in an unnecessary breath. Then he answers, "No."

It firm and final, that's clear, and inside she feels something hot bubbling inside of her and she lifts to her feet. Rage maybe.

"It's not a request, Ric. I need you to do this."

He begins to stand up, but thinks better of it. With a quick rake of his fingers through his hair, he lifts his eyes to her and questions, "Why?"

How does she tell him that she doesn't see a future for herself anymore? That the level of grief is just too damn much this time. She wants to think it's because everything she is has somehow become tangled, twisted so tight that there's no room for growth left in her. But the real fact is that all of who she is has been severed now. With Damon's passing, there's simply nothing left of her to grow. Just scattered, hacked pieces.

If she can forget how complete she felt with Damon, maybe she'll have the potential of finding it again instead of drowning it's in memory.

"Because I need air again, Ric. I need life and hope. Anything but the despair. It's all I feel now." She's saturated.

He looks down at his fingers, which are currently sewn together and resting on his lap in a tightly clenched fist. She wonders if he's wishing he had a glass of whiskey to toss back and make this conversation easier to swallow.

"I'm not good at this shit, Elena," he finally replies.

Her head cocks to the side as she asks, "Not good at what?

"Talking," he sighs, as if the very word is difficult for him. "Heart to hearts."

Sensing her opening, she sweeps her arms through the air and insists, "Then let's bypass it. We don't need to talk about anything. I just need to forget and you're the only one that can help me do that."

His eyes narrow again at her outburst, followed by another stretch of silence. It swirls around the room.

Then he demands, "Sit."

She obliges, not only because even after his passing and miraculous reappearance in her life he still holds her sole parental figure position, but also because she needs him at the moment. She'll gladly follow any order given if it means she can live her life again.

"I need you to understand something," he insists, shifting his eyes onto hers so she can feel the gravity of his next statement. "You are so much stronger than you're giving yourself credit for."

"No, I'm not. I wish I was, but I'm just not," she claims, swinging her head slowly from side to side. There's a portion of her, a small one, that remembers the strength he's speaking of, but it's been swept away by the waves of despair constantly swelling inside of her. There's simply no strength left. "I was content in this life because Damon taught me to be. Everything I am now, everything I've learned about controlling and mastering my life is due to him."

"Fine. Maybe that's true, maybe it's not," he says, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling of her dorm room. "But if you erase him, you'll erase that control you've gained. Every lesson he gave you. Every morsel of knowledge will be washed away with his memory."

"So what?" she asks, finding it absurd that this is what he's decided to focus on. She doesn't care about control; she cares about regaining her hope again. Besides, there's the obvious fact that she's not handling herself too well at the moment. "Do I seem to have any control left now? I snack on pedestrians and I can't maintain a level emotional balance without a drug induced state of mind. Solely to see the only one who balances everything out again."

Even now, Damon is the only one that gets her through her days.

"So you just want to revert back to square one?" he asks, frustration laced through his voice. "Do you even remember where you were then? Because I do." His voice softens a little as he continues, "I watched you, mourned for you as you mourned Jeremy's death, mourned the death of your old life. But you made it out, Elena."

The memories spike swiftly in her mind, sweeping a fresh wave of ache through her limbs. But then she remembers they're just that – memories. Ones she's overcome because of one important person.

"I had Damon."

Who was supposed to help her mourn him?

"And this time you have me, Caroline, Matt, Tyler, Stefan, your brother – take your pick," he supplies, answering her internal question. "You understand grief and you know how to get through it."

But this time is different. She can't put it into cohesive thoughts to explain, but she feels it in the marrow of her bones. Maybe it has something to do with the level she and Damon understood each other. There's no matching that. No one to pinpoint exactly the right time for a five minute time out or witty one liner to break the overwhelming constant of agony.

Damon dying is different.

She had a future before, an occasional ray of light peeking through her darkened haze of supernatural reality. She doesn't see that flare this time. Just an endless expanse of black, created by a deep cavern she's plummeted into.

Frustrated, she inches towards Ric and pleas, "Why can't you just do this for me?"

"Would he even want me to?"

At the mention of Damon, she ignites with anger. "Who cares what he wants? He's not here to fight that battle," she screams, suddenly feeling the rage towards Damon she's felt since he promised her he'd return and instead saved everyone but himself and her best friend. She gets being a martyr, understands the absolutely necessity to save others over yourself, but he gave her up in the process. And she wants to hate him for it, but she can't. All she feels is emptiness. Just a hollow hole where everything that mattered to her once used to reside. Where he used to reside.

The first tear leaks from the corner of her eye, wet and sticky as it trails down her cheek and onto her chin. She's so tired of crying. So tired of pretending the pain isn't churning inside of her. She just wants it to go away. Is that so much to ask?

Ric's lips tighten in remorse. "I can't do it. I'm sorry." When her face contorts into something wicked and she begins to lift herself from her seat, he grabs onto her arm, pulling her down onto the mattress. "And I need you to understand why."

She doesn't say anything, just feels the heat of her tears leaking down her face. Her previous motions have her hair pressed into its trails against her skin, but she doesn't care. She's got nothing left in her to care.

"Erasing Damon would be like erasing of part of who you are. You'll lose that. Who you've become, more than your control, but the very foundations of yourself." Her head starts to slash through the air in opposition when he interjects, "You can shake your head back and forth as much as you want, but it's true. You loved him. And if I take that away, you'll still have that darkness inside of you. You won't know why it's there, but it won't erase its existence."

He maintains eye contact, a direct line to get his point across. "How is that any better then what you're feeling now?"

She grasps what he's saying. She's admitted it countless times. Damon's a part of her, a large part. The exact moment she fell in love with him, she's unsure; the moment is twined with the countless instances she insisted she wasn't. It's something she's always regretted and something that makes what she's asking Ric to do that much more monumental.

She doesn't even know how far back he'd have to erase.

But that doesn't matter. Losing chunks of herself doesn't matter. What matters is erasing him, erasing the content and the hope and the savored moments she can never reclaim. The ones that are consistently slashing at any potential of happiness.

"I can't see a solution that's worse than what I am right now, Ric," she says before dropping her gaze to the floor. Anything would be better than this.

His fingers grip around her wrist, urging her back up to the conversation. "That's where you're wrong. Losing who you are is worse. Losing Damon completely is worse. If I strip him from every meaningful memory you've shared, what will be left of you?"

It's a valid question. She wishes she had the answer.

"I don't know. The person I once was?" She's not even sure who that is anymore.

He smiles, a tiny little upward twist of his lips. "What if I like who you are now? The strong, compassionate, vampire you are now."

It's easy to see he believes what he's saying and a part of her wants to believe him too. Then she's slammed with the notion that's been pulling her under since Damon's disappearance. "I only wanted this life if it meant I could spend eternity with him."

How was she supposed to be content living the life he'd helped her accept without him? What did that say about her? Was it even possible?

"And I only wanted a world where I spent it with Jenna," he says, quiet and reflective. "But we all lose those we love. You know that more than anyone else. It's their memories that keep us going."

He has her full attention now, a mutual understanding is something she's never been able to deny. Not for long.

"So no, Elena, I won't take those from you. I'm sorry," he declares in earnest. "He wouldn't want me to and deep down past your pain, neither do you."

She can disagree again, but it won't make a difference and besides, he's correct. Pain is an unbearable weight to bare, but the concept of losing Damon and what he means to her feels excruciatingly heavy. Perhaps she can endure moving forward eventually, but cutting all memories suddenly feels unfathomable. She can potentially live in a world, just not one without Damon. And that's exactly what she'd be creating for herself.

With her previous tears drying on her cheeks, she pushes her hair behind her ears and asks the most important question. "How do I live again, Ric?"

"One day at a time."

She rolls her eyes and chides, "You know what I meant."

A puff of air flies from his mouth, almost a laugh, but falling just shy of the mark. "And so do you. You store the pain away, remember what they gave you and help it live the life you want. The one they'd want you to live."

Memories flash across one by one, every touch, every moment she's felt empowered by Damon's words or actions, every flicker of incomprehensible happiness. That's all they'll ever be now - memories. "That's easier said than done."

"Words are always easier than actions," he agrees.

She bites the inside of her lip and admits, "I'm not sure I'm ready to let go."

"You're not, you're just moving on," he corrects, before adding, "It's not a lie and I meant what I said, you're strong. You just need to remember that you are." With that he gives her forearm a reassuring squeeze that signifies the end of their conversation before he lifts from her bed. Making his way towards the door, he gazes over at her and says, "Damon wasn't the one that taught you that. You learned it all on your own."

A single lost fragment of herself clicks back into place as he leaves her to settle her own thoughts, confident that she can. He'll be there to lean on when she needs him, as well as everyone else he mentioned, of that she's certain. There are drugs in her purse she can take to see Damon and although her fingers are itching to reach for the herbs, she resists. Damon will always be a part of her, she can't nor does she want to take that away. It's something she'll forever cherish. She doesn't need drugs for that.

Now she wants to live again instead of drown in her own head.

The reassuring words you're capable whisper in the otherwise empty room. Whether they're hers or Damon's, she's not sure.

But she believes them.


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