My mind's a mess, but what's new about that? There's no light in this room besides one flickering candle in the corner by Jeremy's bed. He's laying sprawled out on top of the sheets, but he's out like a light. And then there's Stefan. He terrifies me. He's hauntingly beautiful, but his face isn't what it used to be. He's lost everything and it shows. Just when he thought things were looking up, it all went up in flames. I know Stefan truly considered Klaus a friend. And Stefan doesn't have many friends, so this has got to be hard. He's taking it all on himself at once. I can't tell if it's my compassion or the old flame that makes me want to cross the room and fall into his arms. I've been trying so hard this whole time to be strong, to be defiant. I never wanted to be that weak girl who fell apart again, but this is a total mess. I have the right to cry, don't I? I'm a world away from everything I know- and for what? Nothing''s been accomplished. Klaus is here. He followed us. He found us easily. I don't want to keep running. And I'm terrified Stefan's going to leave. I know he'd walk through fire for me, but I can see it in his eyes. There's nothing else we can do but be sitting ducks. Why should he stay with me? I've done nothing for him. All i've done the past few months is screw with his mind and leave him in the dust. All of these mixed messages should've made him hate me. Stay with me. Set me free. Don't love me. Hold me. Don't touch me. Protect me. God, Elena. What are you doing to the poor guy?
There's nothing I can contribute to the effort besides compassion. I can't give him what he wants because what he wants is me. And I can't help it that I belong to someone else. Spiritually, physically, and mentally I am Damon's. You know, I haven't said his name in a while. I've tried not to think of him, but all of my trying has ended in failure. He's the moon, the stars, etcetera. He's the one who makes the barely touched Coldplay on my iPod make sense. All the cheesy love songs on the radio are beginning to show their appeal. I've never had this ache in my stomach that blooms whenever I'm away from him. I feel like a lovesick teenager. It's disgusting and it's not me. But why didn't he come after me? If Damon loved me half as much as he claimed to, he would've stopped me from getting on the plane. Or he at least would've tried! He let me run off to Europe with his brother and never said a word. It hurts. It really does. That's all I've got to say about that. As the candle is at the end of it's wick, I cross the room and take a seat beside Stefan. He turns to face me with a look of total defeat.
"We're going to get through this," I say as I lace my hand with his.
"You are, Elena."
His response takes me by surprise. Normally, he'd fake a smile and agree. But not tonight, something's changed.
"What do you mean?"
"You're going to get out of this because there are people who can do more for you than I can. I hate admitting it. I've messed everything up. Literally everything."
"Stefan," I place my hand on his leg encouragingly, "you couldn't have prevented any of this if you tried."
"No, I could've. I could've prevented all of it."
"Are we talking about Klaus?"
Stefan looks away and remains silent. It's not an awkward silence, though. We're both mentally acknowledging the stunningly handsome elephant in the room. It always comes back to this.
"Nothing could've stopped what happened with Damon."
I'm not sure if that's the most sympathetic choice of words, but it's honest. My feelings for Damon originated the day we met. We've got similar souls, Damon and me. It's not just the most passionate, real love I've ever felt, but it's a connection between the fire inside both of us. We have a similar flame that burns so bright when we allow it to. I'm not sure how to explain it, but we're almost kindred spirits. Falling for Stefan was safe, predictable. But falling for Damon was inevitable. The stars were aligned just for the two of us. And I'm sure of it.
"It would've happened either way. Even if I never met you, somehow I feel I would've met him. He's changed me, Stefan. It's a change I needed."
He nods.
"I know. And he's going to be the one to save you. Maybe I'm doing such an awful job because it was never rightfully my job in the first place."
But no response escapes my lips. Because what Stefan has said makes sense. Not only does my hand fit perfectly in Damon's, our lives somehow just mesh. Every part of me that feels empty is filled by him. Every strength I lack, he makes up for. It's Damon's destiny to complete me, and mine to complete his. Who knew all of this wisdom about my relationship was inside of Stefan?
Something's missing from this conversation, though. My romanticized thoughts overshadowed Stefan saying Damon's going to save me. Not that I need some white knight to rescue me, but I'm curious as to why he thinks that.
"What do you mean Damon's going to save me?"
Stefan bitterly grins and shakes his head.
"Damon…is here."
My heart stops beating for what feels like an eternity. The words I'd been imagining in my mind and writing down over and over on mental paper are finally being spoken. All the fantasies I concocted in my sleep of Damon swooping in and making all of this go away are playing back in my mind. He's here. Even if this all ends up ridiculously messy, Damon is here. He is fighting for me.
Trying not to seem too excited, I nod and tell Stefan I'm going to try to get some sleep. We don't know what the next few days hold, so I might as well attempt to rest while I can. He agrees and decides to keep watch while I rest. A few hours pass slowly and I've only managed to get 20 minutes of shut eye. But that doesn't even bother me. How am I supposed to sleep at a time like this? And that works on two levels, because 1. Damon, the love of my life, my missing piece, has flown across the world to find me and 2. It's like 4 P.M. in Briarview.
Stefan, on the other hand, is sound asleep with his forehead pressed against the stucco wall. It can't be comfortable, but at least it's sleep. He's got a lot on his plate, so I guess it's my turn to pick up the slack. I take a seat near the window and keep watch. Nothing exciting is happening on the French countryside, fortunately. However, just as I relax in my seat, three small knocks sound from our door.
The door knob turns as two familiar faces and one stranger step through the door. Normally, I'd be furious in the presence of one of our guests. But she doesn't matter. The strange face doesn't matter. Being in the middle of God-knows-where doesn't matter. I don't jump up from my seat, but calmly stand. My stride across the room is cool and collected, but the last two steps are wild and fanatic. I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest like a child. All of these months of pent up desire and frustration explode into this one meeting. Pure relief washes over every inch of my body as his strong arms swoop around me like wings of protection. He is here. And he loves me.
