A/N: Thank you all for sticking to the story. I can't tell you the joy I get to read each and every review.

Chapter 4~ When I stood still

I watch the world passing by,
I watch the clock turn,
I watch life moving on,
While I stand still.

Pittsburg, Pennsylvania
2010

The sky enrobed a grey blanket, shielding the earth from slithers of ray. The faint essence of moisten soil tickled their noses, they stood still on the cool green grass, under the bursting clouds. Melancholy was the color of the day, every where you gaze, from head to toe it was black, it was blank, black is what spectacled the morning. Gathering around the polished casket, they murmured prayers, words of consolation, words of kindness, prayers for her to find peace in a superior world.

Sky was pouring down relentlessly pummeling against the umbrellas, while the figures held themselves strong, some leaning in for support, some extending offering comfort, as they watched the ground swallow one more familiar face. Damon knelt down in front of the grave stone, not bothering about the mud under. His fingers caressed over the smooth granite, the imprints were yet to be curved, but he could feel invisible letters beneath his fingers.

He couldn't interpret the sensation, simply because there wasn't anything left to decipher, his entire being was an empty vessel, discarded, unworthy of attention. Someone placed a gentle hand over his shoulder, reluctantly he turned towards the owner, faded blues locked with deep oceanic orbs. Glazed with compassion and something akin to sympathy, the girl with icy blonde locks smiled at him. Oh! What he wouldn't have done to be at the receiving end of one of her charming smiles. He didn't dare to pursue, he'd always admired her from a distance, never having the courage to bare his heart. But all those feelings lay in past, the thrill had perished at the very root from where it had originated.
She started gently, afraid to break the man furthermore, "Lily… She was a charming lady, strong, fierce, confident. But above all she had a beautiful soul." He stared at her, face void of emotion, "She might not be here but that soul will be there amongst us, it's right here, Damon…" she placed her palm on his chest, "…she lives within you."

Not even a single sound escaped his lips, brushing off the trousers, he pulled himself up on his feet. His eyes landed on her hand adhering to his chest, he placed his own palm over hers. He squeezed it gently, his lips parted on its own accord but as his eyes fell on the reproaching man the words died down his throat. It was then he felt the solid stone jabbed against his palm.

Upon covering the distance the man pulled Damon into a tight embrace, "Damon, man… I don't know what to say…" he withdrew slowly, searching in those eyes for something, anything, he heaved a sigh before continuing, "We're all here okay, me, Rebekah, Ric. If you need anything, don't hesitate. We're friends, we've got to stick together, especially…" he couldn't bring himself to finish the dreadful sentence.

Damon nodded, "Thank you, Matt, Bekah." He averted his gaze down to their joined hands, then to her protruding belly, though the flowing material of her dress didn't clung to her frame, but the signs were too prominent to overlook. Unable to stand any longer he walked passed them, intending to create as much distance as possible. Once he was near the cemetery gate he halted for a moment, looking over his shoulder he bid her utmost goodbye.
The tires slid through the dampened soil, splashing water at the surrounding. The car came to an abrupt halt. The glass rolled down revealing the last face Damon intended to see at the moment.
"Damon, come on, hop inside. I'll drop you." Logan said.

He didn't bother to answer, rather maneuvered his way past the car. Logan wasn't giving up that easy, he unlocked the door and got out of the car, stopping in front of Damon. "Hold on buddy, I think you can use a ride." He put both his hands on Damon's shoulder, "I'm sorry about Lily. She'd served the company well throughout the years. Look, dad has sent me to talk to you, on her account we're willing to offer you a job." Damon looked into his eyes, "I mean it's the least we can do." Smirking at the glint in Damon's eyes he added, "You know the saying, 'Charity begins at home' so…"
Before he could finish he was send sprawling to the ground, after the third blow the pounding finally stopped. He cradled the aching jaw between his palms, through the stinging pain he opened his eyes to find an enraged Damon held captive within Ric and Matt's arms.

"Leave it Damon, he's not worth it."
"Ric's right, just let him."
The last thing Logan heard was their faint voices before his nerves gave up on him.

Silently he entered the apartment, latched the door and closed all the blinders. His eyes analyzed every single detail; from the maple wood corner table to the lush couch, the carefully stocked books in the open cabinet and, the glass vase with fresh Oxeye daisy. Prim and proper just the way she liked it, everything in the exact same place, but lacked the humble touch, her love and unyielding zeal. What was once beautiful, now reeked of rue and desolation.

The life in those flowers taunted him, like every other thing in his damned life. He was never one to resort to violence but there's so much one can take, he'd been filled to the brim. He needed the pain to go, he needed it to end. Outrageous, he went to the vase and in a split second shattered it into bit. His foot stomping the fragile clusters, next the books were thrashed, haphazardly sending the lot to the ground. His foot collided with the corner table, originating an immense ache in the affected mass, but it was a mere scratch compare to the agony that was ripping him apart. He tore off the blazer, few button of his shirt went flying across the room as he tugged furiously at the material. Howling he went towards the curtains, racking them in a swift movement, tattering in to pieces.

Why? Why him? Hadn't he suffered enough, hadn't he had his fill of heartache for this lifetime. How much he had to endure before it all ends, hadn't he lost enough. Wasn't it enough that all his life he's grown up without a father, now he had to be disjoined from the only family he had left. What had he done to receive such retribution, how can fate be this atrocious.

He had relinquished long back, but today at this moment all he wanted is for this life to end, there was nothing here for him, he'd lived through the excruciating days, one after the other because of his mother. She's gone now, today, at this moment he had nothing left, no purpose, no desire, no hope. He wanted, needed all to end. He didn't know for how long he sat there, knees bent in an awkward angle, head leaned against the wall, hands hanging lifeless from his exhausted body. He didn't dare to look at the clock, terrified to acknowledge the amount of time he had spent without her, petrified for the time he would yet have to live without her.

He attempted to straighten his leg, the tip of his shoe knocked against the hardbound book lying upside down on the floor. Frustrated to get it out of his way he reached for it, discovering it was a copy of The Little Prince, a book his mother had read to him numerous times. He would stare at the illustrations in awe, while his mum would narrate the story with as much drama as she could muster. Later he'd attempt to imitate those wondrous illustration, and with a proud face he'd show off the creation of his 6 year old self. Smiling she would praise his hard work but also would mention flaws. Always encouraging, inspiring him to do better. The memories, her words, those moments were something she'd cherished throughout her life. He clutched the book tighter to his chest, wanting to find something that he knew was lost.

His eye caught a small piece of paper that fell out of the cover. He furrowed his brows noticing the unfamiliar object, as he picked it up. The beautiful penmanship stared right back at him, the paper contained ten digit number with a name that he's not uttered in the past 2 years. With eyes wide as saucers he stared at the paper, her name rolled of his tongue spontaneously, "Elle…"
With trembling hands he reached inside his pocket, his fingers gliding over the keypad on their own accord, he waited with baited breath as the dial tone resonated through his ears.
"Hello" came a slurry voice.
He opened his mouth but the words just wouldn't come out of his throat.
"Is anybody there?" he could hear her sighing on the other end, "Come on, whoever it is, speak up. It's no fun to be bugged in the middle of the day."
Still nothing.
"Ugg! Who is it? Molly I swear if I find out it's you I'm gonna…" she paused for a second, "Okay, I'm going to hang up now."
This did the trick, "Elena…" his voice came out hoarse.
It's was her turn to stay silent, but she quickly recovered from her stupor, "Damon, is that really you." She chuckled, "Oh my God! No wonder it's raining in September. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I… Elena… I"
"I see, things haven't changed a bit…"
"I need you to come to my place, right now. I'll text you the address."
"Hold on, pretty boy. Let's not be rude, you didn't even ask me if I'm free or not. But since you're an old acquaintance I'm willing to adjust. You should probably…"
"I'll pay you how much you want, just… come…" he words were restrained.

After a brief pause she spoke again, "Fine. Send me the address." With a faint click she disconnected the call.
After typing in all the details he pushed himself off the ground, he threw the cell phone over the couch and went inside his bedroom. He plucked the dollar bills he's been saving over the past months and proceeded back towards the living room. He didn't mind the broken glass under his step that shattered further into bits, nor did he care about the papers the he stomped on. With calm demeanor he made his way to the couch and sat there wordlessly.

Time passed as he stayed motionless in his position, the bell rang, once, twice, on the third ring he stood up and walked to the door. Unhurriedly he opened the lock and came back to his previous spot.
She stood outside his apartment under the pouring rain, her hand ringing the bell for the fifth time now. She was a mere second away from cursing the life out of that man. She huffed in annoyance, contemplating her choices, she sucked in a deep breath and decided to attack the barrier instead. With one push the door opened ajar, after muttering few curses and a mental face palm she entered the unfamiliar territory.

"Damon…" she rasped, poking her head through the hallway. "Where are you?" as her feet took her closer to the living room her gaze fell over the ruckus sprawled over the floor and then to the figure seated on couch. Her breath hitched, she could swear he looked nothing short of a porcelain statute, his skin seemed paler than the night, almost lifeless.
Cautiously she maneuvered her way towards him, she cleared her throat hoping to break his stupor, "Um, mind telling me what's all this is about?"

Though he didn't break his silence but he shifted his gaze up to the girl, his gorgeous blue eyes were deserted now. She plopped herself on the sofa, scooted closer to him, her right hand played with the hair on his neck while her left trailed an invisible line down her own neck.

His eyes roamed over her body, he recognized the biker jacket but unlike that night she wore a simple sundress, her feet clad in rubber boots that scraped against the rug. What would have made him cringe, now caused him to chuckle sarcastically.

She knitted her brows at his reaction, "Okay! That's not awkward at all." She reached for his hand, "Damon what happened?" she asked with worried eyes, her usual playfulness long forgotten. Perplexed, he examined his knuckles, noticing the prominent bruises marring his skin. "God Damon, why is it that whenever we meet I find you broken one way or the other." She shook her head and drew in a few deep breaths to calm herself down. "Now, tell me where do you keep your first aid."
He jerked his hand from her grip and added, "I'm fine."
With a roll of her eye she started, "Ya, let me be the judge of that. First aid kit. Now. Tell before I raid what is left of your apartment."
"Bathroom, 1st rack on your left."
"Good, now wait here." She got up and was about to proceed when she turned back, "Um, Damon, where…"
"On your left, after the kitchen."
"Right." With that she hurried towards her destination.

After cleaning his wounds with warm water she applied disinfectant and wrapped the bandage over the bruised area, while he continued to pin her down with his incessant gaze. Once she was finishing up she broke the silence, "I never took you one to resort to violence. Had I known…" She trailed off, "I mean, I brought you in my apartment, drunk and depressed. And today…" She withdrew her hand from his, tenderly placing the now bandaged hand on his lap she stood up in front of him. "Seriously Damon, what happened, an unknown earth quake hit your apartment. Look at this place, it's just so sad… As if someone had died in here."

Something inside Damon snapped, in a split second he got up on his feet and clutched her shoulders, "It's because someone truly died in here. Elena, my mum… She's dead, I buried her with my own hands, she's lying inside the casket… She's… She's…"
Startled, she stood frozen on the floor, she could see the blazing fury in his eyes, could feel his rigid muscles flex within the restrains of his shirt, could sense torridity in his touch. Trapped in a spell of catastrophe, immobile, she stood in his grip, wanting to be consumed, to be…
Her trance was broken by the sardonic laugh that burst from his mouth, she nearly lost her footing by the intensity of his retracting hold.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day, the garrulous slut is rendered speechless." a cruel smirk played on his lips.
She visibly shuddered upon hearing the comment, of course she had been called worse but never in her unfortunate life she had felt this humiliated, violated. His words stabbed like a Jackal knife, twisting deep inside, tattering her flesh. Like a blazing inferno, she was burning in rage, fire radiating from her skin. Damon watched her taking one step towards her, within a second he felt her small hand crashing down on his cheek. A sound that vibrated through the ruins of the apartment, overpowering the rainfall sliced through silence.

Damon clutched his cheek momentarily, shell shocked by her action. But the moment passed quicker than a flash, his once jaded eyes were now fueled with delirium, before she could grasp the situation she found herself bound in his arms, his fingers painfully digging into her forearm. With a swift movement he pushed her on the couch and without giving her a chance to escape hovered over her small frame.

His knees on either side of her waist, his hands gripping hers pinned on either side of her head, his torso flushed against hers, him towering over, his eyes unblinkingly staring at her face, she thrashed her head, her legs kicking against the foot of the couch. All in vein, he was simply too strong.
"Let go of me, Damon." She spoke, her voice a concoction of rage and fear.
"Why?"
She almost didn't recognize the man in front, "Damon, please. You don't want to do this…"
"You… You… don't know a thing about me… Elena…"
"Damon, listen…"
His mouth descended on hers, swallowing her words, molding, fusing against each other. It felt bruising, devastating, downright tortuous but none made an attempt to halt the notion. He trailed fiery kisses down her jaw, along the length of her neck, granting her mouth freedom to protest.

"Please… Damon… You don't want this…" she panted, with each nip her breathing grew labored. She felt his hands racking over her torso, desperate to meet naked skin. Realizing her hands were unbound she carefully pulled them down, though every cell in her body screamed to push him off her body, but she knew it would be futile, she had to stay calm. Ever so slightly she placed her hands on either side of his face, coaxing him up, to stare into her eyes.
His hollow eyes annihilated her from inside, fresh tears rolled down her cheeks seeing the broken man up front. Her fingers caressed his cheeks, the pad of her thumb brushed under eyes, urging them to destruct the invisible barrier, wanting him to let go of all his pain.
"Damon…" she began with utmost regard, "You're mother is dead…" She could feel his jaw tightening but she couldn't stop, not now when he was unquestionably in need of help. " She's never coming back. She's gone forever…"

She watched with rapt attention as the scene unfolded, it was intrinsic yet farcical. His hands retracted from her body, his eyes turned glassy, bit by bit deepened the haze and without realizing spilled from their brims. One after the other moistening his lashed slid down his face, few ran down his philtrum sliding over his lips and disappearing behind the crack.
"She's gone… She's truly gone…" his quavering voice was shattering her heart, but she wanted to stay strong. His head leaned in to her shoulder, his hands encircled her waist, though the grip was firm, desperate even, but she didn't feel violated. "I'm alone, Elena… I… I don't have anyone to lean on anymore… No friends, no faith nothing… I'm empty, I'm so hallow… I can't do this… I don't want to… Elena… I just…"

"Let it all out Damon, don't hold back, let everything out." She cradled his head like a small child, "I'm here for as long as you want. You can lean on me. Damon, I'm not going anywhere." She pulled his head back, urging him to look into her eyes, "I promise you Damon, I will never leave you. I'll always be there, no matter what happens, know that I'll be there. I promise you."

He gave her a slight nod and buried his face on her lap, her relentless hands never stopped caressing his face. As he laid curled up next to her tiny form, she continued to chant soothing words, promises of hope, promises of companionship, promises of forever.

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