"Ergh," Damon groans as he starts to awaken the next morning. With his head throbbing like a jackhammer vibrating against his temples, Damon is next to certain that she drugged him. It's not just his head, his whole body is rebelling against his restraints. Trying to straighten himself up in the chair, he groans as his muscles jerk and spasm in response. Trying to shake himself out of his stupor, he looks around his basement prison. He sees only one tiny window but knows he'd never fit through it. He does know that he has to be in the Denver vicinity because he doesn't think he was unconscious all that long after she knocked him out cold. Throwing his head back, he grimaces when his neck muscles bite at him too. Raising himself up, he gazes intently at the staircase when he hears footsteps and the creaking sound of the stairs as she comes down them.
As soon as he sees her walking out of the darkness and into the little bit of sunlight that streams through the one window, he's almost mesmerized. Hearing the chair legs dragging along the concrete floor grabs Damon's attention. Dropping his head for a few seconds, he fixates on her red toenail polish. When she starts to speak, he slowly raises his aching head.
"How do you know who I am?" she asks, her hands clasped together in her lap.
Snorting, he can't stop the laugh that escapes from his mouth. "Oh honey, that's not how it works. I'll share if you'll share. Why am I here?"
"I wouldn't get too cocky if I were you, Mr. Salvatore," she cautions, reaching behind her to pull the revolver out of what he assumes was her back pocket. Although she's running her fingertips over the black metal, she doesn't take her eyes from his.
Darting his own back and forth from her face to the weapon and back to her eyes, he tries to tamper down his irritation a little bit. Despite her tiny frame, she does have firepower and Damon decides it's better to play nice and live to see another day than to provoke her unnecessarily. "Whatever you say, Elena," he says, licking his parched lips. "Can I at least have a drink of water?"
After staring at him for a few minutes, she stands up, slides the gun back into her pocket and then disappears up the stairs. Moments later she's back with a bottle of water and a banana. Walking behind him, she frees one of his arms so he can drink it. She peels the banana then hands it to him. Famished, Damon gobbles it down in seconds. "Will you open it?" he asks, using his head to nod at the bottle of water. "It's rather difficult to do one-handed." Picking it up, she twists the top and then hands it back to him. Before he takes a swallow, he looks at her again, "Is this one drugged too?"
"I didn't drug you, Mr. Salvatore."
"I don't believe you. I don't often wake up with the headache from hell."
"Perhaps it was from me smacking you on the back of the head."
"Perhaps it was," he mumbles, finally taking a drink.
"Now, why don't we chat a bit?" she says, sitting back down in the chair.
"Sure, what should we talk about?" he asks, running his tongue along his lower lip.
"All right, I'll start first.. You made a horrible mistake when you labeled my father's crash as pilot error."
"Your father?" Damon asks, knowing full well who he is.
"Captain Grayson Gilbert, Flight 1042... sound familiar?"
"Yes, Elena, I remember it well."
"My father was an excellent pilot. He was not to blame for the accident."
"Just because he was an excellent pilot doesn't mean he's incapable of making a mistake," Damon says firmly. "What exactly is it that you want from me?"
"And just because a "know it all investigator" thinks he has all the answers doesn't mean he's incapable of making a mistake either," she snaps back at him. Getting agitated, she gets up and starts pacing back and forth in the basement. "I want you to go over the evidence again. I know my father and how painstakingly careful he was. I know this accident wasn't his fault."
"You do realize that kidnapping is a federal offense don't you? You're risking going to jail for a very long time.. Why?"
"I have my reasons," she replies cryptically, raking her fingers through her long brown tresses.
"This is obviously very important to you.. why didn't you come to me when the investigation was still underway?"
"After the funerals, I was out of the country. By the time I got home, you had already made up your mind."
"Miss Gilbert, I assure you that I'm a professional and that my integrity is beyond reproach. I go over and over and over the evidence before I finalize my find..," he starts to say when a door slams upstairs. Stopping in her tracks, Elena grabs a rag and covers his mouth, tying it behind his head. Although he tries to keep his arm free, she quickly has him restrained again.
"You keep quiet or I may have to use this," she warns, pressing her hand against the weapon in her back pocket. Her rear end is mighty fine, he thinks, scolding himself when he realizes that he has no business thinking about her as anyway but his kidnapper. She gives him one more look before she runs up the stairs. Pulling the basement door shut, she walks into the kitchen where she finds her friend, Nick making himself at home.
"Hey Elena. I just came by to see if you wanted to go to see a Rockies games with me?"
"Not tonight, Nick. I have a bit of a migraine." Not lying, she starts to rub her temples. Walking over to the cupboard, she grabs a couple of Ibuprofen, pops them in her mouth and swallows them down.
"You do look a little pale," he adds, looking at her intently.
"I didn't sleep very well. But listen, I need to run over to check on my mom."
"Why don't I do that.. then you can rest your weary head," he says, giving her a wink. Her eyes drift to the basement door.
Knowing that she doesn't dare leave him alone, she turns to face her friend again. "Are you sure you don't mind?"
"Of course, I'll go now. I'll stop back later okay?"
"Sure, that would be great," she agrees, walking him to the front door. As soon as he drives away, she hurries back down stairs. His head is hanging, his chin on his chest. He finely looks up. Seeing how miserable he looks, she finds herself feeling bad for the state he's in. Walking over to him, she frees one of his hands again. "Look, I'm sure you're uncomfortable. I'd really like to untie you but I can't take that chance. I need you to reopen your investigation."
"Listen, Elena... I hope you don't mind if I call you that.. If you can give me something, anything that points to your dad's innocence, I'm willing to at least consider it."
"I don't have anything. All I know is that my father would never, ever do anything to put his passengers in any danger. He was steadfast in his attention to detail and safety. You have to believe me," she tells him firmly yet pleadingly. Deciding to chance it, she releases his arms. Disappearing momentarily, she pushes a recliner into the main area of the basement. Starting to untie him, she suddenly hears the door again. Panicking, she pulls her gun out, waving it at him and towards a little room. Nodding he goes inside. It's a little office with books on the shelves and a computer desk and there are windows. Once he's inside, she pulls the door shut, locking it behind her. Hiding the gun on one of the shelves, she hurries back upstairs, taken aback when she sees her mother and Nick waiting for her.
"What are you guys doing here?"
"Nick said you don't feel good so I thought we'd bring you something to eat. You do look a little pale, dear."
"I'm fine, momma. It's just a headache."
"What were you doing in the basement?"
"I just threw a load of laundry in."
"Alright then, let's eat," her mom says, holding up the carryout bags. Nick helps her to the table. Elena and Nick take a seat too. Helping herself, she starts to eat and using all of the acting skills she can muster, she tries to play down her anxiety.
Although Damon knows he could and should try to escape, he's too intrigued. If she's willing to go to these lengths to clear her father's name, she must know something. And he has to admit that he's impressed with her cojones, she has more than a lot of guys he knows. Looking through the books, he sees the author's name, "Katerina Petrova." He knows she's one of Caroline's favorite authors. He thinks she has every one of the woman's rather embarrassing love stories. According to Caroline, she mostly writes historical fiction with her focus on the romance of the lead characters. Damon has to admit, he was a little intrigued with the one about the Culper Spy Ring. Pulling one off the shelf, he opens the cover, only to find her face staring back at him.
Elena Gilbert is Katerina Petrova, Damon thinks to himself and suddenly a whole new feeling of fear begins to burn and heat every cell in his body. The woman is obviously deranged, maybe working on a plot for her next story. Hell, he was even beginning to feel a little sympathetic to her plight but now... Shaking his head, he contemplates her and her motives. If she's willing to open herself up to a long stretch in a federal penitentiary, she must be insane. What the hell did you get yourself into now, Damon? She's a second rate scribbler who seems to enjoy waving the gun at him. If he gets out of here in one piece, he'll consider himself lucky. Because his ankles are still chained, he had to shuffle over to the desk chair. Dazed and confused, he plops himself down. Staring into nothingness, he drops his face into his hands.
Splitting his fingers, he drops his eyes. Laying right in front of him on the desktop is a file with Grayson Gilbert's name on it. Pausing for a moment, he listens for something, anything that would warn of her return. Hearing nothing, he pulls it in front of him and opens it up. Recognizing the NTSB heading on the paper, he knows she must have printed out his report. Not needing to read it again, he looks further into the file. Again, it's nothing he hasn't seen, it's Grayson Gilberts service records. Before he can delve deeper, he feels the cold sting of metal against his temple.
"You don't need to do that, sweetheart," he says, trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice.
"Don't. call. me. sweetheart.," she says firmly but with a deadly lilt to her voice.
"Whatever you say, I just want to get out of here alive," he adds, raising his arms. Thinking that he has designs on her weapon, she steps backwards but keeps her gun trained on him.
"I know what I'm doing with a gun, Mr. Salvatore. My father was in the Air Force, he taught me how to use a gun with deadly precision."
"Like I said, I just want to live to see another day." Knowing that he may regret it but he just can't help himself, he adds, "Is this whole kidnapping thing a scenario for one of your nonsensical romance novels?"
"So you know my professional name? And no, this isn't some cockeyed plot for a novel. This is real life we're talking about. What I want is for you to go over your evidence again and again and again. My father is not responsible for that plane crash."
Beginning to wonder if she is even capable of distinguishing real from make believe, he can only stare at her with his mouth agape.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" she snaps.
"How... how do you know he's not to blame?" Damon snaps, frustration fueling his bluster.
"Because I know. I know a lot about avionics and airplanes and most of all, I knew my father. I don't want to hurt you, Mr. Salvatore, I really don't. I'm not a violent person but this is extremely important to us."
"Who's us?"
"Us? What are you talking about?"
"You just said that this is extremely important to us.. U. S. as in us?"
"That's my business," she adds firmly, getting rather annoyed with him. Pushing his chair away from the desk, she pulls open a drawer and pulls a keyboard. With one push of another button, the large screen TV mounted on the wall facing the desk springs to life. With another few clicks, she has the file keyed up. "Now, look at it, look at my father's record, look at how many commendations he received. It's been a few months, look at it with fresh eyes. Please?"
"Do I have a choice?" he snaps, beyond angry that he's being held captive by a lunatic.
"No, Mr. Salvatore, you don't," she adds. Sticking her weapon back into her rear pocket, she gets behind his chair and pushes it to the desktop. "Are you right or left handed?"
"Right." Without saying a word, she grabs his left arm and snaps a handcuff on his wrist and secures it to the chair frame. Closing his eyes for a moment, he knows that if he's to have any chance of getting away that he'll have to play along.. for now...
Having looked over her information for hours already, Damon can hardly keep his eyes open. Taking pity on him, Elena pulls a throw pillow off of her couch. "Lift your head," she says softly. When he does she slides the pillow underneath. Although he can lay his head on the desk, she takes his right arm and secures it to a metal ring beneath the desk with another set of handcuffs. Walking over to the couch, she collapses herself. Pulling her weapon out of her pocket, she sets it down on the end table. Despite the fact that he's bound to the desk and chair, she's not willing to take any chances. Dropping her face into her hands, she blows out a puff of air. What has she done, she thinks to herself. If she were to go to prison, what would her mother do? She knows that Nick would take care of her but she hates to place that burden on him. Raising her eyes to him, she just stares for a few moments. Although she's tired, she's also afraid that he may come back so she gets up, grabs the gun and then turns the light out. And after giving him one last long look, she pulls the door shut behind her.
When her alarm goes off, she groggily opens her eyes and looks around her room. Slipping into her jeans, tee shirt and shoes and after pulling a hoodie over her head, she grabs her duffel bag and goes into the kitchen. She makes a pot of coffee and then stares at the clock for a moment. Picking up her things, she takes them outside and stores them in her trunk. It's only four in the morning but Elena knows that she needs to get him out of her house. After filling two large travel mugs with coffee, she runs those out to the car too and then runs downstairs to wake him up. Finding him still asleep, she gives him a nudge, urging him to wake up. Slowly he raises his head and looks around as if in a daze.
"I was hoping this was all a bad dream," he mumbles, dropping his face onto his forearm. "Just let me go and we never have to see each other again."
"No deal," she retorts, freeing first one arm. Using the handcuff, she shackles his hands together and then releases the second one from the chair frame. Shaking his head, he pushes the chair back and stands up, walking out of the room when he feels the barrel of the gun prodding him in the back. With his ankles shackled, it's hard for him to get up the stairs but eventually he makes it. Taking a deep breath, he spins around, hoping that his shoulders will knock her down the steps. However, she must've anticipated his move cause she was ducked out of the way and instead, he tumbled down the stairs. Groaning, he grimaces, his shoulder having become dislocated.
"Why the hell would you do such a stupid thing?" Elena snaps, running down the steps to help him up. "Come on, we have to do something about your shoulder." Stopping in the kitchen, she opens the bottom drawer and pulls out a sling. The same thing happened to her mother once when she had a rather nasty fall. As such, her mother's physical therapy doctor taught her how to push it back into place. She always grabs what's left of her mother's bottle of hydrocodone. Although they're outdated by a few months, Elena thinks they'll probably give him some pain relief. Walking back over to him, she nudges Damon outside. Once he's seated, she tells him to lean forward. After releasing the handcuff from his left arm, she fastens the right one to the metal at the bottle of the seat. As soon as she's certain he can't get away, she helps put the sling on his shoulder.
"I'm going to have to fix that," she points out, nodding at his shoulder before continuing, "When we get to the other place. It's best if you take a pain pill first so it's working before I try to put it back into place."
"How do you know how to fix a dislocated shoulder?" he asks, moaning when he shifts a little bit.
"Because it happened to someone I care about. And that's all you need to know." Opening up the pill bottle, she's about to drop a couple into his mouth when she pauses. His eyes drift from her eyes to her hand and then back again.
"What?"
"Allergies? I don't want you to go into anaphylactic shock on me."
"Sorry, sweets, I'm not going to make it that easy for you to get rid of me. No, I don't have any allergies."
Elena stares a few seconds and drops the pills into his mouth. Picking up the coffee, she places the cup to his lips, pulling it away only when he tilts his head back. Still tired and hurting more than a son of a bitch, Damon drops his head back and lets his eyes drift closed, drifting off to sleep to the sounds of the wheels on the highway.
By the time she pulls into the long driveway that leads to her private lake house, the sun is just above the horizon in the eastern sky. It's twinkling off of the lake and nearly blinding when Elena turns to look at it. Smiling, she pulls the car to a stop. Her 'guest' is sound asleep so she gets out, quietly closes the door and lifts her bag out of the back seat. Pulling the keys out of her purse, she unlocks it and walks in. After setting the duffel bag down, she goes into the kitchen to see what's in the refrigerator. She asked the caretaker to get it stocked for her. Grateful that it's been done, Elena starts a pot of coffee and then goes back outside to retrieve Damon. Pulling open the car door, she jabs his good arm to wake him up. Jerking upright, he groans in pain having jarred his shoulder. She unlocks the one hand cuff and then helps him into the house and to a bedroom. Once he's laying down, she carefully takes his arm out of the sling and then manipulates his shoulder to a chorus of his painful screams till it's back into place. Not knowing how men got a reputation for being so stoic in the face of pain, she shakes her head at his whimpering. That said, she knows without doubt that he is in pain. Not willing to dwell on it, she, with the utmost of care, helps him put it back into the sling and then offers him a couple more pain pills.
Raising his free hand, he pushes back against air, since she's out of his reach. "Lady, you need help, therapy, a doctor, something. I'm not some fictional character in your next romance story, I'm a living, breathing human being," he snaps, his disdainful stare burning holes right through her.
"Really, I didn't know that. Now swallow these," she says, holding the water glass while he drinks from the straw.
"Where are we?"
"Far away from civilization," she adds. Since she knows he can't really escape, she removes the chains from his ankles and frees his good arm. With that, she raises her eyebrows triumphantly and walks out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her.
Knowing that he's trapped for now, Damon throws himself onto the bed. And despite his anger and frustration and even a little bit of fear, it takes mere moments for sleep to pull him blissfully into the darkness.
When he wakes up, Damon holds onto his arm to give it some support and then he sits up. Glancing outside, it's still daylight. Needing to pee, he grabs the door handle, dropping his chin to his chest when he finds it locked. Using his good arm, he starts banging on it to get her attention. Mere moments later, she opens it up.
"I need to pee," he tells her, more than a little irritation in his voice.
"Follow me." She leads him down the hall to the bathroom. "Do you need some more pain pills?"
"No, I don't want to go back to sleep. I could use something to eat though. I'm withering away."
"Hardly but come to the kitchen when you finish. I'm sure you can find your way," she adds, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Um, I don't suppose you have any men's clothes so I can shower maybe?"
"I do indeed," Elena affirms. "I'll go get you something to change into." Disappearing into the room across from the bathroom, he watches as she opens a couple of drawers and pulls out a pair of pajama pants and a very large men's tee shirt. Stepping into the bathroom, she sets it down on the top of the toilet and then turns her back long enough to pull a couple of towels out of the linen closet. She hands them to him and then she helps him to take off his sling and shirt. After she turns on the hot water, she steps out, pulling the door shut behind her.
Stepping into the shower, Damon can't deny how good it feels to have the hot water massage his aching muscles. Looking up at the shower head, he decides he's going to have to get one just like it. While gingerly trying to keep his bad arm close to his chest, he tries to scrub himself with the good one. As soon as he finishes washing up, he closes his eyes and lets the water continue to pummel his body into submission. Although he'd like to stay in it for the next hour, he turns the water off and steps out. Drying himself the best he can, he slips on the pair of pajama pants and because the tee shirt is a 3XL, it's easy to slip on over his bad arm first and then over the rest of his upper body. Picking the towel back up, tries to dry his hair a bit. Taking a deep breath, he walks out of the bathroom and then finds her in the kitchen.
Hearing him approach, Elena tells him to sit down. "Here's some Ibuprofen, it shouldn't make you sleepy," she says, dropping four tablets into his hand. Taking them, he swallows them down after she hands him a bottle of water. Sliding a sandwich in front of him, he picks it up and practically inhales it. With her back turned, she starts to make him another one. Seeing her keys on the table, he very sneakily covers them with his napkin. When he finishes the second sandwich, he picks it up and walks outside. Knowing that he really has no place to run to, Elena lets him but keeps an eye on him nonetheless. Turning her attention back to washing the dishes, she happens to look up and sees him running for her car. Pulling the gun out of her back pocket, she runs outside and plants her feet. Raising the gun, she puts her finger on the trigger and cocks the gun. With deadly aim, she pulls on the trigger. And as if in slow motion, a puff of smoke and a loud popping sound slices through the air.
Huge thanks to Eva. Not only is she excellent at bullet points and plots, she's also great at helping me pick songs when I can't find one.
Thank you all so much for the great welcome to this story. I say it often but you are all the absolute best.
Chapter title: 'What I've Done' by Linkin Park.
"PR and ICEM" will update soon.
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Be safe and have a fabulous day.
