My heart pounded against my chest and I could feel the beat through my veins. My vision blurred and swayed as I tried to understand what was happening.

Why wasn't Damon getting up?

Slowly, I twisted to my knees and began crawling toward him. My muscles tightened as I moved, fighting back against my decision to approach him, but I pushed past it and achingly forced them forward.

Passing Stefan, I closed my eyes and tried breathing through my nose. I knew he was dead, but panic swelled inside me at the thought of him popping up and attacking me again.

Putting pressure on my arms to crawl, my palm suddenly landed in something slick and my arm slipped out from under me. Steadying myself with my other hand, I opened my eyes and looked down.

The urge to scream nearly choked me.

Stefan's blood coated my hand from wrist to fingertip.

I lifted the shaking hand to my face, staring at it with wide eyes. My mind immediately went to work dragging up the images of my father, my mother, and Tyler. Blood. Death. Blood. Everywhere. Touching me. Tainting me.

I felt my body sway and knew that like the other times, I would be passing out soon.

Damon.

I closed my eyes again and breathed heavily. No. I couldn't black out. Blacking out was only a way to escape my reality. Right now, the reality was Damon needed me.

I forced the hand back to the floor, wincing at the feeling of the blood squishing beneath my fingers. Slowly, I started forward again.

Damon wasn't far from where Stefan laid, but the journey felt as though it took a year. As my fingers finally grazed his shirt, I allowed my eyes to open and I moved next to him.

I stared down at him, not sure what to do. I could see blood pooling on the side of his body and I swallowed a sob. With trembling fingers, I softly touched the side of his face. His skin was pallid and cold against my fingertips. "Damon?" I whispered, hot tears filling my eyes and spilling over my lashes. He didn't respond and I steadied my hands enough to turn his face up, running my fingers through a few strands of his hair to push them away. "Damon?" I repeated, this time a bit louder. Still no response. Guilt, panic, shame, and anger simultaneously filled my body and I gripped Damon's shirt in desperation. "Damon!" I finally screamed, the emotions making my chest feel tight and breathing difficult. "Damon, wake up!"

My bodied doubled over and I buried my face in his chest, for once not even caring that blood was smearing against my cheek. Frantic sobs shook my body as I clung to him, realizing I couldn't even tell if he was breathing anymore.

This was it.

This was my punishment for being such a fuck up all my life.

The only person who ever cared enough to save me was dying because of me.

Further proof I was the monster I always believed myself to be.

…

The air around me stilled and grew chilly as I lied motionless against Damon. My tears had dried, and along with them, my will to live had vanished.

I could hear sirens approaching, but the sound didn't shake me. I just wanted to be left alone here until I stopped breathing.

As law enforcement entered the building, everything began moving very quickly. I was snatched up by a man and shouting flooded my ears. Red and blue lights swirled around me as the medics rushed Damon onto a stretcher and the police led me to the back of a car. The metal handcuffs they slapped on me were entirely too tight, but I was too out of it to really notice the pain.

As soon as I realized the possibility Damon might die because of me, I gave up. I didn't care if someone walked in and shot me in the face, I was ready. My mind became empty, my heart shattered.

As the officer placed his hand on my head to lower me into the car, I could hear Ric shouting in the background, pleading with the police to let me go.

"I called you here!" he yelled. "She was fucking kidnapped! He was going to kill her! She's innocent! Elena tell them!"

With blank eyes, I simply looked toward Ric and shook my head slightly. I didn't have the energy to convince these men that I was "innocent." I wasn't innocent. Damon had gotten so caught up in my messes that he now laid in the back of an ambulance. Even if I did have the energy to fight back, the men recognized Damon and Stefan. They were their friends. Stefan was dead. Damon was hurt. I was the druggie and the only one still alive. They did the math pretty quickly.

I heard Ric shouting my name once more before the cop shut the door and all outside sound went away. With a heavy sigh, I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the seat.

If Damon did die, I would happily rot in a prison cell for the rest of my life. Hell, I would throw away the key for them.

I deserved to go away.

This was best. For me. For everyone.

…

I sat motionless on the metal bed in my cell, staring vacantly at the concrete wall across from me.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been there. It could've been a day, it could've been a week. I didn't even try to keep track.

Investigators came and went many times. Each wanted me to explain to them what happened, but I remained quiet. Several expressed that they wanted to help me. They said they got pieces of an elaborate story from Bonnie and from Ric, but they needed me to verify it all or it was just hearsay and they couldn't get me out.

I still stayed silent.

No one had come with any news about Damon. Every second that ticked by with nothing, my mental state and physical health deteriorated bit by bit.

I didn't care either way.

The metal bars guarding the cells click-clacked open, sending a chill down my spine. Elena didn't belong in here. The police informed me, however, that she wasn't defending herself and until she did, she was being charged with the murder of Stefan Salvatore and attempted murder of Damon Salvatore.

I sighed and held my legal pad tighter against my body. The officer led me down the narrow hallway, passing cold grey metal doors securing female prisoners. We reached one and he turned and looked at me.

"No one has been able to get her to speak or to eat. She sleeps some, but mostly when she's too exhausted to keep her eyes open. Sometimes we get ladies in here like that. Too buried in their guilt and they kinda just give up."

I narrowed my eyes and looked at him. "Guilt? Mrs. Gilbert has nothing to be guilty of as of this moment. Innocent until proven guilty, correct?"

He simply shrugged and called in for her door to be opened. A loud buzzing sound went off and her door slid to the left.

As I looked inside, my heart instantly broke. Elena sat huddled on a metal cot-like bed, her knees tucked against her chest. Her cheeks were sunken in and dark circles blackened her eyes. Her lips were white and chapped, her stare entirely expressionless.

Cautiously, I walked into the cell, nodding back at the officer to close the door. A metal chair sat against the wall and I pulled it over in front of Elena and sat down. She didn't even appear to register my arrival.

I crossed my legs and placed my notepad on my knee, leaning forward with my forearms propped against the pad. I waited several minutes for Elena to look toward me, but she barely even blinked.

"Elena?" I started softly, watching for any signs of… well, anything from her. When she didn't answer, I reached out and softly touched her leg. "Elena?" I repeated. "It's Bonnie."

Slowly, her head turned toward me, but the motion seemed mechanical. Her hazelnut eyes, which were typically so deep, were flat and unreadable, staring not at me, but through me. It was scary.

I flipped to a clean page and began writing.

Patient: Elena Gilbert

Incarcerated for six days now. Patient approaching catatonic state. Unresponsive, stiff, vacant. Staff states patient hasn't eaten or spoken since arrival. Patient seems –

"Bonnie?"

My hand froze and I looked up, barely registering the strained voice that spoke my name. I nearly thought I imagined it, but I could tell her eyes were slightly more focused on my face.

I tilted my head slightly, studying her. "Elena?"

"Where's Damon?" she asked hoarsely.

"The hospital."

"Is he okay?"

I pressed my lips tightly and weighed my words. I had called the hospital every day to check on Damon, but because of the case and my involvement with Elena, the staff was not allowed to release any information. The most they could tell me was that he was still there, indicating to me that he was still alive.

I quickly realized that Elena was internalizing her grief of Damon's injury. I could lie and tell her he was fine in hopes of her making a recovery, or I could tell her the truth.

Over the past months, I had grown to see Elena as more than a patient. I saw her sort of as a friend. No, we didn't hang out on the weekends, but I trusted her and knew she trusted me. I looked forward to our meetings and I had taken more of an interest in her getting well than simply a therapist does for a patient.

I owed her the truth. As her friend.

"I don't know."

I regretted the words, visibly seeing her draw back in on herself, but I knew I had done the right thing. We both cared for Damon. I was also scared for his recovery and worried he may not make it. I couldn't let either of us hold on to some false illusion that everything would be okay. I truly didn't know if it would.

I sat with Elena for the next four hours.

Neither of us said another word.

"Close your eyes and I'll kiss you, tomorrow I'll miss you; remember I'll always be true…"

A familiar voice reached my mind as he sang softly, slowly.

"…and then while I'm away, I'll write home every day, and I'll send all my loving to you..."

A slight smile turned my lips and I let my eyes open. My head rested in Damon's lap and his fingers ran through my hair.

"…I'll pretend that I'm kissing, the lips I am missing, and hope that my dreams will come true..."

His velvet tone wound itself around my heart and I could feel a peace settle into me. "Damon," I sighed, letting my eyes drift close slightly.

"And then while I'm away, I'll write home everyday, and I'll send all my loving to you."

"I love you," I whispered, turning on my side and wrapping an arm around his leg.

"You're dreaming, love," he told me quietly.

I nodded. "I know."

"Darling, you're dying."

I smiled and chuckled tranquilly. "I know," I repeated.

"Don't."

My smile faded and I looked up at him, meeting his sorrowful crystal eyes. "I want to."

He shook his head and smiled his crooked smile. "Not today."

I gasped and shot up, commotion coming from the hall waking me suddenly. My fingers tightly gripped the sheets beneath me as I thought back on my dream and how I had been with Damon. He had felt so real.

Why couldn't he be real?

More shouting came from the hallway and I turned to the noise. Different voices poured in the room when suddenly one sounded far too familiar. It was his voice.

I was absolutely losing my mind.

Stiffly, I stood and walked over to the little window in the door. Looking out, my chest tightened and my breath rushed out in a gust.

"Let her out now!" Damon was demanding of the officer he had up against the wall, his fists clenching the man's upper arms.

The officer's eyes were wide. "You know I can't, Detective," he stammered quickly.

Damon moved closer, his face inches from the others, "I swear to god, if you don't open this door you and every-fucking-body on this floor will lose their job and I will guarantee that you don't work in law enforcement again. Do. You. Understand?" he asked, his tone steady but so menacing I could see the mans face pale.

The officer finally nodded and reached for the walkie on his hip. "Open B-8."

I stepped back as the buzzer sounded and my door moved.

My mind was spinning with the possibility Damon could actually on the other side of the door.

As the metal parted, Damon released the man and rushed to my door.

When he saw me, he stopped short, his eyes furrowing with shock and distress. "Elena?" he asked hesitantly.

The sound of his voice sent a jolt through me and I could feel my heart rate increasing. "Is this another dream?" I asked, surprised by how gravelly my own voice sounded when in the other dream it had been smooth.

Abruptly, Damon crossed the space between us and wrapped me tightly in his arms, kissing the top of my head. "No, baby," he muttered against my hair. "This is not a dream."

I closed my eyes, confusion slamming into me. This couldn't be real. But it felt so real. The warmth of his arms. The strength of his embrace.

"Please don't go," I whispered, suddenly realizing that if this was a hallucination, it couldn't stay forever. "Just be real a little while longer."

He moved back slightly and grabbed my shoulders, bringing his face to my level. "Elena, I am real. I'm right here, love."

I stared back at him and tears began to fill my eyes – the first tears since I'd been parted from him.

I could feel my hands start to shake and I swallowed dryly. I reached up and gently touched his cheek. "You're alive?"

He straightened and pulled me back into a strong hug, smoothing my hair down my back. "Yes," I could feel him nodding. "I'm fine, baby. I'm okay. We're okay."

My eyes closed. I sighed.

We're okay.

Like a falling building, the weight of the world slid off my shoulders and his words sunk in.

We're okay.

A/N: I know this was short, but I wanted to get it out sooner than later.

Thanks so much to bittenbythetvbug on Tumblr for the inspiration to get this chapter complete! You're a doll, love!

(On the Tumblr note, if you don't already, follow me!: aphobiac(DOT)tumblr(DOT)com )

See you guys next chapter!