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Ice
Part IV: Inclemency

I wanna run away from love, this time I've had enough
Every time I feel your touch I'm broken
Shattered all the pieces and parts, never thought I'd fall so hard
I'm putting back together my heart, it's broken

-Leona Lewis, "Broken"

Damon embraced Elena, only vaguely aware of his surroundings, which had begun to melt into the surreal. The moon and the snow on the ground blurred together, creating a dizzying effect as he closed his eyes and tried to suffocate the images that haunted his weary mind.

The only thing keeping him from giving into the fear was the feel of that solid, warm hand gently caressing the skin on his back and the soft, whispered words in his ear, which meant everything and nothing all at once. Her scent reached his nostrils, waking him slightly, allowing him precious moments of coherent thought.

But then there was the other; a voice in his head that was telling him to fall apart to fall to pieces because that was part of the master plan, the grand scheme. And he wanted to listen to it because it would be so much easier to just relinquish himself to that dark place. Once there, no one could hurt him and he could hurt no one. It would be safer for everyone if he vanished.

If he crumbled, it paved the way for chaos and confusion. The voice in his head - the one advocating for his abdication – was strong and clear and was filling him up to the brim with words and phrases of humiliation and self-depreciation. But, he found, with Elena's scent lingering in his nostrils, his own voice was still stronger, and with his last bits of strength, he was able to fight the voice of the other, pushing it down as he fought the echoes of humiliation which Klaus had subjected him to.

He'd been forced to remember the endless punishments he had received from his father, relive the moments when Katherine had been with Stefan, and reconcile the chain of events he had set into motion when he had stepped foot into Mystic Falls. Essentially, everything boiled down to one thing: it was his fault. It was easy for the blame to be placed upon him because nobody loved him; therefore it would be easier to turn him over to the darkness and defeat him.

He loved Elena but he didn't deserve to love her and he knew this when he felt her gentle, reassuring hand touch his hair, his cheek, nearly purifying his damaged soul. He'd brought nothing put pain and hurt into her life – how she could stand to be so close to him was a mystery. He couldn't even stand to be near himself.

"We have to get him away from here," Elena said to Stefan, swallowing hard. Damon was pressed into her, using her as a full body support. It was frightening because she could feel nothingness emanating from his freezing cold body – not one inkling of warmth reached out to caress her.

"I know, Elena," Stefan replied softly, turning to face her. His mouth was tight with worry, eyebrows pointed down in determination. "There're traces of vervain on his skin, though. It's not hurting him anymore but it can still hurt us. You saw what happened when Rose tried to pick him up." He looked around for a moment, scanning the dark forest. "Besides that, I'm worried there's someone still out there and if we move..."

Damon snapped out of his trance and met his brother's eyes for the first time since his arrival. "Just leave me here," he said softly, electricity flowing from blue eyes to green eyes. "He promised he would come back from me. It's just easier if you leave me here then at least everyone else stands a fighting chance. I can distract him." He shivered.

Elena felt it and tightened her hold on him. "No – no way, Damon. We're not playing 'who can be the best martyr' here. We're leaving and you're coming with us." She placed her hands on his shoulders and gentle pushed him back a little so that she could stare directly into those now cold and emotionless eyes.

A ghost of a smirk crossed his features. "Oh, I'm sorry, Elena. I forget that the role of martyr was reserved for you and Stefan." The smirk disappeared, anger settling into his face. "I've hurt you all enough – this is it. If this is the way it has to end, so be it."

Rose gasped softly, meeting his eyes. "Damon, come to your bloody senses! No one is sacrificing themselves, do you understand? We are all in this together now – we're not throwing anybody to the Originals. The only way we stand even a little bit of chance is if we fight on a united front."

Stefan remained silent for a moment and instead of turning away, came close to Elena and Damon. He kneeled down in front of them.

Elena looked confused. "What are you doing, Stefan?" she asked, the heated argument momentarily suspended.

Without hesitation, Stefan took his brother's face between his hands, ignoring the slight pain from the residue vervain. He scrutinized Damon's face, eyes roaming carefully over any marks Klaus might have left behind. He brushed his fingers carefully over his neck and the elder Salvatore hissed in pain. Klaus had definitely been trying to prove a point about who was older and stronger by leaving such deliberate bruising on Damon's throat. The fact that the mark remained there even after given time to heal was still puzzling to Stefan.

"That really hurts, Stef," Damon whispered, using his brother's childhood nickname, not meeting his eyes. The anger and the fight had disappeared from his voice again. Why did Stefan have to be so gentle, so understanding? His hands were soft on his skin and he really couldn't stand any more people telling him or showing him that they genuinely cared. They should be ripping him apart for getting kidnapped in the first place.

"I know, Damon," Stefan said quietly, pulling his hand back. "Something in his fangs must be affecting your ability to heal – I'm assuming your throat is the only place he bit you. It's also the only place that hasn't fully closed up yet."

Elena's heart constricted painfully in her chest; Klaus really was some kind of 'God' vampire.

Damon felt the sadness momentarily enveloped by the bitterness. Why didn't Klaus just kill him and get it over with? He certainly didn't deserve to live after all he'd done – all the lives he'd taken. He couldn't even look across the clearing to where the two drained bodies lay. He had not wanted to kill them. Klaus had forced his mouth onto the puncture wounds and then he couldn't stop because he had no fucking self-control.

Damon suddenly couldn't breathe, couldn't feel, as panic swept in around him and he went rigid in Elena's arms. Something came over him as he pushed Elena away with his shaky, but recovering strength. He stood up, legs trembling slightly.

Both Elena and Stefan shot to their feet and Rose moved closer.

Despite not having vampire reflexes, Elena knew that Damon was going to collapse and ignoring his face of pure disapproval, she caught him before his knees buckled. Their eyes met and all she could see was pain, shame, and guilt – a strong combination of emotions – emotions that she could barely stand to see crossing his face. They didn't belong there. Secret smiles and surreptitious smirks belonged on his face.

The way Elena supported him and met his eyes without hesitation caused a lump to form in his throat. "Please," he said hoarsely, not caring that Rose and Stefan could hear, "please don't, Elena. If you look at me that way, I can't hold it together." Once again, his lack of self-control was coming through. He couldn't even hold it together for one fucking minute as Elena tried to help him; the one who could never love him in return. But at least he was being honest with himself. Honesty was the one trait that had stuck with him through the years, even if it sometimes didn't have the best outcomes.

Elena closed the short distance between them by very gently touching his cold cheek with her warm hand and murmuring, "You don't have to, Damon." She supported him with one arm around his waist, gathering all her physical strength to support his lean but muscular frame.

Her words were all he needed as he held her tighter than anything, nearly crushing her. Silent tears fell from his eyes, warming her skin despite the snow. It was so hard for him to just let go – to allow himself to trust another like he was trusting Elena. He didn't know what he trusted her with but her soothing caresses were diminishing his pain – mental and physical.

Rose moved to help Elena, but Stefan put up his hand and held her back.

Damon could feel Elena as he buried his head in her shoulder and cried. He knew he didn't have to be afraid of his demons when he was with her, but something nagged the back of his mind, telling him that he should be terrified – especially that he could potentially be putting Elena in even more danger.

"Elena, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I fucked up everything again. Why didn't he just kill me?" The words rushed out of his mouth before he could stop them. He knew the answer, though – he was Klaus' plaything and would become mere collateral damage for everyone else. Klaus knew how to torture him. And he would bet his life that he would know how to torture the others, too.

"Damon, look at me," Elena whispered frantically. His pain was more terrifying than anything she had ever encountered. On one hand, she couldn't stand to see the man she loved so destroyed; on the other, if Damon couldn't make it through this, how the hell could the rest of them? Their eyes met and Elena very gently tilted his chin up. "It's okay."

Stefan watched his brother and Elena, chest tight. He knew that they loved each other unconditionally but it was so hard to see it play out like this without those three words actually being said. He wanted them – no, he needed them to be happy – because he loved them, too. Elena would always hold a special place in his heart and Damon was his brother, the only tie to his past that he actually cared about.

Damon's memories had been taken and Elena's had remained intact. If Stefan knew anything about Elena, he knew that she would be unwilling to push Damon over the edge with those three words. Instead, she showed him the extent of her feelings in every other possible way. She held him, touched him so softly, and kept him from coming apart. Stefan glanced over at Rose, who seemed to watching them with similar observation.

But Stefan silently willed Elena to tell Damon that she loved him because he knew that the weight of those words could save him. He needed to hear them because they had never been said enough or with complete truth. He knew that Elena could give him both of those things.

"Why?" Damon whispered. "Why do you want to save me so bad, Elena?"

Elena knew that now was the moment. She couldn't keep it from him any more – he deserved to know how much he meant to her. She tenderly brushed the dark, damp bangs out of his eyes and tightened her grip around his waist. She smiled gently at him, moving her fingers down to stroke his cheek languidly before whispering softly into his ear, "I love you, Damon." She let the simplicity of the words hang between them – only he had the power to accept them.

Damon's breath stopped, his chest constricting tightly, as the memory that he had fought to hold on to, one that he assumed wasn't even real, brushed at the edges of his mind. It was one that had kept him alive as Klaus tortured him mercilessly. His eyes closed as he leaned against Elena, feeling her solidarity and warmth. He let the words dance slowly through him.

White, white, white - it was the only color that made sense and the only color that danced at the edges of his mind, body, and soul. White represented goodness, purity, and love, and Damon was afraid that if he opened his eyes, white would cease to exist and her words would no longer be real.