A/N: Hello my beautiful readers. It has been far too long, and for that I will not go any further into this pointless author's note ;) Hope you enjoy this new chapter

Rock the Ballet:

Chapter 22: Why Do We Fall?

What have I become

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away

In the end

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns

Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time

The feelings disappear

You are someone else

I am still right here

-Hurt by Nine Inch Nails, as Performed by Johnny Cash

Despite his continuous, laborious efforts, the world continued to spin. Time never stopped like those hippies on the corner of 4th Ave told him. All of the power, the money, the fame he had acquired through his music faded away. Faded to black.

The abyss was growing. The pit in his stomach being filled night by night with whiskey, the hole in his heart throbbing with each splash against the walls. His nostrils had long since turned a seemingly permanent red.

His dark eyes darted to the left of the dark room flooded with god-awful music, each piercing note bouncing off his ear drum to ricochet back out, never taken into consideration as enjoyable. It was then he noticed a bleach blonde girl, at least he thought it was girl-It's too dark in here, man-slung on his bare shoulder, her head bent down to snort a line of cocaine off of his skin.

It was then.

It was then that he realized.

He realized he had finally hit rock bottom.

It took a thorough slap from Markus, a dousing of water from Armand and twenty bucks from Anthony to purchase aspirin, to break him. It seemed relatively simple; the first few days constituted migraines, but he had experienced worse hangovers. However, the week mark was when the clouds lifted from his eyes and he finally was able to see. He felt washed-out and kind of dirty, but "it's better than being dead, dude".

"Is she coming?" Anthony leaned against the counter, elbow on the cabinet as his fingers tapped an erratic rhythm on his head.

Armand sighed, "I think I got through to her. I mean she was reluctant even with meeting up with just us," He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing, "I actually feel bad about this, man."

Closing the door to Damon's room, Markus wiped away the beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow. His stature was slightly hunched forward in a passive way, as if the recent events had aged him tenfold. His eyes were weathered as he glanced between his two bandmates, "We good?"

"Bueno."

"You sure you don't want to come?" Bonnie creased the papers, hoping that the mailman will be able to deliver them to the theater in time; she most definitely was not losing her job over budget sheets. Licking the envelope sealed, she flopped onto the couch, bringing her knees up to a comfortable position, "I'm sure he won't even be there."

Caroline rolled her eyes, "I'm not worried about him. I couldn't care less about him, Bon."

Her eyebrows darted up. She knew her better than the back of her hand, and with this profound knowledge of her, she could read her face like a book. She was not going to stand by like countless others and pat her back and say, "He's a jerk. You'll be fine." No. She was tired of seeing her friends suffer because of the mistakes of men. It was time that she became the mediator, the angel in disguise.

"Care, please. Come with me," Before Caroline could respond, she widened her eyes and brought tears forth, "Please. I don't want to be alone."

Caroline was trapped in a box with no way out in sight.

It was a feeling he had missed dearly. Growing up, the guitar in his hands created such a melodic sound, he could only describe it as sheer beauty, as if the angels had crafted the instrument with their bare hands.

In his youth, the steps he took, the world he saw surrounding him, were filled with music. He could hear it.

The deaths, drugs, crumbling relationships slowly faded the music out. Rock bottom saw him standing on the tip of the mountain, the whirring silence pervading his every sense.

This mountain, the one symbolic of his rocky life, with multiple paths carved into the side, provided dwindling options. He could see its paths slowly becoming overgrown before becoming one with the mountain.

Sitting in this empty bar, beside his friends, every move he made echoed throughout the room.

Armand let out a dry laugh, "You got fidgety fingers."

His eyes were drawn down to his hands, tapping wildly against the mahogany table. "I have a hankering for my guitar. 'Haven't played it since...I don't remember." He cleared his throat, shifting the mood in the room to a new level of awkward.

Markus returned from the entry hall, face splattered with tension. "Armand, Anthony." The two men, as if one cue, stood and walked back down the hall with Markus. The speed of his tapping increased until the tips of his fingers were blood red.

The clock on the wall ticked away, oh how he wished he could strangle it. Stop its beat so as he would not have to endure this hell any longer.

The door opened once more mere minutes later. His ears perked up when there were indistinguishable mutterings between people. Seconds passed before there was silence, silence so deafening he could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

She rounded the corner before he could catch his breath. Donning jeans and a purple French-scripted shirt, she had never been more beautiful to him. Return a man to the Niagara Falls, it will be twice as beautiful to him.

Her slight smirk fell away, crushing his heart. Eyes turning to water, she stepped forwards, "Damon?"

He stood from the table, taking cautious steps towards her. "Elena..I..I've missed you. I'm so-"

She stepped forwards to put a finger to his lips, "Not now. We need to talk." He nodded before guiding her back to the table.

Passing around the bowl of salsa, Bonnie pursed her lips in curiosity. "I wonder how things are going to be after today." Her words struck home with Markus, his eyes darting across the table towards Caroline whose head had suddenly bowed lower.

Armand took a swig from his tumbler, "Million dollar question."

Anthony clapped him on the back, "Wasn't a question, brilliant one." He had seen the looks Markus was giving Caroline, but decided to bite his tongue. Today was about fixing, not breaking.

He directed his attention to the blonde on his right, the one he had been playfully poking to get her to smile. He was rewarded with her dazzling pearly whites, albeit through the strands of hair that had fallen into her face.

Brushing away the stray strands, he could practically feel the daggers Markus was directing towards his actions. He snapped his hand back and met his gaze. Disbelief met resolution.

The silence of the table was strangling Markus. His throat seemed to be closing in on itself, slowly cutting off circulation. He violently tugged his skinny tie off and tossed it onto the table.

Bonnie's fork stopped halfway to her mouth, eyes shifting from Markus to Anthony, confusion marring her features. Placing her fork on the plate, she opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off.

Markus stood, pushing back his chair as the harsh sound of wood scratching against wood permeated the silence. "Can we speak outside?" Without waiting for a reply, he threw open the door to the restaurant.

Armand snapped to attention, setting his tumbler of whiskey onto the table, "Hey, hey, hey. Everything alright?" Anthony, clearly agitated, nodded briskly and followed after Markus.

The silence mixed with confusion. Caroline buried her head into her hands.

The street was dead, not to say that it was alive during any part of the week. Markus paced back and forth beside the brick wall of the building. Once he laid eyes on Anthony, he rushed forward and jabbed his finger into his chest to emphasize each word, "What. The. Fuck."

Pushing away his finger, he quipped back, "She was open for the taking. Not your problem."

He came dangerously close, eyes dead even, with one viciously narrowed and the other a cautious shade, "You knew very well of my intentions of getting her back," He blinked once, as if remembering something suddenly, "You fucking lied to my face!"

Anthony scoffed, taking a step back from his Heineken-laced breath, "I never once mentioned her to you."

Markus' back straightened, a lion on the verge of attack, he stood four inches taller, "Come on, Anthony. Say it," He exhaled an angry breath, "Say her name."

He flashed a crooked smirk, "Caroline."

A fist smashed into his bottom lip, effectively shutting him up as he fell against the brick wall. Bringing his hand to his mouth to wipe away the blood, he gave a bloody smile, "Fuck you, Markus," He stepped daringly closer, "She's not yours to possess."

He raised his fist once again, but seeing the continuing smile on his face, he stepped away and walked down the street, fists balled in his pockets.

He reached across the table to touch her hands. She pulled away slightly, bringing her hands to rest in her lap. "Damon, this is going to take a while. We can't just go back to the way things were. It's too hard right now. We lost...we lost..." Her bottom lip trembled, her arms wrapping around her shoulders in comfort.

He laid his hand on her cheek, using his thumb to brush away her fallen tears. "Oh, Lena," His eyes were red with tears, "There are so many bottled up emotions inside both of us."

She nodded, too emotional to speak. They sat in silence for the longest time, contemplating the past events, the lost future, their crumbled relationship.

Finding her voice, she asked, "Did you love me?"

He brought his hand back, the question having stung his hand. He bowed his head, collected his bearings and finally looked back into her almond gaze, "I loved you then, I love you now, and I will always love you."

Her watery eyes blinked away tears, lips trembling upwards into a genuine smile. "I love you too, Damon."

With gazes locked and fingers intertwined, the two leaned across the table and gently kissed. It was a broken kiss, one of promise, mending hearts, and uncertainty, but it was a kiss. A step towards something. What that something was, they did not know.

A/N: A lot of you asked for a reunion. Trust me this is short for a reason. There was way too much drama packed into there. I will update very soon.

Much, much love,

Emily