Shane sat in the lobby reading the Mystic Falls Post. Whenever he utilized a newspaper as a prop, he thought of his father, who would sometimes joke around by putting a hole in whatever newspaper he was reading and looking through it at young Shane. An eye in the newspaper. Hilarity ensued.

These days, scrolling through a smartphone was more naturalistic, and it allowed you to reposition yourself, as if for better reception or light. But sometimes Shane genuinely wanted to read the paper. What was more, he was feeling happy and confident about finding Damon Salvatore now that he had a photo. And a name.

Hitters coming up in the business disdained anything scholarly, as if ignorance was impressive. As if the mind had nothing to do with the gun. Fine with Shane. It meant less serious competition.

He had gotten his research chops in college, and he sharpened them every chance he could.

It was thanks to his research chops that he now had the identity of Damon Salvatore aka Dr Joseph Silas, PhD.

Although the name he had used with the police after the San Juliano train bombing was Damon Salvatore. At which point his identity had split in two—Damon and Joseph. He now had current photographs of him, courtesy of his good friend, Google.

It was beautiful.

Damon was in Mystic Falls for a mission. When he was not in a mission, he was Professor Silas, the linguistic. That would be how he hunted. Speech. Words. Shane almost hated to kill him.

Almost.

And he had seen the man just the day before, wandering through the lobby. Right there. Damon hadn't come through for a day or so, but h would be back. Meanwhile, Shane would start discreetly questioning the staff. Somebody would be able to point him in the right direction.

It was as good as over. Simple point and shoot now.

x x x

Elena stopped at the drugstore on the way to the Grill Hotel and picked out a tall bottle of water and some hydrogen peroxide for Damon's wounds, then she grabbed a protein bar, a chocolate bar, and a pack of paper clips. In the movies guys always used paperclips to pick locks. If those didn't work, she would damn well find the leg iron keys.

She grabbed a box of condoms. Just in case.

Ten minutes later she was pushing through the revolving door of the Grill Hotel, only to spot Klaus and Elijah standing at the desk, looking sternly in her direction.

Damn.

The two of them beelined over to her and pulled her into the lobby waiting area. "Where were you?" Elijah asked. "I called your house but there was no answer."

"Shopping." Elena lifted her bag in answer, then quickly lowered it when she thought about what she had in there. "What is wrong?"

"We were worried," Klaus said. "Considering your visitor."

"Right," she said, her blood racing. "It is unbelievable."

Elijah seemed to be studying her bag a little too closely; Elena looked down and was horrified to realize you could see through it. The bottle of hydrogen peroxide was partly visible…as was the side of the condom box.

Casually, she twisted the bag by the handle, sure they could read her nervousness. "I just wanted…chocolate and stuff."

"You know you can always ask the kitchen for anything," Klaus said. He was the smartest of the brothers according to Caroline. "You shouldn't be alone. Just for now."

Her heart pounded. Were they being…too intense? She swallowed. "You are probably right."

"If you go out again, I would be happy to escort you," Elijah said.

"You guys have done so much," she said. "I don't want to drag you all over."

"It is no problem," Elijah said.

"Even if it is bra shopping?"

This got them tongue-tied. She put all the sunniness she could muster into her smile as she began to back away. "Just kidding. I need to go back to the room to practise a few new songs for tonight."

Elena could not get into the elevator fast enough. With shaky hands she stabbed the button for the third floor five times. She tried to keep her sunny face but her heart was banging clear out of her chest, and it seemed like forever until the doors closed.

She just needed to last through the night until she could grab Damon and get out. It was dangerous to set off without her passport and money, but a partner would make all the difference. She wouldn't be alone.

Her show went off normally, aside from her nervousness, which she felt like everybody could see.

At midnight, Elena finished packing up as much of her life as she could into her sturdy new backpack: expired passport, toiletries, money, the condoms, pain killers and whatever else she could think of.

She slipped into the lobby and up to the front desk, thankful no Mikaelson brothers were around. A few patrons sat around in the lobby. The night guards stood watch at the door. Would they let her out? She decided to sneak out the pool exit.

She chatted with April until she saw her chance to grab the key to the liquor hatch.

Minutes later she was down on LL2, slipping past the guards' room. They were asleep when she passed, thank goodness. She headed deeper in, and quietly let herself into the cell room. There he was, stretched out on his side on the far end of his cage, hair tousled. They had given him a brown shirt.

"Damon!" Elena whispered.

Damon sat up—stiffly.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "I couldn't believe when I heard you were still here. I should have waited to make sure the hairpins worked out." She grabbed the keys from the hook.

Damon frowned. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What does it look like?" Elena did her best to project cheerful confidence even though Damon didn't seem at all happy to see her. "I brought paperclips. Assorted sizes. Those will work better than the hairpins, right?" She unlocked the cage.

"You are supposed to be gone. You need to be gone, dammit!"

"Lucky for you I'm not. We have to get you out of here. We will help each other."

"No. Elena…" Damon sat awkwardly, feet tucked behind him. "I'm fine."

"Right. I don't think so." She entered the gloomy cage, knelt in front of him, and started digging in her pack.

"You have to get out of here."

"I'm not leaving without you."

Damon grabbed her wrist. "Go. I don't need your help. You understand?"

"Save it for someone who might believe it." Elena yanked her hand away and pulled out the paperclips. "We need to hurry, so don't fight me on this. Everybody is lying to me but you. So, you are getting out whether you want it or not." She extracted two of the best-looking paperclips and extended them to him on her palm. "Start your picking, Professor Devil," she whispered.

Damon stared down at them for a long time, saying nothing.

"I'm not leaving you here again. Nothing you say will change that."

A bit more time passed, and then Damon looked up at her. And her blood froze. He wore that empty smile he'd had on when she held him at gunpoint. The smile that put a wall between them. "Unbelievable," he said.

"What?" Elena asked, hating the waver in her voice.

"I use you in every way possible," Damon began smoothly. "And then I decide to give you one decent bit of advice about being on the run and you can't quite go with it, can you? Here you are, bothering me and dabbling in things you don't understand. Trying to help me when I neither need nor want your help. You really are a fool."

Elena paused only a moment. "I get it." She began to unbend a paperclip. "You don't want me in danger or something, so you are being jerky. Chivalry noted and rejected."

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"I think it is."

She felt his eyes on her. "And this is the expert assessment from the woman who thinks a cornpone hee-haw singing show is a capital way to hide?"

His words were a punch in the gut. "Excuse me?"

"Cornpone hee-haw singing show," he repeated. "It is rather precise, don't you think? Hardly needs a supporting cast."

"I know what you are doing," Elena said.

"You don't know the first thing about me."

"I know you think words are your bitch. Just some shell game for you to play. Making things real that aren't, or putting a new face on things you don't like. But guess what?" Elena fixed Damon with a good glare. They were close enough to kiss, but that wasn't in the air now. "When a man is chained up in a cage like a circus tiger, then it is the right thing to help him. And doing the right thing is always the right thing. And I will tell you something else: when a dog gets run over by a car, it is a goddamn tragedy, not an exercise in phonemes. So take the damn paperclip and unlock yourself."

Damon laughed that beautiful laugh.

"You think it is funny?"

"Oh, it is not funny so much as delicious," he said.

She didn't like his tone. "Hurry up, we don't have time."

"I'm not in a hurry."

She worked on unbending the other paperclip. "You are coming with me."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Why not? You think you can't get out of those leg cuffs with the paperclip? 'Because if you can't, the guards are asleep right now. I will go in and find the leg keys."

"Don't," Damon growled. "Do you have any idea what Finn would do to you if he found you down here?"

A chill went over Elena. Elijah wouldn't hurt her, but Finn…Damon had a point about Finn. "Get picking then, Professor Devil." She held the paperclip out to him, willing her hand not to shake. What if she had been wrong about everything? What if she was really and truly alone?

Damon just looked at it. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Then I'm not, either." Elena set it on the ground in front of him and stood, pulling the candy bar from her backpack. Casual as could be, she slung the pack over her shoulder, leaned against the bars, tore off the wrapper, and took a bite. "Mmm."

Damon watched her eat with a strange expression—she couldn't tell if it was hunger or loathing.

Please, Elena thought. Don't make me go alone.

She took another bite.

x x x

She was killing him. Just like that first night.

Elena had called herself cowardly, but she was nothing less than a warrior, standing over him, waiting for him to free himself even though she was scared shitless. Elena and her supplies and her attitude and her unshakeable moral compass. She thrived on emotion. Connection.

Damon wished he could tell her the truth—he was a spy, and all he wanted was to get back to the console room before the drugged guards woke up.

He couldn't. The truth would endanger both of them.

The farther she got from him and the hotel, the safer she would be.

Damon swallowed, steeled himself. He had to make her run.

Do it, he told himself.

"Question, Elena. Has it ever occurred to you to wonder why I never asked you to go to the police?"

"I figure the Mikaelson brothers are buddies with them."

Damon closed his eyes. He wanted to move his feet into a position that wouldn't make his toes feel like they were on fire, but he couldn't let her see them. The last thing he needed was her pity.

"Or maybe I have more to fear from the law than from the Mikaelson brothers," he said.

Elena simply took another bite. "We both need to get out of here. You are coming with me."

"How do you know I'm not a killer?" Damon asked.

"Because I know."

He gave her a cold smile. "It is sad. You are pretty, but sometimes you don't use your brain properly."

Elena just looked down at him. She had to be nervous. "I'm not buying what you are selling, Damon. I'm done being fooled by people."

Damon didn't have to fool her—that was the grim truth. He had died in that train. He had lost everything that made him human.

"Come here," he said.

Elena frowned.

"Come here." Before she could move away, Damon lunged up on his knees, grabbed her wrists, and yanked her down to him. Her candy bar flew.

"Hey!" she tried to pull away.

Damon forced himself to tighten his grip, hating that he might be hurting her. Everything in him raged in protest. "Look in my eyes. Ask me if I have killed."

Elena struggled. "Let me go."

He gave her a shake. "Ask me. You say I'm not a liar. Don't you want to know?"

He could see fear in her eyes. "Please—"

"Ask me!"

Elena glared. "Have you?"

"Yes. I have killed fourteen men. Eight by gunshot and three by slitting their jugulars. Did you know that slicing a man's neck takes roughly the same amount of pressure as slicing into a papaya? I bet you didn't know that."

Elena's eyes widened and Damon could see the fear in her eyes. He could see what he had become reflected there; he was a hunter, a killer, a tool of the Association.

"I know what you are thinking, Elena. That's only eleven. And you would be right. There was another man I killed by smashing his skull with a twenty-pound free weight. Then there was the time I jammed a wooden spear clear through a man's neck. I whittled the thing myself. I even shot a man in the back of the head once."

"I don't believe you," she whispered, glancing at the door.

"I think you do."

The man he had shot in the back of the head had been dying painfully. It had been a mercy killing, but the others hadn't been about mercy.

Damon transferred her wrists to one hand and grabbed her hair into a ponytail, forcing her to look into his eyes and see the truth of his words, the bleakness in his soul. It made him want to die.

"Let me go," Elena whispered in a small voice.

He twisted his fist in her hair, using it to control her head like reins on a horse. She drove a knee into his thigh, sending bolts of pain up and down him.

He barely noticed. He couldn't be deeper in hell.

"Please," she whispered.

Damon twisted harder, pulse racing. "There was a whole stretch of my life—weeks on end—when I sat awake at night fantasizing about killing a man by ripping out his throat with my teeth." The truth. It was how he had thought to kill Mero, way back when he was imprisoned in the terrorist's compound. "I visualized it in my mind just like an athlete would—the way I would angle my head for the best canine penetration."

Her eyes changed. Turning away from him finally.

"I thought that would be poetic for somebody as linguistically inclined as myself," he continued. "What do you think?"

Elena tried to push away.

He held her more tightly. "I could do it to you right now."

She stiffened as he kissed her throat. She would find it creepy. Well, she should. This brave, beautiful woman—she should think twice before asking a man like him to run with her. Before opening her heart to him. Before clawing down his defences. She finally found her devil in the well.

"You are right about words being my bitch. About my using them to cover unpleasantness. It is how I fooled you."

Pain shot through his groin as her knee connected with his balls. Damon let her go and Elena sprung away.

"Go to hell." She picked up her pack and backed out of the cell, keeping a wary eye on him. She pulled the door shut. "You can go to hell."

Damon was grateful for her anger. Grateful it was over.

Elena hung the keys up on the nail. Even from where he sat, he could see her hands shaking. She left without a backward glance.

Damon quickly unlocked his leg irons and stole out after her, shadowing her through the tunnels, past the drugged guards, and all the way up to the hatch, just to make sure she didn't get caught on her way out.

He quickly unlocked the hatch after Elena closed it, peeking out, watching her walk down the side street, shoulders slumped.

He spotted a van on the corner. That was where the Associate's admin would be, ready to tail her. Leave, he pleaded in his mind. Get away from this place.

Everything he had said to her would be worth it if she would get away from the menace of her step uncle and the looming danger with Jazzman. And stopped visiting him!

Elena reached the main road and turned out of sight. Damon lowered the hatch, locked it, and made his way back, toes like fire.

She had wanted him to leave with her. It was like having a first class plane ticket somewhere beautiful that he could never use. But he could take it out and look at it sometimes, run his finger over the flight number, the seat number and think, what if.

Damon entered the console room and sat next to a drugged guard, grateful for the weight off his feet. Beyond the toes, he had an egg of a bump where Finn had smashed the side of his head, possible concussion, bruised and possibly broken ribs, and the cut eyebrow. And her gunshot graze. But at least his fever was gone, thanks to Ric's shot.

All in all, he was holding up. He didn't like to think what condition he would be in if Klaus hadn't arrived to pull Finn off him.

Damon checked the files. Still compressing and downloading. He had been downloading the files when he saw her coming—a mile off, of course. He'd had to scramble back into his cage and wait for her. He'd had to do that two times over the course of the night when people walked through. He'd lain in his cell, holding his breath both times, sure somebody would try to wake the guards.

Nobody had.

He clicked through the video feeds until he spotted her at the front desk, talking to the night clerks. She looked agitated. Did she know how her eyes gave her away? The Mikaelson brothers would see her growing distrust there.

"Leave!" Damon whispered at the screen.

He would find a way to protect her if things got ugly with Jazzman, but she would be far safer if she would leave. She probably had everything she needed in that little backpack.

Elena stepped onto the lobby elevator. Damon switched cameras to the elevator interior. The defeated look on her face broke his heart.

"I can't go with you," he whispered to the screen. "I can't let more people die."

She hit the button for the third floor. Back to her room.

"No," he whispered. "Don't go back to the room!"

Elena got off on the third floor. He watched until the elevators doors shut behind her. There were no cameras in the staff wing—not much money in blackmailing maids.

He didn't need a camera to know she was in for the night.

Damon told himself she would leave tomorrow, in the daytime. Even that would be hard for her. It was why she wanted him with her. She had trusted him and he threw it in her face. God, it had been years since Damon had felt so wrecked over a woman.

A decade, to be precise.

Forcing his mind back onto the mission, he slipped a phone from a guard's pocket and called the Associates at the Mystic Palace Hotel with an update. It felt good to talk to his guys. They were restless—heaven knew what their room service bill was coming to. They were planning an excursion to record the few arms dealers who weren't at the Grill Hotel. They would play the recordings for him over the phone tomorrow night if he hadn't found Jazzman by then.

Good.

Damon erased his tracks, slipped the phone back, and started reviewing the audio files. The dealers at lunch, the dealers in the elevator, the dealers in the sauna. The Indian gentleman who sat in the lobby for hours on end, vaguely familiar but his speech patterns were nothing like Jazzman's. One by one, he ruled out the guests of the Grill Hotel

It took just two hours for him to conclude that Jazzman hadn't yet arrived.

Another hour for compressing and downloading all of the relevant video and audio. Damon didn't need that to find Jazzman, but he wanted everything he could get for a database he had in mind. Photos of arms dealers along with extended speech samples from each would be a goldmine for the Association. Or, he would turn it into one. He would create software that would help identify speakers by their voices, and he would do a diction program, too, to help identify the authors of emails and manifestos.

There was no such thing as a linguistic fingerprint, but in a closed group—a hundred of the world's most notorious arms dealers, for example—you could get pretty close. He would create rules for each individual. The technology tools he envisioned would be a hands-down intelligence coup, the kind of thing he could spend years on, and exactly what h would be doing if his old life hadn't ended.

The thought of his old life filled Damon with sadness. His emotions were bubbling too close to the surface these days. Sleep—he needed sleep. He stole a few of the seaweed crackers out of the bag on the table. Sleep and a real meal, that was all he needed.

x x x

Elena watered Amy for the last time. She really had meant to plant her somewhere decent, but there wasn't time. She had to get out. It was Sunday—the banks were closed. She would be vulnerable without money or a passport, but she would survive. She had two feet.

She had rented a car. The rental car would take all her money, but she needed to be a brown bird. Elena thought about her plan. Her first stop would be Atlanta and then she would go to Alabama. After that she would carry on until she reached Texas. She had to find Jeremy. She wasn't going to leave Jeremy behind.

She rubbed her wrists. She had always been able to count on Caroline, but her friend had lied to her face.

I'm absolutely sure that he doesn't work there. He is perfectly comfortable.

Lies.

Was Caroline just protecting Klaus? Covering for Klaus? Still, Elena couldn't have it. Didn't Caroline understand that Elena depended on her with her life?

Her thoughts went to Damon.

Damon hadn't lied. His words had felt like dark confessions.

She looked back at Amy. If she gave the plant to April, that would show she was leaving. She needed to be a brown bird. The walls were closing in on her. The whole city.

A knock at her door. "Elena!"

Elena stiffened. Caroline.

Three hours until she had to be at the rental company to get the car. She decided that it would be smart to hang out with Caroline now. They would have tea or something, and then Elena would take off. She would write a letter to Caroline later on. Explain. Maybe get some answers.

"Just a sec." She arranged things to look regular.

"I have a bone to pick with you," Caroline said from the other side of the door. She sounded mad. Or was that fake mad? Sometimes she couldn't tell with Caroline. Elena steeled herself and opened up to find Caroline standing there with her hands on her hips. Fake mad.

Elena managed a smile. "What's up?"

"Lobby. Now."

Nervously Elena searched Caroline's face. "What is in the lobby?"

"A surprise," Caroline said.

It was too late to get out of it unless she wanted to do something totally dramatic, like run. That would accomplish nothing.

Her thoughts went to Damon. Damon wouldn't crack; he would go along with it. Hell, he wouldn't just go, he would go with a joke and an easy smile, confident he could handle whatever came up.

"You know how I feel about surprises," Elena said smoothly, grabbing her purse and following her ex-friend into the elevator. "You are being very mysterious," she said as the doors slid shut.

Caroline raised one eyebrow. "I'm not the only one."

"You think I'm being mysterious?"

"I think you have been very mysterious."

What did that mean? Did Caroline know about her visits to LL2?

Elena smoothed her hands over her simple black skirt, which she had paired with a simple dark top. Comfy, unmemorable traveling clothes. She planned to put on glasses and a hat when she finally set off. Not the net hat, though. Damon had a point—it was a hat to disguise.

"What is the surprise?" Elena asked.

"You will see." Caroline watched the floor numbers flash on and off as if it was the most fascinating thing ever. Maybe it was something good, Elena told herself. Maybe the cash was ready a day early.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened onto the lobby. Caroline hooked her arm in Elena's. "Come on."

A group of men congregated in the corner of the lobby. Elena couldn't see their faces, but they had the dark feel of the convention guys. The influx of shady men all week had added tension to the atmosphere, a silent hum that ratcheted up her nerves.

Caroline pulled her past them and up to the front desk where April and Violet stood.

"Is there a special delivery for Elena?" Caroline asked April.

"There is a very special delivery for her," April said solemnly.

Violet nodded. "Yes."

Everybody was acting weird. Elena gripped the counter. "What is it?" Whatever it was, good or bad, she wanted to get it over with.

April reached below the desk; she seemed to be fumbling with something.

Jesse wandered over, expression blank, just as April pulled up a cupcake with a candle on it. "Happy Belated Birthday, Elena."

"Oh, my God," Elena clapped her hand onto her heart, relief blasting through her.

Caroline grinned. "You sneak. I can't believe you didn't say anything!"

"You guys!" Elena felt so relieved. Her birthday. "How did you know?"

"How could I forget?" Caroline said. "We had drinks at one of the bars last year. Many drinks, if I recall."

"Go. Do it." Jesse pointed at the cupcake. "Make a wish, even though it is a belated birthday."

Caroline had remembered her birthday.

Elena made a wish for her brother to be safe and blew out the candles.

Caroline clapped and smiled at April. "Anything else down there?"

April pulled up a wrapped box. "From all of us," she said. "But it was Caroline's idea."

Elena unwrapped the box and pulled up a necklace—a tiny silver dolphin on a delicate chain. "Oh, thank you!" She and Caroline had admired it together a month ago. She hugged Caroline and then Jesse, and then April and Violet over the counter. She would miss her friends so much.

"Turn." Elena turned around and Caroline clasped the necklace at the back of her neck. "Why didn't you say anything yesterday? I could tell something was bothering you. It was your birthday and you should be having a celebration."

"Well, you know…" She turned back to Caroline, eyeing her significantly.

She saw when Caroline realized. "Oh. Well." Caroline gave a defiant shrug. "Happy belated birthday, sister."

Elena loved Caroline in that moment. Caroline and her sassy energy. Elena would miss her.

"Thank you." Elena patted the necklace, feeling like a traitor. Sneaking out after Caroline had helped her for so long. But how could she trust her when she had outright lied?

If she wasn't on the run for her life, it wouldn't be such a big thing.

"I'm glad you like the present," Jesse said.

Elena smiled. "Yes, I like it."

April split the cupcake in fifths.

Elena would write them all letters once she was safe. These people had been so good to her.

New guests were arriving. The staff flew into action.

"You want to watch a movie?" Caroline asked.

"I'm kind of tired," Elena said, wandering back in the direction of the elevator with her friend. Caroline insisted on riding up with her.

Back in her room, Elena checked her email while Caroline made them both tea.

Elena's heart lifted when she saw Jeremy's secret email name in her inbox. "He got back to me!" Elena said.

Caroline came over. "I told you he would email."

"Thank goodness."

Caroline watched her expectantly as she read.

"A nice, long letter," Elena mumbled, reading. He apologized for missing her birthday—he'd had the flu, but he was much better, and she should email right back with her question. He told her what a comfort it was that the Mikaelson brothers had her back. A comfort to know she was safe in Mystic Falls. He went on about politics, current events, and something about the auto repair shop that he had told her before.

The further she read, the more worried Elena felt.

"What is wrong?"

"Something is up with Jeremy He has been weird all month, but he is weirder now."

Caroline raised her brows. "Weirder? How?"

"It is hard to explain." Elena reread the letter. "Weirdly cheerful. Talking about politics. Telling me stupid stuff he has already told me. Like he forgot he told me."

"People sometimes do that."

"Right. Still." Elena wrapped her arms around her chest. "Email sucks. You can't see a person's face. You can't feel them."

"May I?"

Elena handed over the laptop.

Caroline read the email for herself. "This is way nicer than what Klaus ever wrote when I was away," she said after a while.

Elena snorted. She could hardly imagine Klaus chatting on email, even though he loved Caroline and she loved him back.

"Maybe he was in a hurry. It is a nice letter."

"Too nice. Too…something," Elena said. "What if he is sick? He would be stupidly cheerful like this."

Caroline rolled her eyes and handed the computer back. "Honey," she said. "After we go to the bank tomorrow, I'm taking you for a manicure. You are way too overwrought."

Was she being overwrought? Something wrong with Jeremy. Two hours until she could get the car. Walls closing in. The Mikaelson brothers turning out violent. Caroline was lying—to protect Klaus, maybe, but still lying. Though their lies were more dangerous to Damon than to her.

Elena looked at the letter again. Damon would be able to tell her what was up. He saw more in words than what was there. That was his job.

She looked up to see Caroline examining her. "Honey," Caroline said. "I have a recommendation."

"What?"

"I know you said you didn't want to, but…" She pulled a small box from her purse. A DVD. The notebook, Elena's favourite.

"Oh," Elena said. "I can't."

Caroline stuck out her bottom lip. "Why not?"

Elena was starting to forget about why it was so important to be a brown bird. What could another day hurt? If she held out just one more day she could leave with extra money. And maybe make Damon look at Jeremy's emails.

She sat back. "What the hell. Put it in."