"When you start to live outside youself, it's all dangerous." -Ernest Hemingway, The Garden of Eden

gradually, then suddenly

"Stop staring at me."

Damon's mumbled words jolted me out my thoughts, and I blinked, momentarily confused at them. "Huh?"

Without looking away from the ceiling he was staring at from his laid back position on the cot, he remarked, "I know I'm the prettiest thing to look at in this place, but seriously Elena, you're giving me a headache with all your brooding thoughts directed towards me."

Barely acknowledging the latter half of his observation, I scoffed and rested my head back down on the pillow that he had shoved through the bars silently hours earlier. Against my will, I felt a slight blush cover my cheeks at the truth of his words. Blushing as a vampire was an odd thing; instead of feeling your face getting hot, you sort of got the feeling like you had just been doused with something, like a raw egg had been thrown on your face, except on the inside. I buried my face deeper into the moth ball-smelling pillow and hoped Damon was too interested at the cracked ceiling to look over at me.

Truthfully, he was the prettiest thing to look at. He always was. Although we had been stuck in this place for what had probably been more than a day, with little to no blood, he still looked so perfectly imperfect that it wasn't fair. His hair fell in his face, the ends curling slightly, probably from the lack of shower and the day's heat that seemed to somehow penetrate the cement walls and enter the room. His arms were behind his head carelessly, as if there was nothing to worry about. There was stubble gracing his face, something I had never seen on him because he was always so well groomed. Why did he have to look so pretty? I knew my hair was matted and tangled, something I hated and almost never let happen. My lips were cracked and dry, my skin pale. It wasn't fair.

"I'm not brooding. You're brooding." I corrected, distracting myself from the thoughts that always seemed to plague my mind whenever I was within twenty feet of Damon. Feelings didn't mix well with the physical attraction I had felt for him since day one, I knew that before they were there and I knew it more than ever now. Yes, Stefan was handsome. His smoky green eyes and crooked, boyish smile was probably what had done me in that first day of junior year. When I fell in love with him, I thought him even more handsome and perfect, that first year we were together, the need to kiss him never quite went away. But Damon was something otherworldly. Even when I thought him a monster and didn't trust him, my eyes would inevitably be drawn down to his lips and my traitor mind would wonder what they would feel like on mine. But now, with these… feelings I had for him, I found myself memorizing the exact length of his eyelashes of the slope of his nose or the tousle of his hair. Damon was infuriating; but what was more infuriating was how my thoughts always betrayed me every time I looked at him.

Damon huffed, oblivious to my thoughts. "Well, maybe. All that's missing is a bottle of alcohol." He sighed longingly, still not sparing me a glance as he closed his eyes, probably imagining his huge collection of bourbon at home.

The heat sweltered on my skin, and for a moment I wondered if the sun was in the room and I was without my daylight ring. Were vampires supposed to get this hot? I sat up and began to peel the long sleeved shirt I had on over a tank top off, the grace that I had gained as a vampire getting lost and I struggled with it over my head. Finally, I managed to pull it off and while I dropped it on the floor, I felt eyes boring into me. Oh, so now he decides to look at me? Turning towards him, I glared as his eyes wandered down my bare arms and slightly exposed midriff. I pulled it down self-consciously, "What?" I snapped.

"Nothing." He smiled, and looked back up. "But you might not want to undress anymore than that, I think we're being watched." He nodded towards the back corner of the cell, right by the door. There, sat a small black oval attached to the ceiling. I could just make out the silhouette of a small camera behind it, watching us through the screen.

"There's a camera?" I asked, squinting my eyes to look at it better. Then I snapped my head towards him accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

He shrugged, still not looking away from the ceiling. "Didn't think it was important."

I sighed and looked back at the camera, "Why would he be watching us?" I asked out loud, resting my head wearily against the wall as more confusion coursed through me.

"Because he's psycho. This guy could put Norman Bates to shame." Damon replied bluntly, and rolled his head to look at me. "And maybe he is hoping to catch you undressed."

I ignored his comment and crossed my arms, thinking that maybe Damon was right because not of this made any sense.


"Elena, wake up."

My dreamless, blissful state was torn away when I became aware of a hand jostling my shoulder. I opened my eyes to meet a pair a blue ones, gazing down at me softly. I smiled at him, mind still stuck somewhere in the sleep state I so desperately clung to.

"He's coming." Damon said, and all too soon the situation I was in washed over me. I shot up and pressed myself against the bars, grabbing Damon's hand before he could retreat it back. The pair of heavy boots that had sounded down the hallway outside stopped in front of our door and finally, we saw Connor's face peering down at us.

"Hello." He greeted, like this was a meet for lunch between acquaintances and we were not being held hostage in a barred room, starved. "Sorry it's taken awhile for me to get down here, but I've been busy."

I clutched my fingers around Damon's tighter, forcing away the impulse to slam against the door until it broke down and run away. The idea wasn't bad… but unfortunately the door looked all but indestructible and would probably break my ribcage if I slammed into it. And then there was Damon, on the opposite side of it and I didn't have a key to open the gate.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here. It's quite simply, really. The others will come for you, and when they arrive, I'll burn the place down, with all of you in it." He said bluntly. There was no diabolical laugh, no twirling of an invisible mustache, not even an arrogant smirk that I had gotten so used to seeing adorn Klaus's face whenever he knew he would win. His face was a blank slate, his coffee black eyes looking through us and simultaneously at us. A shiver ran down my spine, and I felt Damon's thumb caress my knuckles softly.

"Sorry about the bars, by the way. But I figured if a chance comes for you to escape, Elena, you wouldn't be able to go without getting him out too. And seeing as only I have the key, that would be impossible."

He finished the last sentence by shoving a blood bag through the door, followed closely by a second one. "Why are you feeding us? Why not starve us?" I asked as they fell to the floor, not tearing my eyes away from them.

"That would be cruel, Elena. Believe what you may, but I am not a cruel person." He said, like it was supposed to make perfect sense. Damon scoffed from through the bars.

"Yea, not cruel. Just a crazy, psychotic religious freak." Damon started, eyeing the cross pendulant Connor wore around his neck. "Tell me. If vampires are such an abomination, then why did God create us in the first place?"

Connor turned his eyes towards Damon, looking at him as if noticing he was there for the first time. "God didn't create you. It was a mistake that a witch made ages ago, a mistake that millions of people have paid the price. God has sent me to correct that mistake."

The absolute certainty behind Connor's words sent off warning bells in my head, and a cold, creeping shiver ran through me, like being doused by a bucket of icy water. I turned to exchange a look with Damon, and could see clearly in his pale eyes that his thought process was about the same.

We were both at lost for what to say, and Connor took that chance to turn on his heel. "Oh, and by the way, if your friends don't come in exactly 32 hours, then I'll kill one of you."

With that, he walked away, boots stomping eerily in the silence.

"What a fucking lunatic." Damon started immediately as I stood up to retrieve the blood bags. "Even Klaus wasn't that crazy, and that guy could be fucking insane sometimes."

"He actually believes that, Damon. He believes that it's his job or something. How could he think that?" I asked him as I shoved one of the bags through the bars and set mine down, too distracted to even care about blood at the moment.

He shook his head. Damon was, for once, at lost for words.


"What if they don't come?" I asked, interrupting the loaded silence that had eventually fallen between Damon and me after we had both drunk the blood. Damon had abandoned the cot and had taken to sit as close as he could get to me through the bars, while I leaned against them, imagining that it was his shoulder I was touching instead of the cold, rusted metal.

He rolled his eyes towards me, staring at me doubtfully. "They'll come, Elena. Why wouldn't they?" he asked, his tone conveying that he might be asking himself the question instead of me.

I sigh. "Well, of course they would come. But what if they don't know where we are? What if that's exactly what Connor wants; for them not to find us so he has the excuse to kill one of us?" I ask, the questions flowing out faster than I can blink.

Damon sighs back at me, betraying a hint of annoyance. "Maybe, Elena. How am I supposed to know?"

The words bubble forth before I can stop them. "Because you know everything."

His annoyance quickly turns to a smirk as he looks at me knowingly. "Hah. I knew it. You think I'm a genius." It wasn't a question. He squinted his eyes at me teasingly, "You know I'm always right."

I made a face at him and he grinned, dimples popping up on his cheeks and vintage blue eyes sparkling. Then his expression turned serious. "I don't know, Elena. Maybe he's just bluffing."

"But why would he bluff?" I asked back, unabashedly. I felt like the annoying ten year old who never stopped asking 'Why?' to every answer that someone shot their way, but I couldn't help it. The worry of Stefan not finding us was weighing on my mind and the fear that if they didn't show up, Connor would kill me. Or Damon. The thought alone was enough to send my thoughts into hysterics.

Damon didn't reply to the question. He looked at me straight, eyes locking onto mine seriously. Blue on brown, the most perfect combination of colors. "Stefan will come. You've never dropped faith in him before, so don't start now."

I wanted to trust him so badly. But the very very tiny, barely there twinge of uncertainty in his eyes and voice wormed its way into my chest. If Damon was unsure about something, then it must be impossible.


A/N: Whoa. That chapter seriously flowed right out, something that hasn't happened to me in a very long time.

So I think there will be four chapters all together. Possibly three if I can somehow fit all that's left in the next chapter stylishly, without it looking rushed. Probably not, though.

And of course, THANK YOU for all the story alerts and favorites stories I got. They blew me away, seriously. And even more to the people who reviewed, you guys are amazing. So keep it up and maybe I'll write just a bit more faster! :)