Damon didn't kill Matt.

Instead, he went outside and got some air, away from the media and the cameras and the reporters who had nothing better to do than wait around a hospital, digging for their next angle. He went far away, more than a hundred yards, so he didn't break his restraining order.

He found a bench under a tree. He sat. He thought…

The clothes.

The blocking of him from her phone.

The distance.

"We are still together. It is just hard…you know…"

"There's so much I want to tell you…"

Matt was controlling.

Unpredictable.

"I managed to escape—"

"I'm so tired, Damon. Of everything."

"I'm finally free of him."

The darkness during sex.

"Be gentle with me, Damon."

How did he not see this?

How did he not save her?

"Is this seat taken?"

Damon looked up to see a familiar face. Mrs Donovan was standing in front of him, huge sunglasses covering her eyes. She clutched her purse as if he was here to steal her money, as if she was not the one who approached him. "No, madam. Seat is free."

She sat next to him, crossed her legs. "I didn't know kids still say madam."

Damon looked straight ahead. "My mother taught me manners." She taught him a lot of things, like not to beat on women. What the hell have you been teaching your son? He wondered.

He was sure she knew who he was, but she was faking it, and he would play her game and he would win because he was sick of losing. His mother. His freedom. His perspective. His goddamn mind.

She pulled out a stick of gum from her purse and offered it to him.

"No, thank you."

They were not friends. They didn't share gum. What the hell did she want?

"So polite," she mumbled.

"Like I said," he leaned back on the bench. "My mother taught me manners."

"It is Lillian, right? Your mother?"

Damon hated this so much. He hated that his mother's name left the mouth of Kelly Donovan. He started to leave, but she said, "Damon?"

He sighed and sat back down. "With all due respect, Mrs Donovan, what do you want from me?"

"So, you know who I am?"

"I saw you at the hospital the night your son tried to kill my best friend."

"I thought she was your girlfriend."

He faced her. "She is both."

She nodded, smiled like she had a right to. "I met your mother once, at this charity event. She was dancing with your dad, and I remember looking at them and being so jealous. They loved each other very much."

"Love," he corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"They love each other. You said loved. Love doesn't die just because one heart stops beating. When you love someone, you have the same heartbeat and it is still there, just not as strong. So no. There is no loved. Dad still loves her."

She stared at him a long moment, longer than he was comfortable with. Then she looked away, tried to hide her emotions. "Like you love Elena?"

"Elena is my heart, madam."

She sighed and picked at her dress. "You are lucky."

He was lucky? His girlfriend had been shot multiples times and he might be going to prison. He was lucky?

She added, "I have never known a love like that. I met Pete in high school. He was a lot like Matt. Popular and handsome and driven."

Damon didn't care.

"The first time Pete laid a hand on me I was seventeen. I didn't have friends or family to run to, so when he said he was sorry and that it wouldn't happen again, I believed him. Through the rest of high school and college, it kept happening. Then I found out I was pregnant and I thought it would change things. We got married and had Matt and for a while, it was perfect."

Damon still didn't care.

"Matt was four the first time Pete hit me in front of him. He ran away, up to his room, and locked himself in his closet. He was so scared, so petrified, and when he saw me and the damage his father had done, he started wailing. I should have protected him from it. I should have left Pete, but he was always there, a constant reminder that without him, I would have nothing. Even if I left, he would fight for custody of Matt and I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let him control our son. But without me realizing, he did it anyway. He wanted to mould Matt into him, and he succeeded. He put so much pressure on that boy…and Matt—he didn't know any better. That's what love was to him." She looked away, wiped her eyes, and continued, "I knew about Matt's amphetamine addiction and I didn't do anything about it, and when Elena called me from the hospital, my worst fears came true. Pete had created an identical version of him."

"Did she tell you what happened…at the hospital?"

Kelly didn't answer him, instead, she said, "Matt loved Elena so much and when she wanted to leave him, he lost his way. He wasn't himself that night, Damon, you have to understand."

"No."

"No?" she asked.

"No. I don't 'have to understand. I have sat here and listened to what you have had to say, and it is not good enough and it is not going to change anything. He was still there, he pulled the trigger, four times, and she is lying in a hospital bed minus a spleen with two bullets still inside her and you want to see justice. You want me behind bars because I did something someone should have done to your husband a long time ago. If you came here to try and make peace with yourself, I hope it helped. But there is no peace for me, and there is definitely none for Elena."

She nodded, removed her sunglasses so she could wipe her tears. Damon didn't miss the scars, the darkness and swelling around her eyes, and for a moment, he felt for her.

Really.

Truly.

She asked, "Do you regret what you did?"

He thought about the answer long and hard. "Every time I close my eyes, I see Elena. I see her lying on the ground in her blood-stained dress, and I didn't realize it at the time—I thought she was clutching her chest, clutching for breath, but she was holding on to this necklace my mother left her. I keep going back to that moment, and I try to come up with all these different scenarios. Try to think of other ways I could have handled it, and I can't. I just can't." He took a breath, looked down at his hands, pictured her blood on them. "I'm not sure if I will ever regret what I did, but I regret hurting you in the process." He looked up at her, met her gaze. "I have a brother, Mrs Donovan, and for some reason, he looks at me like I'm some kind of hero, and now I have to try to explain why his hero is going to prison." He stood up, faced her. "I'm sorry that you had to experience all that you have been through, madam. And if my mother was alive, she would want me to open up my home to you, somewhere safe you can go if you get scared. And so, the offer is there if you need it. But the excuses have to stop. For you, for Matt, for Elena."

Then he headed back to the hospital, made his way to Elena's room. He ignored the flowers and gifts and police protection just outside Matt's room and prepared himself to face-off with the detectives, but just before he opened the door, his phone rang.

It was University of Virginia.

They had pulled his scholarship.

x x x

There was this nightmare Damon had, only it didn't just happen at night. It happened every time he closed his eyes. He was on my knees and she was in her periwinkle dress, weak in his arms. She offered him those eyes and that was when he got handcuffed, dragged away, and then he was in a jail cell, bright orange jumpsuit, and in the middle of his cell was a giant hole in the ground, six feet deep, and in his dream, he always told himself not to look because he knew what was in there, who was in there. Still, he looked, and there was Elena, her arms crossed at her chest, and those eyes were closed and covered with crochet flowers.

"That's a little morbid, Damon," Elena said after he told her about the nightmare, the visions.

It had now been six days and twelve hours since the incident that had been dubbed The Night the Town Turned Red, Blue and Black. Three days since Matt left his hospital room with a few broken ribs, a busted jaw and some bruising that wouldn't be going away any time soon. But, at least he was not there, meaning Damon could see Elena whenever he wanted. It was also three days until his trial. His lawyers said he was lucky he was not being charged with attempted murder, but given the evidence (Stefan's video) and the circumstances, Matt with a gun (premeditated) and Damon with his anger, it would be easier for the Donovans to get what they wanted on the assault and battery charges alone. The Donovans had requested a different judge, someone who would see the facts, aka someone who accepted their money. Their request was granted, so there were no doubts Damon was going away. The question was for how long.

He watched Mason's car came up their driveway, then focused on Newton running around the front yard, the sprinklers on, and he wished Newton could at least make Elena happy. Because he wasn't sure how long he would be away from his family and from her. He was numb and he was tired. So tired.

Mason stepped out of his car with a bunch of flowers and stopped in front of Damon. Without a word, he sat next to Damon, placed the flowers between them. "I don't even know what to say," he mumbled.

"There's not a lot you can say."

Newton was standing in front of a jet of water, drinking it in.

"I heard about the trial coming up," Mason said. "I will be there, Damon, not that it matters. And I spoke to Principal Jenkins; he assures me that you and Elena are going to graduate regardless."

Senior year.

Graduation.

It felt like a different life.

Mason asked, "How are Stefan and your father doing?"

Damon sighed. "Stefan has locked himself in his room. He refuses to talk about it, refuses to see Elena. It was tough on him."

"Yeah," Mason said. "It must be tough. And now they are installing metal detectors at the doors and adding a security guard. It didn't even happen at the school."

Damon nodded, but it made him furious that the actions of Matt Donovan had set off a chain of events at a school where his brother would have to attend. He dropped his gaze, looked down at the flowers. "Thanks for the flowers," he said.

Mason laughed once. Forced. "They are not for you. They are for Elena. I tried to see her, but they won't let anyone in the room that's not on the list."

Damon faced him, eyes narrowed. "The list?"

"They have a list at the desk."

"Oh."

"You didn't know?"

Damon shrugged.

John called and said, "Can you get to the hospital? I need your help."

Damon's heart pounded, and he looked at Mason looked back at the house where Stefan was in his room, refusing to deal with reality.

Mason nudged him, somehow knowing what was going on. "I will watch him," he said. "Go."

Damon covered the phone. "Are you sure?"

"We will have fun."

It took six minutes and fourteen seconds to get from his house to the hospital, less than it took from the hotel in an ambulance, sirens and all. He rushed through the doors, now clear of media and went straight to Elena's room. John was pacing, Elena was sitting on the edge of her bed, her bags packed next to her. Her arms were crossed, her gaze distant.

Damon looked at John. "What happened?"

John said, "She is adamant on going home."

"But the nurses said—"

"I know, Damon. I can't get through to her. She's just been sitting there, stubborn as hell."

Damon cracked a smile. "Like old times, huh?"

John sighed. "I need to go for a walk, clear my head."

John left, and Damon looked at Elena again. She hadn't changed positions, hadn't stopped staring at the floor. He squatted in front of her, took her hands in his. "What's going on, babe?"

She didn't look at him when she said, tone flat, "Do you know it costs us two grand a day just to be here? That doesn't even include the surgery or the medicine or the rehab I'm going to need for my leg."

"I'm sure your dad is just relieved you are okay, Elena. All that stuff isn't important right now."

She shook her head. "We can't afford to pay that, Damon. Not now. Not ever. And you…" Her eyes finally met his, so sad, so distant. "Why didn't you tell me about University of Virginia pulling the scholarship?"

Damon sighed. "Because it is not important, either."

"It is important," she grinded out, her eyes filling with tears. Her jaw tensed, her breaths becoming harsher and harsher until…

Until she stood up, picked up a vase and threw it across the room. "It is important, and I'm sick of you all treating me like this!"

Damon stood, shocked, looked over at the shattered glass. "Elena!"

She shoved his chest, and he fell back a step. "I'm sick of you coming here every day and pretending like everything is going to be okay! You are going to prison, Damon. You are going to prison, and Dad has to take out more loans!" Another shove. Damon tried to hold her, take her wrists, but she was too wild, too angry, and he let her push him, over and over, her cries getting louder and louder. "I keep going back, keep trying to work out what the hell happened to me! How the hell did I get here?" She stopped pushing. Started limping around the room. "I have ruined everyone's life, Damon! Everyone's! And I want to go home. We can't afford for me to be here anymore!" She froze, turned to him, her eyes on his. "And you need to go to University! Even without the scholarship, you can still go, right? You can't stay for me! I won't let you!"

"Elena." He tried to breathe through the pain. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Jesus Christ," a woman said, and his gaze snapped to the door, to Mrs Donovan standing there and how long had she been here? How much had she heard? She said, "Elena, you are bleeding."

Damon looked back at Elena now sitting on the bed, looking down at her abdomen. The blood seeped through her blue hospital gown onto her hands. Blood everywhere. Blood everywhere.

"Damon, call for a nurse," Kelly Donovan ordered.

He found what little strength he had left, put one foot in front of the other, found a nurse in the hallway and took her back to Elena's room.

"What happened?" the nurse said, looking between Kelly and Damon and the broken vase on the floor, shattered, just like Damon's heart. Whoever said the truth set you free was a liar. It caged you, kept you locked in your head with no escape.

Damon didn't speak. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do.

"Elena," said the nurse. "You have torn your stitches."

"Leave it," Elena snapped.

"We have to sew it back up and stop the bleeding."

"Just smack a Band-Aid on it so I can go home," Elena told her. "It will heal fine."

"Is she ready to go home?" Kelly Donovan asked.

The nurse shook her head. "Not even close."

Damon stood by the door, his hands behind his back, looked down at the floor.

"I didn't mean it," Elena cried.

"You didn't mean to break the vase?" the nurse asked. "It is okay, sweetheart. We will clean up."

"No…Damon!"

Damon lifted his gaze.

She was covering her mouth, muffling her cries. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he whispered but he knew it was not.

She reached for him, winced in pain. He went to her, took her in his arms. She cried into his chest. He cried into her hair.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, and he wanted to take her pain away. "I don't know why I said those things. I'm just trying to make sense of everything and I can't…"

"It is okay," he said.

"Can he stay?" she asked the nurse. "When you stitch me up?"

"If you are comfortable with him seeing your wounds, I don't see why not."

Kelly Donovan left while the nurse stitched Elena up again, changed her dressing. The physical scars that would mar her body would be nothing compared to her emotional ones. John returned, his reaction the same as the nurses. "What the hell happened?"

"I lost it," Elena said, woozy from the anaesthetic. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"It is okay," John told her, but he was looking at Damon, his eyes worried.

A moment later, Elena was asleep, and Damon explained to John everything that happened as best as he could. "I think it was just building up and she needed to get it out and this was her way of doing that."

He motioned to the door and John followed behind him. "Is it really costing two grand a day for her to be here?"

John rubbed his sad, tired eyes. "That's just for the stay. I'm in over a hundred."

"Grand?"

"Welcome to adulthood, son."

"I have some money my mum left me," Damon offered.

John shook his head, a man of pride. "I'm not taking your money, Damon. I will handle this the same way we have handled everything else."

They stood in silence a moment, a heavy thought hanging between them. It shouldn't be up to John to cover this. "They should be paying for this, financially and otherwise," Damon mumbled.

John sighed. "You don't think I have thought about that? But doing that would mean forcing Elena through more hell with the Donovans. She has experienced enough of that." He paused a beat, looked away and avoided Damon's gaze. "I failed her, Damon. I was so wrapped up in my relationship with Jules, I never even saw this coming."

"I was with her," Damon admitted. "I watched that entire relationship form and continue and break down, and I—"

"But I'm her father," John whispered.

"And I'm her best friend. I let her go with him that night." Damon grasped John's shoulder. "We are all going to walk away from this with regrets, but it is what we do with those that's going to change her life. And I think, right now, it is important to remember that at least she has the chance to live one."

Damon left John to stay with Elena, and he went in search of Kelly Donovan. He wanted to know why she was here, what the hell it was she wanted. He found her at the admin desk of the recovery ward, two folders in front of her. She said to the clerk, her voice low, "Are you able to make this one out as if their insurance covered it?"

The clerk nodded, and Damon stopped next to Kelly. "What are you doing?" he asked.

She flinched at the sound of his voice. "Nothing."

He looked down at the open folders. Medical bills. One for Matt Donovan. The other for Elena Gilbert. He didn't even bother asking how she had access to the file because she was who she was. Instead, he asked, "How much did you hear in there?"

Her hand was gentle when she touched his arm, waiting for him to meet her gaze. "I heard nothing. Just like I'm doing nothing. You understand, Damon?"

Damon swallowed the lump in his throat, realization forming. "Yes, madam."

"Good." She released him. "How is Elena?"

"She is going to be okay."

She smiled. Then she reached into her bag, pulled out a pamphlet. "I have done some research into some rehab facilities for Elena. The best one is forty-five minutes away, but I figured, you being you, you won't mind driving her."

Damon took the pamphlet from her, pretended like he was skimming it as if he hadn't done his own research. "Mrs Donovan, I appreciate this, but John—Mr Gilbert—he can't afford the best. He can barely afford mediocre."

"Oh, it is covered," she said with a wink. "By insurance. Also, expect to be getting a call from your lawyers about us dropping the charges."

Damon stopped breathing. "I'm sorry?"

She reached up, cupped his face in her hands, looked into his eyes. "I know evil, Damon. I have stared it right in the eyes and wished for death. Evil people belong in prison. You are not evil. You are everything Elena said you were." She offered him one last smile before walking away.

When he sat in the holding cell, he started to question his mother's belief in fate. Instead, he wanted to believe in circumstance, in justice. But maybe his mother was right. Because right now, there was absolutely no logical reason why this was happening. "Mrs Donovan?" he called out, waited for her to stop and faced him. He jogged over to her. "Why are you doing this?"

She wiped at her eyes, lifted her chin. "Because I failed my son by not acting, not speaking up, not changing the course of his life." A single tear streaked down her cheek, and she wiped it with the back of her hand. "But it is not too late to change yours. Yours and Elena's. You are both amazing kids, and Elena is lucky to have you."

"I'm the lucky one."

"I knew you would say that."

"I'm sorry, madam. About Matt. About your husband. You really are a good person."

She dropped her gaze, and when she looked back up, she was smiling. "Good is the enemy of great, Damon. I want to be great."

His lawyers called a few minutes after Mrs Donovan left the hospital to confirm what she had told him. The Donovans had dropped the assault charges.

Damon waited for Elena to wake up before calling Giuseppe and asking him to come to the hospital. He wanted them all here. Especially Stefan.

"He won't want to," Giuseppe said.

"Make him."

He hung up.

Elena asked, "What is going on, Damon?"

"Wait. I want everyone here."

"Am I pregnant?" she joked.

John's face paled. "Don't do that," he said, and Damon finally found something to laugh about.

Stefan entered the room and went straight to Elena. Every other time he had come in, she had been asleep. "I'm sorry," was the first thing he said. "I should have stepped in—"

"Shut up," she cut in. "I don't want to hear it. Not now. Not ever. You understand?"

"But—"

"Stefan."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Okay." He chuckled. "You look really pretty, even in a hospital gown."

"Yeah. The pale blue really brings out the colour in my eyes." She looked at Damon. "So, what's up, Damon?"

She squealed when Damon told her the news. "So we can be together? You are not going anywhere?" She hugged him tight, and he told her to be careful—her stitches—but she didn't seem to care. Her hug was replaced by Giuseppe's John's, and then his brother. Stefan held him the longest, told him he was scared, that he didn't know what he would do without his big brother and the truth was, Damon was scared, too, of what he would do without his family.

Damon called in another favour from the head chef at Pino's, and he was more than happy to oblige. Everyone knew about the shooting, about Elena, and he offered to make her meals every night she was in the hospital, on the house. Damon picked up the food, and Elena and he would have dinner on her bed, the room light dimmed. "Are you sad about not beating Lord Voldemort's record?" she asked.

"Voldemort?"

"He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named."

He shrugged. He hadn't even thought about it. Hadn't gone on a single run since prom. "Not really. It is petty compared."

"Yeah," she said. "Besides,"—she pointed to herself—"You got the grand prize right here."

She was crazy.

And Damon loved crazy Elena.

When he got home later that evening, he looked around his room. And a calm washed through him, a vision of his future. He took one look at the trophies, said goodbye to his old life. A life that never defined him like his family did. Like Elena did.

I can't believe this story has 400 reviews! I'm very excited and glad that my readers are enjoying this story as much as I do. Thank you for everything:)