Chapter Six
Present day
At first, the knocking sound seemed like it was merely background noise, part of her daughter's cartoons. Elena had just settled Diana down for some after dinner TV before her bath, so she could get some things that needed to be done done. It had been a long day, she was mentally drained, and she wasn't expecting any company. Jeremy was out, but he had his own key and would simply come in if he were home.
When she realized the knocking was actually real and on her front door, she muttered, "What the heck?" and hurriedly put the finishing touches on the carrot cake she was making. After licking cream cheese frosting off her finger tips and turning off the sink faucet, she hustled to answer the door, curious who it could possibly be.
Even more unexpected than an unexpected visitor was the identity of this unexpected visitor. It was Damon, hair falling loose and silky to those broad shoulders of his and looking annoyingly gorgeous in all black. Gone was the dashing, arrogant, and flirtatious man whom she had run into earlier that day at the Grill. In his place was a man who looked sheepish and a little bit scruffier, hands tucked discreetly in his pockets.
Her heart clutched in fear at the sight. What was he doing here? She couldn't think of any reason for him to have come here to her home like this.
Well, except one. There was maybe one reason she could think of.
"Hey," he said, going first and breaking the tense silence between them. The delicate glow from the porch lights illuminated his dark hair, made it and his silver piercings gleam. He was paler than usual. Shadows lurked under his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks. "Hope you don't mind. I … was just driving by, you know, around, in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd drop by." He sounded perfectly affable, albeit uncertain. If she didn't know better, she might really think he'd been struck by pure fancy, and that was the only reason why he'd shown up uninvited at her home.
Yeah, right. Glancing behind him into the rapidly fading twilight beyond the bounds of her dimly lit porch, she saw his blue Camaro parked out on the street curb. She looked back at him, glaring grumpily at this intrusion, hand on her waist.
As if he didn't notice the vibes she was throwing out, or maybe because he did, he sniffed appreciatively at the scent of freshly baked carrot cake wafting out from behind her. "Smells good."
"Sorry," she said curtly, "Jeremy isn't here. I don't know where he is. You should call him"
She supposed the polite thing to do would be to invite him in, but that she refused to do. As she flexed her arm and prepared to close the door, he stretched out a hand, a motion of supplication that had her staying the door.
"Wait, that's not - " He cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm here to see you, not Jeremy."
She decided to close the door anyway. And it was not because she was afraid that she already knew what he was going to say, or rather ask. It was because she didn't know what she was going to do if he did ask.
Sensing that he'd somehow said the wrong thing, he leapt forward to prevent her from shutting him out. "Please, before you slam the door in my face, I just – need a minute. That's all, I swear. And then I'll go. I promise. And you can slam the door in my face as hard as you want to."
"Fine," she said between clenched teeth. "One minute. Go." Whatever it took to get him off her front porch. It couldn't happen fast enough, as far as she was concerned.
He straightened, like she'd kicked him, looking minutely guilty. Then, he started pacing as he talked, back and forth, a few steps each way, in the manner of a caged animal, occasionally rubbing a hand up and down his arm. He really did have nice, muscular arms. "I'm sorry about – showing up here like this. I know it's late. I tried to ask Stefan about … but he said I had to ask you. And I was going to call you, but I don't have your number, and I guess I could have asked Jeremy for it, but this didn't really seem like the sort of thing I should ask over the phone or through a text, and I just – I couldn't wait."
"Ask me what?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
He heard her nonetheless.
He took a while to respond and only stopped pacing after a few more moments. Then, he looked her dead in the eye, the question already in his eyes. Her stomach sank. He said hoarsely, "See, here's the thing I can't stop thinking about. Diana, your daughter – she has blue eyes." He licked his lips. "And black hair."
Her heart pounded painfully in her chest "Yes."
"She's six, and her birthday's in March."
"Yes, I know," was her caustic reply. "Have you just come to parrot basic facts about my daughter to me? Because if that's all - "
"Elena, please." She stopped, and he stared back at her, looking quite haunted, a visible tension about him. "Is Diana - is she – is she mine?"
"No, she's mine." Elena actually advanced a step towards him, surprising herself at the ferocity of her response, "and if you even think about coming after her and trying to take her away from me with your big, fancy, expensive asshole lawyers, I'll kill you in your sleep."
She must have looked serious – and she was - because he gaped for a moment, taken completely aback by her promise of violence. "No, of course, she's yours. I would never ….." He backed up, hands up, palms out, placatingly. "I just meant - who ..." He paused to swallow again, the black tattoo at the base of his throat moving with the motion.
She looked at him, still able to see the man who had so utterly fascinated her when she was younger. But now she was wise enough to know it had always just been wishful thinking on her part. "Why don't you just ask anyone in town? Honestly, I'm shocked you haven't already heard. They all love to gossip, and everyone knows the pathetic and humiliating story of how you came back here, impregnated me, and then ghosted."
This perfectly devastating summation of their past together, as well as her admission about who was truly responsible for getting her pregnant, seemed to hit him over the head like a bludgeon. He stood dazed for a moment, processing, then pulled himself together enough to say, "You – you said you were on birth control."
"Nothing's a hundred percent."
His face changed completely. He looked devastated. He massaged the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess … I guess mistakes do happen."
"Diana is not a mistake. The only mistake was you."
He scoured his hand over his face. "Are you sure? Like, sure, sure, like there's no one else it could be?"
She huffed out an angry breath and once again resorted to trying to slam the door in his face.
Panicked, he lunged forward, barring the door from closing right at the last moment.
"Believe me," she snapped furiously at him through the small gap, "if I could deny it, I definitely would."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to imply – what it sounded like. This is just … a lot to take in."
She pushed on the door as quietly as she could manage, trying to get him to move so she could lock him out without drawing Diana's attention their way. "I felt the same way, too, you stupid bastard - seven years ago." She'd only been nineteen, and she'd never felt so totally, achingly, gut-wrenchingly scared and alone.
"I know. Jesus, Elena, I know. I'm so sorry. I really am. If I'd thought for even a second that this … would happen, I never would've left."
She suddenly stopped trying to close the door. He was only a few inches from her. She could see the ends of his hair, how they curled over the collar of his shirt. Could see the five o'clock shadow darkening his jawline. His nearness was both the best and the worst thing that had ever happened to her. "But you did."
His whole body drooped. He said, but feebly, "I know. I wish I had known. I wish … someone had told me."
She scoffed. "I like how you say that as if I didn't try to contact you. When I found out I was pregnant, you were the first person I called. That number you gave me? Out of service. I begged Stefan to give me some way to get in touch with you. An email address, a PO box number. Anything. Some way to let you know …. But he said you'd left behind nothing. You made sure that Mystic Falls, and I, were out of your life for good. Just like you wanted."
She saw something flash across his face, a mixture of grief and guilt and regret. It was a tangle of tormented emotions that too closely mirrored her own pain. Rage filled her. How dare he stand there and pretend that he was hurting like she had in any way. She began to push on the door again. She wanted him gone.
"Elena - " he said brokenly, reaching through the gap. He found her fingers and laid his own atop them, "it was never like that - "
"I don't care," she hissed.
"Who is it, Mommy?"
She ripped her hand out from under his as though it were toxic. "No one, sweetie." She gave Diana, who was peeking over the back of the couch, a reassuring smile. "I'll be done in just a second." She skewered Damon with an angry look. "I have to go. You have to go."
He caught the door again right before it could close all the way. "Wait, please, I know this is a bad time, and I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but I want …" He licked his lips nervously. "I really, really want to get to know her. Will you … let me?"
His plea was so raw it tugged on even her unforgiving heartstrings. "It's bed time."
"No, of course, I don't mean right now. Whenever it's convenient for you and for her. Just let me know when. I'll be available."
Elena stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her so her daughter wouldn't be able to hear. "When Diana was old enough to start asking about her father, I didn't know what to tell her. This probably makes me a terrible mother, but I wanted to give her someone who loved and cared about her, someone she could look up to. Because that's what my daughter deserves.'' She was not going to cry. "So, I told her that her real dad died fighting overseas before she was born. He was a soldier. A hero. And since the moment she's been born, Stefan's been the one who's helped me take care of her. He's been nothing but a positive male role model in her life. Her aunt Caroline and aunt Bonnie are also always there and have been, every step of the way. Even Jeremy, for all his faults, is amazing with her. She adores him. So, you see, we already have a family. We don't need you. It's too late for that."
He nodded his head slowly. "Yeah, I know."
"You keep saying that, but you don't know. You don't know anything, because you weren't here."
"I know," he repeated lamely. He came forward and made a motion like he wanted to take her hand, but then stopped, perhaps having the insight that his touch wouldn't be welcomed. "For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing. A war hero's way better than the truth. And I don't think you're a terrible mother. All I have to do is look at how incredible your daughter is to know there's no way you could be terrible." He took a deep breath. "Look, you don't have to tell her who I am. I won't. I can just be Uncle Stefan's fun brother, Uncle Damon."
While she wavered and fought with herself over what was the right thing to do for her daughter, he brought his hands up into the prayer position. "Please, Elena. I just want to spend a little bit of time with her. Get to know her. That's all. I get that you are in complete control here. I will follow your rules. I promise. I just want to spend some time with her. Please."
His voice was earnest, his expression deferential and completely devoid of any guile, a forlorn and remorseful, yet vigorously masculine and adorable, puppy. A lesser woman might have felt her heart softening, her resistance crumbling.
Elena, however, was not so foolish, nor was she a lesser woman. She eyed him skeptically, feeling a bit like she was venturing further and further out onto a frozen lake, and she was so scared the thin ice was going to crack at any moment.
She really didn't want to let him into her world again. No matter how pitiful and cute he looked. If she had her way, she'd prefer to just forget that Damon Salvatore had ever existed, and she and Diana would continue on as they had before – just fine without him.
But she also felt that, no matter how she personally felt about Damon, it wouldn't be fair to Diana to deny her this chance to know her biological father. Even if he was a thoughtless, womanizing jerk who deserved a swift kick in the nuts.
God, what a dilemma. What was she supposed to do?
The right thing. That's what she needed to do. The right thing for Diana.
So Elena resolved to make a decent attempt to overlook her own feelings and give Damon a fair shot, but only for her daughter's sake. And she was definitely going to take him up on not telling Diana who he really was. Not yet. She wanted to make sure his appearance wasn't just a flash in the pan before he bounced again. The moment he showed even a hint of bailing ….
That pain she wasn't putting Diana through.
So how could she do this correctly, safely, so that her daughter didn't get hurt? She looked away, to the white swing swaying gently in the night breeze, and inspiration struck.
With tone and aspect completely flat, she offered, "We go to Little Wickery Park every Tuesday and Thursday after school. Around four." She turned back to Damon, hoping she wouldn't come to regret what she said next. "If you want, you can meet us there."
Surely a park would be spacious enough for her to mostly avoid him.
He blinked at her, obviously surprised. It was more, so much more, than he'd been expecting. Then, "Yes," he rushed out eagerly, accepting her offer with the alacrity of a dangling mountain climber grasping a hold of his last lifeline, "yes, that's perfect, yes, I'll be there." Suddenly, his whole demeanor became very serious, and he said quite intensely and sincerely, "Thank you, Elena. Really."
She looked away again. "I really do have to go now. I still need to get Diana ready for bed. She hasn't even had her bath yet."
"Right. Bath time. I'm going. You can go ahead and slam the door in my face if you still want to."
She stifled the burst of amusement she felt coming on and rolled her eyes instead. "You're an idiot."
"The biggest, self-admittedly." He shuffled back a few steps. "Good night, Elena. See you Tuesday."
She gave him a thin-lipped smile in parting and went back inside. As soon as she'd finally, successfully closed the front door, she leaned back against it, one hand still loosely clasping the knob, the other pressed over her heart. She was more than a little fearful that this would wind up being her worst mistake yet.
