Mystic Falls, VA August 23, 2010
"Liz, slow down." Jessica said, listening intently to her cell as she pulled into the driveway of the house. "Your ex-husband did what?"
Minutes later, Jessica and Damon stood outside the dungeon where Caroline's insane father is holding her. She wanted to come back to this hellscape, pack her bags and leave, but here she was another rescue mission. Damn her life.
"How do you want to do this?" Damon asked, looking at her profile. He could see her biting the inside of her cheek.
"I don't." She answered, sighing loudly. "I don't want to do it at all. I want to be in the café in DC where I do my writing. I want to be on my third cup of tea, a new story started, and ignoring the fact that this fucking town exists."
Her tone was low, but he could hear the irritation loud and clear. He began to answer, but she kept going. "Instead, I am going to walk downstairs, confront an insane member of the council who is torturing his own daughter because of a condition she didn't truly chose for herself. You, being the monster he expects, will follow and take him down. I'm only willing to die once today, so do me a favor and act fast."
Damon nodded, unsure of whether she noticed his assent. She walked purposely to the entrance, and without a backward glance entered. He took one moment to reflect on how she'd changed and how hard she'd become, before following her down.
"Mr. Forbes," Jessica called, turning a corner. She listened with a knot in her stomach to the crying she heard from the depths of the dungeon. His own daughter, she thought. "It's Jessica Warren."
"Jessica?" A male voice answered, coming from directly in front of her, only slightly further down. Good, she thought, he was on this side of the dungeon. "What are you doing here?"
She didn't answer until she could see his face. "Well, Mr. Forbes, I kind of wanted to see what kind of asshole tortures his own child. Found you!" She glared at him, as he came forward menacingly. "Now, now, Bill." She wagged her finger at him. "Surely you're not so stupid to think I came alone?"
Damon flew past her and pinned him to the wall. Jessica pressed on, finding the blonde vampire tied to a chair with vervain ropes and the suffocating smell enveloped her. Jessica could feel the rash starting. Damn it, I'm allergic, she screamed internally. Keeping on task, however, she rushed to the bound girl and untied her while feeling like her own skin was going to itch off. She barely glanced at what Damon was doing to Bill Forbes, because quite honestly she could give a flying rat's ass. But as soon as Caroline was released, she rushed to the corner where the fight raged, not wanting to wait, because her skin was crawling from the rash and breathing wasn't exactly fun either, Jessica rushed to the surface.
Luckily, her allergy would pass in a few hours, usually minutes, but this was concentrated vervain. She waited, only to get her breathing under control, and was shocked when Caroline appeared carrying her father. Raising an eyebrow, she nodded when Caroline thanked her before rushing away. Damon surfaced moments after, bitching under his breath about the new vampire and the stupidity of rescuing her. He noticed Jessica standing near her car, and started toward her, but she slid behind the wheel and drove off without a word.
Jessica arrived at the house and locked the door to the outside world. Stripping off her clothes, which felt weighed down with vervain, she walked upstairs to take a long soaking bath. Since she was in no shape to travel, she would spend one last night in Mystic Falls, and catch a plane back to DC in the morning.
As the bath filled, she walked into the room she'd claimed for her stay and pulled a comfortable nightgown from her suitcase. Unpacking was admitting defeat, she'd thought, so she lived out of the case. She glanced at the full length mirror, noticing that the red splotches were losing color. She sighed, glad that she didn't have to die for that rescue to work. A bath, she thought, then a light dinner and finally bed.
She lowered herself carefully into the clawfoot bathtub. This whole house was still fitted with all the fixtures her parents had picked. The only updates had been the obvious technological updates. Perhaps, if she'd been allowed to move in when she wanted, but that thought was better left in the past. This wasn't her home. This wasn't her town. She couldn't and wouldn't stay.
She soaked until the water cooled and the bubbles disappeared. By the time she stepped out, all the welts of the rash were gone and her breathing was back to normal. She dressed in her nightgown and walked downstairs for dinner, turning toward the kitchen, the feeling she wasn't alone hit her. She stood still while trying to decide where the interloper was waiting. Sighing, she realized he was waiting in the parlor.
"Damon," she said, tiredly. "I told you the invitation wasn't a standing one." She noticed he'd helped himself to her bourbon again. "What's the issue now? Did someone kidnap the Bennett witch?"
"No," he said, sitting himself in a chair near the cold fireplace. "No catastrophe to force you to stay."
"Good," she sighed, curling up on the sofa across from him. "If you're here to say goodbye, I should tell you, it was implied."
He watched her fighting exhaustion. A slight smile played on her lips as her eyes dropped to slits. He took a moment to study her. They'd been rushing around, trying to fix the Klaus/Stefan situation and he'd never taken a moment to notice how she'd changed. When he had left for the war, she was 13, still so tiny that he was terrified to hug her too tight. She was barely five foot tall, and that hadn't changed. Her face, on the other hand, had sharpened, as everyone's does with age. She seemed to stop aging at around his own mortal age, 25. Her eyes, when open were the same light grassy green. A green that matched the smock dress she wore the first time they'd met. Her hair was still a light honey brown, that curled whether she wanted to or not. He'd missed her. More than he'd ever allowed himself to admit. She was his anchor, or she had been. When his father openly showed his disapproval, Jessa had reminded him of his worth. And he threw it all away, and for what?
"You're staring," she accused, her eyes still not fully open or focused.
"I'm memorizing you." He whispered. "If this is the last time I'll see you, I want to remember every detail."
She shrugged and snorted. "Damon, do women buy this bullshit?" She asked, and he heard her absolute certainty in believing he was lying to her.
He wanted to laugh with her, shrug it off, but he couldn't. He lost her once and he was terrified of it happening again. "It's not bullshit." He glared at her. "I screwed up in 1864, Jessa, I know it and it eats me alive."
"Damon, the only thing that eats you alive is your obsession with Katherine Pierce's face." She was fully awake now and staring him down across the space between them. "I saw the way you looked at Elena. I can see the repeat of history. She needs only blink at you and you will be at her beck and call. So, while your guilt is well placed, if not well received, I call bullshit. I'm leaving tomorrow. I won't look back. And I won't miss being erased."
With that, she stood and walked away from him. True to her word, she didn't look back.
London, England January 1, 1865
"Miss Jessa," Hattie said, interrupting Jessica's reading.
"Yes, Hattie?" She answered, smiling because it had taken months to get Hattie to call her by her given name, and looked up from the book in her hand. Seeing her maid's face, she jumped up and rushed to her side. "What's the matter?"
Hattie's eyes shone with unshed tears. "Miss Jessa, I know you prefer to not talk about home." Jessa's brow furrowed. "I have had a letter, from Mr. Gilbert's maid." Jessa nodded her assent to continue. "The Salvatores, they're all dead." She fell into a heap at Jessa's feet. Shock showed on the maid's face, and Jessa hoped it wasn't reflected in her own.
"How?" She asked, not truly caring, but curious never the less.
"The younger were shot, and the elder a victim of an animal attack." With those words, Jessa knew that Katherine Pierce had done just as she'd feared, she took away the rest of Jessica's family.
Jessica held Hattie as she cried for her former life, but she herself, decided this was the new start she needed. No longer would she cling to a nickname that had no weight. She would firmly take the steps to make herself the priority, she and Hattie, the only family she needed.
Mystic Falls, VA August 23, 2010; Salvatore Boarding House
Damon sat in front of his own fireplace, mulling over what Jessa had said not a half an hour earlier. He held a glass of bourbon in his right hand, not drinking, just comparing the quality to what he had drank at her house. It was the same, he knew it from the first meeting in her house, the first time he'd seen her since 1863. He heard Elena come to the threshold, waiting to see if she could determine his mood.
"Don't linger, it reeks of stalking." He said, not giving her a glance. "You want to speak your peace, remind me of the need to find my darling baby brother? Do me a favor and save it for tomorrow."
She walked over and sat on the overstuffed leather sofa. She was working her thoughts into order to discuss what she knew was bothering him. What had made her think over and over since their disastrous trip to Chicago. Jessica was leaving, he'd told her when they were coming back, and his eyes squinted against the sun, hiding the tears that she could just make out.
"You and Jessica saved Caroline today." She started, hoping that starting with something triumphant would help. "Thank you."
He shrugged, his eyes locked on his glass. He was working hard to store the last sight of Jessica he had, her walking away from him.
"When we were in Chicago," Elena started, watching Damon flinch. "Jessica told me what happened between her and Katherine. She told me that she didn't hate me for what Katherine did, that she just couldn't stand looking at my face because it reminded her of something."
"Yes, of that bitch killing her." Damon growling, tightening his grip on the glass. "No one was with her, Elena, no one protected her."
Elena gave him a moment to get under control. "It wasn't even that that upset her, you know?"
He finally looked at her, regretting it immediately because her face reminded him of what Jessa had said earlier.
"It was the fact that, one look at Katherine's face, my face, made all of you forget Jessica. She said, my face erased hers." She looked down, feeling horrific, even with the knowledge that it wasn't really her fault.
He blinked back tears, and fought himself of the urge to comfort Elena. Nodding, he agreed, knowing that's precisely what she'd said to him. "She despises me, and it's more hurtful than I'd imagined."
Elena asked the one question he hadn't ever wanted to answer. "Did you really only think of her as a best friend?"
Mystic Falls, VA Summer of 1851
Damon stood uncomfortably on the front porch of his house, his parents on one side, his little brother on his other. He knew that etiquette dictated that they greet their guests upon arrival, but it was far too warm for this suit. Both he and his brother had met Mr. and Mrs. Warren many times, they'd visited with his parents and were the closest of friends. Their daughter, Jessica, was only four and this would be her first visit.
He watched his mother, fidget for a moment, and knew without jealousy that she would have loved to have had a daughter. And when the Warrens came around the bend in the road from their home to his, he realized he'd been holding his breath. He recalled how unruly Stefan was, only a year older than Jessica, so he was braced for another holy terror. What he saw instead was a miniature of her mother.
His parents walked forward to intercept the family, and he watched with some amusement as the little girl greeted his mother as a young lady would have. When his mother came toward him with this tiny person, his breath caught. While he knew he should be seeing a four year old tot, with honey brown curls and light green eyes, what he saw instead was an older young woman. And with that vision came another, of he and that young woman sitting upon a wide porch, of a house that he'd never seen before. They were laughing and holding hands, and then he knew, Jessica was his future.
Damon came back to himself, startled at the memory. He'd never told anyone that story, of what truly happened when he'd met Jessica for the very first time. Everyone in his family raved about how out of character it was for him to be so attentive to a mere babe. He'd felt odd, not wanting to admit that a vision made him want to keep her near him, he wanted to hear her voice change from the toddler pitch, to the adult she'd become. A part of him, even at twelve knew it was wrong, she was four. He quieted that part because he didn't look at her toddler self when he had those thoughts, it was the adult that she would become that blazed behind his eyelids.
The very reminder of that moment, made his guilt of her erasure as she'd said by Katherine's presence, all the worse. He hadn't just ruined their friendship, he'd ruined their future.
Elena sat quietly as he thought her question through. He considered not admitting anything, then he realized, if he told her it would get her on his side. Maybe it would dull the obsessive need her very existence caused in his life. With the very person that Jessa feared most on their side, maybe they could change fate.
"Let me tell you about the day I met little Jessa Warren," he started, making up his mind.
After a very simple dinner, and a nice hot cup of tea, Jessica settled in for her last night in the house. She turned off the bedside lamp, and hoped that for once she could sleep without a dream. Her flight was booked for noon the next day, and she planned on calling Liz Forbes from the airport. Then she thought she'd truly make a clean break. She could change her number, and move. Perhaps she'd finally have peace without responsibility for a town she didn't want to revisit.
On that happy thought, she drifted off, allowing darkness to envelope her.
She was gliding through the overgrowth again. Toward the ruins of her birthplace. She felt almost bored, she'd visited this dream multiple times during her stay in Mystic Falls and it never came to fruition. If only she could have a nudge, what am I looking for?
Suddenly she felt something she'd never felt in a dream before. She could actually feel the predawn dew on her feet. The chill of the wet shook her, but she was still asleep, she was sure. That feeling gave her a moment to reflect. If this was the ruins, then there should be a marker of some sort. Not a historical marker, but a mark, scorched grass had issues growing, even after a century. She focused on the ground and noticed a darkness ahead. Walking carefully, now that she realized that she could feel in this dream, she aimed for the darkness. As she grew closer, she felt an odd warmth, and there was a bluish light.
She forced herself to go slowly. No need to wound myself in a dream, she thought, and as she came upon the light she realized it outlined a box. Heavily made, yet small enough to carry, she reached for it and at that moment she fell forward, unconscious in a completely different way.
Mystic Falls, VA August 24, 2010
The ringing of his cell phone yanked Damon out of heavy sleep. He'd seen Jessa fall, near the ruins of her old house, but before he could move the ringing hit him like a brick. Grabbing the phone he realized the number was Liz's. Great, what did her idiotic ex or her equally moronic daughter get into now.
"Yes?" He answered, feeling groggy. Liz's voice and the topic woke him up completely in seconds. "Where? I'll be there."
He hung up and tried to calm his fear. Jessa was found, on the ruins of her old home, clutching a box. Aside from that, Liz told him nothing. Only that he had to come immediately. Grabbing his clothes and tossing on his jacket, he skipped the car and ran.
Damon arrived seconds later. He was relieved to see that Liz was alone, wondering who found her, he walked up.
"Damon," she sounded just as relieved as he felt at seeing her alone. "I happened to have a feeling that this area needed a patrol. It just came to me, the utter need that I come here and I saw her. Her nightgown being so white, it just shined like a beacon. I've only been here for a couple of minutes."
They walked together toward Jessa. He was terrified, even knowing that she was immortal. She was laying peacefully, clutching the box that Liz mentioned. He came closer and knelt, his hand touched her cheek and he pulled away. She was burning up.
"She has a fever." He said, astonished. "What the hell?" Giving no further thought, he scooped her up.
"Do you want to take her to the," Liz stopped, knowing that the hospital was a bad idea.
"My house," he answered. "You could give us a lift though. She's heavier with the box."
Liz nodded and rushed to the cruiser to open the back door. She watched as he carefully lay her on the seat, noticing that the box never shifted from her grasp. Carefully maneuvering her legs so the door could close, Damon looked at Liz and for once she saw fear on his face.
"Damon?" She asked, wondering why he looked so scared.
"She's never been sick, Liz. Ever. She even nursed my mother through late stage tuberculosis." His eyes widened, and he felt his stomach lurch. "The only illness she's ever shown is the allergy to vervain."
They got in the car silently, and drove carefully to his house, hoping against hope that Jessa hadn't finally found her kryptonite.
Mystic Falls, VA August 24, 2010
Damon ignored all the "leads" that had Elena and Alaric running around. He could give a shit about Stefan and Klaus and whatever mess they were creating. All he cared about was Jessa, and the fact that she'd not regained consciousness, nor had her fever broke. When Alaric finally decided to check on him, he found Damon sitting on the side of his bed, looking down at Jessica, willing her to wake up.
"Damon," Ric said, breaking his concentration. "We need to talk about what's going on outside this bedroom."
Damon shot him a glare. Not willing to raise his voice, in case Jessa could hear him, he spoke evenly. "Ric, at the moment, Klaus could burn the whole damn town to the ground, and my attention would solely be focused on her." He pointed down, at the face etched in his mind, she was putting off enough heat that he was sure even human Ric could feel it. "She will wake up, and I will make sure she's ok. As for Stefan, Klaus, and whatever the hell you people imagine is my priority, screw it all. I lost her once because I was focused on the wrong face, and I fucking refuse to do it again."
Ric's eyes widened. He glanced down at the woman he'd yet to meet. Elena only told him the broadest story about her past, but seeing Damon so emotional was worrying. And knowing that Klaus was failing at making hybrids left and right, making him more dangerous, meant that they needed Damon's strength. He looked up into Damon's intense blue stare and realized he was deadly serious. He was out. This would be up to him and the others. Their strongest soldier was taking a personal day.
"Do you have any idea how truly screwed we're going to be if he comes back here?" Ric asked, coming closer, but keeping his voice down. "Elena could end up really, truly dead, Damon."
Damon looked down and Jessa and felt a slight tug at Elena's name. He studied Jessa's face, the face of his vision at twelve, and forcing the tug to fade. Looking back at Ric, he said something harsh to the human's ears, but necessary to his own happiness. "I don't care."
Ric turned away, with one last parting shot, "Stefan will never forgive you."
Damon moved a stray hair from Jessa's face, and answered, "I've never forgiven him, so we're even."
Jessa's dream was different this time. She couldn't really discern where she was, nothing about the space was definite. She felt like she was floating, and it was beyond weird.
"Jessica," a familiar, yet long unheard voice said, drawing her attention to the side.
She gasped. "Mother?" She took in the face that had grown slightly faint in her memories, and the eyes so like her own stared back at her. They drunk each other in, and Jessa, worriedly asked, "Am I finally dead?"
Her mother's laugh tinkled, as though the connection was weak. "No, you're not dead. Neither are your father and I, obviously. I'm sorry, Jessica, that we had to leave you."
Jessica, felt the tears gather in her eyes, but willed them not to fall. "Why? Why did you leave me?"
"You've seen how you stopped aging, my darling. The same happened to me, and your father, well he hadn't aged since his transition." She said in a weirdly kind tone, trying to avoid the conversation that Jessica truly wanted to have.
"Wait, Papa, is a vampire?" Jessa said, catching it as her mother hoped she wouldn't. "How is that possible?"
Her mother sighed. "I'd hoped we could discuss more important topics, though I suppose given your current situation that would be important to you. Yes, your father is a vampire. It's the only coupling we, you and I and the female line before us, can have and result in a family. I don't quite know how it works, because my mother gave me less information than even you're going to receive."
Jessa's brow wrinkled, she wondered why her mother decided that her current situation made this important, but decided to let it go. "So, what information am I going to receive?"
Her mother smiled, glad that the discussion of procreation was past, "The box, it holds a journal of all that I learned about us, our species. It's still not all that much, but again it's more than I had. And, knowing that we had to leave you, Jessica, I made it so this information and your powers would only come when you visited our first home. I hadn't imagined it would take so long." Her tone returned to the tone of Jessica's youth. As though Jessica hadn't quite lived up to her expectations.
"Yes, well, I didn't feel quite up to it until now, Mother." Jessa said, feeling like a misunderstood teenager, and not a little petulant.
"I know," her mother said, drawing her attention back. "I kept an eye on you. Lily and I were friends, but your father and I were never completely sure about Giuseppe. I'm sorry, Jessica, that you weren't kept as safe and cared for as I wanted."
"So, will I ever see you and Papa, again?" Jessa asked, keeping hope out of her voice.
"Of course, now that you've gained access to what I left behind for you. I will be sending you a way to contact us directly. Your father is quite displeased that he couldn't come into this vision with me, but sadly, that's my power, not his." She smirked. "I have to warn you, you're going to be unconscious for at least two days, with a fever, because, along with the journal I also bound your powers. They're coming to you in a rush, and it can be worrisome, but you have to know that the weakness passes. And thankfully, you're in excellent care."
"Mother?" Jessa asked, before the vision could end, "I missed you."
"Ah, my darling girl, your father and I missed you as if we lost a limb." She smiled sadly, and turned away. And with her leaving, darkness enveloped Jessa again.
Damon didn't leave Jessa's side, unless it was physically necessary. Or if he attempted to touch the box that she'd been found clutching. If he didn't attempt the box, he'd go willing downstairs long enough to grab a blood bag. If he did tempt the box, he went without being willing. He didn't grab a bottle of bourbon, even though dulling his worry was tempting. He was fearful that she'd need him and he'd be distracted. He barely spoke to the people waltzing in and out of his house. He didn't care. None of them mattered like the woman sleeping in the middle of his bed.
When he slept, it was fitfully and sitting up in the chair beside the bed. He dreamt of her mother, admonishing him and warning him to stay with her. He dreamt of what his return from the war should have looked like, with Jessa running into his arms and Katherine not even making a dent in his interest. When he'd wake, his eyes sought her form, making sure she was still breathing easily. He wanted to know she was comfortable, but she was completely unresponsive.
He once put his hand on her forehead, knowing it was desperation because she would hate that he was attempting to break down a defense she had. It didn't work, and he'd known it was a long shot, but it made his heart clench. He needed to hear her voice, to see those pale eyes flash at him. Her anger, and hatred would be welcome, fighting was something. This, silence, was maddening.
Mystic Falls, VA August 27, 2010
Damon was dozing when she began fighting against the darkness for consciousness. She blinked against the light, wondering why it felt like a house had fallen on her. She looked around, trying and failing to decide what room held her. When she turned her head, she finally noticed him. He was sleeping, his dark hair falling low on his forehead, brushing his closed eyes. She tried to stay quiet as she studied him. The face was the same as the man who left for war, and in sleep, his innocence returned.
Swallowing, she realized her throat was bone dry. She struggled for a moment to force her arms to help her up. Nothing seemed to be cooperating. As she struggled, he woke, looking at the bed he saw her moving and nearly jumped out of his chair.
"Hey," he whispered, drawing her attention. "You're awake."
She gave him a rare, and rueful smile. "Yes, but apparently my body didn't get the memo." Her voice sounded hoarse, so he grabbed a glass from the nightstand and rushed to his bathroom for water. He came back and helped her to sitting position.
"Let me give you a little assistance," he said, feeling his heart beat normally for the first time in days. "I see your arms aren't cooperating either. Luckily, I have some experience with helping the ill." He smiled down at her, and brought the glass to her lips. "Slowly, Jessa. You and I both know drinking too fast after nothing for days, isn't the best idea."
She drank small sips, waiting to test her throat and voice. "How did I end up here?"
"Ah, that story is pretty interesting. Or weird." He said, settling in against the headboard so he would be in place if she needed more help. "So I was here in my bed, yes it's my bed, Jessa. I was having a really strange dream, one that I've been having on repeat since you came back. I was watching you look for something at the site of the ruins and the weirdest thing was that every time I wanted to help you, I couldn't move."
"Hmm," she said, agreeing without interrupting.
"Imagine my surprise when Liz wakes me up with a call that she found your unconscious body at those ruins, clutching," he pointed to her side, "that." The box was next to her.
"Liz found me? How?" She asked. Trying to figure out how the sheriff became involved.
"Even weirder," he said, glancing down at her. "She said she felt an almost compulsion to go to the ruins, thank heavens for that, because she found you and called me."
She puzzled it out for a moment, trying to decide if her mother could have sent Liz. She had a lot to mull over, but considered what he said about her clutching the wooden cast.
"The box, huh?" She said, ignoring it to rest for a moment in the knowledge that he rescued her.
"The box." He agreed. "It fell from your very tight grip after you were tucked in. I can't touch it."
She glanced up at him, with a raised eyebrow. "You can't?"
"Nope," he said, with his signature hard 'p'. "It just repels me. No pain, no anything, I just reach for it and I end up downstairs getting a blood bag. Damnedest thing."
She chuckled, wondering how many times he tried. "My parents are alive, Damon."
He nodded, figuring finding it out was rather anticlimactic considering everything. "I thought they might be. I mean if you're indestructible, so must they be."
"They had to leave because of the questions brought on by their eternal youth." She rolled her eyes and tested her right hand, it twitched, but that was it. "Supposedly, my mother bound my powers, assuming I'd go visit the trauma of my childhood and then gain my powers. My mother also acted like I should have rushed there minutes after it cooled."
It was his turn to chuckle. "So your immortality? Does it come from both sides of your family?"
She shrugged, happy that her head and shoulders were getting range of motion back. "Debatable."
They sat in companionable silence. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, thinking he knew her answer.
"Maybe, not right now. It's still fresh." She was focused on her right hand, she made the fingertips flutter. "This sucks, by the way."
"What? My company?" He was trying to divert her, but she just smirked.
"For once, Damon Salvatore, I'm glad for your company." She was still trying to get the hand to do what she wanted. "I just hate feeling helpless." She stopped short of pouting.
"I know, Jessa." He said, and she thought she felt his lips brush the top of her head. "You've never liked to show weakness."
He pulled her toward him, leaning her back against his chest so he could cradle her in his arms. They sat in silence for a few minutes. "I've missed you." He whispered against her hair. Knowing she could hear, yet giving her the option to pretend she didn't.
She gave a little sniffle, less teary, more willing to admit to embarrassing truths. "I'd be lying if I said I've never thought about you, Damon." She was still urging her body to work with her demands, but she wasn't in a rush to leave. This was nice, she had to admit. "Although," she whispered right back, "I bet I smell horrific."
He chuckled. "You had a pretty high fever." He waited, then gave her an option. "I could help you take a bath."
She turned her head toward him. "Are you being sleazy? Cause I can't tell if you're being sleazy."
He laughed out loud. "No, I just know that besides hating to show weakness, you also hate to be dirty or out of sorts." He stopped for a moment and considered. "Although, if you want me to be sleazy…"
It was her turn to bust out laughing. "Smooth, Salvatore, smooth." She considered how she must look and smell, and his offer in the sense it was offered.
"You don't need a bath, Jessa. You didn't sweat, not even with the heat pouring off of you. And your hair looks exactly how it always looks, perfect." He smiled into her hair, telling her the truth, and feeling safe it in.
She settled more comfortably into his arms. "Well, with your superior sense of smell, I'll concede that you know what you're talking about." She sighed, looking at the box to her right. "I'm not sure I'm ready to open the box anyway."
"Giving up so soon, Jessa? That's not the girl I know." She knew he was trying to keep her from worrying and it was slightly working. "You're body will start working again, it'll take some time, right?"
"That's what my mother inferred." He looked down as she looked up. "My mother's appearance offered some information. It's her journal in the box. Supposedly it'll clear up some things about me." Without thinking her right hand gestured to it. She smiled a little brighter.
"And your father?" He asked, knowing how she felt about him. "Did he show up in dreamland too?"
He felt her attempt to shift, but held her still. "Jessa?"
"No, my papa didn't appear. Since he's not quite the same as my mother and I, he can't." She said, knowing he could hear that she didn't want to discuss it, but also knowing his curiosity would be peaked. "I wish I could have seen him. I miss him so much."
"I know, but I'm sure you'll meet again, before you know it." He was pandering, but he was still trying to figure out what she was avoiding. "She told you something uncomfortable, didn't she? Something more uncomfortable than them being alive."
She nodded and he didn't push. "So this is the boarding house?" She asked, changing the subject.
"Well, it's my bedroom in the boarding house, yes." He said, smiling into her hair again. "When you're ready for some exercise, I'll show you the rest."
"That sounds interesting." Her voice sounded wary. Not wanting to ask, but knowing she had to. "Isn't Elena here?"
It was his turn to still. "She was, but I told her, and my friend Ric, that you were far more important to me than whatever drama Stefan was rolling in." She felt him stiffen and knew this was a foreign feeling for him, denying Elena whatever was her heart's wish.
"Are the Originals coming back?" She asked, focusing on her left hand as they talked. The fingertips were still the only movement. "Do we need to worry about some kind of upheaval?"
"You, and I as your self-designated caretaker, are worrying only about you." He said, with a finality. "My sole focus will be you and whatever you need to come to terms with what's in the box."
She felt odd at that proclamation. It was warming to her, but she couldn't be that selfish, and this truce between them was still new. As she considered an answer, she kept willing her left hand to move. She was surprised when he took it in his larger one. Raising it to his lips, he drew her gaze to his.
"I'm not asking, Jessa." He said, staring down at her. "You should have always been my priority and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for my failure."
This was so different, even from their time as friends. The intensity scared her, and after what her mother said about her parentage, she was even more timid. She heard the words before realizing they came from her.
"Damon, during the entire time I've been gone. All my travels, all the places I've seen and the people I've met. I've never BEEN with anyone." Her face turned a blush so red that she knew she looked sunburned. As she sat kicking herself, she felt him stiffen again. Sitting as still as a statue, he contemplated what she'd said.
Clearing his throat, he asked her a simple, yet completely complicated question. "Why?"
Paris, France July 1867
Jessa looked around, trying to find her bearings. Out of nowhere a very handsome gentleman approached, and tapped her gently on the shoulder.
"Could I be of some service?" He asked, and she thanked heaven he spoke English. Learning French wasn't simple and she was nowhere near fluent.
She smiled and his face lit up in response. "Yes, I'm terribly turned around. Could you direct me to," she showed him the slip of paper with the address of her next contact for research. As his hand contacted hers, for she once again forgot her gloves, a flash of heat ran through her. "I'm sorry." She stammered, removing her hand.
"It's fine," he assured, giving her perfectly followable directions. "Now, may I demand repayment? Have dinner with me?"
"I am incredibly sorry, but I am at the whim of my convalescent aunt, and but for this errand, every moment of my time is taken." She said, begging out of the engagement. "I do thank you."
She turned and forced herself to walk at a normal pace. How could she ever hope to begin a relationship without knowing what she was?