A/N: I do not own The Vampire Diaries. This chapter and the next are non-canon to explore the Emma/Ryssa past and how she handles her grief.

"Ryssa!" Amanda called out as she entered the apartment and paused when she heard retching. Cautiously, she headed toward it to find her sister bent over the toilet, her face pale from being sick, tears streaming from her eyes. She hurried over and smoothed her hair back and Ryssa curled into her arms, sobs shaking her small body. "What's the matter sweet pea?"

"Mandy…" Amanda rocked her silently until her sister had finally ceased in her crying, worry clenching in her stomach. Something wasn't right, Ryssa had the best immune system she'd ever seen, she thought. But why was she getting sick suddenly?

"Have you seen the doctor?" she asked the other girl.

"No—Mandy—I'm—I'm pregnant," Ryssa moaned and Amanda's eyes widened.

"What? You never told me that you were seeing anyone," she replied, her mind trying to wrap around the concept.

"I wasn't. Mandy, it was James."

"James? You mean the douche you went to the party with?"

"He drugged me, he must have. Oh, Mandy I can't do this," the witch pleaded, clinging to her sister.

"Shh, we'll get through this, Ryssa." Amanda blinked away her own tears and swallowed the anger. Her little sister had seen so much hurt in her life before she came to live with the Montgomery's. It broke her heart that yet another person had dared to touch her.

"Trent's going to be furious," Ryssa muttered.

"I think that's putting it mildly," Amanda laughed. "Don't worry, we'll tell him together."

Ryssa gave into tears once more as her sister held her until sleep finally came. Amanda looked down at her with pity, raising the covers to her chin. Ryssa's phone lit up and began to vibrate and she grabbed it before the noise could wake the sleeping girl. The caller ID lit up with the name Elijah. She remembered him, the guy who'd taken her sister to dinner a few months ago.

"Hello?" Amanda answered.

"Ryssa?" came the reply and she looked at her sister.

"She's sleeping, it's Amanda."

"Hello Amanda. I just called to check in on her, is she well?"

Amanda studied Ryssa's profile and brushed away a tear then answered him firmly. "Yeah, I'm taking care of her."

"Thank you, goodnight Amanda."

It took a while for Ryssa to finally realize that she should do something other than stare at the ceiling. As soon as Damon had gone, she'd broken down completely, until all she could do left was lie on the floor and try not to think. It was nearly impossible. Emma creeped into her mind every time she shut her eyes, but she was cried out. All she wanted was to go back to yesterday, when her daughter was alive and happy, and when Elijah would look at her with devotion in his dark eyes. Now she'd lost them both, as well as Mandy. She felt completely alone.

When she got her strength together, she went to the closet and opened it, looking at all of his shirts. There was an ache inside of her that she knew wasn't ever going to heal, and what made it worse was that she didn't want it to. If it healed, she'd forget, she'd move on. She took one of his shirts off the hanger and held it up to her nose, inhaling his cologne and slid to the floor. Damn Elijah and his stupid deal with the stupid doppelganger. Elijah was supposed to be indestructible, but when she needed him most, he was daggered and hidden somewhere.

Ryssa forced the memories aside and slid his shirt around her shoulders, crossing her arms as she tried again to find the will to go about her day. What she really needed was a distraction, she decided. She left the bedroom and closed the door softly then headed downstairs. She grabbed the paint samples, her purse, keys, and the shopping list. She'd completely forgotten to return the credit card to the Original but figured he'd have wanted her to hang onto it anyway. Her phone already had a few missed calls, mostly from Trent but she turned it off and went out to shop.

The problem with shopping, she found, was that every child's laugh or voice made her heart tear more. She'd turn her head, expecting to see little Emma, only she wasn't there. She couldn't survive this way, it hurt. One of her family members was comatose, the other…She couldn't bear to face Trent yet, not until she was sure she wouldn't lash out at him.

What destroyed her more than anything else was that she hadn't been there. She'd gone off with Elijah on his mission and fallen in love, leaving her daughter without her. And now it was too late, Emma was gone. Her precious daughter, the only light in her life, the pure innocence she'd worked so hard to maintain, was dead.

Ryssa pulled up to the Salvatore's and hesitated just as the door was pulled open by Stefan. He gave her a sympathetic smile and the careful control she'd been trying to find broke. The vampire hugged her tightly, and then led her inside to sit down. He didn't offer any apologies or condolences, just waited until she had calmed and pressed a glass into her hand. The hard liquor burned her throat as she tossed it back in one gulp.

"I'm sorry, Ryssa," he said and she lifted her gaze to meet his. Her usually so expressive eyes were now filled with misery and pain. "Can I call someone for you?"

The witch barked out a laugh. "Sure. Elijah. All you have to do is un-dagger him. But you won't, will you?"

When Stefan sighed and didn't answer, she shook her head. Wordlessly she stood and left once more for home. She unloaded her groceries and paused when she felt the presence of someone behind her and cleared her throat.

"I thought I said I don't want you here, Damon."

"Please, like I'm going to listen to you?" he retorted and grabbed one of the paint cans from the trunk. She watched him walk up the steps and turn, smirking at her and jerked his head. "You coming?"

Ryssa rolled her eyes and grabbed the other can and the painting supplies and followed him, setting it all down on the kitchen counter. "Why are you here?"

"I was bored."

"Damon," she said dryly but he just wagged his eyebrows and smiled. "Fine, stay. I don't care."

She carried the paint supplies up the stairs and into the room she'd already tarped and prepared. The only sign of him behind her was the sound of his boots on the floor. She pulled her hair back and rolled up the sleeves of Elijah's shirt. She probably should change but she couldn't bring herself to. She noticed the vampire opening a can and mixing it, seemingly about to help.

"I don't get you," she told him as she toyed with the brush and dipped it in the can.

"Then don't try," he answered and smirked up at her and started rolling paint on one of the walls.

"I mean, we don't have the most stellar history," she went on as she started on the opposite wall. "I can't stand you half the time."

"And the other half?"

Ryssa stopped and chewed her cheek before going back to painting. "Do you want to be my friend or something? Is that what this is? Or are you just feeling pity for the woman who lost a kid?"

"Do we have to analyze it?" he groaned. "Maybe I just felt like killing time with a witch who's spending her day painting. What's this room going to be anyway?"

"An office. I was thinking of taking a page out of my brother's book," she responded to the changed subject and felt him glance at her. "He turned his office into half a study and half a library practically." She stepped back and gestured to the wall, "turn this into a bookshelf." She turned and gestured to the window near him. "Maybe a desk over there, couple armchairs, artifacts I've come across. Something like home."

"That mean you're staying for good?" He asked and she cocked her head to the side.

"I have nothing for me in Chicago," she uttered. "Trent's half an hour away, may as well keep the house. Good a place as any to settle down, I suppose."

"Have you talked to him?"

"He's been trying to call but I can't right now. I'm not even sure why I'm letting you be here instead of throwing you out on your ass," she remarked dryly and he grinned.

"What are you talking about? I'm a blast to hang out with!" he joked.

"Damon, what do you want? You staked my boyfriend - for lack of a better label - and now you're painting my office? What game are you playing?"

Damon set the roller down on the pan and walked closer to her and she ignored the urge to back away. Every time Damon had come toward her, he'd hurt her. She wasn't sure she could trust his motives, especially since she didn't know what they were.

"You're a witch, you're helping to protect my brother's girl and now you're alone in this town. So yes, this is about wanting to be friends. We had that truce once, right?" Damon met her wary gaze and she studied what she saw in his eyes. Uncertain about the truth in his words, she reached out with her empathy and lowered her shields to experience his emotions. She was surprised to find sincerity, mixed with some concern. But just as quickly as she sensed it, he'd repressed it. "What do you say, witchy woman? Friends?"

The vampire held out a hand and she examined it and flicked her gaze up to meet his, then accepted it. Before he could take his hand back she lifted the paintbrush and smeared a long line of paint on his face. He looked as if he was debating hurting her but changed his mind when she gave him something resembling a smirk. Instead he jerked the brush from her hand and did the same to her before tossing it into the pan with the roller.

"C'mon, let's get out of here, I'm starving." Damon started for the door and she followed with a resigned sigh.

A few minutes later they sat at the bar of the Grill, drinking and arguing about history until she retreated into the bathroom. His attention darted over to her phone to see it lit up with the name Trent and answered.

"Y'ello?"

"Who's this?" the other man demanded.

"A friend. Your turn."

"Why do you have my sister's phone?"

"Ah, Trent, the brother I spoke to last night." Damon shifted to look in the direction of the restrooms but there was so sight of the brunette. "She's using the little girl's room."

"I'm in Mystic Falls. Where do I go?"

"Well, keep going until you get to town and we're in pretty much the only bar/restaurant there is," Damon replied.

Less than a second later Trent entered the Grill, and scanned the crowd for his sister but noticed the black haired guy flagging him over from the bar and went over to him. As he did, he sized up the guy, curious. His sister hadn't told him much about whatever she was doing in this town and had been screening his calls since the night before.

"Trent Jackson," he said to the stranger politely and offered a hand.

"Damon Salvatore, pleasure." Damon shook the guy's hand and he sat, still searching for Ryssa. "What's the matter, got worried about our favorite little witch?"

Trent turned his focus sharply on Damon, not giving away anything that might incriminate Ryssa.

"Relax, she's helping my brother and I on something," the vampire drawled. "Speaking of witches.."

"Trent?" Ryssa demanded in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on my little sister who has been dodging my calls. Why do you think I'm here?" Trent uttered as he stood to face her and she darted her eyes over to Damon and narrowed them.

"Did you tell him where I was?" she asked him and he shrugged and drank his drink. She gritted her teeth and stalked out of the bar with her brother on her heels. Once outside, she spun to face him and shoved him. "I didn't ask you to come here, go home Trent. I'm fine."

"You're lying, sis," he argued. "I know you better than anyone and I know you are not fine. We need to talk, you need to grieve."

"I think that I can take care of myself, thank you."

"Not half as well as I can," he tossed back and gripped her arms, peering into her eyes. He pulled her to him and her resolve cracked when she let him.

Before she could break down a second time, she extracted herself from his arms and heard the door open as Damon exited. "I can't do this. Please, don't make me." Not giving either of them the chance to stop her, she ran for the car and drove away, leaving both of them outside the bar.