Author's Note: Hi everyone! In honor of Valentine's Day, here's a fluffy little expansion on one of my favorite scenes in TVD.
Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries belongs to L.J .Smith and CW. Credit for the title of the fic goes to the brilliant Salvador Dali, who happens to share initials with a certain someone. ;)
It had been a few months since Elena discovered that she asked Alaric to completely rewire her brain to outright despise someone who, up until that fateful moment in his loft, she would have written off as an irredeemable monster. Or she thought she would have. The undeniable knowledge that she had in fact once loved him, eloquently expressed in her own writing – with her very own smiles in scores of photographs and little mementos drenched in sentimentality.
Soulmate. She called Damon her soulmate.
That day had absolutely rocked her to her core. Firstly, she was surprised that as an aspiring medical professional, she would allow someone to so haphazardly tinker with her brain. After all, regular compulsion wasn't good enough. They needed something really special to make this stick, and any potential lingering consequences had yet to make their appearance. She scoffed at the desperation she must have felt to not only agree to such a careless act, but to encourage it – practically demand it.
The sharpest wave of trepidation that followed, however, wasn't caused by surprise – but rather by a small, hidden feeling deep within her soul that screamed that what she learned about her feelings was true – and felt so right.
Every day since, she has been fighting to silence that voice, and every day, it had been growing stronger, until the well-fortified armor surrounding her heart gradually began to crack under the pressure of every laugh he snuck from her, every insight into her soul, every adoring gaze in the blue fire of his irises.
She soon began to realize that the man from her memories was never real, and this curiously familiar stranger in front of her had stolen every bit of her heart and finally brought it to a home that she'd long forgotten, but found herself desperate to revisit.
It was with this realization that she found Damon in his bedroom with his back to her, leaning against the fireplace. Earlier in the day, when pressed, he confessed that he believed that she would have stayed with Stefan had she remained human – would never have given him a chance – that her vampirism was the only reason she chose him. The subtext was clear: He was the consolation prize – an extension of the lifestyle that she never wanted. Although he seemed to outwardly accept this, there was always a lingering fear that this was temporary, and eventually, everything would fall to its proper place of him being forgotten.
Throughout his 173 years, everyone had always chosen Stefan, with the exception of Elena on the night of her graduation. A part of him always waited for that brief reprieve to end.
He heard her approach, pasting a signature smirk onto his face and polishing off a familiar weapon to hide the vulnerability flaring at his heart, before finally turning to face her. Sarcastic deflection was his oldest friend and greatest champion.
"So, Jer's applying to art school. Might want to compel him a decent portfolio, 'cause he ain't that great."
"Don't be mean," Elena admonished, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips, earning a snicker from Damon. Even without her memories – with her brain rewired specifically to despise him – they found that place that existed for just the two of them.
It was present as early as their fateful first meeting on a forest road. It began to sparkle again in Elena's kitchen, when she unknowingly made precise incisions into Damon's heart, deftly piercing through nigh-impenetrable armor with her laugh, her wit, her empathy, and stirring up the song of his long-dormant humanity. It roared to life in a roadside bar right outside of Atlanta, where their own brand of magic enveloped them, and the eventual return of his humanity became all but inevitable, finally crash-landing mere weeks later during a dance at a silly pageant, where no one existed but them and that beautiful moment.
And it was even present when they saw each other for the first time after Damon's return from the prison world, though both were too distraught at the time, for their own reasons, to notice.
"He needs to move on with his life, and so do I." She caught the briefly wounded look in his eyes before he masked it. With a wry curve to her lips, she marveled at how quickly he stopped being able to hide from her. He also clearly had the completely wrong impression of where her speech was going. She would correct this assumption.
Here it comes, Damon lamented with increasing dread. He could already hear it in the treacherous realms of his imagination. It's always going to be Stefan.
"I'm not sure I'm a fan of that transition."
"Look, I've made some huge mistakes in my life. Being with you wasn't one of them," Elena pushed off the door frame, slowly entering the room.
"And yes, I had Alaric compel away my love for you. And, yes, I did love Stefan once. The night I died, Matt was driving me back to him. And yet I found my way back to you."
She wanted so badly to remember. If she had chosen Stefan that night, why were they no longer together? Why did she feel nothing for him outside of platonic, almost familial love? Was she hiding from herself then, as well?
"Damon, I somehow always find my way back to you. It doesn't matter if I have my memories or not. It doesn't matter if I'm a vampire or not."
"You're just saying that because you can't change what you are," he responded with pained resignation.
"No, Damon, I don't care what human me would have done because she's not here. I am."
In that moment, her mind was filled with images from a thousand realities – where she and Damon had met and bonded first; where her adoptive parents had not perished that fateful night on Wickery Bridge, and as a result, she hadn't developed her crippling survivor's guilt that haunted her every move as a human; where she and Damon met in 1864; where she was a vampire and he was a human; where they were displaced in time, but never stopped finding love and joy in each other.
There were a thousand images, and one gleaming, brilliant constant.
With renewed vigor, determination, Elena took a step forward.
"In a thousand years, in a hundred lifetimes, I will find you, and though there may be some stumbles or ... bumps... along the way, I will ultimately fall for you, Damon," she took a calming, steadying breath, as words lingered on the outskirts of her subconscious, blowing to the fore of her thoughts like a gentle breeze on a summer night after cleansing rain obscuring a meteor shower long forgotten. She had not quite said those words yet – those three words – but she would find others to express this newfound realization, because she desperately needed him to understand.
Sincerity and tenderness reflected in her expressive, dark eyes as they darted between his, willing to make him see the great cosmic truth in her confession, in her epiphany.
Her tone was soft, but deliberate, measured, as she weighed the significance of some of the most honest words she'd ever spoken.
"I will always choose you."
A curious rightness settled in the pit of her chest, clicking into place, though she had not previously realized anything was even remotely misaligned. These were the words, her subconscious whispered.
Damon could only stare at her with shock when he heard the familiar phrase, the very same one he passionately delivered to a dismayed Elena on an evening that now seemed eons ago, in another lifetime. Terrified to hope that that she may actually be recalling her feelings for him, he simply let his gaze caress her in wonder, tracing the contours of her soft smile, the sheer openness and love reflecting in her midnight eyes, made shiny with just the barest hint of moisture.
Mistaking his awed silence for hesitation, Elena pressed on, needing him to believe her.
"So, if the past is a place without you and me together, then stop living in it."
"Yeah," Damon breathed, as his brain finally managed to tie its dazed strands back together, generously returning the ability of speech, but barely. In lieu of struggling to form coherent sentences to express the hurricane of emotion inside him, Damon simply took Elena's face in his palms. He let his eyes communicate the endless expanse of his love for her, and body to reaffirm his devotion, as they made love for the first time since he returned to this Earth.
Hours later, a satiated Elena watched her lover sleep, marveling at how connected she felt – how whole. Was it like this every time? How did she ever fool herself into believing that she could live without this? All her childish escapades with Liam, and even Stefan, paled in comparison to the all-encompassing love she felt for the man next to her.
It consumed her, she realized with a shiver, that finally filled her with excitement instead of fear.
Seeking the comfort of his presence, wanting to be as close to him as possible, Elena lifted his arm and snuggled into his chest. The movement must have startled him because she saw his eyes open sleepily, and the softest smile grace his beautiful face.
"I'm sorry I woke you," she whispered.
"It's okay."
"What's that face?" She arched an eyebrow, realizing that she had never seen this expression on him – or at least that she remembered. He looked utterly relaxed, almost innocent.
"I'm happy." If possible, the smile widened, his cerulean eyes coming alive with a twinkle, as though they hid a secret that clearly delighted him.
"I'm happy, too."
Damon drew Elena closer for a soft kiss on her lips, then held her to the crook of his neck. Tomorrow, they would have to return to their regular struggles of trying to rescue Bonnie, of preparing Jo for the merge with Kai, of any number of supernatural hijinks they would inevitably encounter.
But for now, this night was theirs. As Elena and Damon held each other on the precipice to dreamland, yet another puzzle piece slipped into alignment, letting them both feel a little more whole, and their very souls sang with rightness.
The "different worlds" that Elena envisions are my little homage to all the lovely fanfics you brilliant folks have written. I always thought of fanfictions as alternate universes, and here that concept just became my official headcanon :D The last one is a little teaser of what's to come, though I don't know if it will continue from this story or be its own (it's a post-series story). Time will tell when that particular tale begins to fall into place more.
FYI, the world where Elena "sees" that her adoptive parents are still alive references Off By a Single Degree by the brilliant Taaroko, who was kind enough to proofread this story! You should all go read her series and leave her lots of adoring comments to motivate her! Shoo! ;)
I played with some dialogue where Damon and Elena discuss the compulsion and the very peculiar wording of some things she said. Please let me know if there's an interest; and if so, I'll happily expand this one-shot into a two-shot! Reviews are gestures of love and strongly encouraged!
The title came from one of Salvador Dali's most famous paintings, which I feel accurately reflects both the tenacious and subjective nature of memory.