The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: Many thanks to my awesome betas Glamoured-by-Eric, and Kate C. :)

Sorry for the long delay. I promise Ch 15 will be out much sooner.

Chapter Fourteen

Weeks passed. The days grew shorter, the nights longer, and Mystic Falls cycled from summer into autumn. The temperatures dropped, and soon there would be talk of holiday plans and gifts. But first there was a baby to be born, and things seemed on track for that as Elena grew heavier and rounder each day.

Junior Gilbert returned to New York for the fall semester at NYU, but Ric had decided to stick around. He took an extended leave of absence from his position at Berkeley, presumably to do some research for a book on the American Civil War, and he moved into the Gilbert house with Elena and Jeremy's blessing. His loft had long since been rented to someone else, and he refused Damon's offer to obtain the apartment for him again. Damon did, however, see to it that Berkeley's history department received a "grant" for Ric's sabbatical, thus ensuring his position would be held for him until he returned to California.

Ric hadn't been happy about that, and considered it a bribe, but Elena managed to guilt him into accepting it after she'd tearfully told him that she couldn't bear the thought of him losing his job over her. It worked, and now Ric was a frequent fixture on the boarding house sofas, drinking Damon's bourbon and trying his hand at cooking something other than leftover pizza and grilled cheese sandwiches. He and Damon were almost back to their pre-leaving-Elena-with-Klaus friendship, but not quite, and Damon doubted Ric would ever completely forgive him. That was okay, however, because Damon had yet to forgive himself, so he considered them even.

Damon made good on his promise to take Elena to New York for a long weekend, and they headed up to the Big Apple one sunny, Thursday morning. It was a seven hour drive, but they made it in good time, and the trip had been pleasant. He'd let Elena choose where they would stay, and she booked them into a small boutique hotel not far from Junior's dorm. He found the suite to be quite charming, but he'd never admit that he liked the little, perfumed soaps displayed in scallop shell shaped dishes on the bathroom sink vanity. He didn't have to. Elena, both incarnations of her, knew him well enough to recognize his appreciation of her choice. The bed was King-sized and made with a cream-colored duvet, a dark burgundy bed scarf, and lots of pillows.

They had dinner with Junior every night and attended two shows off Broadway – both lighthearted comedies that had Elena laughing and gripping his arm to keep herself from shaking too much. They'd both begged off going to the heavy hitters like Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables. Damon secretly believed that Victor Hugo wrote Les Mis because there wasn't any Prozac available when he was alive. That in and of itself wouldn't have been so bad if not for Andrew Lloyd Webber choosing to make the depressing novel into an equally depressing musical. The only explanation that made any sense was that Webber himself was in need of therapy, because how else could one justify glorifying a story where a main character is a single mother forced into prostitution who then dies of The Clap? A story where pretty much anyone with any redeemable qualities dies an agonizing, pointless death, including the kid; because let's face it, if you weren't a sobbing ball of mush by the time Gavroche died, you were a soulless schmuck. Brilliant score aside, Les Mis was the last musical an emotionally delicate, pregnant woman should be seeing, and Damon was very glad Elena agreed with him.

During the day, when Junior was either attending class or studying, he and Elena explored the city, and he took her to several of his old haunts from his time there in the 70's. Billy's bar was still tucked in its corner, and Will was still its undead proprietor. Damon rubbed clove and peppermint oil on Elena's pulse points to mask her scent so Will wouldn't try to kill her, but he still played the overprotective mate when the other vampire got too close.

He visited Billy's because of something he'd remembered about his time there. Back then, Will had a side business providing vampires with new identities. Damon was one of his "collectors," killing victims that matched the description of the people Will needed and stealing their I.D.s. For this service, Damon was allowed to feed indiscriminately among the club's clientele – usually tricked out punk fans high on The Ramones, Sex Pistols, and LSD. It had been a win-win situation for both of them.

In the modern age, Damon questioned Will's frequent requests for a 5'7" brunette. At the time, Will had said the vampire who'd needed the identities was a runner, but now Damon suspected that her true identity was Katherine. Damon had need of Katherine, who was – as usual – nowhere to be found when he actually wanted to see her. She was the last person who knew the whereabouts of Lucy Bennett, and the witch was still proving to be very elusive. The time was getting closer to when her witchy powers would be needed, so he'd stepped up the search and hoped Will would have some new leads for him. Of course, Will pulling out the old album from 1977 with the photos of Damon in punk clothes and eyeliner was just a bonus.

Elena's squeals of delight, and peals of laughter, when she saw the pictures were enough to make him forget every sucky thing he'd done in the 70's, and listening to her try to wheedle copies of the images of him in a white Anarchy t-shirt and leather jacket or a gray, sleeveless muscle shirt out of Will was amusing to no end. Eventually, he suggested that Elena just take pictures of the photographs with her iPhone and save herself the hassle of having to deal with 40-year-old negatives. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, wondering aloud why she hadn't thought of that in the first place, and he had made a joke about pregnant women being emotional and not thinking straight. He'd barely missed getting kicked in the balls.

Once back in Mystic Falls, Damon hosted a small baby shower for Elena. The guest list included Carol Lockwood, Meredith Fell and Liz Forbes as well as a few of Elena's former high school classmates and fellow cheerleaders who hadn't left town for greener pastures after graduation. Damon made little tea sandwiches in the shape of infant's feet and cookies that were iced to look like baby rattles and bottles.

Elena received the standard gifts of diapers, bibs, and onesies, but Carol Lockwood sprung for a fancy baby stroller that converted into a bassinet, and Liz bought one of those diaper genie things for containing dirty diaper smells. Almost everything was pink because it was no secret that the baby was a girl, but Damon made sure that at least a couple of items were yellow or green, and he even bought one tiny dress in blue on the excuse that, since her mother looked so lovely in it, surely the daughter would as well.

Elena was overwhelmed and humbled by the effort put forth on her behalf, and she was very grateful for all the gifts. It wasn't until all the guests had left, however, that Damon brought out the final and most special gift.

Before they'd left New York, Ghost Whisperer Gilbert had pulled him aside to reveal – with tears in his eyes – that Miranda Gilbert had spoken to him. She had told him of a cedar-lined storage trunk that contained heirloom items Miranda had been saving for the birth of her first grandchild tucked into a corner of the Gilbert House attic. Damon and Ric retrieved the trunk from its dusty storage place, and Damon cleaned it up and restored the exterior to its former glossy sheen.

Inside the trunk was a beautiful receiving blanket made from the softest cotton Damon had ever felt, and a white christening dress trimmed in delicate lace. There was also a hand-made quilt and a variety of baby clothing ranging from newborn to eighteen months. Lastly, there was a journal Miranda had kept while she was pregnant with Jeremy with a letter to Elena tucked into its pages, detailing the truth of her adoption and expressing a mother's unconditional love.

"You will never be lesser to me in my eyes because I did not carry you," Miranda had written in tight, neat cursive penmanship. "You have been, and will always be, my daughter."

Elena had read the letter and cried. Damon had wrapped his arms around her, and rocked her as she'd clung to him, sobbing, until she could pull herself together. Then she had unpacked the trunk with reverence, examining each item as if it was a precious gift, which Damon guessed was a great deal nearer to the truth. The trunk itself she placed at the foot of the bed in "her" room, which was also the nursery, while she stored the blankets and clothing items in the dresser she had purchased for the baby's clothing and supplies. She left the quilt in the cedar chest to protect it from moths.

As October began its slow march towards Halloween, and the beginning of the holiday season, Damon finished the work on the nursery window seat, and all was almost ready for Baby Girl Gilbert's debut. His relationship with Elena was also settling into the familiar, abiding affection between two bonded individuals. People who didn't know them assumed they were married, even though neither wore a wedding ring, and despite the shadow of Klaus's compulsion hanging over them, they were closer than they had ever been.

Sex was tapering off as Elena grew heavier. Her ankles swelled, and her discomfort increased. Damon thought he would miss the frequent lovemaking, but he found that he didn't. He was so attuned to her that his libido was waning along with hers, and they would lie in bed for hours just cuddling while he rubbed her sore back or ankles. It wasn't unusual for Ric to come over in the afternoons to find them napping in their bedroom, though the man was smart enough to make sure Damon knew he was coming. As Elena got closer to her due date, he became more and more protective of her, to the point where he was snarling at strangers. Even the UPS man had stopped knocking.

One Wednesday in mid-October found them clothed, but lying in bed as they compared the latest high definition ultrasound with ones they had previously received. The detail and sharpness of the baby's face was amazing, and they could easily pick out traits that she was inheriting from her mother.

"She has your nose," Damon commented, holding the print-out next to the one they had gotten three weeks ago. "And look at that," he quipped. "She has ten fingers and ten toes."

"I'm so glad you can count," Elena replied drolly, trying to get comfortable but failing. Her back hurt – again.

"Back, Baby?"

She sighed. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm being a bitch."

"It's okay. You're allowed," he soothed, caressing the rounded mound of her abdomen.

At close to 33 weeks into her pregnancy, Elena's skin had stretched taut over her belly, and she'd gained close to thirty pounds. The doctor was cautioning against much more weight gain, but Damon was of the opinion that his mate could eat whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it, and they'd worry about losing the "baby fat" later. He knew Elena. He knew she'd work all thirty of the pounds off within short order. They'd already started an exercise program aimed towards strengthening her back and core muscles. It was part yoga, part graceful dance with a little bit of resistance strength training added, and they would also try to walk at least a mile a day, two if she was up to it.

Damon had purchased a special maternity belt that was designed to ease back pain and provide support for her growing baby bump, and she wore it whenever they were out and about, which was less and less these days. It helped some.

As his hand passed over the crown of her belly, and the little, marble shaped bump that was once her "innie" navel, he felt the impact of a tiny foot and heard Elena grunt.

"Hey, hey, no soccer playing indoors, missy," he chided to the unborn girl.

"Forget soccer, she's taking up kickboxing," Elena complained, rolling onto to her side. They'd learned that the baby was less likely to get up to serious kicking if Elena was curled on her side, which suited him fine because he wanted to rub her back.

"Not even born, and she's already trying to kick ass," he teased, using his fingers to work out a knot of tense muscles around her lumbar spine.

"Yeah, well she's kicking my bladder not my ass. Ooooph." Elena patted her belly in an attempt to get the baby's attention. "Stop that. I said Stop. That. It hurts."

Damon was already moving, getting off the bed and coming around to Elena's front. "Okay, okay, c'mon. Let's get up."

Elena scowled. "No. My back hurts."

"Yes, but you know she settles down when you move around. C'mon, let's go for a short walk. Up the driveway and back," he reminded, tugging on her hands.

"Don't wanna," she said with a definite whine in her voice.

"You want her to put a hole in your spleen a whole lot less. C'mon, where's my warrior princess who faced down vampires and werewolves and kicked their asses? You gonna let a three pound lightweight beat you?"

She glared at him, but started to get up. "I hate when you play dirty."

"No, you don't. You love it, especially when I take my tongue and…"

"Damon!"

He laughed and did his "eye thing" as she called it, which was enough to make her roll her eyes and struggle to her feet. She was off balance so he made sure he was in a position to support her should she have trouble.

"I hate you," she snapped, but there was no real intent behind the words.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Slave driver. Massive asshole. Heard it all before. Now chop chop, Miss Gilbert. Let's put one foot in front of the other and get out the door, shall we?"

She grumbled but obeyed, slipping her feet into the tennis shoes on the floor beside the bed. Damon used his vampire speed to quickly tie the laces so she wouldn't have to bend over, then he snagged the maternity belt from the bedside table and helped her fasten and adjust it so it was comfortable.

"How much longer do I have again?" she asked tiredly as they shuffled down the hall towards the stairs.

It was a rhetorical question. They both knew very well how much time they had left in her pregnancy, and even if by some quirk they didn't, the big calendar with December 8th circled in red ink that was taped to the inside of the closet door was a constant reminder.

"The good doctor says seven weeks."

"Almost another two months of this."

"Hey, at least you aren't this heavy in August."

She huffed and reached for the top rail of the staircase. "Small favors. I feel like a bloated whale already, and I'm only going to get bigger."

"Yes, but I love what it's doing to your bust line. Before, you had little, perky breasts, now you have…"

"Watermelons," she snapped.

"I was going to say now you have lush, rounded breasts that fit perfectly into my hands."

"Lush? You're telling me my boobs are lush?"

"Baby, if you'd been around in 1864, you would've filled out a ball gown so perfectly, every man, single or not, would have been currying your favor."

"It's good to know men haven't changed in 170 years. They're all still pigs."

He chuckled even as he positioned himself to catch her should she lose her balance on the steps. "Well, if that's so, then women haven't changed either because they still want the same things out of men: money and good looks."

"Well, the money you've got, not so sure about the good looks part," a male voice said from somewhere downstairs.

Snarling at the threat, Damon vamped out and sped down the steps, stopping in front of the other man. It was Ric, and thank God he knew not to run or show fear, but then he was used to Damon's displays of speed and power.

"You need to knock, Bro," Damon warned, shaking off his fang face.

Ric held up a bag from the local home improvement store. "You knew I was coming over. I brought the stuff you asked for."

Damon took the bag from Ric and examined the contents to make sure everything he needed was there. With the baby only weeks away from her debut, he was now turning his attention to "baby proofing" a house that had been built when such notions hadn't even been a consideration. He'd charged Ric with the task of buying the things needed to secure the kitchen cabinets and electrical outlets from tiny, questing fingers.

"Thanks," he said, but Ric wasn't paying any attention to him. He was watching as Elena finished coming down the stairs.

"Elena," he greeted with a proud smile on his lips.

"Hi, Ric," she replied.

"You look lovely today."

"Is that a polite way of telling me my boobs are bigger? Damon was saying that they're lush."

"Uhh…" Ric stammered, and Elena thankfully saved him by laughing.

"It's okay, Ric. Apparently, I'd also fill out a ball gown perfectly," she stated wryly as she came to stand next to Damon.

"Uh huh. I see," the other man commented.

Damon put a possessive arm around Elena's waist and drew her closer. Since both humans were used to his defensive posturing neither called him on it, but he could see the bemused glint in Alaric's eyes.

"I do have something for you, though," Ric said to her, putting a hand into the front pocket of his button-up, denim shirt.

Damon tensed and shifted just a little bit into a more protective position.

"Relax, it's only a business card," Ric assured him, pulling the piece of cardstock out and presenting it to Elena.

Damon snatched it up first, ignoring Elena's gasp, and examined the paper and typeset with his heightened senses. Any number of things could be done to make something seemingly innocuous into a deadly weapon, and he wasn't taking any chances. There were a lot of people who would be interested in seeing Elena and her baby dead, if only to permanently kill off the Petrova Doppelganger bloodline.

He knew his mate guarding was getting over the top, but he couldn't help it. He'd always been protective of his loved ones, but now with Elena pregnant that instinct was ratcheted up to almost insane levels. It had gotten to the point where he was considering calling Gloria for help in calming his inner beast down before Elena vervained him and locked him in the basement.

"She's a massage therapist, and she does house calls. I ran into her at the grocery store. I know you're having trouble with your back and such, so I thought that might help," Ric explained.

"Yeah, well, I'm a pretty good masseur myself," Damon said.

Elena snagged the card from his fingers and glared at him. "Yes, but it might be nice to look at someone other than you for a change."

"Elena, this woman is a stranger. We have no idea who she is," he complained.

"I'm not interviewing her for a nanny position. Besides, I dunno if I'm gonna call or not, but I want to have the choice."

He heard the warning in her voice, and he backed off. "Okay, but not before I have Liz check her out."

"Damon… Ric, help me out here," Elena asked.

"Ahhh, I agree with Damon. Yeah, it'd be nice for you to spend time with someone other than the Neanderthal, but at the same time, we know there are a lot of people who would like to see you dead. A thorough vetting is a good idea."

"Ugh, fine. Run her freakin' fingerprints. See if I care," she said, giving the business card back to Damon and tossing up her hands.

"Actually that isn't a bad idea," Damon answered, examining the card and wondering if any prints could be lifted from it.

"I already thought of that. She approached me in the store, and that made me a little wary, so I fished her empty coffee cup out of the trash after she'd tossed it. I have it in a plastic bag in my car," Ric confessed.

"You went digging in the trash for a used coffee cup?" Elena blurted.

"Hey, Damon and I might not agree on much, but there's one thing where we're in perfect accord, and that's your safety. I heard alarm bells go off in my head when she approached me, and I've learned to trust my instincts," Ric explained.

"I don't believe this. I feel like I've been dropped into an episode of CSI," she complained. "The two of you are too paranoid for your own good!"

Damon slung an arm over Ric's shoulder and smirked at her. "It's been my experience that every time I think I'm being too paranoid, I realize that I'm not being paranoid enough."

Elena crossed her arms and glared at both of them for a moment before rolling her eyes and huffing. "Fine. Be paranoid. Microchip me with a GPS locator so you can track me by satellite…"

"Y'know, that's not a bad idea," Ric mentioned.

"Thought about it, then I realized anyone who knew the frequency could track her, too," Damon replied.

"Ah, true."

"Seriously?" Elena said.

"Considering your habit of finding trouble no matter where you are, what do you think?" Damon countered as Elena placed her hand on her rounded belly.

"I think this baby is pounding on my spleen, and if she doesn't stop soon, I won't be responsible for what I do," she growled through gritted teeth.

Damon was at her side in a vamp second, hand on her lumbar spine, urging her gently towards the door even as he was reaching for her coat that was hanging on the hall tree.

"So we go for our walk then and hope that helps lull the little darling to sleep," he told her, helping her get her arms into the coat sleeves.

"Baby restless again?" Ric asked.

"Yeah, and I've already cut out all caffeine, sugar, and spicy foods so I don't know what to do," Elena complained as they walked out the front door.

"Dr. Fell thinks she may be developing allergies in the womb, so the next step is to try cutting out dairy and gluten," Damon added.

"I keep telling you, I'm not allergic to anything, and I don't think I can be. I'm a doppelganger. Doppelgangers are supernatural. Have you ever heard of a supernatural being with hay fever?"

"Other than being deathly allergic to sunlight, wood to the heart, and vervain? Nope, I can't say I have," Damon answered.

"Me either. Too bad you haven't found Katherine yet. You could've asked her how her pregnancy went," Ric said.

"Oh yes, because Katherine Pierce would divulge any information about anything," Damon snapped back irritably.

"She might you know," Elena interrupted. "Maybe not Katherine, but Katerina? She was pregnant once, and her baby was taken away from her. I don't know how she felt about that, but I know I'd be destroyed if someone took my baby away from me. I haven't even seen her yet, and I already love her more than anything in the world."

All anger, frustration and irritation with each other disappeared immediately as Damon pressed his forehead to hers and a hand over her womb. She sighed and entwined her fingers with his, closing her eyes.

"I love you more than anything in the world," he whispered, his lips against her temple.

She looked at him, her lashes moist from unshed tears, and gave him a tender smile. "I know. I love you, too."

"It's going to be okay. I promise."

She nodded and took a deep breath, stepping away from him so they could continue their walk up the driveway. It was crisp, but not cold, and the sun was shining. Ric came with them as they strolled at an easy pace, taking up the defensive position on her left side while Damon was on the right.

"So? You and the good doctor, huh?" Damon teased, smirking. He had seen Ric and Meredith Fell sitting next to each other at the Mystic Grill's bar a few days ago when he and Elena had stopped there for lunch, and they'd looked chummy.

"We're friends," Ric stated flatly.

"Didn't look like just friends to me," Damon pressed, waggling his eyebrows.

"Shut up before I shove a vervain syringe in your ass," the other man threatened.

"Oooh, testy. You must really like her."

"She's very nice, Ric. I think she'd be good for you," Elena added.

"We're just friends," he insisted. "I'm not looking for a relationship right now. Besides, I live in California remember?"

"That doesn't mean you can't have someone special in your life," she argued.

"Yes, it does. Have you forgotten that the women I get close to have a nasty habit of dying?"

Ric had all of four seconds' warning before a tearful Elena was pressing her face to his shoulder, and a furious Damon was glaring at him hard enough to kill.

"Oh Ric! I miss Jenna, too! I miss her so much!" she cried.

"Great going, reminding her of her dead aunt, dick," Damon growled.

Ric grimaced and awkwardly patted Elena on the back. "There, there. I'm sorry. It just… came out. You know me. There's no filter between my brain and my mouth."

"She and Jeremy were the only family I had left, and Klaus killed her. He killed her!"

"I know. I know," Ric said, rubbing her back between her shoulders.

"I hate him! I hate him so much! He took everything away from me!"

Elena started to sob in earnest, and Ric cast Damon a pleading glance. Damon was looking rather pained himself, but he came forward and gently pried the weeping, pregnant woman away from him. She turned in Damon's embrace and clung to him as he wrapped his arms around her and whispered comforts into her ear.

"Shhh. Shhh. It's gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay," he promised, stroking her hair.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"You know I can't tell you that. The less you know, the safer you'll be."

"I know. It's just… I'm scared and worried and stressed-out."

"I know, Baby, but I need you to trust me. Can you trust me just a little bit longer?" he asked, putting his hands on her face and looking into her eyes.

"I'll try," she answered, sniffling.

"Thank you, Baby. I promise it'll all work out. Me and Ric have a plan. It's all gonna be okay."

He took her back into his arms and hugged her as tight as he dared until she was ready to pull away from him.

"Better?" he questioned, holding her face in his hands again.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"And our little kickboxer?"

She smiled a little and rubbed her belly. "She's settled down."

"Good."

Elena stepped back and turned to Ric as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Sorry about that," she apologized.

Ric waved a dismissive hand. "It's okay. I understand."

"I know you do, and I appreciate it so much," she said, reaching for both Ric and Damon's hands as she stared at them both with love and gratitude in her eyes. "You have no idea how much it means to me to know that both of you are with me right now."

Both men smiled at her, and Ric risked a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Believe me when I say, there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Ready to go back to the house?" Damon asked.

Elena nodded as she yawned. "Yeah. She's stopped kicking so maybe I can get a nap since she kept disturbing me."

They headed back down the long driveway and entered the house. Damon slipped her coat from her shoulders and hung it on the hall tree, giving her hair a stroke and kissing her cheek. She sighed and leaned into his touch.

"Gonna go upstairs and lie down?" he questioned.

"Yeah. I'm so tired. I just want to sleep."

"Is it okay if I stay down here with Ric?"

"Plotting and planning?" she teased.

"Not really. More like I could use his help fixing the garage door that's coming off its track."

"Ah. Okay. Super strength not enough?"

"Strength's fine, but I don't have four hands."

"No, although sometimes it feels like you have eight, Mr. Octopus."

He kissed her cheek and chuckled. "Only when I'm touching you. Can't get enough."

She turned her head so his next kiss caught her lips. "Mmmm. Don't leave me alone for too long. You know how I miss you."

He smiled and gave her a playful nip on her neck. "You're making me an offer I can't refuse."

She giggled and cast him a heated look before making her way up the stairs. Damon waited until she had made it safely up to the second floor, and was heading for their bedroom, before turning to Ric.

"Garage door really need fixing?" Ric asked knowingly.

Damon smirked. "Of course. I never lie to my girl. We can plot and renovate at the same time."

"Admit it. You only want me around for my expertise with power tools," Ric commented as he followed Damon through the house towards the garage.

The vampire scoffed. "Power tools? Please. You're forgetting that I was born before electricity was standard."

8888888888

When Elena made it to the top of the stairs, her head felt funny. She pushed it aside, blaming it on her weariness, and headed for the bedroom she shared with Damon. Something was pulling her towards the baby's room, however, and the pull got stronger the closer she got to the closed door. Almost unbidden, she passed the door to Damon's room and went to the next bedroom down. Her hand pushed against the old wood as it gave way, and she slipped silently into the nursery. The moment she passed the threshold, her mind went blank, and her body was no longer under her control.

The phone was hidden in a shoebox at the back of the closet, tucked under a pair of counterfeit Jimmy Choos that she couldn't wear anymore because her feet were so swollen. She picked it up, turned it on, and dialed the only number programmed into the phone's memory. The call was answered on the third ring, and an accented voice spoke smugly across the line.

"Hello, sweetheart, I've been waiting for your call. It's been quite a long time," Klaus said.

"I'm sorry. Things are crazy here. I haven't had any time to phone," she apologized.

"That's all right, darling. Tell me, how is everything in your little backwoods town?"

"Fine. Everything is fine," she assured him. She was nervous, but she didn't know why.

"And our little bun in the oven?"

"Dr. Fell says she's healthy. No problems."

"And you?"

"I'm doing fine. Getting heavier. Damon's getting oppressively overprotective, but that's nothing new."

"So our dark knight in tarnished armor is living up to our expectations?"

"Yes. More than that. Klaus, he's wonderful. He's perfect. I… I think I'm falling in love with him," she admitted breathlessly.

"Well, of course you are, dear. You've loved him for a long time. You loved him even when you were with his brother, remember?"

"I… I…"

"Come now, sweetheart, you know you can't lie to me."

"Yes, I love him. I've loved him for a long time," she replied, her voice flat from the compulsion.

"See? Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No."

"Is it okay, then? For me to love him?" she asked, a hopeful, childlike lilt in her voice.

"Of course it is, dear. That'll make it all the more satisfying when you kill him."

"What? No! No, I won't!" she refused, horrified, her heart starting to pound.

"Yes, you will, dear. You won't have a choice. I've compelled you to do it."

"No, Klaus. Please. Please don't make me do this! I love him," she begged, gasping as tears welled in her eyes.

"Love is for the weak, sweetheart. Now, I'm going to initiate the next phase of our little plan."

"No!"

"Yes, and you'll do it because I own you," Klaus growled.

Her mind stilled, and her face went blank, as she was forced to comply.

"Yes. I belong to you, Nicklaus," she intoned.

"Good girl. Now, find out for sure if your precious Damon Salvatore murdered my brother, and then shove a stake through his black heart. Understood?"

"Yes, Nicklaus."

"And if you can't get the truth out of him, well then, you know what to do."

"Yes."

"Now you're going to hang up, and you're going to forget we had this conversation, just as you've forgotten all of our other little chats. You're going to put the phone back into its hiding place and forget about it until it's time for you to call me again. Understood?"

"Yes."

"That's my girl. Ta ta."

The line went dead, and she did as she was ordered, putting the phone back into its box and shoving the shoes on top of it. She closed the closet door and came back to herself.

Elena stood in her room, holding a sweater in her hands and wondering what she was doing there. She was trying to figure it out because she knew it was important, but it was just out of her reach. She was turning towards the closet, certain that her answers were in there, when Damon rapped on the door and popped his head into the room.

"There you are, Baby. I came up to change my shirt before Ric and I worked on the garage door, and you weren't in bed. What are you doing in here?"

There was a blank spot in her memory where she couldn't recall why she'd come into the nursery, but she shook it off as typical pregnant lady forgetfulness.

"I… I don't know. I know I came in here for a reason, but I don't remember why."

"Was it to get the sweater that's in your hands? Is the house too chilly? I could turn up the heat or start a fire in the hearth."

She looked down at the sweater in her hands and remembered coming in to get it, but the memory felt wrong somehow. She brushed it off.

"Oh, yeah. That was it. I'm sorry. I'm getting so forgetful."

He gave her a tender smile as he came in all the way, placing both hands on her shoulders and giving her a sweet kiss. "It's to be expected. All the blood is going from your head into making the baby. Your brain is shrinking," he teased.

She hit him with the sweater. "Ass!"

"It's a proven fact," he laughed, putting his arm around her shoulder. "C'mon, I'll put an extra blanket on the bed and tuck you in."

"I'd rather you join me," she admitted, allowing him to guide her out of the nursery. There was something about his voice and his touch that comforted her. She didn't want to be away from him.

"After I fix the garage door and get rid of the history teacher," he promised.

"I'll hold you to that, you know," she said as they entered their bedroom.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," he stated with a smile.

She watched as he went to a cedar chest, pulled out a thick blanket, and quickly spread it on the bed. She took the opportunity to remove the maternity belt and place it on the bedside table.

"Here you go, Baby," he told her, folding back the covers and patting the mattress.

She complied and sat on the bed. Damon took off her shoes and helped her lay down before covering her up and kissing her on the forehead.

"Sleep well, Baby. I won't be too long. Promise."

"Okay," she agreed, already feeling the heady lethargy of approaching sleep.

"I love you," he whispered tenderly.

"Love you, too."

He gave her another kiss and tucked the blankets up around her shoulders before leaving the room. She fell asleep a few minutes later, her mind uneasy and her heart troubled, though she didn't know why.