AN: Hello guys.

Once again, I'm sorry for the long wait but life just keeps getting in the way. I hope you enjoy this chapter and have a lovely day!

"I am always the one to give, but you call me the thief." – Jack Savoretti "Songs from different times"

July 16th

For a better part of her life, Elena had always assumed that bad things happen for no other reason but to make the good things possible. For example, when she was still a little child and fell off her bike, she knew the pain wouldn't last for long. After all, her mom had made her hot chocolate every time it hurt.

It was that simple belief – of harmony, equality, and positive thinking – that had helped her survive growing up. She was an optimist at core; she'd revel in her own silent defiance – the only way she knew how to fight what she couldn't control - but she'd still stay scared; scared that at one point it'd get bigger than her. That maybe one day she'll wake up and realize that world had swallowed her whole.

She tried to hold on to it tight, back in the moment that threatened to test all of her shaken convictions.

Back when her worst nightmare reappeared, how she always knew he would.

One of his trademarks was materializing out of thin air the moment she'd least expect it. It was how he used to keep her on her toes at all the times and why her habit of looking over her shoulder got the better of her sometimes.

His voice seeped right through her guards, into her brain, into everything good she couldn't stand to see tarnished.

"Six years and you have nothing to say to me?"

With a scorn on his face, he looked her over and Elena realized he already knew. Somehow, unknowingly, she once again let him know that nothing had changed, she'd still let him dictate the way their little exchange would go, just like any other time.

She saw it as well.

She'd quiver and he'd thrive, he'd play mind games with her. At first, he would tell her how disappointed he was to see she still hadn't grown a backbone, then he'd scold her for being a coward and not standing up to him, after that, he'd start to laugh.

She knew all his said lines by heart.

And yes, just the thought of it sent a shiver running up her spine.

"How did you find me?"

"You thought I wouldn't keep an eye one you?" He smirked. "Pretty delusional now, aren't we? I mean," John gave her a moment to process the new piece of information while he started to move slowly towards her.

She was going to be sick. Did he really say what she thought she'd heard?

Was he… was he stalking her?

Of course he was. And it was no surprise.

A grin marred his features when he stopped in front of her. "You've always been my favorite niece."

"You are insane." She breathed out.

"I'm pretty certain we've established that fact already."

He wasn't always like this, Elena had to remind herself. He'd been a good guy once. She needed to remember that for moments like this – only if to not lose her mind.

After all, this whole thing wasn't entirely his fault. The man that he had become, the things he did, it controlled him.

Sometimes, to a point neither of them could take.

He terrorized her, ruined her relationship with Jeremy and fucked with her head until she couldn't tell up from down.

But still, he was good once.

Don't say anything you'll regret.

"As much as I'd like to stay and catch up, I'm kind of busy at the moment, so let's not meet for coffee tomorrow, huh?" She tried not to ramble too much, determined to get away, pack both hers and Damon's bags and drive as far away from Mystic Falls as possible.

With all her focus aimed at John, Elena completely missed the quick footsteps heading their direction. She flinched at the sound of Damon's voice in her ear, damn sure her heart just jumped out of her chest.

"Elena." He put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, his tense stance screaming protective from miles away. "Is everything alright?"

"Absolutely. Everything's alright." John narrowed his eyes at her in silent question, but kept his mouth shut.

She shook her head slightly and turned to Damon. "Let's go."

"Who are you?"

Elena inwardly cringed. Please, please don't say –

"I'm Elena's uncle, who are you?"

– a word.

"Elena's what?" She stole a glance at his surprised face and felt like she could die right there at that moment, because if there was one thing she truly couldn't take, it was the way he was looking at her – so open and trusting.

Yes, he still trusted her. After all the secrets she'd kept from him, all the lies he'd heard come out of her mouth, he still didn't find it in him to be at least a tiny bit accusatory or suspicious.

But then something in his head clicked into a place. "John?"

"You too? Huh, really? What a coincidence." Right, play it dumb, like that's going to help, Elena thought.

Her murderous mood reappeared alongside the horror that slowly crept up on her like the situation she found herself in.

This was bad. And not exactly the funny kind either.

"Damon, let's go. Please."

"What is he doing here Elena? You said… "

"I know what I said –"

"We're just catching up, don't worry." The man in question supplied.

"Yes, sure, long time no see and all that." Elena's voice was laced with sarcasm. "Tell you about it later, now come on." She tugged at Damon's arm until he finally moved, though his eyes stayed fixated at John's way too relaxed figure. "See you around, John."

"You will."

Great, just what she wanted to hear. But beggars really can't be choosers and she had already spent her day's luck on the party and fortunately, Damon's cooperative attitude which got her a few minutes to herself while they walked to the hotel.

He didn't ask questions and she was grateful. However, she had a feeling that he wouldn't let it go that easily.

And she was right. Turns out, he was in for a fight and only waited for their surroundings to suit him better. Apparently, after the door to their room had closed, they did.

He shrugged off his jacket while she slipped out of her shoes and everything remained quiet as Elena watched him battle with his tie. He left it hanging on the back of a sofa and Elena almost dared to hope she wouldn't have to deal with explanations she didn't really own tonight.

Then he started to talk and all of that flew out the window, replaced with helplessness and exhaustion she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Are you going to spill on your own or do I have to pry it out of you like every other time?"

"Spill what?"

"Okay, let's do it the hard way. Again." He ran his hand through his hair, leaving them in a disheveled state that distracted her much more than it should. Weirdly, his appearance always affected her the most at the most inappropriate times. "What is your uncle – the guy you'd sworn to hate – doing here and why didn't you tell me about it?"

"I don't know and I didn't know. Seriously Damon, this was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you."

"I kind of find that hard to believe."

"You're kidding right? Why in the hell would I be lying to you?"

"You tell me, Elena." He snapped. "Alongside everything else you've been keeping to yourself because I'm getting tired of this."

"I'm not lying."

"You're not telling the truth either."

What did he want to hear? What was even the truth? She could say it all and it still wouldn't be enough because how could she explain something she didn't really understand?

And she was so confused and scared and angry – so so angry. And if he wasn't careful he'd see it all boil out. "I can't. Not tonight."

She tried to get past him to the bedroom but his arm around her wrist stopped her in her tracks.

"Damon, let go."

"No. You know why? It's always 'tomorrow' or 'I'm tired, Damon, leave me be'." He impersonated her in a high-pitched voice. In her opinion, though, she definitely didn't sound like that. "And I let it go, because well, I thought you've actually started to open up and maybe let me in, but then one thing piles on top of another and we're back to square one."

She was glad his tone softened. It would suck if they'd ruined a perfectly nice evening. "You know it's not like that. I just… I guess I'm not sure what to say. Please, let me go to sleep."

"Why is he here?" His hand smoothed down her arm and threaded their fingers.

"I don't know."

"Why are you so scared of him?"

"It's complicated."

He groaned in annoyance and let her go. His free hand went immediately to his hair, a sign showing that she was pushing all of his buttons at once.

"You say that one more time and the next time someone pukes on our toilet, you're cleaning it." That actually happened in the Bumfuck, Nowhere a few weeks back. She opened the door in an exceptionally lousy motel's bathroom and almost threw up her last month's dinners. For an hour, they were looking for the owner who vanished the second he saw them approaching and didn't come back until late morning but in the end, they only had two options – either take care of it themselves or drive another fifty miles half-asleep and hungry. She'd never admired Damon more than after he emerged from the bathroom door taking off his rubber gloves like a real man.

"If it stops the 20-questions thing you have going on? Gladly." Please, no more vomit in our goddamned rooms.

"Okay, I'm sure the opportunity will come knocking sooner rather than later. But first let me tell you what I think – because from what I've gathered, you are the one that makes this situation worse than it actually is."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is… you are a coward, Elena."

His words felt like a psychical blow to her already fragile heart. "Come again?"

"You spend years being someone else's personal Penny fountain instead of saying a simple 'no'. You quiver at the sight of a man who, by the way I'd never let hurt you for reasons probably as stupid as the ones you make yourself believe. You're scared to take action and actually live your life and it's goddamned pathetic. So, please do yourself a favor – grow some balls and stop wallowing in self-pity."

"You fucking bastard." She heard herself exclaim. "You have no idea what you're talking about." He had no right – no right whatsoever to judge her. He didn't know or understand what she'd been through. He didn't know what it felt like to wake up every day into a nightmare he couldn't escape and still try to keep his sanity intact. How hard it was, without family, without friends or basically anyone to ask her about her day.

Or how every time she went out to the streets with a little bag in her pocket, she prayed to God she didn't really believe in, it wouldn't get her killed.

Damon was wrong, she did want to live. She just didn't know how to.

But she still tried. Every single day.

"But you know it's true."

It almost seemed like he was purposely trying to rile her up. And he was succeeding one hundred percent.

No, she didn't know it was true.

She shoved a finger in his chest. "It's not."

"Then stop wearing your martyr face and fight."

She stared at him in confusion. Fight? Why fight when she could just run away?

"Just what I thought." He chuckled humorlessly.

He turned on his heel but before he could walk out the room she called after him, "I'd mind your own business if I were you. And after that, I'd take a good look in the mirror."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You won't tell me what's wrong with you."

"I have a reason for that."

"Do you now? For all I know, you've made it all up. I haven't seen you take one pill. Are you a liar, Damon?"

He slowly shook his head in disbelief at her words and then turned around, leaving her standing there with the half-truths, cold and hesitant off-base conclusions hanging in the air. They softly spoke to both of them with answers neither of them asked for.

She stepped over the threshold a few minutes later with no idea where to go. But the tension inside of those four walls began to slowly suffocate her and the cool night breeze seemed like a good way to calm her flaring emotions.

She walked down the street slowly, breathing in deeply, hovering over the abyss of feelings better left alone. That's where his voice joined her, "No one ever told you it's dangerous for little girls to be out alone after dark?"

"No one ever told you it's impolite to creep up on people?" She retorted.

"Aw, come on! I didn't scare you, did I?"

"What do you want from me, John?"

"I already told you. I don't want anything." Something about the tone of his voice made her stop and look at him closer.

"You're in trouble, aren't you?" She sounded hollow even to her own ears. There was only one thing that had ever followed up that sentence.

He refused to meet her eyes and she suddenly realized she truly didn't have to help him. Whatever funk he was in, he'd gotten there himself.

She could just walk away.

She'd done it once and she would do it again.

"I need money."

"I don't have any."

"That useless college degree's working out great for you, isn't it?" He laughed.

"Goodnight, John." She tried to get away but for the second time that day, a hand around her wrist stopped her.

She looked at him questioningly.

"Walk with me for a while, would you? I'll be on my best behavior, I promise. After all, I'm back on my pills."

She scoffed. Right, feed that bullshit to someone who doesn't know you, she wanted to tell him but bit her tongue.

Years back, after many broken plates and the whole debacle with Jeremy, something changed. He stopped being irrationally angry, stopped punishing her for no reason or drink as much as he did before. He lured her into thinking they could get on alright again.

But cut to barely three months later and the situation only worsened. He started to deal and forced her out to the streets to sell. Sometime during that period, she found bottle of pills in his bedside drawer. When she confronted him about it, he laughed in her face and told her how some shrink –why he'd ever went to see one was a mystery to her – thought they'd make him better and how nothing could.

She couldn't hold him responsible for all of his crazy actions if he was sick, could she?

At last, she decided, she didn't have to. It was over and her focus was better off aimed at present and the man she royally pissed off or the career she hadn't yet had the courage to start.

Her night, though, was better off without a walk with the devil himself. She told him just that. "I think I'll pass."

"I didn't say you had a choice." The cold, calculated anger she could almost feel passing to her in the places he was touching her skin reminded her just how dangerous he could be when provoked. But there was a difference this time and that difference changed everything.

She was angry too. Furious even.

Maybe she wasn't the most fearless of people – okay, she might've been on the bottom of that list – but she had enough. She wouldn't play by his rules anymore.

She ripped her hand free from his grip and responded in a steady voice, "Screw you, John."

He was taken aback for a moment but didn't stop him from taking out his big guns. "So you don't want to hear about how's your brother's wife on her way to jail?"

"Wait, what?"

He sighed. "I'm not here for you, Elena. Trust me, seeing your face is as pleasurable experience as pulling a tooth out, but… since you are, in fact, here, I can at least fill you up on all that you've missed, don't you think?"

"I swear to God, if you're messing with me again –"

"I kind of wish I were."

Here we go again. "What happened?"

Elena sat down on the steps leading up to the hotel entrance and took a deep breath. She couldn't get the word 'coward' out of her head. It played in her mind like a broken record.

With a resigned sigh she dusted off the dirt on her shoes and albeit reluctantly admitted that there might be some truth to it.

Scratch that, it was the truth.

Whatever, she muttered under her breath. 'Where is yesterday doesn't define you' and all that crap when you need it, huh? She fought back tonight, she really did. And it felt good. She faced her problems head on and yeah, maybe it didn't go that well but damn, if John hadn't yet figured out there was no messing her around this time.

The years she'd spent alone made her stronger. She'd never realized it but when you're forced to depend on no one but you, you get… braver, stronger. In the worst possible way, yes, but braver nonetheless.

He doesn't even want her back in business like she expected.

Turns out, they meeting here was an accident.

He didn't even plan it. What kind of freaking joke from the universe was that?

But still he wouldn't miss an opportunity to pour salt on her wounds. Well, it was time to shake it off and be a big girl about it. He'd promised to get on his merry way and leave her be, not that she truly believed it. He was incapable of not causing trouble, but there wasn't much he could ruin for her anyway so she wasn't all that worried about it either.

But the news he carried with him unsettled her far more than any of his crap.

Seems like her favorite sister-in-law went off the rails again.

The other day when she talked to Jeremy, she knew something was off. He asked her to help him out, go check the situation in his home and make sure everything was alright. She thought it was the usual 'we're-broke' stuff but if Vicky was back on drugs, she'd have to do it weather she wanted to or not.

Besides, wasn't that the plan all along?

Just thinking about it gave her a headache.

Why couldn't people freaking solve their bullshit on their own? Why did they always drag her into it?

It wasn't fair and she really wanted to be a whiny baby about it but that would only verify Damon's assumption and thinking about it tethered on a whole new level of soul-searching she wasn't planning to reach any time this decade.

So she got up and opened the door, worn out and just a little bit insane, praying that sleep would find her soon and the next morning, she'd wake up in a different life.

It was only when her eyes took in the bedroom with its old fashioned furniture, king sized bed, and unfortunately not-so-asleep man waiting for her by the window, it occurred to her that perhaps, this life was what she needed, and more importantly, wanted and enjoyed.

Or at least could. Some day.

He stood in the shadows, unmoving and breath-taking. "Where were you?"

"Out."

He rolled his eyes. "Mind being more specific?"

"I was with John." Elena dug into her bag, looking for a clean pair of pajamas. She wasn't sure what kind of mood Damon was in but truth is the best policy and that's what she'd given him right now. In that moment, she'd probably tell him everything. All he had to do was ask.

"What does he want from you?"

She pulled the loose T-shirt over her head. "I'm not sure."

He was quiet for a long time after that. Elena gave up trying to find a clean pair of pants and got in the bed. She was halfway swimming in a dream by the time he joined her on his side and she jerked awake.

He lied down beside her, his eyes wide open.

She couldn't decipher the expression on his face so she focused on the patterns of his dress shirt, her eyes tracing the barely visible wrinkles that marked the journey of her hands throughout the night. She refused to look at him even as he softly spoke up.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." And it truly was.

They had a fight. She was sure they were going to have plenty of those in the near future.

And it still won't be enough to drive him away. He stuck around.

Even for the slushy bars occupying, wallowing in self-pity buzz-kills.

But she was sorry too. She shouldn't have said the things she did and he didn't deserve to be called names, not by any means. But it was the kind of thing she just did.

She had a bit of a trouble with words sometimes. No matter how long she'd wrestle them, try to tame them into making any resemblance of sense at all - they wouldn't cooperate.

They'd come out all wrong - a jumbled mess, an opposite of what she truly meant to say.

"It doesn't matter how much I try," she whispered to him brokenly. "I didn't mean what I said. I… I don't even know why I said it. Just so you know, though - the next time I tell you… "

She let out a breath, and tried again.

"I hate you so much. And I don't mean it at all."

His face lit with the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen. The meaning of what she just accidentally declared caught up with her moments after the words left her mouth and although it wasn't something she was yet planning to let him know, looking at him, at the way her own love reflected in his face, she wouldn't take it back.

He still needed a confirmation. "Is that how people say they love each other in Elena's land?"

"I guess." She shrugged and snuggled up to his side. His strong arms pulled her in close and his scent invaded her senses. Only when his fingers began to stroke up and down her back she realized, how much she needed him to touch her. Not in a sexual way, no, it was that simple human gesture, wordless 'You're not alone' and 'I believe in you' she craved.

And not many people were capable of providing something like that.

She'd met quite handful, some of them bad, some of them good, but only one that could make her feel cared for and appreciated, whose friendship and love alone were enough to give her comfort beyond the usual kind.

His hand in hers ran deeper, into her very being, her insecurities and fears that had nothing to do with John. His warmth stirred her hopes, tickled her fierce will to live and fed her inner survivor.

She loved him and it was enough.

And above all, it mattered.

Please let me know what you think!